“Oh, Oh, I do, sir,” the boy interjected. “If you’ll just look, sir, Captain. He…he’s here.”
Arsenius rubbed his face in his hands. The fog of sleep lifted, and with it his blissful ignorance. He swore as he recalled Kyme and the horrible things he’d done to her. Spoken to her. The despair in her eyes.
Oh, damn, the wench. That had been an enormous mistake, and not only because his groin ached even worse than before. Thereus was right, bloody centaur.
There’d never be anyone else for him.
“Sir?”
He opened his eyes and lifted a brow at the lad.
The powder monkey pointed to the lower deck. Damn, they remained docked. The slave from last night hovered below the ramp. Why the hell was he here?
Cursing, he rose to his feet, ignored the pounding in his head, and strode to the slave he’d freed. Arsenius crossed his arms and waited.
“I-I…” He shuffled his feet and stared at the planks.
“Go home, lad.”
He lifted his head. “No home.”
“Well, what do you seek, then?”
He offered up the satchel of coins Arsenius had gifted him. “Can’t take your money. Let me work it off?” The honor and integrity in the lad’s eyes implored him. Aye, he’d offered the youth a second chance, but he thirsted for more. An opportunity to anchor his past behind him. To purify his soul and seize his life as a free man.
Arsenius cleared his throat. Aye, he understood. “Can you sing?”
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “Sing, sir?”
“You wish to work on board a pyrate ship, you’d best be able to sing.”
At once, he spouted hymns, and gods did he have a voice to rival Apollo.
“Quartermaster!” Arsenius shouted.
Thereus jaunted to his side. “Captain.”
“Show this lad—”
“Demetrius.”
He nodded at the youth. “Show Demetrius to the crew’s quarters and add him to the payroll.”
“Aye.” Thereus inclined his head and took command.
Arsenius strode away before the lad soiled him with any more gratitude.
***
Kyme awoke to the rich depth of male voices and the gentle rocking of the ship. Who would have fancied the sound of her freedom floating away would be so beautiful?
In the sensible light of the dawn, she shoved her fears deep and concentrated on developing a rational plan. The slaver had told her the truth. He wasn’t going to sell her yet. If she absorbed the Moonlight one more time, she’d gain some extra security.
If she fought Thereus or the slaver, her energy would deplete. Whichever one she didn’t strike would pursue her. Must be stronger. Tonight, she’d sneak outside, and then she would make her escape.
She paced the room, twisting the ring of Artemis around the middle finger of her right hand. The slaver had kept his distance last night and she was glad. She had no desire to converse with him, either.
A quick rap at the door had her nearly erupting out of her skin.
“I’ve brought ye some grub,” a young boy’s voice called out.
Kyme sighed in relief. He fumbled with the keys for a second before the lock clicked and the door opened. The boy thrust a tray inside and relocked the door.
Slave. That’s what you are to him. A slave.
She wrinkled her nose at the meal. Some mush of vegetables, and possibly meat, hardtack, and tea. She grabbed the mug and sniffed. Cloying sweetness betrayed the liquid as an aphrodisiac. Nice try, Cook. She grimaced and set the mug aside, thankful the slaver kept a flask of water for her in the cabin.
Despite the lack of enthusiasm from her stomach, she picked up the spoon and forced herself to eat. She required energy in every form. As she ate, she prepared her mind for the coming battle. This past week, she’d studied her enemy, his strengths and weaknesses. She would use her powers to kill him and in a matter of days, she’d be back at the Amazon camp. Back with her sisters, her godmother. Together, they would seek out the slaver’s buyer.
How she missed her family. She hoped the young ones were behaving themselves, without her to supervise them. Kyme gnawed on the hardtack, hating leaving her responsibilities behind. At their camp, she’d been in charge—of caring for everyone, leading the hunts, and maintaining the peace in the camp until the others returned from their, well, two months of orgies. Hot writhing bodies pleasuring each other endlessly.
