Masterful Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  She huffed. “Because, you’re not the only one she’s cursed. Or pretended to.” Indeed, they’d employed the nymph in several quests. Hector was not the first male she’d fooled. Though Antiope was powerful, sometimes, one merely required one’s enemy to believe in one’s power.

  Without ever expending it.

  “If I’m not truly cursed—” He stalked forward and a rush of shivers bristled across her skin. Longing darkened his features. Unsated hunger of a decade flexed in his muscles and the steel of his enormous form targeted on her.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t certain she’d been careful about what she’d wished for.

  ***

  Relief and anger mingled in Hector’s blood. Amazons and their damned tricks. He’d been the object of their plottings for far too long.

  Time to teach one of them a new game.

  He shot his hand out to wrap around Delia’s delicate throat. No doubt she spoke truth, because any falsehood would only endanger her.

  I’m free. Free to touch a woman, to finally expel this lustful energy that had ransacked his body and mind for a decade.

  Delia’s fiery glare held his, a smear of his blood like rouge across her bottom lip. He’d been celibate for ten years, but what about her? Those pesky suspicions about his wife’s infidelity pricked at the back of his mind. He’d never claimed her, but was she innocent? Her experience, or lack thereof, would determine how cautious his next moves with her would be.

  He had to accept this female before him was not the one he’d spent these past years wed to. And that he knew nothing of her, except she’d risked everything to save his hide.

  The truth stabbed into his chest, making him desire Delia even more. Frustration over her deception pulsed in his blood, but he understood the situation, that she’d been nothing more than her Queen’s warrior, obeying her sovereign’s commands.

  Each one, except the last.

  Kill me.

  Her stare didn’t waver, this bold and impulsive lass. He shuffled his feet, contemplating the sobriety of his actions. Thereus’s best friend, Arsenius, had mated an Amazon. The warrior Kyme carried herself in much the same manner Delia did. He knew little of her race, other than Amazons held to a strict code of command, bowed to no male, and cherished their freedom above all else.

  To tame her, though, he’d demand she surrender all three.

  He rubbed the base of her throat with his thumb, low murmurs passing his lips. “Sweet Kalyca.” Rosebud. The term of endearment suited Delia, her exterior was as thorny as her enchanted vines, yet if one braved to scale high enough, perhaps they might bask in the bloom of her tender heart.

  With his free hand, he brushed his fingers across her bare thigh, this bloody chiton she wore revealing far too much tempting flesh.

  She shivered, hissing in a breath; his fingertips explored further, easing between her legs.

  One way to determine the answers he sought.

  His fingers skimmed the silken slickness between her thighs, and her fist punched into his side while her legs spread wider for him. Feisty Amazon, she liked his touch rough. He groaned, releasing his grasp from her neck and bending his forehead to hers.

  This wasn’t the encounter he’d always imagined.

  For centuries, he’d dreamed of one day finding his mate. Of the months spent courting her with flowers and ballads. Among his race, a mate was a most cherished gift from the gods. There were rules and protocols to follow.

  When he’d first bonded to Delia, believing himself cursed, he’d given up entirely on the notion of treasuring his mate. He’d relinquished those dreams.

  Now, he’d been offered a second chance. A second start.

  Yet his mate didn’t request any of the wooing he’d envisioned. No, she sought him for a quick romp in the woods, and after?

  She’d likely desert him once more.

  He snorted. This was a play of wills and he wouldn’t surrender. “Nay, sweetling, I’ll not claim you here, not like this.” A quirk tugged at his lips and he seized a step back, certain he’d won.

  Delia’s small nose scrunched, the flames of her passion blazing across her features. “That is not acceptable.” She rushed him, charging his middle, and toppled him backward down the moss-covered embankment. They rolled, tumbling over each other thrice, until they landed at the base of the hill, her legs straddling his shoulders.

  “You will pleasure me, centaur. I’m your mate and I demand it.” Teasingly, she fingered the hem of her chiton, her lush pink flesh bared and inches from his lips—and his tongue.

