Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  Thereus was magnetic. Whenever he flashed a grin at one of his subjects, they became his. If his charm alone wasn’t enough, he spent several minutes with each of them, perusing their shoppes, scanning their accounts. He praised them heartily, offered his advice, and seemingly made them feel as though he watched over them. That he was indeed their Lord and Master and would care for them.

  Their adoration wrenched at her heart. She ought to be glad, but the claws of jealousy scraped at her skin. She brought them back from ruin. The villagers loved her.

  Who was Thereus, to gallop in and steal their hearts? Including hers?

  She’d been hoping to prove he didn’t belong. Instead, he’d fit in perfectly. How was she to make him retreat when everyone stumbled over themselves to welcome him?

  ***

  This day was perfect. Thereus’s stomach had been in knots at the idea of meeting his subjects, but they fawned over him. He’d never been more at peace anywhere. They were like children, desperate for the attention, the love of their father.

  He’d been sure to offer it, generously. Winning their hearts was effortless. Why in the hell couldn’t he capture Kalliste’s with such ease? He’d expected her to be pleased with how well his subjects received him. Instead, she grew more reserved each time he met a new shopkeeper.

  “Did I do something wrong, my Lady?” They wound toward the edge of the town.

  “No, of course not. I’m sure you’re pleased—”

  “Bloody hell, what have I done wrong?” He halted and spun to face her. “You asked me to see them, and I do.” He growled. What was the cause of her foul mood?

  She shrugged.

  His shoulders dropped in defeat. “Why does this displease you so much?” Why do I displease you so much?

  She shook her head and scoffed, not at him but at herself. “I didn’t think they’d react like this.”

  Finally, a true response. He whistled low. “Like what?”

  “They want you. Every-everyone does.”

  He wasn’t competing with her, though was that what she believed?

  She averted her face, refusing to meet his eyes. Everyone. Including her? A steady grin spread across his lips. She was jealous. “Kalliste, they respect me. They’re loyal. But bloody hell, they adore you.”

  Two could play at this. Leaning in, he purred, “Everyone does.”

  ***

  Thereus chuckled as he scooped Lucian and tossed him over his back. With the child squealing, he sprinted to the top of a grass-covered hill.

  Melita followed, hoping the cool breeze would calm the heat in her cheeks. She plucked the basket from where Thereus had dropped it, and after spreading out a blanket, she laid out the lunch they’d bought in town. Cheese, freshly baked bread, a few apples and some sweets from Dupon’s. With a conspiratorial glance at Thereus, she hid those under the basket. Their son would devour them in an instant should he stumble upon them.

  Thereus winked back, then tossed Lucian in the air, caught him, and wrestled him to the ground. Each of Lucian’s peals of laughter released the tension in her body and replaced it with warm gratitude. The two of them romping about was almost too perfect. She loved how Thereus played with Lucian. Joy warmed her heart. It was a dangerous emotion, yet she couldn’t prevent it.

  She smiled as Thereus gathered his son in his arms and set him on the blanket, between them. Closing her eyes, she absorbed the sun’s warmth. Her whole body relaxed and she sighed. Just once, only for this one afternoon, she would pretend they were a family.

  Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow she would tear out his heart.

  “Kalliste.”

  She jolted at her sister’s name, spearing into this heavenly moment, and lifted her lashes. Thereus studied her. The pure, raw hunger in those viridian pools sent a shiver through her body. One glimpse of his full, firm lips, and she forced herself to shift away.

  Battling her cravings was impossible. Surrendering to his, hopeless.

  Her nymph half asserted itself. For her, a male’s lust was tangible. A flame she could ignite, but not extinguish. If such attention was directed at her, she was unable to control her response.

  Nymphs always submitted, even to rape.

  They also possessed the ability to invoke a sensual rush which put all others to shame. Even Zeus, the supreme ruler of the gods, was not immune. He often sought out nymphs for this very reason. Those who thwarted his attempts at seduction found their sole escape in transformation. Many a nymph had become a flower or tree rather than lie with Zeus.

