Remedy Maker

by Sheri Fredricks

  Timid as a white-tailed deer, Waverly stepped from behind the tree and moved around the giant fern to stand quivering before them. She kept glancing at him, as if he’d reach over at any moment and gobble her up for lunch. Fearful or not, the scared rabbit routine scraped his raw, aggravated nerves.

  “Would it be all right if we continued this social visit another time?” Rhy ripped out the words impatiently. He clenched his jaw and turned to address the girl. “We have an appointment and need to keep moving.”

  Patience shot him a look that meant to blister his behind. Clearing her throat, she turned her lips upward again and faced Waverly. “I’ve been scouting for Serenity and have a twangle something’s up. You seen her lately?”

  The girl seemed to pull further into herself, if that was possible, and shook her head while worrying her bottom lip with small white teeth. Then she shrugged and shot furtive glances his way.

  Enough with the mouse act. Behind schedule in ferreting out the infiltrators within the royal house, not giving the disappearance of Patience’s sister a whole lot of investigation time, and Rhycious became one cranky Centaur.

  “Look,” he said, his sufferance having run out. “Either you’ve seen her or not. Which is it?”

  Waverly gasped and jumped behind the protection of the tree once again. The fern fronds shook where they lay against her trembling body.

  Rhy rolled his eyes at the dramatics of females. He was done here. Time burned while they tried to coax intel out of this jumpy twit.

  Patience spun on her heel, glaring up at him, hands on her hips.

  “What?” Rhy raised his hands in a shrug. The Nymph needed motivation to speak. He was accelerating the likelihood that it’d happen before sunset.

  “Before you go and fubar this any further, just know I don’t need your help here.” Her mouth pulled down in a frown, tension set her shoulders tight.

  By his wristwatch, he hoped they’d be safely ensconced behind the palace walls within a few hours.

  “Sorry. Just please . . . make it short.” At his pointed look, she nodded in return. He let out a sigh and walked a short distance away.

  Rhycious handed it to Patience for living up to her name. Skills in negotiation and counseling coughed up Serenity’s information faster once he was out of the way. Her open-ended questions to Waverly extracted answers that were point specific.

  More smiles, two hugs, and twenty minutes later they were back in step. This time, he made sure to take point position.

  When they were well out of earshot, she said, “Quaking aspens require a more delicate touch. You can’t just go all bad-ass on them or they’ll shut down.” Her voice held a bite of sarcasm.

  “Do you want me to apologize again? I said I was sorry.” He held a low hanging branch out of her way. “What did Waverly say about your sister?”

  “When Serenity left her house, she was followed by some hunters. Just as I suspected.” Patience gave a loud sniff, her eyes filling but not spilling over.

  He offered his hand and Patience took it, giving his a squeeze. Rhy would have held on longer, but she dropped hers away. To keep up with his longer strides, she had to swung her arms.

  For now, he’d change the subject and touch back on this later.

  “You were great back there, counselor.”

  A highly skeptical look slid his way. “And you’re tripping out?”

  “Agreeing to shift your mediation skills from the indigenous mythological Wood Nymphs of your sector to help the inner-turbulent clans of Boronda? Yeah, I’m impressed as hell.”

  She lifted an eyebrow and appeared flummoxed. Rhycious didn’t understand why, he wasn’t just a hoof soldier in Her Majesty’s army. He’d actually read a book or two in his time.

  “Well, uh . . . rebellious tribe culture is a highly regarded field of legitimate study, with a direct equivalence documented between recognized Woodland traditions and other syndications.”

  He stopped in his tracks to turn and stare at her. Educated reasoning—did Patience just admit she understood there were inherent distinctions?

  “Wow, I am truly aroused. I just got spanked and put in my place.” He let out a hearty laugh and realized something. He did a lot of that around her.

  Wonder and admiration grew in spades for his harlequin pixie. He gave her a long contemplative look that colored her cheeks.

  “I can guarantee one thing,” she said. “There isn’t an alliance in Boronda that has anything time-honored about it when it comes to utter mind-numbing viciousness. There are those who make the act of war in every way, on every day.”

