Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  Breaking their kiss, his breaths came heavy and his muscles tensed, as if his arms refused to release her. “My apologies, Kalliste, I didn’t intend to—”

  Her sister’s name upon his lips sent an opposing spear through her heart. Now that she was in his arms, surely he’d perceive she wasn’t Kalliste, would smell a scent very different from his wife’s.

  Instead, he frowned at her tears. “Have I upset you? Offended you?” The concern in his drawn brows appeared so genuine. How can he not see who I truly am? Or, who she wasn’t?

  “I-I,” she stuttered, unable to offer any explanation. Melita had marched into this hall expecting to meet her executioner. She’d never once anticipated she’d have to continue her ruse.

  Before she had to offer an explanation, Alkippe cleared her throat. “Milord, please allow me to escort milady to her chambers. I’m afraid in our eagerness to greet you, there was no time to properly dress milady, and surely she wishes to make herself presentable. She will join you for the evening meal.”

  Melita sent a sigh of relief in her friend’s direction. Meeting Thereus’s dark stare, she gave a weak smile. “Yes, Alkippe is quite right.” Judging from the hard set of his jaw, he wasn’t convinced, but he nonetheless released her from his arms.

  She sprinted out of the hall, too stunned to process her situation.

  “Oh, this is wonderful, Melita! I knew he was alive, that he would return to us.” Seeming in great spirits, the silver-haired centauress kissed both her cheeks once she’d closed the doors to her chamber. “I told you everything would work out. The gods have chosen this fate for you. Come, we must hurry.” She beamed as she helped Melita out of her dress and into the steaming bath. “Milord has returned, and he believes you to be his wife, and—”

  “Enough, this is not great news.” She groaned. “Now, I’m not merely deceiving villagers and servants, but a centaur Lord. One who knew Kalliste.” She dropped her head into her hands. My half-sister. Six years ago, they’d journeyed from their homeland in the Vale of Tempe, along the Peneios River, to their destination—the Meteora of Westgard Castle.

  Kalliste was Thereus’s bride. Not me. No, Melita was but the illegitimate daughter of the Lapith King, Pirithous III. Abandoned by her nymph mother, she’d been raised amongst the King’s servants. Both Kalliste and her half-brother, Philaeus, spurned her as surely as her father. As a half-nymph, she unwillingly exuded a sensuality that attracted far too much masculine attention. When Kalliste became betrothed, she gratefully followed her to Westgard for a chance at a new life. Her sister’s unkindness was nothing compared to the cruelty of Philaeus.

  From the moment her feet touched the earth on Lord Thereus’s lands, she’d felt at home. Safe. Protected. The ancient woods surrounding the village below had become a true home to her. While others might question the castle’s almost haphazard appearance, she deciphered the secrets of its beauty. The far east wall that appeared crumbled was in actuality one of the most secure, fortified with ancient wards. The atrium, with its rugged overgrowth of plants, contained elaborate pathways and some of the rarest plants on Earth. Melita tended it herself. A wildness, an untamed charm lay in Westgard, one that called to her. It was here, five years ago, that she first saw Lord Thereus, and her heart had never recovered.

  Though a servant here, she’d never been abused or mistreated. Even Kalliste had begun to see her as a confidante. So much had her circumstances changed that she now mourned her sister’s death each and every day. She owed so much to the woman she’d never be able to repay.

  Melita drew in a deep breath. Soon she would be joining her sister. “Even if he’s not guessed it yet, he’ll soon figure out I’m not his wife. I have to tell him.” A sigh puffed from her lips. “Yes, I must tell him.” Though she spoke the words firmly, she wasn’t as convinced as she sounded.

  “Oh, no, Melita. You cannot. Not yet, at least.” With a sly grin, Alkippe answered Melita’s questioning stare as she helped her from the tub and into her dress. “What you don’t understand is, just as that fateful night so long ago, milord’s horse wishes to bond with you.”

  She snorted a denial and sank onto the seat in front of her dressing table and mirror. She didn’t believe in this mated centaur bond. Most likely, it was a tale centaur wives told themselves, dismissing their husbands’ infidelity. Everything in her experience taught her that men had wandering eyes, and hands, and… No. Bonded males did not exist.

