Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7)

by Rachael Slate

  This matter of their kiss could wait. She wasn’t ready for a mate, anyway. Being half-dead and all. There were more pressing concerns to focus on, such as the fate of the world. The destiny of one small centauress was nothing in comparison.

  “Follow the ridge,” she steeled her tone, “we’ll come across some caves.” She’d traversed this area extensively while passing from the enchanted realm onto her brothers’ lands. They knew nothing of her, but she was familiar with their lives and their fates. She’d witnessed Hades and Persephone arranging the pieces, causing them to fall into place. Now, it was her turn to prove herself worthy of continuing in their tasks.

  An hour later, they approached a set of caves, just as she’d instructed, and she directed Alder to the second to last one. Therein, she kept supplies and sleeping furs.

  Inside, she lit one torch and hung it on the stone wall. Now that they were safe inside this warded shelter, her anger had burned down and his rejection of her raised uncertainties in her mind. The bonding was an unbreakable union between a male and a female, well, unbreakable for the male. What if she wasn’t the one Alder would have chosen, given a choice? What if his heart belonged to another? She’d be wise to guard her heart until certain.

  “Aside from slaying giants, what qualifies you to accompany me?” She cast a stern frown at the satyr. Of course, he was her destined mate. Could Persephone be manipulating her life, just as the goddess had her brothers’? Iora clenched her jaw. This would be so much easier if Alder had detected their bonding, too.

  From the opposite cave wall, Alder crossed his arms and met her stare. “I suppose, because my only loyalty in all the world belongs to Petraeus.”

  My brother. The youngest of Cheiron’s five centaur sons. “Why does he claim your fealty?” She’d glimpsed but a piece of the story from her own observations.

  Alder unfolded his arms, switching to cross his cloven hooves instead. “My mother is a Dryad, a tree nymph. My father is a satyr. As you know, nymphs don’t accept male children, and in truth, we’re a rarity. I was given to my father’s clan. But…,” he shook his head, “they’re rather wild and bawdy. I was passed from one nursemaid to another, until finally, they decided they’d rather not keep me anymore. At the age of ten, I was cast out. Three weeks into my exile, I ran straight into a mischievous centaur lad who promised me a warm meal and shelter if I would but climb to the top of a steep cliff and fetch a trinket he’d lost there.”

  “So you did.”

  “Aye, I did, and I’ve been with him ever since. One warm meal turned into two and before we both knew, we’d become the best of friends.” He scratched his jaw and a wistful smile played across his lips.

  The memory of his firm, passionate kiss flamed in the recesses of her mind. Petraeus wasn’t the only one drawn to befriend Alder. His easy grin made her feel safe, calm, and assured.

  Those were the last emotions any half-dead female ought to experience. If she ever hoped to join her family, entertaining any other musings would be out of the question.

  But for now, she would soak in the warmth of his companionship a while longer.

  Iora settled into her bed, facing the satyr. As the flames of their fire flickered and died, casting their cozy cave in a comforting glow, she studied this male.

  The one who might be her destiny.

  Or her ruin.

  ***

  Alder stretched and yawned, blinking into the dim cavern. The sun had risen, shooting the tiniest beams of light across the stone floor. He twisted toward Iora. She lay curled next to the opposite wall, her ivory lashes fanning across her pale skin and her small nose scrunched in a delightful manner.

  He shouldn’t suffer the burning desire to protect and shield her. She’d proven more than capable of fending for herself, of combating gigantic monsters.

  Hell, she was bloody impervious.

  Yet she was also fragile and pristine, like a gem first removed from a mine. Like Amethysta, the maiden the god Dionysus had threatened, and who’d been turned into the gemstone as a result. Satyrs were supposed to be faithful to the god of wine and frivolity, but Alder had never embraced those aspects of his nature. And unlike his divine lord, he’d do everything within his power to ensure that his Amethysta—Iora—never experienced the harsh world he had. That no one would ever break her.

