Masterful Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  She hadn’t made her decision about the girdle. The Amazon throne didn’t appeal to her, yet neither did she fully trust the current Queen. Still, she couldn’t defer her duty much longer. A future awaited her, among her people. Mayhap, her destiny with Hector was never meant to go any further.

  “I’d wondered if you’d try to return.” A cool, feminine voice sneered from the cave opening.

  Delia whipped toward the entry as a female figure approached her. She squinted into the bright sunlight. The female’s auburn locks swung in two long braids. “Astris?”

  “Hand it over.” Astris perched one hand on her hip, extending her other in an impatient wave.

  “Hand what over?” Delia frowned.

  “The girdle, of course.”

  How did Astris know it was in her possession? Whatever her methods, it was clear Astris sought the honor for herself.

  Beside her, Hector snorted and his chest rumbled as he growled a low warning.

  Delia stiffened, choosing her words carefully. “I intend to give it to Queen Hippolyta, myself.” She’d had just about enough of Astris’s petty grievances.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Astris smirked and shifted to glance behind her.

  Another woman entered the cave. Tall, with fiery locks and blue-grey eyes, her form was as intimidating as her name.

  Hippolyta.

  Delia dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “Forgive me, my Queen. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “Rise, my child,” the Queen intoned.

  As she obeyed, her heart pounded inside her chest, and she fisted her hands at her sides to seize onto any semblance of calmness.

  Hector growled, the rumbling escalating as he sniffed the air in the direction of the two females.

  “Quite the pet you have,” Astris mused, her appreciative leer passing across Hector’s nude figure.

  Damn, but she hadn’t clothed him. Being alone in this cave, it hadn’t seemed necessary.

  Astris stepped close to him, but he snapped and lunged for her throat. Jolting out of his reach, she scoffed a mock laugh. “My, he’s a feisty one.” She cast her cold glare onto Delia. “Since you haven’t claimed him yet, perhaps I shall.”

  Amazons marked their slaves with a symbol carved into the flesh of their upper left thighs, at the juncture of the hipbone. The image of Astris’s brand on Hector spiked Delia’s blood through her veins. “You’ll do no such thing.”

  The female hummed, lifting and dropping a shoulder.

  “You can fight over him later. Where is my girdle, child?” Hippolyta scanned the cavern and then blew an azure mist toward Delia. “Bestow it upon me, and we will welcome you into our fold.”

  The monarch’s resonating tone pounded through Delia, permitting no disobedience. “Yes, of course. Thank you, my Queen.” Wasn’t that everything she’d wished for? A reversal of the events which had put her through this entire ordeal with Hector? The truth was, she didn’t desire the Amazon throne, and Hippolyta had ruled for centuries. The question of overthrowing the centaurs passed through her mind, but seemed insignificant next to this compelling urge to hand the girdle to the Queen.

  She headed for the sleeping furs and removed the gilded belt from underneath them. As she approached her Queen, she held the girdle extended upon both her palms.

  Hector slammed his body against the wall, beating and pounding and wrenching his wrists to free himself.

  “Hector!” Delia scolded, cleared her throat, and cast an apologetic frown toward her Queen, dropping to her knees in front of Hippolyta. “How did you know I possess the girdle?”

  “A fiery-haired nymph told us.”

  Hmm. That would make sense, but the last she’d seen of Minthe, the nymph had been a prisoner in the Lapith castle.

  Hector didn’t stop, tearing one hand free despite how the vines slashed across his flesh.

  Astris jumped back, but Hippolyta hissed and snatched for the girdle with greedy hands.

  Instinctively, Delia clutched it to her chest, struggling against offering it up. The Queen she served didn’t behave like that.

  Impatient and covetous.

  “You little whore, give it to me!” the female barked, lunging for the girdle.

  Delia rolled and hopped to her feet, out of the imposter’s grasp. That was definitely not her Queen.

  Who in Hades was she?

  “Do as she says.” Cool, sharp steel pressed against her throat.

  Damn. Astris had snuck up behind her and now held a blade against her.