  The laid-back, honest words hammered a chord deep inside him, giving them hard legitimacy.

  “You think it’ll ever end?” he asked, curious as hell to know what she thought.

  In response, Patience held his gaze, clear and secure.

  By the time she looked away, he had his answer.

  Nineteen

  Were they lost?

  Patience could have sworn they’d already passed that same damn rock—single tree root, double trunk, growing in the middle of a split boulder. It’d make a bitchen home if nobody lived there. She and Rhy could live on one side and have their offices on the other.

  Nope. Don’t think about a future with him. After all, he’s never mentioned one with me.

  They were somewhere deep within the northern sector of Boronda, beyond the Wood Nymph boundary. Rhycious led the way alongside a gurgling creek. Musical jingles of water flowing over and between rocks helped dull her mind to Waverly’s distressing words.

  According to Waverly, she and Rhycious had stood in the exact spot Serenity was last seen—with an additional gut-dropping piece of info tacked on. Too frightened to call out a warning, the little Nymph watched Patience’s sister walk away—trailed by two hunters. Moreover, according to Waverly’s description, these weren’t the same class of bumbling idiots as before. These new hunters wore upgraded tactical gear over their military-style fatigues.

  Thank Bacchus the humans who kidnaptured her were dead, killed by Rhy’s own hand. While the necessity of taking a life made her emo sad, in the hunters’ case, it was good riddance.

  Frustration flashed through Patience at the quaking Nymph’s NEWS—Never Ending Wimp Society. She could have easily backhanded Waverly for her worthlessness. Nationalities differed between Wood Nymphs, and with it came inherit differences. Quaking aspen Nymphs lived up to their name. If only Waverly had mustered the courage to warn Serenity.

  Patience heaved a deep sigh, thinking of their updated data flash.

  Water caught the passing sun and sparkled the bright reflection in her eyes. She glanced past the glare into a current moving slower than cold honey, and smiled at the Water Nymph who waved.

  Patience couldn’t recall his name, but she remembered the conflict mediation she had performed. Wood versus Water, property dispute. Her amicable mediation successfully restored relations along the Boronda stream bank in question.

  The Nymph’s image slowly diffused between shards of prism light. He turned on his back to swim upstream, long hair poured out to frame his face like the undulating blades of grass beneath the clear surface. She raised her hand in farewell as his watery figure retreated.

  “We’re almost there.” Rhy stepped around a green, moss-covered rock. “You feel okay?”

  No. I’m still a little pissed off at you. “I’m bad, thanks.” I bet we’re lost.

  “Another twenty minutes or so.”

  “Cool.”

  He checked her out over his shoulder, a frown creasing his brow. Facing forward again, he said, “Did you know you’re the only Wood Nymph, besides Ambassador Koviac, who’s been invited inside Savella’s palace since she signed the treaty?”

  “Chewy.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s great.”

  The bulk of Rhy’s large body came to a sudden stop. She threw her hands up, but not before she’d bumped her nose into his back.

/>   When he spun around to face her, he didn’t look happy. His jaw was set firmly, and his intense brown eyes glowered beneath lowered brows. “Why the monosyllabic answers?”

  Before taking a step back, Patience raised her eyes to meet his steely glare. He didn’t intimidate her. And she wasn’t in the mood to play nice.

  “For a man of healing, you sure have a shitty bedside manner.”

  The air temperature steadily climbed, but his bad attitude cranked it up another degree. With a jerk and a pull, she peeled her over-shirt off and tied it in a loose knot around her hips.

  “What’s twisting your panties? Are you still angry with me about that paranoid Nymph back there?” His arm gestured to the path behind her.

  Patience crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. Her pounding heart sounded like thunder in her ears. “Hmm. Balla brains, dude. I can see why you’re all that and a bag of chips too.”

  He stared at her and didn’t break eye contact for a long moment, his mouth working. When he finally glanced away, it was to look at the sky. His hands rested on his hips. “May the gods Bacchus and Pan give me strength.”

  “Oh, puleeze.” She swept him aside with her arm and stepped over his big feet on the narrow trail. “Save the dramatics for your patients.” She sucked in air that smelled of clean male sweat, mixed with the tangy freshness of clover.