  His legs ached and he longed to switch into human form, yet he refused to. This impotent state added one more layer of assurance between them. In his virile human form, he might be far too tempted. He wasn’t as innocent as she, yet neither was he the seasoned lover his centaur friends and satyr relatives were. As he possessed none of their suave charm, his feminine companions had been those to take pity upon him, and their hasty, carnal encounters hadn’t been much worth pursuing.

  He didn’t seek a meaningless coupling. What he yearned for was to belong, somewhere, to someone.

  The chances of such were sadly none.

  Shuffling out of his bed, he took care not to wake Iora. He crept out of the cave toward a stream, and scanned the horizon, rolling his shoulders.

  Despite his attempts at being quiet, Iora’s soft footsteps padded toward him. Jolts of awareness spiked through his muscles. In another life, they might awaken like this, together, and he might pull her into his arms, ravishing her with heated kisses.

  But not in this life.

  He bent by the narrow stream and dipped his hands in, cupping the cool water and pouring it over his head.

  “Where are your horns?”

  He tensed, then ran one finger through his hair, along the two stumps on the top of his head. “If I didn’t file them down, my brothers would break them off. Kept up the old habit, I guess.”

  “That’s awful.” Iora kneeled beside him. “How horrible of them.” Her warm fingers grazed his as she smoothed aside his locks and a hum vibrated in her throat while she studied his stumps. “Is that why you fled them?”

  “Aye, I didn’t wish to be anything like them.”

  “Well, you’re not.”

  He tilted aside his head. “How do you know?”

  Her lips paled, pressed thin. “Because I’ve watched you.” Was that a blush blooming across her cheeks?

  “Watched me, lass?” He shifted, uncomfortable at the sudden spike in his blood. “I never thought anyone like me could capture the attention of one as enchanting as you.”

  “You did.” She cast him a shy smile. “You’re nothing like my brothers, and perhaps that’s why you caught my notice.” Her white teeth flashed as she caught the corner of her lip and bit that succulent flesh, as though daring him to sample a nibble, too.

  He cleared his throat and hopped to his feet before the temptation drove them both back to finish that fateful kiss. “Shall we set off?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead heading inside the cave, where he packed their supplies, and then trekked down the path. Iora followed him, and for two hours, they hiked, chatting casually about their lives. As they crossed a golden-flowered field, he spotted several plump, ruby berries and plucked a handful, popping them one by one into his mouth. They burst upon his tongue, honeyed and tart.

  The sun began to set across the horizon, casting them in a purplish glow, as they crossed to the other side of the meadow. The back of his throat grew irritated and an itch spread across his flesh. He halted and scratched, but the tingling sensation crawled beneath his skin, moving every time he attempted to ease it. Up ahead, he spotted a stream flowing from a sheltered cave. “Lass, I’m going to take a swim. I fear those berries have caused a poor reaction.”

  He didn’t wait for her response as he sprinted to the edge and shrugged off his long jacket. Wading into the cool waters soothed the itch, but it spread, down, between his legs. “Ughn.” He groaned, pressure building in his sex. As the son of a nymph, he ought to have known better. Ought to have paid heed to the prickling hairs on the back of his neck as he’d crossed that meadow.

  A nymph lived there.

  Those creat
ures were as impish as any, and he’d bet those berries were jesting with him now.

  Shaking out his shoulders, he performed the morphos into human form, his cloven hooves and bowed legs reforming, the ruddy fur vanishing.

  He waded deeper into the cave, and no doubt about it, his cock grew thick and long, demanding as it jutted upward. Bloody nymphs.

  Out of Iora’s view, he gripped himself, pumping to ease the feverous lust. He ran his hand up and down his length, but the urge didn’t calm, nay, it grew more demanding, more vigorous.

  Panic clutched his chest. Those berries were more than a simple aphrodisiac. They were some sort of spell, and whatever cure he was attempting wasn’t proving effective.

  He whipped his head around and studied the woods. Did a nymph hide within, stalking and waiting to pounce?