  She froze, not daring to breathe, yet not willing to give in, either.

  In front of her, the charlatan staggered to her feet, dusting off her chiton and shaking out her locks, transforming into another aspect. One with ashen hair and frigid blue eyes.

  “You remember Queen Lavra.” Astris chuckled behind her.

  Nymph powers. Lavra must have employed them against her, to compel her to yield the girdle. And oh, the treachery spread further. “It was you, the entire time. The one who banished me,” Delia murmured the truth as it settled through her mind. The whole scheme had been a ruse. The real Hippolyta had never plotted against the centaurs. It explained why the Lapiths had only sent a handful of soldiers to kill Hector. Lavra had misjudged his prowess—something the true Queen never would have done. Also, it made sense why Kyme had acted as though nothing were amiss. None of the other Amazons had been aware of the deception.

  Delia fisted her hands. She’d been played for a fool. Dear gods, she’d almost killed Hector because of it.

  Gritting her teeth, she flicked her perusal to him, where he gnawed on the vines, desperately trying to break free. She didn’t care what happened to her, so long as he stopped these two fiends. Delia opened her hands, vines creeping from her fingertips.

  She would never let them win.

  ***

  He chewed through the fibrous vines, so close to freeing himself. The two females who’d entered his territory and challenged his mate reeked of foul intents.

  His mate. Yes, for that was what she was. She’d welcomed these two, but the darkness tainting their scents had grown stronger, and now they threatened his mate.

  She spoke in low, sharp tones with them. Not the pleasant, chiming ones she used with him.

  He wrenched, tearing his other wrist free, and he whipped around, intending to charge the aggressive one. Just as he reached them, the hostile female stabbed that sharp object into his mate’s side, and she went down with a cry.

  He slammed into his enemy and crashed to the ground on top of her, crushing her and snapping her bones. She didn’t move, or fight back, so he spun around to the other female. But she had already bolted from the room, her sprinting steps thundering through the forest away from the cave.

  He huffed and assessed his mate. Crimson flowed from her side, pooling, and she lay with her eyes closed, her chest barely rising and falling.

  He crept toward her, sniffing, his chest pinched tight. His eyes stung, hot moisture brimming in them. He wiped it away and pressed one hand to her wound, trying to stop the blood from spilling. With his other, he held her to him, inhaling her sweet hair and pressing his lips softly against her, like she’d done with him.

  Her lashes fluttered and her voice rasped, “Hector.”

  “Delia,” he ground, the noise too insignificant to encompass this agony in his chest.

  She murmured again, raising her hand to his cheek.

  He nuzzled into her palm, grasping for his connection with her. Slowly, the jumbled noises arranged in his mind, forming into meaning.

  Come back to me.

  He drew his brows together while sharp pangs spiked across his forehead. Making sense of her utterings hurt, but the agony in his chest was greater.

  She winced and dropped her hand, wheezing something else.

  He swung his head, trying to make the sounds come together again.

  My powers…can heal…me.

  The vines? He scann
ed her body, seized her hand, and pressed her fingers to the gash.

  Her features twisted for a moment and then relaxed, her hand growing limp again.

  “Not strong enough.” The words sighed from her lips, flowing straight into his mind. He heard them. He heard her.

  Yet he watched on, helpless. She was going still. Just like the other one, who lay unmoving.

  Gone.

  He clutched her to his chest and howled. Deep and long, and then he lowered her in his arms.

  Straining, she opened her eyes, the sparkle leaving them. “Love me.”

  Love me. The words resonated inside his mind, vibrating through his chest. That pull he’d ignored sprang forward and demanded he follow it. Out of the balmy darkness, into the beckoning glow that encompassed his mate.

  Surrender to his destiny.

  Leave behind this state, the liberty of being nothing more than a beast.

  He wasn’t a mere beast, no. As he clenched his fist, the memories poured forth. He was Hector. A centaur, proud and fierce, and he was destined to rule.

  And to love. Her.

  “Delia. Don’t leave me.” The words squeezed out, feeling foreign on his lips. She grew paler, the light dimming from her soul.