  Melita forced herself to breathe. Steadily in and out. Thereus’s passion overwhelmed her, coating her senses with the intoxicating heat of desire. Beyond her control, her body warmed. Her breasts grew heavy with the need to be fondled. The slickness between her thighs increased—wet, hot, achy.

  This was not part of her plan. Succumbing to his compulsions was what caused this nightmare in the first place. She must control her response, beat down the urge to submit.

  She gritted her teeth and counted in her head. Five, six, seven—

  Lucian wailed, off in the distance. She murmured a prayer to Demeter while rushing to him.

  From across the field, Rhoda sprinted as well. “Oh, milady, forgive me for intruding. I heard the wee Master crying.”

  The warmth of Thereus enclosed her, signaling his presence. His hand on her shoulder seared her skin. She shifted out of his grasp and bent to Lucian’s side.

  Melita bit her lip as Lucian sobbed into her arm. She examined him and detected a couple of small bruises and a scrape on his knee, which she kissed with exaggeration. “Better, my love?”

  Rhoda crouched beside them and whispered covertly, “Why don’t I bring him home?”

  “An excellent idea.” Thereus boomed behind them. He placed his hand under Melita’s elbow and helped her to her feet.

  She picked up Lucian and shuffled him to her hip. Protests filled her mind, but none found their way to her tongue.

  “Lucian, sweet, I’ve a new insect. Can you help me feed him?” Rhoda smiled brightly at the child.

  Lucian lit up, his injuries seeming forgotten. “Oh, Mama, please, can I go?” He tugged on Melita’s arm, bouncing up and down on her hip.

  Before she had a chance to answer, he scrambled out of her arms and into Rhoda’s. Shifting her basket of goods, the maid carried the child.

  Melita laughed, nodded to her maid, and gave her senses a quick check. Whew. Thereus’s lust had diminished. She followed him back to the blanket.

  Too close. What he craved was to claim her. She must remove those carnal urges from his mind. She searched for topics to distract him. Aha.

  “Why did you come back, Thereus?” Lying on the grass, she stretched her neck to study him.

  He raked a hand through his hair before answering. “My captain, my best friend, Arsenius asked me to.”

  “Why?”

  He eyed her. “He’s indebted to the goddess Persephone. She’s raising an army.”

  An army? She arched her brows and waited for him to continue.

  “Hades and Persephone believe a war is coming. Or they’re going to start one.” He frowned and scratched his jaw. “I’m not actually sure which. Either way, it’s something of a rematch of Troy. Gods and mortals fighting for love.” He glanced sideways at her, but she pressed her lips together to keep her expression neutral. “Hades and Persephone hope that by winning this war, they can at last be together.”

  She rubbed her arms as she recalled their curse. For two people so devoted to one another, it must be torture to be together for only three months a year. “What does that have to do with your return?”

  He shrugged. “Persephone seeks centaur fealty. I’m to convince my father and brothers to fight.”

  “Oh.” This was the mysterious reason he’d returned. He hadn’t come back for her. Hadn’t been thinking of them at all. Her rebellious heart gave a dejected thump.

  “When they’ve decided…” Her
breath hitched. The heavy beats of her heart echoed in her hollowed out stomach. This whole time she’d attempted to convince him to go away. Could it be that he would do so on his own? Perhaps after he secured his position, he’d leave once more. She would resume her routine. His most likely infrequent visits wouldn’t disrupt her life. This was a perfect solution. Unsure of which object she’d meant to pick up, her hands fluttered above the items on the blanket.

  “I’ll head to Halcyon—Persephone’s sanctuary.” He grasped one of her hands, twisted it in his, then dropped her hand in her lap and glanced aside. “I’m needed there, to train the recruits. I’m not certain for how long. I will visit, as often as I can.” He muttered a curse.

  Melita toyed with the frayed edge of her dress. Perfect. Her world would resume its normality shortly. She beat back the ache in her chest at the notion of being separated from Thereus. “Have you had word from your father?”

  “No, not yet. I suspect he will take his time.”

  “You wish to fight in this war?”

