Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7)

by Rachael Slate

  “Good choice, lass,” he purred into her ear, and chuckled at the shivers spreading across her skin. Soon enough, he’d make every inch of her quiver.

  Iora halted and he swung off her back. He hadn’t even released her hand before she switched into human form, as graceful and beguiling a creature as when he’d first encountered her.

  The male he’d been had changed. Alder no longer deemed himself unworthy of love.

  Unworthy of her love.

  She’d shown him more than what he’d lost. She’d shown him what he had every intention of claiming.

  Alder spread his fingers across her neck and bent to feather his lips along hers, savoring in the leisurely dripping seconds. Time slowed for them, two souls colliding and merging, and becoming one.

  He’d take his time with her and prove in his every touch the depths of his devotion.

  The moonlight cascaded off Iora’s brilliant locks as she shook them loose, fluffing her curls about her shoulders and down to graze her slim waist.

  A tremor of anticipation shot through him and he fisted and unfisted his hands to shake out the trembling in his veins. “Shall we go for a swim?” He bobbed his head toward the glistening pool. Soft wisps of steam rose from the surface, suggesting a warm and inviting temperature.

  “Race you there, satyr.” She slipped her gown over her head and dashed straight into the pool before he’d had a chance to close his jaw. Iora’s lush curves and creamy skin burned into his mind, making his mouth dry and his sex tighten.

  Sweet gods, but nothing could prepare him for her beauty.

  “Are you coming, or should I find another satyr to join me?” She laughed and splashed at him from within the pool, the bountiful orbs of her breasts just breaking the surface.

  Well, if she wasn’t going to display any modesty…

  He switched into his human form and tugged down his breeches, then shrugged off his long coat, baring everything to her. His rigid erection jutting forward, he strolled to the pool. Iora’s wide, silvery eyes didn’t blink as she stared at his nudity, lips parted and round.

  With a casual leisure, he stepped into the pool, the warm, inviting waters ebbing around his calves.

  Instead of joining her, he sank onto the ledge, reclining and tipping his head back. His muscles were sore, his face battered, and the gash in his abdomen still stung.

  He dove under the surface to wet his locks, and as he rose, Iora cautiously paddled toward him. “Your wounds are healing quickly.”

  “Aye.” He prodded his cheek. One fortunate trait of being descended from the gods. Their bodies were rather resilient—healing faster and existing for longer than humans.

  If Iora would have him, he’d gratefully spend the next several centuries in devotion to her.

  Sighing, he twisted toward her, peeling open his eyes. “Do you think your brothers would toss me in their dungeon if I told them I wished to marry you?”

  Her breath hitched. “You do?”

  He quirked his lips and snared her hand, pressing it to his mouth. “Aye, sweetling. I would not be here with you, like this, if I did not. You are far too precious, Amethysta, and far too pure for me not to cherish you as you deserve. I wish to honor you in every way centaur law demands. The only thing missing would be to claim you as my mate.”

  She flashed him a coy smile and fluttered her lashes. “Oh, I believe you will.” Crawling onto his lap, she straddled him and wrapped her arms about his neck. “In case you were pondering asking me for my hand, instead of my brothers, the answer is yes.”

  Her lips met his and passion scorched his being. He nipped at her mouth and flicked his tongue along hers, then across her skin, tasting and sampling every sweet morsel of her flesh, his hands kneading her firm breasts before his mouth claimed them too, nibbling each pebbled peak in turn.

  She moaned and rocked her hips forward, crushing his rigid width between them. Leaning back, he widened his legs and lifted her, grasping his base and guiding his tip to her entrance. Then he eased his hold on her hips, allowing her to sink. Her weight and movements would do the rest.

  She hissed as he stretched her core, inch by succulent inch, her body sliding forward and backward along his.

  He caressed her back, stroking in reassuring circles with one hand while cupping her cheek with his other, feathering his lips across hers. Gently and tenderly, he took her, or mayhap, she took him. Either way, they claimed each other, staking their marks on their bodies, their hearts, their souls.

