Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  Blast it. He’d never been so bold as to kiss her before. She’d deemed his offers more of a jest. Or a convenience. His kiss obliterated those beliefs.

  She shook her head, unable to comprehend his motives. Although Petraeus cared for her, he didn’t experience attraction. Her nymph side declared it so. He hadn’t enjoyed their kiss either, hadn’t been aroused.

  Was it for Lucian? Was Petraeus so honorable? Her instincts told her it went deeper. Underneath his impeccable exterior she sensed a darkness. His brother’s abandonment had hurt the youngest centaur, but perhaps she’d not grasped how profoundly. Her husband’s reappearance must have further irritated his old wound.

  Petraeus would never force her to marry him. Yet why hadn’t he ended his courtship of her, even after her husband’s return?

  Melita sank onto a wooden bench nestled into an arbor of white roses. On top of her troubles with the youngest Lord, she also suffered from a growing unease about his elder brother. She’d never intended to submit to Thereus and she refused to be another conquest to him. Yet tenderness echoed in his touch, as though she was sacred to him.

  This torment in Thereus was far more than lust. Darkness ate at him, a parasite destroying him from the inside. She couldn’t bear the desperation in his eyes.

  Melita shuffled her feet, impatient for him to arrive. For him to finally explain why he’d rejected her—twice.

  She rinsed out her mouth in the small stream to her left. It wouldn’t do for him to catch another male’s scent on her. Scanning the plants, she plucked a mint leaf and chewed on it.

  Shouts from outside splintered the atrium’s serenity. She rushed toward the clamor and grunted as she shoved open the heavy door. Half a dozen centaur bodies blocked her view. Steel arms enclosed around her waist. She gasped as one of them hauled her over his shoulder and galloped down the corridor, away from the scene.

  “Put me down.” She pounded her fists against thick, dark hide. Her body bumped against him in time to the pounding of her heart beats.

  “Hush, Kalliste. Stay in this room. Trust me, please?”

  Melita exhaled her anxiety as Agrius set her in her chamber. His amber stare pierced her. She swallowed the thickness in her throat as he shut the door, locking it behind him.

  What was going on? Where was Thereus? Was he all right? Why had Agrius dropped her here? What of Lucian? Biting her cheek, she fought against the scream inside her chest. She wasn’t a child to be locked away while something, obviously unpleasant, was occurring.

  Deep in her belly gnawed the flutter of unease that someone had discovered her secret. Reason told her not to be so foolish. A thousand other explanations were possible. She sank onto the edge of the bed with a huff, sensing the wait had just begun.

  ***

  An unearthly metal clank vibrated through his head and the raw stench of waste assaulted his nostrils. Thereus attempted to cradle his head, but his arms resisted. What the hell? Chained? His eyes shot open and he at once regretted his movements, his consciousness, for his head pounded with the regret of the morning after a dozen nights spent merry-making.

  Shackles on his legs bound him to the ground. Damn. Why had his father thrown him in the dungeon? What in Hades had he done to deserve…

  Thereus’s curses bounced off the stone walls as images of attacking Petraeus flashed through his mind. He tried to conjure some small ounce of remorse, yet the only guilt he produced depended on whether he’d killed his brother, or if he had the opportunity to injure the bastard further.

  “Good, you’re awake,” a voice cut through the dark. Its owner stepped forward. Agrius. Only Agrius would visit him in this hellhole.

  “You’re finished.” Agrius rubbed his nape.

  “He deserved it.” He wouldn’t back down; he had every right to fight Petraeus.

  “How am I supposed to explain this to Father?” A vexed amber stare studied him through the dungeon bars.

  “Don’t. I don’t need you. Ah, hell, Agrius. I’m a grown man. I’ll explain myself.”

  Agrius snorted. “Fine, come.” He unlocked the door and tossed the keys to Thereus to unchain himself.

  As they ascended the stairs, Thereus lifted his hand to protect his eyes against the bright sunlight. “Bloody hell, what time is it?”

  “You might ask what day it is.”

  “What day?” he grumbled.

  “You’ve been in there for two nights.”

  Thereus bit back another string of curses. “Where’s Kalliste? Lucian? Are they well?”