  “Of course.” He flashed into human form, plucked a tall strand of grass, and chewed on its tip. Stretching out his long, muscular legs, he reclined, arms resting behind his head. “I would never ask my brothers to fight whilst I sat at home, a coward.”

  “You would kill?” Her voice came out in a high pitch. As a nymph, she was incapable of violence.

  A nymph always submitted.

  He shifted onto his side and regarded her. “Aye. I’ve killed before, many times. I am a pyrate, Melita.”

  Her lips parted and her muscles stiffened. She was a deer, caught in the path of his arrow. His appreciative stare sent a shiver across her skin. He was dangerous. She’d known as much, yet she’d never guessed he was so carefree about shedding blood. Her hand shot to her throat. Could he kill her too, with such indifference?

  “Do you fear me, Kalliste?” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. He pushed up and shuffled closer to her. Discarding his strand of grass, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t. I would never harm you. I’d kill anyone who did.”

  Gods help her. She lowered her lashes to drown in the deep rumble of his voice. His tongue flicked out to lick the delicate skin beneath her ear. The velvet of his touch contrasted his hard, masculine body. His heat, his evergreen scent, overpowered her. His lust blazed like a wildfire.

  Melita inhaled sharply, desperately searching for a way not to get burned.

  Thereus refused to rein in his horse any longer. He wouldn’t hold back, wouldn’t suppress his primal urges. Ignoring Kalliste’s gasps of surprise, he furiously drew his lips to hers and claimed them. He wanted, needed to claim his wife, now. By the gods, he’d waited long enough.

  She’s mine, his horse rumbled within him. Her lips obediently parted for him, and he growled in triumph. At last she was submitting. Not a moment too soon, for already his sanity slipped away. With each moment his carnality went unfulfilled, his horse took control a little more.

  And he was not a beast to be reasoned with.

  The sweet nectar of her lips intoxicated him. His thoughts blurred; his horse assumed the reins.

  Gently, Thereus nudged her to lie on the soft grass. He pressed his hands into the grass beside her head and maneuvered his body on top of her. His tongue delved into her mouth, savoring her. He sank onto one elbow to support his weight, so he wouldn’t crush her, as he used his knee to part her sweet thighs. While his lips consumed her moans, he rubbed his heavy erection against her core and groaned. Gods, she felt so good. She was so soft. So yielding.

  His lips ate her up with a ferocity he refused to contain, devouring every inch of bared creamy skin. As he nuzzled her breasts through the fabric of her bodice, she moaned yet again. So sweet. He savored her scent and the honey of her arousal. She was already wet and ready for him. Kalliste leaned her head back and surrendered her body to him to pleasure.

  With his free hand, he shoved down his breeches and then lifted her skirts. Bare silken skin greeted his hungry gaze. He slid his cock tenderly across her entrance.

  She whimpered with need and parted her thighs wider to accommodate him.

  Thereus snarled a curse, fighting his dazed senses. His focus flew to her face, to her flushed skin and dilated eyes. This wasn’t right. Aside from their wedding night, when he’d made gentle love to his apprehensive wife, his bride had refused every advance he’d made. She’d been disgusted by him.

  Yet here she was, opening her legs for him with no hint of timidity.

  Bloody hell.

  With another snarl, he rolled off Kalliste. He flashed to centaur form and without looking back, galloped away.

  ***

  Melita’s whole body trembled with the agony of Thereus’s desertion. She smoothed down her skirts. What had she done wrong? Why had he bolted? She hadn’t even had time to ask, before he simply discarded her. With pained breaths, she forced her heavy limbed body to sit.

  Had she truly been about to surrender to Thereus? She hadn’t been able to refuse him before, what made her presume she was strong enough to deny him? The nymph in her screamed, no, shrieked in outrage. Blast it, but she craved him. She’d burned from the agony of his arousal. He’d hungered for her.

  Either way, she was betraying him. Hurting him. She ought to be relieved he’d taken it upon himself to stop their folly. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle, squeezing tight to contain the torment.