  “No. I love you.” Clenching his jaw in determination, Hector seized her hand and pressed her palm to the gash, blood leaking between their fingers. “Heal. My love will make you strong.”

  Delia cried out as a searing burn sliced across her flesh, the thorns of her vines sewing through the laceration in her side. Hector’s firm grasp closed around her hand and squeezed in steadfast stubbornness.

  “That’s it, my love. Heal.” His other hand swept across her forehead, comforting as he cradled her in his strong embrace.

  She whimpered while the wound sealed shut, and dragged her heavy lids open all the way.

  Hector’s stormy eyes gazed down upon her, the darkness gone from those depths, replaced with the shining warmth she’d grown accustomed to.

  “You came back to me.”

  He chuckled. “Aye, because you fought like a hellion to make me.”

  She laughed, but winced at the shooting pangs in her side. “Everyone told me you were lost, but I refused to believe them.” Delia raised her heavy hand to stroke his cheek, and he nuzzled into her palm, placing his hand atop hers.

  “I will never leave you again.” His throat bobbed thickly. “Forgive me, for ever thinking that any life would be better than this one I share with you.” He shook his head and stared off into the distance. “The lure of the madness was so exquisite.” Tearing his focus away, he peered at her. “But nothing in this world compares to my love for you.”

  “I didn’t know what to do without you.” Tears misted in her eyes. Every fear and worry vanished as she basked in the warmth of his love.

  “Oh, Delia.” Gently, Hector cradled her to press his mouth against hers, kissing her with the tenderness borne of strife and struggle, and the hard-won treasure that was worth everything.

  Their love.

  She exhaled a shaky breath and dug her fingers through his locks, greedily eating at his lips.

  The pain in her body subsided, replaced by a desperate, frenzied need.

  For him.

  For them.

  Forever.

  ***

  Hector growled against Delia’s soft lips, drinking in her open kisses, her eagerly roaming hands. His fingers tangled in her silken locks. He angled her head to best steal each and every one of her kisses.

  Pulling back, he caught sight of the female’s lifeless body. “I didn’t mean to kill her…or mayhap I did.”

  Delia scoffed. “Trust me, that fate is far better than what the Amazons would have done to her.”

  Puffing in agreement, he bent his forehead to his mate’s. “Give me one quick moment.”

  He shifted her into his arms, rose, and laid her on the sleeping furs. Then he strode to the corpse and hoisted it over his shoulder, stepping outside the cave. He’d inform his father of their treachery later.

  Hector deposited the body off the edge of a cliff and returned to Delia. The real Delia.

  His wife, his mate. His hearts.

  She rested on the sleeping furs, bared to him, the blood washed from her body.

  He raked a hand through his locks and stalked toward her, his cock growing stiff and his ballocks aching for release. Aye, he’d not deny himself any longer. He’d learned his lesson.

  “Why did the lyssa claim you?” Delia wrapped her arms around his neck as he settled between her thighs, kneeling. “I’m your mate, your wife. What more must we do?”

  He quirked his lips and picked up her hips, spreading her thighs and baring her flushed sex. “The bonding requires,” he brushed his fingers across her bud, coaxing panted cries from his mate’s lips, “for me to spill my seed inside you. To fully claim you.” He’d puzzled over it and come to the conclusion. It was the only part of the process they’d never completed. Releasing inside her mouth simply hadn’t been enough.

  She bit the corner of her bottom lip and arched her hips, pressing her spine into the bed. “Then what are you waiting for, my masterful centaur?”

  “You.” He winked and guided his tip inside her, thrusting deep on one single stroke. The bliss of being inside her tightness buzzed straight to the top of his head and down to the tips of his toes. He didn’t wait. He was done waiting. Hector gripped her hips, lifting her gently to him, and drove forward to bury inside her, roaring into the cavern while he poured every drop of pent-up lust into her.

  “Mine,” he grunted, rocking his hips, his seed spurting hot from his shaft.

  She bucked against him, shoving a fist into her mouth and screaming in ecstasy for far longer than even when he’d spilled his seed inside her mouth. How could he have denied her this?