  “Of course, little brother. We’ll always care for them. They’re worried, that’s all. We considered it best not to tell Kalliste, not just yet. Not until…”

  His brother didn’t have to finish his sentence. Not until they’d decided what to do with Thereus. How to punish him. Damn them, he’d been within his rights. His father would see. He’d have to.

  Although he’d done a lot of foolish things in his day, he’d never before faced his father like this, in the grand throne room, a common criminal. His brothers flanked either side of the massive throne upon which Cheiron sat. The lines around his father’s eyes were deep with concern. His brothers’ stares were mixed, and the tension too thick for his liking.

  “Thereus, you are accused of having succumbed to the lyssa. Is it true?” His father’s voice, normally so strong and clear, broke a little.

  Thereus winced at the pain within those words. He bowed, as was proper. “No, Father, I’ve not gone mad.”

  “Indeed he has.” Petraeus snorted.

  Thereus shot him a dark glare, only a small part of him glad the centaur still breathed. His little brother was quite the worse for it, his face mottled by purplish bruises, his left eye swollen shut.

  Ignoring Petraeus’s taunts, he refused to allow his emotions to show through. He must prove his sanity to his father. Focusing on the centaur King, he squared his shoulders and argued his case. “Petraeus made advances toward my wife. I defended what is mine.”

  Cheiron waved for Hector to lower his head so the two could speak.

  Thereus scanned them, and each of his brothers’ expressions. Just what the hell was going on?

  “Thereus, my son.” The King paused, sighing. “When we believed you lost, your brothers, as was right, each took it upon themselves to offer himself to your widow.” His stare was hard, piercing. “They did so out of respect for you, and for your son, of course. Kalliste refused them.”

  The words were righteous lashes of a whip. Each stroke deserved, each slice of skin torn open both bitter and sweet. Thereus masked the torment on his soul which he was certain would show upon his face. They did as centaur honor demanded. Actions they should never have been forced to undertake. Even Hector, who already had a mate, would have proposed. He would never consummate that marriage, as he was already bonded, but centaur law permitted a male to care for more than one mate, so long as he provided for each.

  Thereus swallowed the sting. In truth, he did appreciate the gesture. What did this have to do with his youngest brother?

  “I understand, Father, and I thank you, my brothers.” He inclined his head toward each of them, except for Petraeus. “Now I’ve returned, I will care for my family. Why in the hell did he,” he pointed an accusing finger at Petraeus, “presume to kiss my wife?”

  At his declaration, all heads whipped to stare at Petraeus. Cheiron leaned forward. “Petraeus, my son, is this true?”

  “Aye.” He crossed his arms, stiffening his stance. “I’ve made myself available to Kalliste, and in three weeks’ time, if this,” he tossed his head in Thereus’s direction and snorted in disgust, “pathetic excuse for a husband hadn’t returned, she would’ve agreed to marry me.”

  “Petraeus.” Cheiron’s usual soft tone thundered through the chamber. “Why, my son? It is one thing to honor your brother’s memory, quite another to make advances toward his wife when he is clearly still breathing.”

  “Bloody right,” Thereus snarled.
“Kalliste is mine. My wife. How dare you place your hands on her, you filthy beast.” He clenched his fists at his sides, his whole body quaking from his lack of control. His efforts to remain calm and prove his sanity erupted through his body. He ground his jaw and prayed for strength.

  “At ease, Thereus. Kalliste has not chosen you, either. There has been no bond.” The King silenced the room with those words.

  Thereus’s shoulders slumped. “What are you implying, Father? That he did not wrong me in touching her?”

  Rumbles rose from his brothers’ chests, echoing around the chamber like the beginnings of a storm. Thereus was out to sea, no shelter to be found.

  “No, son. Quiet, everyone.” Their Father’s command was immediately obeyed. “We are no longer savages. A female has the right to choose. Has your female been consulted in any of this? Thereus, have you told her you wish to bond with her?”

  “I, ah.” He froze, unsure of how to answer his father. His brothers’ heated glares burned into him. “No. No, Father, I haven’t.”

  Cheiron grunted his disapproval. “Well, let’s bring Kalliste in. Let her choose.” He eased back against his throne with a sigh, as though this was the best solution.