  “There.” The centauress tied the last green ribbon in Melita’s braid. “March yourself out there, use your nymph talents to seduce him, and let milord perform the bonding ceremony.”

  “I will not.” The image of seducing Thereus flashed in her mind, far too tempting. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip while the nymph in her admired the coveted image of Thereus. His horse half consisted of an enormous black stallion, rugged yet graceful. His human half burst with strength—a frame twice the breadth of hers and thick arms that beguiled her feminine senses whenever he flexed.

  Alkippe cleared her throat. Oh gods, had she been salivating? She forced her mind back to their conversation and slammed down her hairbrush with a frustrated cry. “How can I lie to him? How can I?” She leaned backward into Alkippe’s warm, motherly presence, drawing comfort from the delicate scent of her anise perfume.

  “You will, my child.” Alkippe framed Melita’s face in her hands and eyed her through the mirror. “If you don’t succeed, there will be nothing to stop him from ordering your execution. And mine.”

  Oh, clever centauress. She always knew how to convince Melita to do anything. While she might be willing to sacrifice herself, she’d never risk her friend. “Alkippe, I would nev—”

  “What am I? Some sort of dim-witted ninny?” She snorted. “No, if milord discovers your identity, he’ll deem you’ve had help. ’Twas my scheme, after all. He’ll presume I had knowledge of it, and I’m as guilty of treason as you are. Milady, you will seduce Lord Thereus, and in doing so, save both our hides.”

  The enormity of the falsehood she’d been living overwhelmed her. She bit her lip and the tang of copper spread across her tongue. How dangerous this folly was. Though it had broken her heart, she’d believed with the rest of them that Thereus was most likely dead. That she was safe.

  What if I can’t carry this through? It had churned her stomach, but she’d been able to fool his family, the servants, and the villagers. His family had never met Kalliste. No servant had ever seen her up close. The villagers never laid eyes on her. Lapith noblewomen usually wore veils over their faces to protect their delicate skin from the sun’s harsh rays, and Kalliste had been no exception.

  But not Thereus. He’d been with Kalliste in the most intimate of ways… Sort of. Whatever truths came free, he could never learn the cruel depths of her deception.

  Even worse, what if he should recall Melita from that night? She wasn’t sure if he’d been intoxicated enough to forget it entirely.

  Still, she had to try to solve this. She wouldn’t compromise the one woman who’d been friend, mentor, and mother to her. Besides, she’d spent the last four years masquerading as Kalliste, ever since her death. She’d been present for every second of interaction between her sister and Thereus, though he’d never once glimpsed her face. Her appearance, being similar to Kalliste’s, had convinced her sister that Melita should be cloaked. A simple enchantment altered her countenance, and her scent.

  It was not unheard of for royalty to possess a look-a-like—a servant who posed as them in dangerous or undesirable situations. Indeed, Kalliste had been saving her sister for precisely such an occasion. Should the war between Lapiths and centaurs ever resume, it had always been Kalliste’s intention to switch places until her brother arranged for safe passage home.

  Unlike her siblings, Melita didn’t perceive centaurs to be brutish animals. Those of Cheiron’s line were wise, gentle, and though fiery by nature, not the barbaric race history claimed them. In fact, of the two, she rat
her thought her father’s house more savage.

  Smoothing down the silk of her dress, she hoped to erase her nerves as easily as those wrinkles. Alkippe’s plans might call for seduction, but Melita had another scheme in mind. “Very well, I shall give it my best.” Offering a determined smile, she glanced at Alkippe.

  “Remember, child. Whether or not you are his bride, you are his bonded mate. One cannot force such affection on any centaur. What he feels for you is true.”

  She huffed at her friend’s reassurances. Would that they gave her the confidence they intended.

  “Let’s not keep him waiting.” The centauress opened the grand wooden doors.

  As Melita passed through them, she recalled the other victim of their deception. “Will you care for Lucian this evening?”