  What a poor bastard of a mate he’d been.

  Her release spasmed through her body, causing her sheath to clamp and fist around him with such fierceness as she captured him into her blissful heat.

  With his head tossed back, he kept pounding, his second climax following on the heels of hers. He spilled his essence into her, draining every last ounce, his ballocks spent.

  She writhed and thrashed her head, her lips crying sharp mewls of pleasure. Her hips rolled, riding along his erection until finally she collapsed, limp and panting heavily.

  He pulled out of her and his chest puffed at the view of her thighs slick with his essence, his scent covering his mate, inside and out.

  Exactly as it should be.

  Hector crawled onto the furs beside her and enveloped her against his chest, not daring for even one second to let go. She moaned and curled into him, melding their bodies.

  Their hearts. Their souls.

  They were bonded mates. In truth, he hadn’t appreciated precisely what that meant until this one perfect moment.

  Hector closed his eyes, sighed, and with every ounce of his being, cherished his one true love.

  ***

  Delia exhaled, shaking out the tremors in her fingers. She and Hector had spent a deliciously erotic night together, but today, they had duties to attend to.

  This morning, they’d stopped at the Amazon camp and requested that Queen Hippolyta join them in King Cheiron’s Court.

  Both leaders needed to be aware of the treachery.

  Now, they stood outside the Portal to Great Meteoron. “Well, I suppose one good thing to come of this was that I was never banished.” She barked a nervous laugh and flashed a smile at Hector. “Also, that my Queen isn’t planning to conquer your people.”

  “I, for one, am thankful you did not kill me.” He winked, a roguish dimple popping along his jaw that begged for her kiss.

  She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the spot.

  A rumble resonated through his chest. “You tempt me with your lips, Kalyca, and we’ll not make it to our meeting.”

  She tapped one finger against her mouth, contemplating
that offer, but Hector snorted and tugged her arm. “You have nothing to worry about. I am by your side, always.”

  The warmth of his love spread through her and they marched to the Portal.

  “Halt.” One of the two guards tipped his spear toward them, then gaped. Ah, yes. They’d likely been scouring the countryside for Hector. Mistrust flickered in the guard’s eyes, but Delia strode forward, shoulders straight and chin high. “Lower your spear and permit Lord Hector and myself to pass.”

  His grip faltered at her command, yet he obeyed, casting quizzical glances with the other guard.

  Seeming undaunted, Hector, in his bold centaur form, marched through the Portal beside her.

  Silence swept the Great Hall as they stepped inside. Several dozen occupants gawked; others regarded them, somewhat more politely.

  Even Cheiron arose from his throne, seizing one halting step toward them. “Hector? Is that truly you, my son?”

  Gracefully, Hector treaded forward, sinking to his knees before his father. “Yes, Father. I am restored from the lyssa, thanks to my beloved mate, Delia.”

  Hushed whispers hummed through the crowd.

  “My child, is this true?” The real Queen Hippolyta strode forward, extending her hands toward Delia.

  She approached her Queen and kneeled before her. “Yes, my Queen.”

  Hector and Cheiron embraced. Their long, fierce hug ended with Cheiron squeezing his son’s shoulders, tears misting the King’s grey eyes.

  Delia smiled at the sweet scene, and at the love flowing freely within this room. But the cloud of treachery hung over her. “The Lapith Queen employed our sister Astris in her ill-fated scheming. Lavra impersonated you, banished me, commanded me to kill Hector, and schemed to overthrow the centaur King.”

  As she listed off Lavra’s offenses, Hippolyta’s hands fisted and flames of righteous fury blazed in her eyes. “The Lapith Queen will suffer for her transgressions against both the Amazons and our allies, the centaurs.” Her threat sent shivers cascading along Delia’s skin. The Queen didn’t have to elaborate. The brutal enactment of her methods was infamous.

  “She also attempted to steal what is rightfully yours.” Delia removed the girdle from her sack and offered it up in both palms. No doubt rested in her mind that the treasure—and the crown—belonged to this woman.