Remedy Maker

by Sheri Fredricks

  He had tried again to dissuade her. “Your Majesty, I insist you find someone more qualified. This is not my area of expertise.”

  “I quite agree with him,” Templar Khristos had said. “His inexperience and lack of deportment will surely hinder the investigation. Might I suggest—”

  “Exactly why you’re perfect for the job,” Savella countered. Someone had pushed through all the safeguards and gotten to her, endangering her life. “The two people I emphatically trust are you and Khristos. Neither of you have any interest in politics, nor in ending my life.” Her weak laugh revealed more than a masticated belly.

  Great. One man who’s sworn to the sacerdotal office, and the other who’s sworn off Centaurs. Sounds perfect. Total polar opposites. He had glanced at Khristos and met the priest’s hard stare without flinching.

  Cool night air bathed Rhy’s heated face, quenching the emotional fires that burned. He worked his jaw back and forth, the muscles sore, and was sure a few teeth were chipped from grinding.

  The return hike to his cabin was a balm to his disappointed soul. Night creatures scurried in the underbrush, avoiding larger animals further up the food chain. Others winged their way through the starry night air.

  No pressures, no sickness, and no creatures to mar his path.

  Except, of course, the creature inhabiting his cabin.

  Four

  Twigs snagged Rhycious’s sweatshirt, clutching like bony fingers as he alternated between trotting and cantering to his cabin. The narrow path twisted around towering hemlocks and leafy birch, the largest old-growth forest in Pennsylvania.

  He leaned forward, tucking his forelegs tight, and jumped a log. Gods, he loved running in horsepower speed, the wind streaming through his tail.

  Long before the log home came into view, he smelled smoke from the fire in his pot-bellied stove, and laughter from the occupants’ voices.

  Lighter than the mating call of a warbler, a female’s laugh floated on the night’s breeze. Her happiness was evident in every cadenza note she trilled. The sound strummed his heartstrings, plucking them right through his chest. How long had it been since he’d heard unrestrained delight emanate from a woman? It called to him, the way a full moon calls to wolves. He longed to hear more, and to surround himself with the beauty of a female.

  Rhycious paused within the radius of light cast through his front window. The worn cedar steps seemed to glow and shine. He wanted to peek through the glass in a voyeuristic fashion and observe them before he walked in. Unfortunately, clomps from his hooves rang out, announcing his arrival.

  A cloak of dark apprehension stole over him. Samuel wouldn’t take issue with his Centaur body. Would the Wood Nymph feel the same?

  Hey, wait one fucking moment. This was his damn house! Who was she to judge him? He had saved her sorry ass.

  Indignation rose, and he shoved the little voice aside that reminded him the jury was still out on the verdict awaiting him.

  With a macho attitude he didn’t fee, Rhy opened the front door and strode into the room. First, he dropped the medical bag on the floor near the apothecary table with a bang, and then his backpack.

  Samuel scrambled up from the recliner, a wide grin on his face. “Guten abend. Glad to see you back, my friend.”

  Rhy glared from his smiling friend to the foe who reclined propped up with pillows on the couch. A blanket covered most of the Nymph’s body, and he wondered who in the hell told her she had the run of his place. Good evening, my hairy ass.

  He hissed out his question. “Making ourselves at home, aren’t we?”

  The sweet smile she’d worn when he entered the cabin faded like the evening sun. Hurt replaced the humor twinkling in her eyes. She dropped her gaze to the mug in her hands.

  “I’m sorry.” Granny’s quilt slid off her legs. She swung them over the side to stand up. “Samuel thought it’d be cool if we cracked the egg out here. I can see we thought foul.”

  Rhy lifted a brow. “Huh?”

  She looked up and searched his face. “We were just shooting the breeze—getting to know each other. Guess it was a bad idea.”

  The musical voice that drifted to him outside still remained, now subdued. Gamóto! What in the hell was wrong with him?

  Holding the mug with one hand, she used the other to push off the cushions. Her knees knocked together as she strained to stand.