  “Of course. He shan’t even miss you, I promise. King Cheiron sent a messenger afore Lord Thereus’s arrival for us to wait until the morrow to introduce them. I most heartily agree.”

  She nodded her approval. With a heavy, determined heart, she left the safety of her chambers and went to join her almost-husband.

  Thereus had never been so full of anticipation in all of his seventy-two years. Though Kalliste’s reception toward him was rightfully mixed, both he and his horse agreed. They wanted her. Desperately. He ran his finger along the collar of his shirt. He was wearing so many clothes, he’d probably sink if he tried to swim. After he’d performed the morphos into his human form tonight, his servants insisted he be made up like a frilly doll. Bloody hell. Give him a leather vest and breeches of the same and he was a content male. He flicked the ruffle of his collared shirt in disgust, then drummed his fingers impatiently. Fidgeting failed to calm him, so he strode to the fireplace.

  Any minute, he’d start pacing again. He was so anxious to see Kalliste, so curious about—a low growl escaped his throat as she glided into the room. Damn. He’d assumed his human form wouldn’t be so intimidating. Had even worn these clothes to appear civilized, hoping she’d be more receptive to him. His horse had to interfere, didn’t he? Though her eyes widened slightly at the feral rumble emanating from his throat, to her credit she neither ran nor blushed. Rather, her dark perusal penetrated him, making him squirm as though she peered through the layers of his clothing, deep down to his insides. Studying, as it were, his very soul.

  By the gods, she was worth the wait. Her dress was of a dark green silk, the low-cut bodice far too distracting. As her full, cream-colored breasts rose and fell with her breath, he fathomed the error of his judgment. Human form was definitely not less alarming. No hiding the force of his attraction to her, not that he would bother to try. His wife had been living amongst centaurs, including his brothers, for long enough. She must be aware. Lust was a powerful force, and virile was far too timid a word to describe a centaur male in his prime.

  Thereus was most definitely in his prime.

  He grinned before striding to Kalliste and helping her to sit. Ignoring protocol, he chose the seat to her right, as he wished to be close to her. One could not carry on a decent conversation across a twenty-foot table. He longed to study this mysterious creature beside him, and determine how to coax her into his bed.

  The servants brought them the first course, a carrot soup, before intuitively slipping from the room. Raising his glass, he waved it for them to make a toast. “To my return,” he purred, ensuring his voice dripped with seduction.

  “Yes, to your return.” Her tone was far too grim for his liking.

  “Does it displease you greatly, my Lady?” He leaned back and studied her. “No doubt you were happy to be rid of me.”

  “Yes, and no, my Lord. In truth, we are all relieved to find you healthy and alive.” Her lips pressed firm, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. As frigid as he recalled. “However, you must conceive we—the servants, villagers, and myself—have continued on without you. Your arrival has caused quite a disruption.” She nibbled her lip in a most tempting manner, a glimpse of her pink tongue taunting him. Focus on her words, and not her mouth.

  “I hope, on your part at least, such a disruption is for the better.” He flashed her a wicked grin and the color rose in her cheeks. Huh. Perhaps no longer so frigid. To emphasize his words, he placed his hand atop hers. It might as well have been a hot iron for how quickly she snatched away her hand.

  “My Lord,” her words came rushed, “you may find many things have changed in your absence.” Folding her hands in her lap, she regarded him. “While you’ve been playing at being an unattached man, we have been scraping by. Running an estate the Master discarded in considerable debt has been a great burden. I certainly hope you’re not here simply to drag us into ruin once more.”

  He wouldn’t have been more shocked had she slapped him. In fact, he would’ve preferred the strike. True, in his youth he’d possessed a fondness for gambling, and an aversion to finances, yet had he truly left Westgard in such bad shape?

  ***

  As his eyes darkened in misery, Melita kicked herself. She detested hurting him, even if she spoke the truth. Contrary to Alkippe’s schemes, she didn’t plan on seducing Thereus. She had another choice. He’d deserted them once. All she required was to learn why and convince him his reasons were still valid.