  His mouth watered at the honey scent of her arousal.

  She slipped one hand between her thighs and then traced her fingertip across his lips.

  His horse stood no chance.

  Growling, he snared her hips, bucking her forward to claim her with his mouth. He planted his lips across her velvety skin, nipping, licking, and sucking. Feasting upon her like a male savoring his last meal.

  Perhaps this was his.

  She moaned and rocked her hips forward, driving her sex deeper against his mouth, demanding he satisfy her.

  Agonizing pangs throbbed inside his ballocks. His cock ached against his breeches, begging to be freed and thrusting inside her.

  Airy mewls escaped her lips while she undulated, her slick bud swelling against his tongue. Suddenly, she jerked her hips and cried, collapsing forward. Panting heavily, she rose off his face, smoothing her skirt and stepping from him.

  He raised his head toward her, intoxicated by her taste and his head buzzing from the force of his lust. “Where are you headed, lass?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and wove her locks into a long braid. “Away from here. It won’t be long until more Lapith soldiers come.”

  He gaped at her. A minute ago, while he’d been gratifying her body, more soldiers had been the least of her concerns. He bobbed his eyebrows toward his stiff erection. “Aren’t you going to reciprocate?”

  She perched one hand on her hip and replied tartly, “No.”

  ***

  Delia strolled from Hector, striving to not let her legs wobble. Or to reveal how affected she’d been by his attentions. Her muscles protested each movement as though melted into liquid, surrounding limp bones.

  Sweet Artemis, if she’d fathomed how exquisite his touch would be, she might have disobeyed her Queen’s command far sooner.

  His easy grin morphed into a grim frown. The straining outline of his thick, long shaft dried her throat, but reciprocate, she would not. Though her palms itched to peel off his clothes and revel in every inch of his solid brawn, she’d spoken the truth.

  More soldiers would arrive soon. Hippolyta would have left nothing to chance. She would have known—a dozen mortals were no match for a centaur.

  This first battle of wills between them, Delia had won. She’d taken and he’d given, and now, she had to keep one step ahead of him.

  Though Hector might hate her for stringing him along, it was a necessity. She was his mate. He would follow her anywhere. If she pleasured him in turn, he’d be relieved of his lustful tension. Mayhap enough to forge his way out of here and straight into peril.

  No, she needed him as he was. Directing the entirety of his concentration onto her.

  So long as he chased her skirts, he was following her.

  He’d be safe.

  She shook her head at the musing. Since when had Hector’s safety become her primary concern? Even more than her redemption?

  Grumbling and scuffling behind her indicated the centaur recognized his defeat and played into her hands, trudging to pursue her.

  She directed her attention ahead and trekked to the top of the hill, facing west. A valley stretched before them, framed in the distance by rolling hills.

  Familiar rolling hills.

  Her throat tightened. No.

  “What is it?” Hector griped, pausing beside her.

  She dug her nails into her palms. “I know this place.” Her shoulders sank
in defeat.

  “Aye? Where are we?”

  She braced to stamp across the cheery note in his tone. “My family’s lands.” She jerked her chin toward the horizon. “Hippolyta deposited us here.”

  “What’s wrong? You know where we are. ’Tis an advantage, is it not? You can direct us home.”

  She clenched her jaw. “No, I can’t. The Queen placed us here, which means this is a test. And I have failed.”

  Failed. To kill me. Hector clenched his jaw, grappling for control. He rested a hand upon Delia’s shoulder. “How will she know this?”

  “She placed me here, where I could easily return to my people. An Amazon encampment lies not five miles away, just outside the Lapith border. When I don’t venture there, she’ll realize I’ve betrayed her.”

  “She might deem you dead, overpowered by—”

  “You?” Delia scoffed and brushed off his hand. “Unlikely.”

  “Aye, perhaps.” He scratched his jaw. ’Twas true, his mate wielded her prowess as fiercely as any centaur. His chest puffed a little at that. “So, what are we to do?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t return and lie. The Queen will sense the deception. I can’t allow you to return, either, not until we’ve uncovered the truth of this.”