  “Patience!” Samuel hurried to grasp her arm and help steady her.

  “Why is it that people keep telling me to be patient?” Rhy said, louder than necessary. Exasperated, he pushed up his sleeves and rolled his eyes. “Samuel, watch her—”

  The hot chocolate sloshed out of the cup, and the girl wavered on her feet. Samuel took the drink from her, but not before it spilled across the blue throw rug. Clutching at Sam’s shoulder, she all but pulled him down to the couch with her.

  Rhycious huffed out a breath, weaved around the couch, and swept her up into his arms. Prepared for revulsion from bare Nymph skin next to his, he wasn’t ready for her warmth to invade his senses. With her body resting in his arms, his mind spun and assimilated the physical sensations.

  Pine, spring grass—scents of the woods. She smelled so damn good that he allowed himself to enjoy another deep inhale. Long, walnut-colored locks flowed like a glossy waterfall over his arm and past his hip. Her loose hair swung in an arc when he turned for the bedroom.

  “Patience—”

  “Yeah, Sam. I heard you the first time,” Rhy said.

  “No.” Samuel’s tone stopped him, and he made a half turn back. Sam’s mouth was set in a mulish line. “Her name is Patience.”

  “I’m sorry.” Surrounded by a soft green circle, her pupils were offset by a sea of blue. Her eyes were tinted with a splash of yellow, and they implored him to forgive her. Shifting her in his arms only brought her face closer. Her arms circled his neck for stability.

  And he was in no way stable.

  Water running in the kitchen meant Sam was rinsing out the used coffee mugs. It was loud enough to reconnect Rhy’s hooves back to planet Earth, and he started for the bedroom again. It occurred to him that if their roles had reversed and he’d seen a Wood Nymph walk into a room while he lay defenseless, he’d be a hell of a lot more upset than she was.

  “Why weren’t you afraid of me when I came home?” He angled her through the doorway, holding tighter than necessary. To protect her from banging into the wood frame, he told himself.

  “Samuel said you were a remedy maker.” She readjusted her grip, sliding one hand down his chest. “I’ve heard of you before—heck, who hasn’t. Not too many peeps called by that name.”

  The small palm pressing against him kicked his pulse into overdrive. Sweet, chocolaty breath drifted up with each word she spoke. She smelled like a Hershey’s Kiss.

  “My friend needs to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Your friend gave me the riot act.”

  Samuel lectured her? Now that’s something he would have liked to have seen. He peeled back the covers and set Patience carefully onto the bed.

  She chuckled. “Pretty much gave me the what-for about cruising the forest alone. I’m so sure.”

  He held her a moment longer, relishing the feel of feminine curves in the circle of his arms. Aware of how her soft breasts molded against his chest, Rhy released her and reached for the covers. When she didn’t release his neck, his gaze shot back to hers.

  Bumping noses, their lips rubbed together.

  * * *

  Flames of desire heated her mouth, engulfed her body, and blasted its way south.

  The remedy maker’s skin warmed beneath her fingers, but his accidental kiss fanned an internal incinerator she never knew existed.

  Patience lifted her gaze and read the confusion in his expression—along with a healthy dose of lust. Both emotions warred for position within his sugary eyes. Silky strands of espresso hair escaped their elastic tie, slipped over his muscular shoulders, onto her cheeks. She tra
iled her fingertips along his neck, grazed across the strong jaw, and traced his sexy lips.

  She reminded herself where she lay and the uncertain predicament she’d found herself in, with a Centaur, no less. His jaw slackened, he looked ready to devour her alive.

  She licked her tingling lips.

  Rhycious drew away, slowly but steadily. Her heart hammered in protest, each beat fighting to draw his heat back to her. When his bristly chin no longer abraded her fingers, she set her hand aside.

  What the hell was that? Sexual energy arced between them, stretching and pulling like a rubber band.

  “I, uh, need to speak with Samuel before he leaves.” He straightened away from the bed and towered above her. His buckskin coat gleamed from the light shining through the open bedroom door. Beneath his sweatshirt, mountains of muscling played hide and seek with the shadows.

