Masterful Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  Dozens of stares fixed upon her at her sudden entry.

  “My Lady Delia?” Thereus shot to his feet, followed by Oreius and Agrius.

  “It’s Hector.” Her lower lip trembled and she fisted her hand against the quivers shooting along her arms.

  “Easy, lass, tell us what happened.” Agrius stepped to her side, his calm pewter gaze coaxing her nerves to steady.

  She expelled a tense breath. “Something happened to him. One moment, we were together, and the next, a madness claimed him. I fear...” She cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t sound crazed herself. “I fear it’s the lyssa.”

  The color drained from Agrius’s cheeks and a hush sucked the air from the chamber. “Are you certain?”

  She bobbed her head, closing her eyes for a brief second.

  “Where is he?”

  Grimacing, she pressed her lips thin. “He ran off into the forest.” Her focus drifted to the window. He could be anywhere by now. Was he unharmed? Or, oh, gods, had he harmed someone else?

  Agrius twisted aside and spoke in low tones with the other brothers, before facing her. “Leave him to us, lass. We’ll do whatever we can for him.”

  Together, the males strode from the chamber, a cloud of gloom hovering above them.

  Wait, no. The frenzy in Hector’s eyes had terrified her, but she was an Amazon.

  She was going with them. Delia raced to catch up.

  “Nay, love. You shouldn’t come.” Oreius blocked her, but she arched her brow at his protest.

  “He’s my husband, my mate.” She perched a hand on her hip. “You’d best believe I’m going to rescue him.”

  The three brothers exchanged wide glances and slowly nodded.

  “Aye, very well, but keep your distance. He may have gone feral.”

  She swallowed thickly and hurried past them, through the Portal onto Hector’s lands. With any luck, he wouldn’t have strayed far. Scanning the castle grounds, she tracked his trail and followed it into the woods. An eerie howling screeched through the silence, stilling the evening air.

  “There.” Agrius pointed to the west. “He hasn’t gone far.”

  The three centaurs strode forward, ushering her within their midst. In battle, she was as skilled as any of them, but this?

  This enemy, none of them comprehended.

  What would Hector be capable of?

  They crossed a bubbling creek to the edge of a pasture. Thereus whistled low and held up a hand signaling them to halt. On the far side, a hundred feet away, a figure hunched, tearing at the carcass of an animal. She squinted. A hare?

  They spread out, in a half circle, cautiously approaching the male.

  Oh, Hector. She pressed her hand over her mouth, fighting against tears. He crouched in human form, nude but splattered with mud. Several gashes cut across his bare flesh.

  In his eyes, only a beast remained.

  The shocked gasps of his brothers rushed through her, confirming her fears. Pity and helplessness threatened to consume her.

  Could they save him, or had her centaur ventured beyond recovery?

  He stopped, dropping the carcass, and sniffed the air. His gleaming, feral gaze shot straight to her and a growl rumbled in his chest. Blood dripped from his fingertips, but he hadn’t yet feasted.

  Now, it seemed, his hunger had taken a different turn.

  “Back, lass,” Agrius whispered, waving for her to retreat.

  She obeyed, flexing her fingers, the spark of her powers ready to flare across this meadow and trap her husband.

  Hector lunged, but the three burly centaurs cut him off, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled, a blur of arms and legs and hooves. She couldn’t focus on Hector enough to restrain him alone, so she shifted on her feet, waiting. Her vision hazed as she tried to follow the blows and kicks. Sickening snaps rent the air, broken bones and bruises being delivered by all parties.

  Finally, Thereus emerged to the top, pinning down Hector’s torso while Oreius and Agrius seized his limbs.

  She straightened and inched forward, but the males blocked her view of Hector’s face. Gods, she prayed he would be well. Thereus delivered a blow to Hector’s jaw and he slumped, unconscious.

  Wringing her fingers, she puffed out her breath. The three brothers hoisted Hector between them, carting him like a boar to be roasted.