  “You’re right.” He folded his arms and inclined his head. She spun to peer at him with wide, cautious eyes. This wasn’t his first diplomatic mission. If he’d learned anything from his father, it was to think with his head first, his gut second, and his heart last. To remove his emotions from a situation so he might get a clear glimpse of its reality.

  Why would the Amazon Queen risk so much to thwart his claim on the throne? How could his father not be aware of this scheming? Or mayhap, Cheiron was enlightened.

  In any case, the Queen could have lopped off his head right then and there, yet she chose instead to play this game with them.

  “There’s more you should know.” Delia pursed her lips and stared at the horizon. “Hippolyta never intended for the Amazons to align with the centaurs through our marriage. I believe she may be seeking a way to overthrow your father and claim the throne for herself.”

  “Aye, I’d feared as much.” The treachery should have wounded him, but he was already reeling from Hippolyta’s attempt on his life. The only thing he remained certain of was that his best chance rested in aligning with Delia. “Where should we go? They’re your lands, lass. Lead the way.” He swept his arm for her to proceed down the embankment first.

  Delia huffed and scurried down the hillside, trekking deeper into the woods and in the opposite direction of the Amazon encampment.

  He followed several feet behind her, keeping a safe distance from every temptation that would cloud his judgment. Instead, he trained his ears to search for any irregular noises, his nose concentrating on detecting unnatural smells.

  The sunlight waned as they approached a cabin nestled into the forest. They spread out, each fanning across one side, before tracking back, ensuring no one resided within.

  Delia nodded at him then shuffled inside and sank onto one armchair by the darkened hearth. “This cabin belongs to my family. I used to stay here, when my father and I went hunting. I doubt it’s in use now.”

  He closed the door behind him and strode to the opposite armchair, claiming a seat. Hearing Delia speak of her father reminded him they were strangers. Mates, but strangers.

  This entire time, he’d believed her spurning to be his fault. What wife wouldn’t hate a husband who never paid her any heed? As it turned out, he wasn’t to blame for his wife’s indifference. Either the other Amazon’s or this one’s. Hector knew almost nothing of the woman he’d been wed to for an entire decade. Hmm. “We are wed, are we not?”

  Her lips quirked. “All of the disastrous events of today and that’s your first question?”

  He lifted and dropped a shoulder casually, though his heart rammed his blood through his veins. His horse threatened to revolt if the other female, the other Delia, was his true wife.

  Delia stretched forward, resting her chin upon her linked fingers. “Yes, centaur, I am your bride. I’m also the one who sliced that blade across your arm, if you must know.” She glanced pointedly at his bonding mark.

  The memory of their wedding night flashed through his mind. He hadn’t claimed her during their bonding ceremony, but that hadn’t seemed to matter. They’d bonded, regardless.

  “Why?” That was definitely his second question, though which why he wasn’t certain. He did wish to learn why Delia had gone through with mating him, but the answer was likely duty, not the romantic fancies of his horse. So he settled for the next most pressing. “Centaurs and Amazons have long been allies.” The betrayal would cut every centaur he knew, just as it had him.

  She regarded him for a long moment before sighing. “Truly, I was as ignorant of her plans as you, but Hippolyta is my Queen. I would do anything she asked of me.”

  Her declaration hung in the air.

  “Except kill me.” They both flinched.

  “I’ve never disobeyed my Queen. Ever,” she huffed defensively, crossing her arms and glaring at him as though ’twas his fault.

  “Well then, by all means, don’t let me keep you from your oaths.” He unsheathed a dagger from the belt at his side, laying the blade across his flat palms.

  Delia nibbled on her bottom lip, contemplating his offer for a mite longer than he would have liked, before shifting to glower at him. “We both know I can’t.”

  “Do we?” He rose and treaded forward, sinking to one knee before her. “The only truth we can both be certain of is my devotion to you.” He flashed the blade between them. “Think carefully, Kalyca, because short of killing me, nothing will keep me from your side.”