  A tumble of rocks into the stream clanked from the shore and he jolted before freezing.

  “That won’t work,” Iora’s lilting voice chimed behind him.

  He sniffed and caught her floral scent, the fragrance shooting need straight into his shaft. “You shouldn’t be here, Iora,” he warned, hoping he sounded menacing enough to keep her distant.

  “Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Splashes of water indicated she treaded closer. The wench. “I’ve just had the most charming conversation with the nymph who inhabits this meadow. Do you know what she told me?”

  Iora waded nearer, each step forward slamming yearnings into him, until finally she rested inches from his back. Her warm breath fanned next to his ear. “She told me, only another’s touch can cure your predicament.”

  He swallowed hard, dropping his hands to his sides and fisting them against every impulse that crashed through his body.

  “Iora…” He wasn’t sure if that was a warning, or a pleading. Perhaps a little of both.

  “The way I see it…” Her fingertips brushed across his hip and his muscles jerked as though sparked by lightning, while she hummed in delighted triumph. “You can either let me help you, or suffer for an eternity alone in this cave.”

  He tossed his head at the impossible choice. “That definitely would not be protecting or shielding you. Certainly not your virtue. And your brothers—”

  “Oh, would you rather I fetched them?” Her saucy taunt jabbed into his chest.

  “Nay, but I do not think they would approve.” He cast her a sideways glance, praying she fathomed how torn he was from this quandary.

  Her brows narrowed a fraction. “Is that why you wouldn’t kiss me?”

  He gave her a curt nod, ashamed to admit his lack of pride would cause him to reject her. Iora was dazzling in every facet. It was he who was flawed.

  “My choices are my own. Please trust in me,” she whispered, her words digging into his heart. “Now, you’re in distress and I do believe I’m the damsel to rescue you.” The tips of her slender fingers skimmed across his abdomen and she murmured low in her throat, “Let me help you, Alder.”

  Gods, he couldn’t reason, not with her sultry purring and the sparking attraction between them. He guessed, like Petraeus, Iora was not accustomed to being denied.

  No female had ever sought him out for his mind as much as his body. With Iora, he sensed her acceptance, nay, her curiosity and fascination and captivation toward every inch of him.

  In this moment, especially toward those longest, hardest inches.

  If their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t hesitate to aid her, would he?

  Rolling his shoulders forward, he planted his arms on the cave wall, bowing his forehead against them. “Very well, Amethysta, but be forewarned. It’s not going to end here.”

  ***

  Alder’s seductive threat rushed through Iora, spiking the hairs on her arms and spiraling down to her toes. In the full light of the moon, he was simply resplendent. She hadn’t truly appreciated his majesty in his satyr form, but now as a human male, there was no denying his utter beauty.

  He was broad and thick, his muscles like the solid, smooth rock of this cave, carved out by eons of cascading waters into the most luxurious dips and edges.

  The flowing waves ebbed around his thighs, splashing softly against the cave walls. He stepped wide and twisted slightly toward her, revealing his hard, erect width.

  Her breath hitched as she took him in, but she shook herself and regained her resolve. This male was hers, her mate. She wouldn’t allow him to suffer needlessly.

  Iora dipped her fingers forward, brushing them carefully across his rigid length. Alder hissed, his hips jerking his arousal more roughly into her hands.

  She pressed against his back, wrapping both arms around his waist, and closed his shaft in her hands. “Like this?”

  “Aye, love. Just. Like. That.” He rocked and rolled his hips, pumping into her grasp and uttering low, deep grunts.

  After a mere few strokes, a deep roar pulsed from his chest. His release was beautiful to behold. All of the power and majesty of his presence condensed into a tight shuddering and expulsion of sensual bliss. Warm liquid spurted overtop her hands and he quivered in her arms.

  Iora braced while the crest of eroticism swept through her. As his mate, she would experience intense pleasure whenever he spilled his seed on or in her.

  Except, he didn’t know that. So she bit the inside of her cheek and stifled her moans while her sex clenched and spasmed with her own climax.