  He must go. It was the only thing that would keep them safe. If she had to be cruel, she would be. His departure might break her heart, but the organ was used to be being tortured.

  Besides, she was pretending to be Kalliste, and her sister wouldn’t hesitate to point out Thereus’s faults. To convince him of her identity, she’d have to utter the same hateful things her sister would.

  Preferring a direct approach, she steeled her nerves before resuming her assault. “Why did you leave, Thereus? I was not favorable toward you, but less amiable marriages have existed. Do you even realize how deeply you’ve hurt your family? Your father and brothers were devastated when they learned of the shipwreck. For you to simply reappear, five years later, without an explanation, that is cruel.” While she chastised him, he clenched his spoon and his nostrils flared with his heavy breathing. Oh yes, she’d provoked his temper.

  “I don’t owe you, or anyone, an explanation,” he snarled.

  There—the smoldering eyes she remembered. During their brief marriage, Kalliste and Thereus often quarreled, speaking bitter, horrific comments to one another. Melita had watched, distressed for the both of them. Yet she’d never experienced the centaur’s wrath directed at her, and she braced as she prepared to cause him to explode.

  “You most certainly do owe everyone an explanation. A man, a husband, would not have run away, like a spoiled child, leaving everyone else to fulfill his responsibilities. I may not have been eager to accept this life, but I have made the best of things.” How true. “It wasn’t the centaur in you that I despised. It was the coward.” She spat out the last word, her anger rising as she acknowledged her suffering. Though she hadn’t dared to admit it, she was as hurt as everyone by his abandonment.

  She’d provoked the beast and she was about to become his prey. Thereus bolted to his feet, the force crashing his chair into the wall, denting both. He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and lifted her to her feet. “You have no idea about anything.”

  Tugging her forward, he hauled her against him. Placing one hand on the back of her head, he bruised his lips against hers. There was no tenderness or erotic skill as he forced her lips open and thrust his tongue against hers. Her body compressed against his, she grasped the error of her scheme.

  She’d wanted him angered, yet she’d not accounted for his passion. His heavy erection ground against her belly. Damn. A centaur enraged and aroused was a volatile combination.

  Blast it, he was even more beautiful than her memory. Especially in his pained rage. As she tasted him, a moan escaped her lips, increasing his aggression. He nudged her against the wall as his lips devoured her. No. This would not solve anything. She’d never reclaim her freedom if she submitted. There was the conundrum. T
hereus was the only male she’d ever cared for. If she sent him away, no one would ever replace him in her heart.

  Which did she value more? Her heart or her neck? For surely she would lose one.

  A butterfly of panic fluttered in her belly, replacing her lust. No, she had to end this, now. Gathering her strength, she kneed him in the groin, shouting, “Get off me, you brute!”

  He doubled over, snarling and stumbling backward.

  As betrayal and confusion flickered across his features, she delivered the final blow. “I told you, many things have changed. You didn’t presume I would wait, pining for you for five years, did you?” She crossed her arms over her chest to contain the agony of her words. “You have the worst timing, Thereus.”

  Clearly still in pain, he grated, “Not true. I’ve been told my timing is rather perfect.”

  She huffed. “You do realize, then, that in five short weeks, I might have been free of you forever?” She raised a brow, a grim smile upon her lips.

  “Five weeks?” His brows drew together.

  “Yes, by centaur law, your absence equates the dissolution of our marriage. Five weeks, centaur, that’s all I needed. But you’ve ruined everything.” She kindled her anger, but she feared her words sounded too soft. Regardless, they had the desired effect.

  He sank to the ground, seeming more like a disheartened child than an irate husband. “Very well, my Lady. Do not let my presence interfere with your plans.” His reply was so cold, a dagger of ice in her heart, slashing open the wounds she’d pieced together after he’d left the first time.

  She spun on her heel and fled the room, terrified he might note misery in her eyes. Scurrying to her chamber, she slammed the door behind her, and leaning against it, collapsed. Her hand splayed across her mouth, she attempted to quieten her sobs, but they came anyway. She hated hurting him. She hated loving him. The two were incompatible.