  In a whirlpool of blended chaotic thoughts, Patience stomped along the pebble-strewn trail. His self-centered attitude could go bite the big one.

  “Not thirty minutes ago, we had dialogue with the last known person who’d seen Serenity alive. A conversation, I remind you, that you nearly blew. May the gods save me from boneheaded males.”

  Queen Savella must have a good reason for choosing Rhycious to carry out her mission. It certainly wasn’t for his sterling people skills. Maybe she’d ask Her Majesty just what in the hell she’d been thinking.

  Heavy footsteps followed close behind and she increased her speed. Funkdafied Centaur could just talk to her back for the next mile or so. The thought of his heated eyes glued to her swaying ass brought a smile to her lips. She added an extra hip swing. Serves him right.

  But yet—

  Patience couldn’t deny the powerful magnetism of him. Sensory feedback overload happened every time she stood too close to his sheer magnetism. More than she’d experienced while in the crowded, male dominated sector meetings inside the largest sycamore trees.

  His kisses whirled her to the brink, and his body took her over the edge.

  Rhycious was an excellent kisser.

  And lover.

  Ribboning around strewn boulders, the thin trail moved away from the stream and spilled out to a picturesque clearing set against the backdrop of a sheer rock wall. Patience peered behind her and caught Rhy’s stony expression. She forced herself to take slow, easy breaths. No words had passed between them for the last fifteen minutes, which suited her fine. He didn’t feel like talking, and she wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  “Stay inside the tree line,” Rhycious warned.

  “Aye-aye, Capitan.”

  Near the inside rim of forest shade, she held up, and waited for Rhy.

  “Smart-ass.” His arm reached out and brushed her aside, as she had done earlier to him. He stepped neatly around her.

  Patience couldn’t help herself; he made himself an easy target. She stuck out her foot and tripped him up, giggling at his windmilled antics. “Better than being a stupid-ass.”

  Rhy spun around with a mock growl and came at her low, catching her around the legs. Lifting her to his shoulder, he carried her like a bolt of cloth and walked a casual stride across the open field.

  Unlike the last time she found herself dangling upside down, Patience laughed with delight. His backpack bounced against her cheek, but she managed to whack his Buns of Steel with her hand, which stung her palm.

  “Ow!” Between gasps and giggle fits, she sputtered, “Put me down, you Centaur mule.”

  “You’re not in position to make demands, my lady.” Rhy laughed a deep and rich baritone.

  Her hair streamed out as he wheeled dizzying circles, he pretended to lose his grip by slackening the arm hooked around her knees. She squealed, which was obviously his objective. Filled with sunshine over the change in Rhy’s dreary mood, she looked forward to making love again and lazing the day away.

  After dealing with mutinous rebels, worrisome family business, and before their paths separated for good, Patience promised herself she’d have that day.

  “Quit wiggling so much. I don’t want to drop you.”

  “Foe shizzle m’nizzle. I don’t want to play KerPlunk headfirst, either. This is messed up, put me down.” Bootie hand blasts didn’t have any effect against his hard ass.

  Perhaps tickling did.

  On track across the fragrant meadow again, Rhy applied his hand with a sharp crack to her derrière. Then he took extraordinary care in rubbing the sting away.

  Eyes closed, Patience purred from the power of his opposite stimulation package. Circular hand motions, with the right amount of pressure and squeeze power.

  Just when she would have parted her legs to invite him to rub something else, she became weightless, tossed in the air with a shrug of his massive shoulder. As if she was nothing more than a gnat, he caught and righted her in one smooth move.

  Both her hands flew up to smooth down her explosion of hair. The action thrust her breasts upward under the thin tank she wore.

  Yeah, girls. He sees you. A tingle went up her spine and her nipples tightened in response.

  Rhycious brushed the hair off her cheek, then let his hand slide behind her nape. He leaned down to find her lips with his own, and she lowered her arms to circle his neck.

  Patience found herself swaying. The movement of his tongue, the soft laps inside her mouth—as if he stroked her inner thighs.