The air in the cabin grew too thick, too hot. How many times had she pictured her sisters and the Gargarean males with more than a tweak of envy? No longer. She’d perused those males. None of them were built like her slaver. None had his strong jaw, his intense eyes, or his perfect form that rivaled any marble statue. If nothing else came of this—when nothing else came of this—at least she had the satisfaction of finally beholding a male nude. Up close. Chaste Kyme wasn’t so ignorant anymore.
Another knock rapped at the door and she jolted again. She huffed and steeled her resolve. Get control of your nerves.
She waited for the door to open. It didn’t, so she crossed the room. The knob twisted and the door opened a crack. Thereus’s flanks blocked her view. “Come quickly, Kyme.”
“You’re early.” She widened the crack.
“Nay, I always have perfect timing.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
She slipped behind him, shielded by his body, and followed him to the longboats.
One had been lowered and waited for them, bobbing with the currents.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Not far, over to that island.” He pointed into the distance, about a mile away. “No time for questions. Get in the boat.”
As she climbed down the ladder, he hopped down and gracefully landed in the boat in front of her. Gods, he was agile.
His massive arms bulged as he rowed the boat.
“Now?” She raised a brow at him.
“Not yet. Have to get you far enough away from him.”
Her nails dug into her palms. Was he helping her escape? Yes, Kyme, to an island. Sweet Artemis, she was such a fool. He drew her away from the slaver so he could… Oh gods.
He must have sensed the flare of fear rising in her, for he murmured, “Relax, Kyme. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re not like that, you and me. Right?” He sent her a wink and a big lopsided grin that would melt any woman’s defenses.
She was no exception. Yes, he was harmless and she was safe with him. As she returned his smile, her curiosity ate at her with ferocity. She fingered the hem of her tunic. What did he possibly wish to do on that island?
Sand scraping against the bottom of the boat snapped her back.
Thereus tossed aside the oars. “I figure we have about ten minutes before he realizes you’re gone. Less than five till he determines where you are, and seven or eight for him to swim here.”
“Swim here, why would he?”
“Because I’ve got you.”
Dreadful uncertainty crept its way back under her skin. “What do you mean?”
“That’s why I’m kidnapping you.” He grinned at her. “You’ll grasp it, soon enough. So will he.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a centaur, Kyme.”
“And I’m an Amazon, Thereus. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. I was having trouble with that part.”
He snorted. “Nay, I’m half horse. Half…animal.”
She tilted her head. “So?”
“There are some things I can sense, or smell, if you will.”
She groaned. “Thereus, must you talk in riddles? You’re worse than the Sphinx.”
He chuckled. “All right, well, the two of you together, I can scent it. The bonding.”
Her cheeks flushed with boiling heat. “Hold on, centaur. There has been no bonding. I-I’m devoted to Artemis.”
His brow lifted. “Like, chaste, devoted?”
“Yes.”
Thereus shrugged it off as inconsequential.
As he studied her, his nostrils flared. She resisted the urge to squirm beneath his scrutiny.
“I still don’t understand.”
“You’re his mate, Kyme.” Absolute sincerity of conviction flashed in his eyes.
She choked on her protest. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. Amazons don’t take mates. We’re one of the rare species who don’t bond.”
“Wrong.”
“Don’t tell me about my own race, centaur.” She rose to climb out of the boat, determined to flee this madness.
He waved his hands at her in a placating gesture. “Whoa, listen, Kyme. I’ve known him for years and I can recognize the bonding scent. He’s got it for you, bad.”
Churning his words in her mind, she faced him and slumped down with a thump, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn’t true. The centaur had to be wrong. The slaver had a lover.
“Now you know why, you ought to hear the rest of it.”
She squared her shoulders. “No, I don’t. Bring me back.”
“I’ll explain why he’s been such an ass.” He grinned as he baited her.
“No.” She peered out at the ocean and folded her arms. It was not possible. It just wasn’t. She couldn’t be his—
“He was a slave.”
“He was an aristocrat. Even his penmanship is impeccable.” She dismissed his absurd declaration with a wave of her hand.
Thereus leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “He was a slave.”