  The glossy flow of the water helped ease him into her tightness, and the delightful resistance of her untried sex clenched around his shaft, urging him deeper.

  She arched her spine and whimpered into his ear while she sank lower, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate his size, until at last she enveloped him, while expelling shallow, quivering pants.

  “Easy, love. We who belong to no world have all the time in every one.” He gave her plump bottom an encouraging squeeze and brought one hand between them, dipping to her bud to rub in slow, firm laps. That delicate flesh blossomed and swelled beneath his fingertips, and he detected her heart beats racing again. He increased the pressure, and a few moments later, her mewling cry burst across his ear. Her hips bucked and undulated while her sheath glided along his length, clamping in a relentless, furious clutching.

  He gritted his teeth and tossed his head back, not yet willing to spill himself inside her.

  Because this, this pleasure, was just the beginning.

  Iora bit her fist and muffled another scream. The resistance of Alder’s hardness inside her escalated the bliss of her release, spiking to a height of euphoria she’d never dreamed of. His soft lips nuzzled her cheek and neck, sending comforting waves washing through her. The connection between their bodies was only part of this magnetism. He was her mate, and she hadn’t yet told him.

  He hadn’t guessed, either.

  She longed to. The words danced on the tip of her tongue. What would change between them if she did? She hadn’t yet earned her place among the living.

  Planting her hands on his broad shoulders, she studied him. Alder was the kind of male any female might overlook for a fancier, more pretentious suitor, overshadowed by the more potent presences of those around him. Yet he was beautiful to her. His face so genuine and winsome. The striking hue of his curly, ruddy locks, the deep intensity of his darkly-lashed russet eyes, they made for an alluring charm. One that, admittedly, had ensnared her a long time ago.

  He hid behind a wall of quiet reserve, but there was nothing awkward in his kisses, in the all-consuming manner in which he made love to her. His clever wit and tender heart sparked an affinity between them she’d never experienced with any other being.

  If her family didn’t already realize this about him, she would make them see. Alder was the only male worthy of her hand, and her hearts.

  “What are you thinking, sweetling?” He cocked his head, a grin quirking his lips. “I had hoped to render you rather incapable of such deep ponderings.” His fingers slipped down her neck, the backs of them running across her breasts, amplifying the hunger that curled her toes.

  He remained thick and heavy inside her, and any hint of discomfort floated away as darker yearnings pressed forward.

  “I was thinking,” she shifted forward and nipped at his lips, “that if you don’t ravage me again—”

  He leapt to his feet, his hands planted under her bottom and his mouth crushed against hers. Gently, he guided her along his length, once, twice, enough to coax a moan from her throat. He carted her to the rock face beside the waterfall and slid from her, planting Iora on her feet facing away from him. Alder seized both her wrists and braced them above her head, placing them on the rock. Then he skimmed his hands down her body. She shivered and bucked as he gripped her hips. He parted her and the thick pressure of his shaft pierced her entrance, driving hard.

  She gasped and flinched, but Alder gave her a moment to recover before pumping inside her, an un
hurried rhythm building toward the limits of her need. The spray from the cascade slicked their bodies, adding glorious silkiness.

  “How’s this for ravaging?” he grunted near her ear, his hands gliding to cup both her breasts while his hips hammered against hers, his pace and his ferocity augmenting with each stroke, until a roar broke across his lips and heat flushed inside her core.

  At his release, she jerked her hips backward and squeezed tight, clamping around him and crying out at the blissful spasms claiming her body.

  She undulated along him until the last, fierce clenching retreated, leaving her body quivering and weak.

  Alder eased from between her thighs, one hand steadying at her waist. She twisted around in his arms, a sated smile curving her lips, but his head hung and his shoulders drooped forward, his face averted from hers.

  Finally, he lifted his gaze to her. “When were you going to tell me?”