  Her powers fizzled and died upon her fingertips, unneeded.

  “We’ve got him now. Rest easy.” Agrius clamped a hand onto her shoulder, Oreius bowed his head, his frown solemn, and Thereus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting out blood.

  On the journey to Great Meteoron, Oreius limped, his left hind leg treading with care, and Agrius rolled his right shoulder, grimacing.

  Fear spiking her blood, she followed them straight to the dungeon, where they deposited Hector inside. He didn’t stir.

  She seized one foot inside the cell, but Agrius gripped her arm, stopping her. “He’s too dangerous. He’s not himself.”

  And he might never be.

  Dutifully, Delia trailed behind the centaurs into King Cheiron’s Great Hall. They explained the situation, and hours passed while various attendants weaved in and out of Hector’s cell.

  They all emerged into the Great Hall, expressions solemn, shaking their heads.

  Hopeless, they claimed.

  Whatever had seized Hector, it was greater than any of their abilities to cure.

  He was lost to them.

  Agrius sat her on a bench, clasping her hands in his large, warm ones. His mate, Eione, perched on her other side, one comforting hand on Delia’s shoulder.

  “I know not else how to explain this, except to say, Hector is lost to us.”

  “What does that mean, lost?” She whipped her head. Show her the enemy and she would thrust her sword through it. Cut off its head. Tear its limbs from its body and burn its corpse.

  But this?

  “Hector has become feral. No centaur has ever been reclaimed once past this stage of the lyssa.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and tears misted in his eyes. “Normally, it is considered most compassionate to…”

  He didn’t finish, and he didn’t have to.

  “No.” She wrenched her hands from his and shot to her feet. “No.” How could they even speak of this? Killing him?

  She scoffed at everyone gathered in the chamber. At the useless attendants and the others, some of whom were happily mated. She’d bet they wouldn’t so easily give up on their mates. How dare they ask such of her. “You may be finished, but I will never stop fighting for him.”

  Storming from the chamber, she headed first for the gardens, but slowed her steps and halted, turning back into the corridor and following the passageway into the dungeon. Who were they to tell her she couldn’t see her mate?

  That he was lost.

  They were so wrong.

  They had to be.

  Holding her breath, she marched to the guards, who blocked her entry with crossed spears.

  “Forgive us, milady, but no one is permitted entry,” one addressed her, pity in his frown.

  She flicked her fingers through the air, her vines shooting out to snare them and tie them to the ground.

  No one would keep her from Hector.

  He’s mine.

  Her resolve lasted until the second she stepped up to the iron bars. Hector rested within, on hands and knees, howling in a low, sorrowful wail that echoed down into her soul.

  He turned his head as she approached, casting gleaming, beastly eyes upon her.

  Snapping, he lunged for the bars and banged his head against them. She gasped and jumped aside while he thrashed against the bars, clawing at them and snarling, casting her sideways, dark glowers.

  As he calmed, she grew bolder and seized one step closer. “Hector?” She pressed a palm up and outward toward him. “It’s Delia. I know you can hear me, that you’re still in there.” Her voice wavered and she sniffled.

  He sniffed at
the air and sank to his knees, head braced against the bars.

  “Oh, Hector.” She slumped to the ground in front of him. Her hands itched to touch him, to stroke his damp locks. His brothers must have bathed him, for the mud and blood were gone, though they’d left him nude.

  “You’re not a beast. You’re my mate. You’re my heart.” It was true. Observing him now, she knew, in every inch of her being, that she loved this male. Perhaps, the Fates would grant them pity and her affection would be enough to save him.

  She edged closer. “I love you, Hector. I will fight to bring you back.”

  He squinted at her, nostrils flared, and bared his teeth. But he didn’t growl or lunge at her.

  Well, at least that was a start.

  ***

  He inhaled and a sweet, arousing scent filtered through his whole body. The enticing darkness flooding his mind stirred, seducing him down, down, down, into warm, welcoming depths, and away from the allure of the feminine creature in front of him. Bloodlust burned in his veins. The desire to slaughter everything within reach clawed through his fingers.