As Kyme held his stare, the smile on Thereus’s face turned grim. “Aye, Arsenius was an aristocrat. Son of Ares. His mother died giving birth to his sister. He raised her like his own daughter. He hadn’t yet gone through his morphos then.”
Kyme frowned. “His morphos?”
“You can ask him later.” Thereus waved away her question. “One night slave traders attacked his home and he lost everything. His land, title, wealth. His sister. His own freedom.”
“Humans?”
“Aye. Let’s just say, some humans aren’t so pious.”
Kyme leaned in closer, absorbed by the horrible tale.
“They sold him to the galleys. Are you familiar with them?”
She shook her head.
“Well, recall how the gods handed out punishments. Prometheus getting his liver plucked out every night. Sisyphus rolling that damn boulder up a mountain over and over again. The gods have nothing on what the humans devised.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’ve seen the bowels of a ship. Imagine that. Now picture being chained inside one. You can’t move, not even to stand. You relieve your bodily needs, eat, sleep, everything, in your one foot of space. If you don’t row, you get whipped. And you row nigh twenty hours a day.” Thereus paused. “Arsenius was a slave for six months.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “What happened next?”
“I’m not certain of every detail, but it’s easy to guess. He told me once, after he’d been sold to his new masters, he prayed the gods would send him back to the galleys.”
Her heart constricted inside her chest. That anyone could suffer such loss and remain breathing was beyond her. She’d never experienced anything like it. In her protected meadow, she’d lost sisters, but they’d died warriors’ deaths, with honor.
Her arms ached to embrace the slaver until his past was replaced with tenderness.
She’d assumed the lash marks on his back were from some sort of arrogance or disobedience. That they were in some way deserved. Mayhap one of the many governments, human and divine alike, had gotten ahold of him. Punished him for being what he was—a slaver.
Not a slave.
She pursed her lips. She’d assumed so much incorrectly about the slaver. No, Arsenius. It was time to grace him with the dignity of his name.
Her stomach fluttered. The woman he sought to save was his sister, not his lover.
Am I his mate? Surely, he didn’t believe such nonsense.
A splash in the distance broke her musings. As Thereus had predicted, Arsenius was swimming toward them.
The centaur cleared his throat. “Well, uh, before this gets ugly, perhaps we should, ah, move apart. Aye.” He hopped over the side of the boat in one graceful leap. “Oh, and you might want to get back.” He waved for her to climb out and head toward the rocks behind them.
She did so and settled on a large boulder. The wind carried Thereus’s voice, as he muttered, “Damn, he’s even faster than I anticipated.”
Sure enough, Arsenius was nearly at the beach. She swallowed hard as he stopped swimming, rose, and stalked toward the shore. His clenched fists were all that countered his lithe movements. He slicked back his thick mane of hair, his charcoal eyes on the verge of glowing.
The markings swirled beneath his skin, the dark blue threatening to break through. Not paint, then.
She did not fear him, but her chest tightened for Thereus. Even the centaur was no match for an enraged son of Ares.
Arsenius stormed toward the centaur and the two men faced off like pack males, warring for the rights to a female. They engaged in a slow dance of circling and flexing muscles. After a few seconds, Thereus took a step back and dipped his head in submission.
“Why did you take her?” Arsenius growled.
“So that you would follow, my Captain.” No mistaking the quirk of mischief in his grin.
Arsenius’s voice dropped lower. “What have you done with her?”
“Nothing but talking, I swear.” Thereus tossed up his hands.
“Talking?”
He shrugged. “Figured it was time for a good ‘ole chat.”
A flicker of relief registered in Arsenius’s eyes before his entire body went rigid. “About what?”
He didn’t wish for her to learn any of his secrets. Why?
Ah. Pity.
He surely despised that expression in people’s eyes. It didn’t matter if none of what had happened had been his fault or not. He’d allowed it to happen to him, to his sister. His weakness humiliated him.
Every warrior carried this fear. All dreaded the loss of self-worth and respect from one’s peers. Even Kyme worried about growing soft.