  The air froze in her lungs. “I didn’t intend to deceive you.”

  “Aye, but you did. And you knew.” He muttered the last to himself, as though uttering proof. “Since when?”

  She swallowed thickly. “From our first kiss.”

  He dropped his head to the side and muttered a curse. “When were you planning on telling me, lass?” His eyes flashed with intensity as he observed her again. “You might have saved me a great deal of grief.”

  “Telling you?” She folded her arms over her bare breasts and glowered at him. “How about, when were you planning on realizing it? If you must know, I didn’t tell you because you refused to have me. How else was I supposed to react?”

  He flinched. “I did tell you I wished to marry you. You might have confessed then, before we…”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Nothing would have changed.”

  “Well, I might have thought twice about claiming you.”

  His words shot into her hearts and she seized a step back.

  “Not like that, sweetling.” He frowned at her and raked a hand through his damp locks. “Just, look at us. We’re a mismatched pair. Centaurs don’t claim their mates without bonding, but what about us?”

  She bit her bottom lip and frowned at his upper left bicep, absent of the thin black band that denoted the bonding. “I don’t know. You don’t bear any mark.” Not even after coupling with her. What did that mean?

  “Aye, and consider this, what if we had a child together? What would that child even be?”

  She blinked away the pain and tilted her chin up at him. “Loved. Our child would be loved, Alder.”

  ***

  Iora stared at him, those swirling pale eyes so piercing. He fought against shielding himself, but she’d already seen into the depths of his fears.

  She stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest. “Our child would never suffer your fate. He or she would be welcomed by the world we created together.”

  He swallowed against the tightness pinching his throat. “How can you be certain?” He’d rather remove himself from any possibility of contentment than place an innocent in the position of the suffering he’d endured.

  “Because, look at you.” She caressed her other hand along his cheek. “Oh, Alder, you survived among those boorish satyrs and you came out a better male because of it. Of anyone, you deserve a happy fate. You’re the male I’ve chosen to love. I want to be your mate, your wife, the keeper of your heart.”

  His vision flickered, but finally he nodded. “Aye, I trust you, and though I may never be worthy of your love, I will vow to honor and cherish you until the end of my days.” He folded one hand over hers atop his chest, and his other seized the one against his cheek, drawing her lips to his. “Swear to me, we’ll find a way to make you mine.”

  She laughed against his lips. “Lusty satyr.”

  “Impish centauress.” He nipped at her mouth, nibbling along her bottom lip, and across her cheek, his tongue flicking her ear until she shivered.

  “Next time you come across some great truth, be sure to whack me over the head with it, for we satyrs are obstinate creatures.”

  “Agreed.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and lifted her mouth to his, claiming him in one deep, delightful kiss. Sighing, she pulled back. “I’m not sure how we can become mated, but I do know who does.” At the quirking of his brows, she smiled. “My father. Alder, my love, I do believe it will soon be time for this lost lady to be found again.”

  Four weeks later

  For nigh a month, Alder and Iora had traversed the boundaries between centaur and Lapith lands, leisurely completing her tasks while other events fell into place. In truth, he’d savored every minute with her.

  But now, these weeks had come to an end. This morning, they’d set off to place the final marker of Iora’s quest. Iora had planted a feathered arrow into the ground and cast the enchantment over it, marking their location on a scroll.

  Now, they stood outside Great Meteoron, moments away from greeting Iora’s father, King Cheiron.

  Anxiety rolled through Alder’s veins. It was one thing to be welcomed within the centaur fold, quite another to request the hand of their treasured heiress. Even so, he was by all rights Iora’s mate. The centaurs revered the bonding. There was no chance of them refusing his.

  Or at least he reminded himself, every five minutes or so.

  Yesterday, they’d visited Petraeus again. That sad bastard had yet to claim his mate, Ekho, but with any luck, they would be united, and soon.