  But he didn’t wish to harm this little one. Her presence soothed him, pulling him in the opposite direction. Replacing his urge to kill with another. He sniffed again and grunted. His shaft ached, stiffening.

  Her lips parted and she eyed him, murmuring. He scowled, his ears straining to comprehend her bizarre sounds.

  Suddenly, the melodic rhythm of her voice snuffed out and she huffed, hopping to her feet.

  He leapt to his, stalking her every movement. His throat was parched and he craved her sweetness on his tongue.

  She narrowed shining dark eyes on him, and slipped the covering from her body.

  Those plump, round orbs looked so soft and inviting, perfect for his hands to grasp. And lower, the luscious scent perfuming from the apex of her legs…

  Need pounded through him, shooting his length long and rigid. He gripped it, rocking his hips forward through these damned bars.

  The female didn’t move closer, and this agony was going to destroy him.

  He growled, begging her to come near enough to thrust between her legs.

  Swaying those lush hips, she sauntered closer, but out of his reach. She flicked her hand, and a glowing beam sparked along her fingertips.

  She kept uttering low, soothing sounds to him while a vine rose from her fingers, snaking toward him. He snarled as it neared, but she repeated those noises, and he decided to wait for what she would do next.

  He jolted as the vine crept along his wrist, encircling it, and then around the bar. Breathing in and out through his nose, he fought against struggling. He yearned to mate with her, so he would obey, for now.

  She did the same with his other hand, and only when his wrists were bound, did she approach. His chest rose and fell in heavy anticipation as she neared, sparks igniting through his body and twitching his muscles.

  She dipped a finger between her legs, and brought her slick fingers to his lips. He greedily sucked them in, nipping and laving at her luscious taste until she withdrew her hand. He growled low, not finished with her yet.

  She continued to murmur, and the sounds were making his head hurt. He whipped his head several times, trying to block out the pain, but it wasn’t working.

  “Hector.”

  He thrashed his forehead against the bars. She repeated that noise, over and over, until it pounded through his mind.

  “Delia.” She pressed a hand to her chest, between those full globes, and his shaft ached even worse.

  He thrust his hips out, demanding she acknowledge his lust.

  Instead, she pressed both her palms to his cheeks and grated, “Hector.”

  What did she ask of him? Mayhap if he returned the noises, she would let him mount her. “Hec-tor,” he ground out.

  Her face broke into a flashing beam of bright teeth and her hand slipped down his body, jolting his abdomen and making him pant with need.

  If he gave her more of what she wanted, she might give him more, too. “De-li-a.”

  A chiming sound passed her lips and she pressed her mouth to his.

  He groaned, nipping to take her in deeper, but a rattling echoed from the far side of the darkness and she wrenched aside, gasping.

  Blast it. Clanging resonated from the stairwell. Someone might have discovered the incapacitated guards. Delia pressed her lips tight and cursed again. Hector was making progress, but she needed more time.

  The centaurs wouldn’t grant it to her. They were prepared to execute him.

  Only one choice remained. She had to steal him.

  Her survey dipped to his enormous sex, rigid and eager, and so ready to take her. How would she sneak him out of here without him claiming her first?

  They could not mate. That was for certain, not until he submitted and was restored. Otherwise, he had no reason to come back to her.

  With the end of one vine, she picked the lock of his cell, and with another, she bound together his wrists. Then she swept up her gown and pulled it over her head.

  The other centaurs might fear his unpredictable nature, but she was certain Hector would never harm her, no matter his state of mind.

  She tightened the vines and beckoned him through the doorway. “If you want me, Hector, you must come. We must escape this place.” Even though he likely didn’t understand a word she spoke, she hoped her tone would convince him.

  He’d seemed to grasp that she demanded his obedience in exchange for her affection.

  Hector seized one step forward, his nostrils flared and his intense perusal fixed on her.