  The bite of rejection stung her insides with the ferocity of a thousand wasps. Tears dropped freely, glistening on the grass where they fell. What was the right thing to do? Five years ago, she’d viewed her path with clear eyes. Rescue an orphan. Save a village from ruin. Through the mix of time and Fates, her vision blurred.

  Her greatest sacrifice had become the ultimate sin.

  Bolstering her pride, she plucked the strands of grass from her hair and stood. With shame weighing her, she marched to Westgard. Once inside the castle, she went straight to her rooms, shutting and locking the door behind her.

  Melita sank onto the edge of the bed. The afternoon sun set and night blanketed the world. She perched, unmoving on her bed, praying for the morning sun. For its guiding light to eradicate the madness of this dark night.

  ***

  Once back at Westgard, Thereus stormed into his study. Collapsing into a chair, he slammed his head into his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? But then, he knew the answer.

  Someone else had taught his bride carnal pleasure.

  Someone else.

  Her earlier hint had proven true. A low growl escaped his lips. His horse was enraged. She’s mine, the beast snarled, a snake coiling in his belly.

  The idea of her spending even one night in another male’s arms threw his horse into a rage.

  He roared and smashed the nearest item—a glass wine goblet—into the fireplace. The glass shattering did nothing to appease his frustration. Stumbling to his feet, he paced the room. What the hell is wrong with me? He shook his head, unable to clear it, unable to reason away this fury. Mayhap the madness truly is descending upon me.

  He could’ve had her, claimed her, yet he’d abandoned Kalliste on that hill. All because she’d done exactly what he’d hoped she would. She’d built a new life. With someone else.

  Thereus shoved his fingers through his hair. Lowering them, he studied his hands and exhaled in a futile attempt to control the violent tremors. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered into the fire.

  ***

  A week passed. Thereus hadn’t sought Melita out, and just as wisely, she avoided him. He spent his mornings with Lucian, and she used that time to consult with the farmers. She never told him where she went. He didn’t ask. Regardless of everything her husband said and did, the villagers were loyal to her. They were her people. They loved her. She saved them. That was what she hadn’t told Thereus, what no one except she, Alkippe, and the elders of the village knew. She’d considered her gift to be an
amusement, a pastime. One sunny afternoon, the housekeeper spied on her in the atrium, watching Melita revive a parched rose bush. Alkippe accosted Melita and convinced her that her gift was so much more. It was the prayer the villagers had been waiting for.

  The land around the Meteora was at times harsh, subject to both drought and flooding. Crops were unpredictable. That year, the crops were especially poor. The centauress declared Melita their salvation.

  In the secrecy of the night, Melita snuck into a damaged field. She worked tirelessly and succeeded in saving a small portion of the field. Her powers were untried, weak, as she’d never wielded them in such a manner. As the months passed, she faithfully tended to the fields. One by one, they recovered. The villagers held a celebration, offering their sacrifices to Demeter. When the elders in the village questioned why their Mistress trudged through the fields at night, she revealed her talent. They kept her secret, declaring that Demeter blessed them with Melita.

  Thereus would never understand. Not a farmer, he didn’t fathom how someone could become one with their land. Indeed, she was. Her sweat and tears had been poured into the soil, and the land was a part of her.

  This afternoon, she spilled a few drops of her tea as he burst into the atrium. Looking as heart-wrenchingly beautiful as ever, his thick dark locks fell roguishly into his eyes. He took a seat opposite her, nodding. She offered a weak smile, covering her angst with a sip of tea.

  “May I spend the afternoon with Lucian?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course.”

  With that, he strode to his son and did not peer at her again.

  Thereus ignoring his lust for me is for the best. The lie sat heavy in her stomach, so she reminded herself of his threat.

  No quarter asked and none given.

  A shiver trickled down her spine, lending her clarity. She tore her gaze off him and sipped her tea.

  Rhoda flew into the room, her words running together as she spoke. “Milady, come, quickly please. I’ve had word from Amphion’s farm. There’s been a fi—” The maid froze and paled, threatening to faint. “Milord, I-I’m sorry.” She twisted toward Melita for forgiveness. “Milady, I didn’t know he was in here.”