  ***

  Delia tensed at Hector’s offer. He was right, of course. A bonded male, especially a centaur, would never relinquish his mate. It was either pledge to work through this together, or end him now.

  Searching within her soul, she sensed she would never be able to cause his death, whether by her hand or the Lapith King’s. Neither could she betray her people and allow him to run free to his father. This whole plan was Hippolyta’s scheme, not the Amazons’, but it was her people’s blood that would be spilled if the centaurs uncovered the treachery.

  So, then, they must find another solution.

  Delia gripped the handle. Hector’s eyes widened.

  Instead of aiming the blade toward him, she sliced it across her palm, blood welling in the center. “What say you, centaur? I will swear to do everything within my power to uphold the peace between our races. Will you?” She held up her bloodied palm, facing him.

  His expression sobered and he nodded solemnly. “I do so swear.” Then he seized the knife and slashed it across his palm. Together, they raised their hands and pressed them together, palm to palm.

  “Good.” She closed her eyes and sought her powers, extending her tawny-hued glow outward. He winced and grunted while her thorny roots snared around their hands. The glow seeped into them, concealing itself.

  “Should you ever break your vow, my vines will flow through your veins, straight to your heart, encircle it, and tighten until they crush the organ.” She opened her eyes and flashed him a bright smile. “Understood?”

  He gawked at her, lips parted, but no words escaped them. Instead, he inclined his head.

  That’s right, centaur. Never cross an Amazon.

  Their hands remained pressed together and she tugged hers away, but Hector closed his fingers around hers. What an unusual male he was. After everything he’d learned today, he still gazed at her as though she might embody his entire world.

  She shivered, his intense stare and the firm, reassuring clasp of his fingers drawing out longings within her she’d buried. How would she ever learn to live if she could never be among her people again? Without them, she had no purpose, no goals.

  She’d never dreamed of anything other than being an Amazon.


  Except, now, Hector stood across her path, splitting it. Offering another life, another purpose.

  She flicked her tongue across her lips, craving one more taste of him. If nothing else, she might sample his offering. Her body continued to teeter on the edge of unfulfilled urges. Hector could quench them.

  She might have a purpose for him, after all.

  His nostrils flared and he leaned forward. “Are you hungry, lass?”

  She blinked, puzzled by his strange question. Her appetite was for something far more decadent than food.

  “We’re still uneven.” He rose and, without any preamble, tugged down his breeches and stepped out of them. His massive erection posed, broad and straight. The corner of his mouth curved in masculine triumph.

  Sweet gods. She swallowed thickly, unable to tear her captivation off his sex. How would he ever fit inside her…mouth?

  For that was what he proposed, wasn’t it? How dare he and yet, she couldn’t deny the thrill rushing through her blood.

  “Go on, sweetling. You know you want to.” He planted his hands on his hips, rolling them forward suggestively.

  She flicked her perusal to his. Those stormy depths goaded her, but weren’t fully assured.

  He doesn’t think I will. Well…

  She shot forward and wrapped her hand around his base, delighting in his startled hiss.

  Even untouched Amazons were no strangers to lovemaking. She’d witnessed plenty of her sisters engage in carnal acts—part of her preparation for this mission. Those sessions wouldn’t be completely useless now, at least.

  She smiled and pumped with both her hands along his length and across his sac, his width overfilling her grasp.

  He eased his head back, his eyes closing in a groan of bliss, before he lowered his admiration onto her, piercing her with its intensity.

  He wished to watch, did he? Well, she’d ensure quite the display, then. One brow arched, she crept forward, her lips inches from him, and halted.

  “Kalyca,” he growled in warning. “If you must toy with me, then…” He seized the back of her head and nudged her closer, while jerking his hips forward. Obediently, she parted her lips, and he thrust inside her. “Toy. With. Me,” he grated each word, jerking his hips to enunciate, filling her mouth and then tauntingly pulling away.