Show no weakness. It was ingrained in them, wasn’t it? She tilted her chin. Whatever emotion he would perceive in her eyes, it would never be pity.
***
Arsenius clenched his jaw as he prepared to delve into those blue depths. Please, don’t let her deem me weak.
He exhaled sharply. Kyme’s eyes sparked back at him with their usual balance of defiance and admiration. No trace of pity.
What had the centaur told her? He shifted his attention back to Thereus. Gods, he was furious with his friend. He’d never suffered such unreasonable panic. Yet for those reasons he didn’t comprehend, the moment he’d realized Kyme was missing, he’d been on the verge of letting his frenzy seize control. He’d almost torn apart his ship. Would have ripped it plank by plank if not for one of his crew who’d told him about the island.
Instead of being exhausted from his swim, he was invigorated. As though if an army of Lamiae sought to harm his woman, he’d kill them. With his bare hands.
“Go ahead, punch me. You know you want to.” The centaur goaded him. “It would still be worth it.” As the rascal grinned at him, Arsenius’s sense of justice kicked in. He didn’t fight without cause and he certainly didn’t strike his best friend without a damn good reason. Taking Kyme away and speaking with her didn’t fit his list of requirements. Besides, he disliked talking about his past. Perhaps Thereus had done him a favor.
That didn’t mean he’d let the centaur get away with his brazenness. He eyed the boat, pointing at his friend. “You can swim back. While you’re at it, ten laps around the ship.”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.” Thereus chuckled and glanced in Kyme’s direction. An unspoken conversation was contained in the nod he sent her and the narrowing of her eyes. He winked and rushed toward the azure waters as he assumed his “punishment.”
Arsenius returned hi
s focus to Kyme. Thereus had told her about his past. About his sister. His enslavement. The things he’d endured in the galleys. He suppressed a shudder. Mayhap even about his master and mistress.
Why didn’t she have sympathy in her features? If she didn’t pity him, then… Was she repulsed by him? Gods knew, he was a half-breed abomination. A slaver. He’d been the plaything of a sadistic bastard, and his wife, for longer than he cared to acknowledge.
He didn’t expect anything less from someone who’d learned the truth about him.
Well, he’d sought for her to hate him, right? Where he hadn’t succeeded last night, Thereus had prevailed. Guess he owed that stallion a drink.
“Come.” Arsenius turned his back on her and stepped into the rowboat. He grabbed the oars and prepared to push off.
She didn’t join him, so he spun around and studied her. Long locks blowing in the breeze and her gaze lost on the waves, she sat planted on a rock. Clearly she wasn’t coming.
Scowling, he readied to manhandle her. No doubt, she’d fight him tooth and nail.
Nearing her, he hesitated. His hands were inches from her body, aching with the yearning to touch her. He rested his hand on her arm, without force. Simply pressing his skin to hers made him hunger for her. Want her so bad.
She flinched from his contact and tilted her face aside.
Bitterness spread through his gut. “I disgust you, don’t I?”
Kyme made a little whimper in her throat, an apologetic noise.
Hating himself, he veered toward the boat. It might be best to leave her on this island.
“Arsenius, wait.”
He froze at her use of his name.
“No,” she whispered. “No, you don’t. Quite the opposite, actually.”
His heart thumped in his chest as he whirled around. “I was weak.”
She bit her bottom lip. “No, you were strong.”
He scoffed, but she stroked her delicate hand up his arm. Her fingers found one of his scars and circled it. Kyme’s touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered. He’d consumed plenty, not of his own volition.
Focus, fool. It took every ounce of his will to concentrate on her words and not the stiffening of his shaft.
“Scars are,” she murmured, in that soft, lilting accent of hers, “symbols of honor. You fought and survived. Or, in your case, you were beaten, tortured, and you survived. Only a strong man could. Strong of body, strong of mind.” She tapped his temple. “And strong in here.” Her fingers brushed down his chest and rested on the organ inside that beat uncontrollably.
Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) Page 8