  Her time spent with Samuel had been comfortable. She’d woken to find the man on a chair next to her bed, reading a botanical magazine. Studying him beneath her lowered lashes, she guessed he was about twenty-five human years of age.

  Non-threatening in voice and manner, she had liked the human instantly. He’d answered her questions the best he could, explaining how she had arrived at Rhycious’s home. Samuel had laughed, telling her how Rhy had pulled his buggy all around the farm, racing at breakneck speed. All to entertain nine-year-old Samuel and bring a smile to his sad face the summer his father had passed away.

  The shadows had grown long, and then disappeared altogether. Through it all, the two of them had talked. Sometimes about Rhycious, and what all bothered him. They spoke about Samuel’s Amish life, and the ups and downs of it. And since Samuel shared a piece of his personal life, Patience unburdened her troubled heart, revealing she worried for her missing sister, Serenity.

  Rhycious crossed his arms and backed up a step. Then he uncrossed his arms, and restless fingers tap-danced on the sides of his thighs. His front legs shifted from side to side.

  Unable to speak or tear her gaze away, she nodded. His dark sweatshirt stretched across the mass of his chest and strained the shoulder seams.

  A length of beautiful cerulean blue material lay in her drawer at home. The color would be fantastic against his skin tone, and go well with his dark brown hair and olive complexion.

  Rhycious clopped to the door, his side profile facing her. His expression puzzled, he frowned toward the floor. Both hands balled in his shirt’s kangaroo pocket, beneath the Raiders insignia.

  A predominate dark dorsal stripe started under the bottom band of his sweatshirt, running the length of his back, and then blended into his tail sweeping the floor. Streaks of red, black, and silver highlights blazed through the long hairs as he disappeared from view.

  In the next room, Rhycious’s deep voice briefed Samuel on the events of his visit to the palace. By his concerned tone, the situation had been a precarious one. The Centaur queen had been poisoned, an attempt made on her life.

  Patience had the lowdown of the brave Queen, how she had risked dethronement for her forward thinking policies. By sheer determination, Savella argued peace and harmony back into the Wood Nymph and Centaur courts single-handed, never settling for anything less.

  Rhycious’s voice held a note of sadness while he spoke with Samuel of the political unrest within the Centaur Clans. Uprising rebels continued to stir the pot of dissention, leading bored local youths to join them like inner city gangs. He discussed stodgy old thinkers who stoked dying fires of jaundiced embers. Some breathed life into the mentality that Centaurs were higher classed than other lowly woodland creatures.

  She raspberried her opinion the exact moment Rhy snorted in the other room. It was a Centaur’s nature to be avoidant of other lower races. They viewed themselves to be wise teachers. Patience stuffed back her derisive laugh. She’d been taught that the horse-man beings preferred drinking and brawling to intellectual conversation.

  Patience felt better than she had in weeks, and stretched her arms overhead. Whatever the remedy maker had brewed for her, it had released the ache from her bones, the very worst of her ailments.

  Rhy’s rumbling voice dropped, which made eavesdropping impossible, though she strained to hear. Booted feet paced the floor toward the front of the cabin, and stopped.

  “You need to hear what she has to say, Rhy.” The front door squeaked opened. “Your people have bigger problems than what they created on their own. The girl has seen—” Samuel must have stepped through the door, because Patience couldn’t catch the rest of what he said.

  Hoof steps followed, and the door closed.

  Patience pushed on her elbows to sit up, relieved when a wave of dizziness didn’t hit her. Falling back, she slapped a hand to the comforter. What was going on with her body?

  She heaved a sigh. Rhycious was a busy man. His fame as the preeminent Remedy Maker of Boronda was unsurpassed by any other healer along the east coast.

  And feeling as good as she did now, she could vouch that everything said about him was truth.

  What she didn’t believe was her reaction to his kiss. And it wasn’t even a real kiss, more a brush of the lips.