  “More,” she said, and twisted her body to get closer to him, forcing his free arm to go around her.

  “Any more and I’ll have us naked on the ground.”

  “Perfect.”

  An image of warm sun baking on bare skin sounded simply delicious. A step back in time to the days when Nymphs wore little clothing, if any, and lived to frolic their days away.

  Rhy’s powerful arms wrapped tight and held her against his hard body, crushing her breasts to his chest. He slowly straightened to his full six-and-a-half foot height. Mouths locked in dueling action, eyes closed, Patience let her boots dangle useless in the air. His groans echoed in her mouth every time she pushed her hips against his.

  Oh, woodland gods. She was so into him. Driving hot, deep, fast, and firm with her tongue, feeling him come unglued—one moan at a time.

  After few breathless moments, he set her down with a sigh. Swiftly kissing her cheek, he uncurled his body and took her hand. “Shall we?”

  Yes, what shall we do?

  He gestured with his eyes and brows to the ominous rock face twenty feet away.

  “You want to climb rocks?” she asked, incredulous. Not really what she had in mind. Further bump action in a horizontal position would be preferable.

  Anger sex . . . is that like make-up sex?

  Rhy grasped her hand, his white teeth flashing, and pulled her along behind him. As if she were an unruly child, he dragged her closer to the granite wall that towered hundreds of feet above them. The wall stretched for a distance in both directions.

  Gnarled bushes and bonsai-sized trees grew in crannies along various ledges where dirt accumulated. Radiant heat emitted in shimmering waves from sun scorched rock as she stood in jaw dropping awe, looking up.

  A metallic clink sounded. Cool air brushed her cheek and wisped through her hair in a feather soft caress. The odd tone drew her gaze away from the jagged cliffs to Rhycious, who pushed at a crevice in the granite.

  A hidden entryway opened a crack.

  Cripes. The hole-in-the-wall mentioned in Wood Nymph legend. Swallowing hard, Patience tilted her
head and popped her neck. Rhy didn’t need to lay down an advanced history lesson on a use of the stashed passageway. Her people knew it well. During the Great War, Centaur warriors would suddenly appear and slaughter unprepared Wood Nymphs, both soldiers and civilians alike. Then, as if by mythical magic, the horsemen would retreat and seem to vanish into solid rock.

  Bacchus’ breathe. Here she stood, at the very opening where destruction had reigned on the Nymph race for over two hundred years. Even a century out of war, it struck her dumb. Humbled by the magnitude of the simple palace entry, and honored by the trust Rhycious gave her, Patience felt very inconsequential.

  Rhycious turned to look over his shoulder, scanning the tree line behind them. Across the meadow, birds chased one another between leafy branches, and purple flowers waved.

  He gave her fingers a tug. “Come on.”

  Patience pulled back and hesitated for two heartbeats. Her dream of harmonious living and her life’s work to achieve the goal mirrored that of Rhy’s. To live with races co-mingling—the way it used to be. Before war and devastation took a toll on their people, back when trust existed between races.

  Her gaze flew to Rhy, who loosened his calloused grip. Warm brown eyes watched her, gleaming like glassy volcanic rock, taking in her features. Perspiration gave his skin a healthy glow. She was acutely aware of his tall, physique du role. He thumbed the skin of her inner wrist, waiting for her to work through her fears. His touch sent electric pulses to dance up her arm.

  Her lips dried out, and she licked them. It’s now or never, homie. She nodded that she was ready.

  Well-lubed metal hinges swung the rock door inward. Dwarfed by the immense height of the hand-carved entrance, the narrower width was a surprise. Built expressly for Centaurs in true form, the craftsmanship appeared superb. When closed, she imagined the barest of hairline cracks—if one even knew where to look, that is.

  Rhycious took a deep breath. He held it a few seconds before releasing it out in a stream. At his insistence, she entered the dark portal first, ahead of him.

  Beyond the beam of daylight sneaking in with the open door, the interior loomed pitch black. Devoid of the brightness of a moment ago, the dark maw disoriented her. Cooler air mixed with the warmth from outside, another stark difference to her senses.