  She held her chin high, daring him to test her dominance, and waved for him to precede her down the corridor.

  Hands bound in front of him, he eyed her as he passed, but didn’t attempt to subdue her. He might be no more than a beast, but at least he was a sentient one.

  Delia led him out of the corridor and toward a passage she’d employed while exchanging places with Astris. The Amazons had mapped out several secret locations within centaur lands.

  After setting aside the steel grate, he crawled through the tunneled opening. She followed after him, closing the grate behind them to conceal their exit.

  The tunnel was narrow and damp, the earthen walls surrounding them just wide enough for them to crawl through.

  They followed the passage for almost an hour, before Hector finally hopped out to the other side. Thick forest surrounded the opening. This was another meeting point, and luckily, a secluded cave with supplies lay on the other side of this tunnel.

  Delia tightened her hold on the vines, bracing for Hector’s strike. She inched her feet out of the tunnel first and, gripping the top of the passage, swung out in a giant leap.

  Hector charged her from the side, swinging her into his steel arms. Instead of fighting and provoking him, she went limp and steadied her breathing.

  His heavy, warm breath fanned across the side of her neck as his broad chest pressed tight to her back. Steel arms cinched in a vice around her middle, his rigid erection rubbing along her spine.

  “You can’t have me like this, Hector.” She kept her voice calm. “Come back to me.”

  He snorted and flicked his tongue along her neck. She stamped down the tingling shivers of delight coursing through her and instead concentrated on winning this battle.

  He’d broken free of her vines, gashes cutting across his forearms. She hated to bind him again, but she had no choice.

  Squeezing her eyes and praying for strength, she flamed her powers up and along her arms, mustering the largest, thickest vines she ever had.

  They sprang up between them, circling and snaking around Hector while he lashed out at them.

  Even a crazed centaur wasn’t capable of combating her vines with his bare hands, and they wrapped around his entire body, cocooning him.

  Once he was properly subdued, she stepped to his side and poised above his head. “Forgive me, but this was necessary.” Snapping her fing
ers, she dragged the cluster behind her, inside the cavern.

  Hector snapped and snarled, thrashing. Damn, but the male was stubborn.

  She ignored him, busying herself with shaking out the bedding furs and counting the supplies.

  After she’d settled everything, she used her powers to hoist him upright and slowly unwind the cords. As soon as he whipped one hand free, she bound his wrist, lashing it to the wall above his head. She did the same with his other, and let the thicker vines fall away.

  He stopped struggling, instead staring at her with those piercing, darkened eyes.

  Delia planted her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, glaring. “I know you don’t think you wish to come back, that being crazed is easier. That you no longer have any responsibilities, any duties.” She stepped forward, inching toward his nose. “But you know what else you don’t have? Me.”

  ***

  Delia scooped another spoonful of soup into Hector’s open mouth. For five days, he’d stubbornly refused to acknowledge his sober mind. She’d employed every trick and persuasion she could think of. Offering tastes of her body, glimpses of the pleasure they could share.

  Once or twice, she’d broken into sobs, ready to give up. When that happened, her love for him bloomed through her chest, reminding her that he was hers.

  That their love was worth fighting for.

  And he would do the same for her.

  Delia placed the spoon into the wooden bowl and sighed. She set aside the bowl on the floor and brushed her fingers through his long locks, sweeping them from his eyes. Cupping his cheek, she pressed her lips to his, moaning as he nuzzled into their kiss. His erection jerked between them, demanding, as it nearly always was.

  A corresponding ache spread through her core, but she must deny both of them.

  Until she could have all of him.

  “I love you, Hector.” Words she hadn’t been brave enough to speak to him while he’d been in his right mind, and now couldn’t stop uttering.

  But nothing worked. Nothing brought him back.

  What if the centaurs were right? Was it kinder to end his misery?

  Was she being selfish, keeping him like this? She loved him so much. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the dagger on the sleeping furs. Did she love him enough to set him free?