  The pads of her fingers touched her lips, recalling the butterfly kiss on her mouth. Summer breezes caressed with more pressure. A tingle spread down to her breasts, causing the buds to tighten.

  So why had he acted as though he hadn’t wanted to let go of her? And why did she not want him to?

  Patience pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. As soon as she could walk and not keel over, she’d split the sheets to search for Serenity again. The Centaur was a nice side trip, but she had to stay the course and find her sister.

  Hoof beats thumped on the porch, and then the front door opened and closed. Rhy’s frame filled the doorway, his large body blocking most of the kitchen light. His sweatshirt’s hood covered his head, and with his features concealed in the dark, it was like facing a sexy specter.

  He looked delicious, and her skin puckered up like bubble-wrap.

  “Samuel left.” He stepped into the room. “I know it’s late, but do you feel up to answering a few questions?” Reaching, he pulled down the hood, and tugged the elastic band off his ponytail.

  “I’m good. Thanks for taking care of me and letting me crash here. And for not bailing on me. I promise to breeze out and leave first thing in the morning—get out of your hair.”

  Rhycious clip-clopped across the floor, and he paused next to her bed. “Mind if I park it?”

  “Be my guest.” Butterflies were having a wing-war inside her stomach, and she forced her lips to smile. When he looked down at her, his eyelids half closed, giving him sexy bedroom eyes. It was hard to concentrate with him so near, so she pushed herself up to recline against the headboard, curling her legs to make room for him on the bed.

  He watched her movements under the blankets, and one side of his mouth crooked up. “I’ll just sit here, but thanks anyway.” His thick tail swished to the side and hind legs folded neatly beneath him on the rug.

  “How tall are you?” He sat almost high as the trees. Desperate to suck back the blurted words, her face blazed hot and she feigned interest in the comforter’s design.

  He chuckled and crossed his arms. “Eighteen hands now, six foot seven otherwise.” He studied her a moment longer. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like da bomb, though you couldn’t tell by my episode out there.” She gestured with a wave of her hand.

  “You’re weak and exhausted. So, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t felt well for several years. Lately, I’ve been feeling worse than old biscuits.” Searching for Serenity the other night had taken it out of her. And scurrying to hide hadn’t helped either, scared shitless the hunters would find her.

  If that ever happened, her health would be the least of her problems.

  He scrubbed his cheek and gazed unfocused around the room. Big hands. Thick fingers. So strong, yet they’d cr
adled her so gently. When his sight sharpened on her, both of his brows drew down.

  “Sam mentioned your sister is missing.”

  Pain throbbed deep in her chest at the thought of Serenity, and Rhy’s rough voice brought the situation slamming back into her. Worry and tears clogged her throat, causing her to swallow.

  “They took her.” She clasped her hands tightly together on the quilt and watched her knuckles turn white.

  Rhy bumped against the bed, reaching for her wrist. “Who did?”

  She didn’t want his pity. She wanted her sister. A tear coursed an itchy track down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. Frustration brought her chin up to meet his eyes.

  “The human hunters, that’s who. Serenity was supposed to hang with me at my place, but she never showed up. She was an hour late when I went to look for her. That’s when I saw the hunters in our sector.”

  Rhycious stared at his wristwatch, lips compressed flat.

  Hell. He’s taking my pulse. Feeling foolish for thinking he’d pulled the compassion card, Patience ducked her head. His tanned fingers pressed the tender skin of her inner wrist. Hyper-awareness caused her skin to tingle at the point of connection, and she was certain her heartbeat raced. She sniffed back her tears and pulled herself together. Rhycious brushed his thumb along her pulse point before releasing her wrist.

  Slow moving warmth worked its way up her arm and across her chest, closing the black hole of worry. Whether angry or in doctor mode, Rhycious was one fine looking man.

  He handed her a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “You saw them take her?”

  “No. But she’s missing and they were there. Now she’s not here and neither are they.” She studied the pattern that made up the quilt and refused to see his logic. “You do the math.”