  They’d also stopped off at the nymph encampment, where the hundreds of nymphs rescued by the Amazons were being distributed to their new homes. Iora had informed Kyme, the Amazon leader, of the satyrs’ alliance with the god Apollo, then deposited a vial of her powers to Kyme and indicated it should be reserved for Petraeus, when he was ready.

  Now, they were ready.

  The final piece of Iora’s quest was in place, and the direction of her destiny lay in the hands of the Fates.

  He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed in reassurance. They’d made love countless times, but no bonding mark inked across his arm, declaring them mates.

  Yet every other indication pointed to them belonging together.

  He craned his neck, gazing up at the brilliant façade of the castle atop Great Meteoron. He’d journeyed here often as a guest of Petraeus. Never as the male who wished to wed the great King’s daughter.

  “Ready?” She clasped his hand in return and beamed at him. “It will be fine. They will love you as I do.”

  He bit back on countering he’d spent enough time in the centaurs’ company to know they would be anything but welcoming—at first.

  “Aye, lass. They will be overcome with joy at seeing you.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and they stepped through the Portal together.

  When they’d met with Kyme, they’d requested the entire centaur clan to gather in the Great Hall this morning, and they did. Dozens of massive, brawny males, and brightly-gowned females like flowers rising up between them, whirled to face them.

  He focused on King Cheiron, who regarded them intently as they approached him and bowed before him. Iora raised her head and tears misted in the King’s eyes.

  Aha, so he recognized her.

  Though a quick glimpse around the chamber indicated no one else did.

  For years, Iora had darted amongst them, cloaked by enchantments and always in her human form.

  She rose from her curtsey and performed the morphos in front of everyone into her centauress form. Her pristine hide glimmered in the dawn’s rays and her beauty struck him as mute as the crowd.

  Profound silence captured the room. Not even the ruffling of skirts or scrape of hooves on the tiled floors permeated the stillness.

  Iora tipped her head to Alder, brows arched.

  He cleared his throat and the sound echoed like a great rumbling through the hall. “May I present to you the long-lost but now-restored daughter of King Cheiron and Queen Atalante, Lady Iora.”

  A creak of wood cr
acked the silence from the crowd, and suddenly, everyone exclaimed at once, whispers and gasped shouts rolling through them.

  “My dearest daughter.” Cheiron’s voice broke as his hands grasped for Iora’s. She glided forward and they bent their foreheads together, the King embracing his daughter for the first time.

  Joy misted Alder’s eyes and he swiped away a tear. The love between these centaurs warmed his heart. This was her home, and now, it truly was his, too.

  The exclamations of the crowd died, as though everyone simply took in this sweet moment between father and daughter.

  Beaming a heart-wrenchingly beautiful smile, Iora released her father. One by one, her brothers swept her up, not hesitating to shower her with kisses and fierce embraces, passing her through them like an indulgent sea of sibling affection. The females, their mates, fawned over Iora, murmuring praises of her beauty and their excitement regarding her restoration.

  Cheiron observed them, a joy in the elderly, wise King’s expression that Alder had never witnessed. Yet, the centaur gripped his hands tightly clasped together, as if anxious for something else.

  Before Alder could contemplate what that was, Iora broke free of her doting siblings and stepped to him, sliding her hand through his. “There is much to discuss, for our victory against the Lapiths is not nearly secured, but I would have you all know I wouldn’t be here if not for Alder. Even more than my friend and companion, I must tell you, he is also my destined mate.”

  She curved her lips at him, then faced the gathering. He grinned like a fool at her, but the joy on her face fell, and he tore his stare from her to view what she did.

  Dozens of fearsome centaurs stood with fisted hands, growls and rumblings erupting from their midst.

  “Like hell he is,” one snarled, and the others copied him, their threats rumbling through their midst.

  “He’s a satyr, and satyrs have aligned with Apollo.”

  “Aye, we cannot trust him.”

  “He bears no mark. Don’t believe his lies.”