  Light-headed from the rush, she didn’t have even a moment to recover before Alder reared on her, seizing her waist and spinning them so her back crushed against the rock wall. His lips were hot and demanding against hers, the growl rumbling in his chest a good indication of his intent to pursue his threat.

  She tugged her fingers into his hair and nipped greedily at his lips, the bliss shooting through her veins. His touch intoxicated her, drawing her down into depths where she wasn’t certain she was even still breathing, and didn’t truly care.

  His breath would be her air. His strength would hold her up.

  And his kisses would drown her into bliss.

  He rammed his hips into hers, struggling against the folds of her damp skirts, but even through the thick fabric she palmed the firm demand of his erection.

  Gradually, he released his fearsome grip on her waist and roamed across her body, halting to cup both her breasts, one in each hand, and his mouth departed hers to join them. He tugged open her bodice and freed her breasts, his tongue circling one pebbled peak.

  No male had tasted her bared skin, and the thrill of new pleasure mixed with the intensity of his licking, nipping, and sucking, until she whimpered in his arms, unable to withstand the torment.

  “Alder, I want…” She wasn’t entirely certain what she craved. The first release had only made her longings so much greater.

  He lifted his head from her breasts and his lips curved in a knowing smirk. “Aye, lass, I know what you need.” He planted one hand on the wall behind her head, lowered his face to hers, and dipped his right hand between them, snaking beneath her wet, clinging skirts. She shivered in riveted anticipation. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in hard pants, and his sex pressed against her, proudly aroused.

  Firmly, expertly, his fingers skimmed across her upper thigh to graze her inner flesh, then stroke lightly along her bud. She emitted a sharp hiss and bucked into his hand. “Yes, oh, yes. That.” She licked her lips and rocked forward, rubbing into his palm.

  Alder nipped at her mouth, his fingers tormenting in circles around her nub. “Like this, sweetling?” The raspy, masculine rumble of his voice teased her, urging her to beg for his attentions.

  “Don’t stop,” she warned, “or I’ll feed you more berries and leave you to the nymphs.”

  His breath puffed against her mouth as he released a low chuckle. “As you wish, my Lady.” The force of his fingers pressed harder, igniting flames of passion that flickered and flamed, consuming her while she drove into his hand, until a relentless clenching soared through her body and she
melted into him.

  Long moments passed before either of them moved. Iora didn’t dare tense a muscle lest she break this spell between them. Alder had been everything with her that she’d wished for.

  If he retreated again, it would crush her.

  How long could he remain ignorant of the fact she was his mate?

  More importantly, how long would he deny this connection between them?

  His throat bobbed thickly. “Do you regret that?”

  She flinched, cut not by his words, but by the implications behind them. “No, of course not. Alder, I want you.” She spread her hands across his head, fingers delving deep into those irresistibly unruly locks. “Don’t pull away from me. Ever.”

  His thick lashes lifted and he peered into her eyes. Uncertainty flickered in those glinting depths, but she held firm. He was damaged, hurt from the pain of his past, but he would find no cause to mistrust her.

  “Aye, then. I swear, Iora, I will never pull away.” His lips feathered across hers once, twice. “Not until you ask me to.”

  Iora swung her slender hand in Alder’s, humming a cheery tune as they trekked across another rocky crest. This whole bloody land was blanketed with rolling hillsides. Normally, he didn’t mind rough terrain, but one never knew what might be lurking on the other side of these hills.

  Alder glanced toward her and grinned. Her beaming smile stole his breath every time, but it was the warmth within that sang down to his toes. Iora treated him with nothing but admiration and acceptance. Though he occasionally entertained the notion of their future together after this quest, he didn’t dare ponder it too closely.

  This past week, he’d been damned careful never to lose control around her again. He returned her eager kisses, but never let it go further. Despite his yearning to lick every delectable inch of her curvaceous body.

  After all, she would be restored to her family soon, and no doubt, they’d have plans for their sole female heir.