  “No.” Thereus struggled to remain in command of his voice. This was madness. “Father, Kalliste’s, well, a Lady. I haven’t explained everything to her.” He raked a hand through his hair, humiliation searing his cheeks. “I cannot explain the ceremony to her in front of everyone.” He dreaded explaining it to her in private enough. At times, she radiated propriety, as when she’d refused to ride him. What they’d have to perform together for the ceremony was infinitely more indecent. He was terrified the ritual would repulse her. Was her ladylike side a ruse? A cover for the half-nymph she hid? Gods, he prayed yes.

  His brothers grunted in agreement. He tore his stare from the marble floors and faced his father once again. “Her heart is mine to win. Petraeus had no right to interfere before I’ve had the chance to redeem myself. I am her husband, after all.”

  “He should have treated her with the decency he pretends to have.” Petraeus sneered in defiance.

  Cheiron held up his hands, silencing them. The room buzzed with the humming of their tense bodies while everyone waited for the King to make his decision.

  Thereus didn’t care what his sire declared. If his father chose Petraeus, Thereus would abduct his family and steal them away, to Halcyon, perhaps. Anywhere would be fine, so long as Kalliste was his.

  At last, their father lowered his hands. “Petraeus, while your gesture and the motives behind your actions are honorable, I sense your horse does not desire Kalliste. You’ve not, in all these years, shown any sign of bonding with her. Thereus, however, has.” Cheiron regarded him. “My son, the mating bond is one of the most sacred rituals we centaurs have. It is not to be taken lightly, nor is it acceptable to disregard the bonding. For this reason alone, I have chosen to absolve you of your crimes.”

  Voices roared around them as everyone spoke at once. Cheiron raised his hand against the thunder. “A bonding centaur possesses the first rights to the female his horse has chosen. However, should she refuse you, in three weeks’ time, I will pronounce the dissolution of your marriage and your rights will be forfeit.”

  A huge grin broke out on his face. Agrius slapped him across the back, both of them laughing off the tension. He glared at Petraeus one last time, before smirking at his younger brother’s resigned scowl. Petraeus would not try for Kalliste again. At least not for the next three weeks.

  Clacking hooves and the rumble of deep masculine voices echoed up the staircase. Amongst the chorus, her ears strained to catch the baritone she’d been waiting for. Melita sprinted down the stairs, pausing at the landing. Her heart stopped in her throat at the sight of Thereus. She’d been pacing, panicked and uncertain, for two tortuous days and nights. This morning, Eione finally freed her, yet insisted she remain in the west wing.

  Doubts wormed into her mind. What if someone in the dining hall had recognized her? No one would tell her where Thereus was, and she didn’t dare venture farther into the castle without his protection. Even if no one had seen through her charade, those doubts hissed, someone might. She’d been on the verge of panicking, only Lucian kept her sane.

  Her perusal raked Thereus, searching for signs of injury or illness. None. He appeared well. She paused, gripping the railing to hold herself upright. If not sickness, what had kept him away? Had her secret been revealed?

  She moved to take another step down the stairs but he held up one hand to stop her. He ran his other through his hair. “Kalliste, I, ah, I’ve been in the dungeon for two days, I smell terrible.”

  That his first words to her weren’t of censure sent hope plunging to her toes. Regardless of how badly he stank, she needed him. She spent her afternoons playing in muddy fields, after all. Ignoring his protests, she flew down the last flight of stairs and into his arms. He hesitated for a second before enveloping her and claiming her lips.

  With a groan, he pulled away and regarded her at arms’ length. “Sweetling, forgive me. I promise I’ll explain everything soon.”

  Her nails bit into her palms. Once again they kept her ignorant, forcing her to wait like a child. “Why? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s happened?”

  “Oh, Melita.” Pain dimmed the sparkle in his eyes. “Do not fret. ’Twas just a brawl. I promise I’ll explain everything later.” He grabbed her hands and kissed them, arching a brow and offering her a smile.

  She stamped down her hurt, a small wave of relief washing away her anger.

  After he left, she ascended the stairs. Indignation kindled inside her with each step. If it was nothing, why hadn’t anyone told her? Why hadn’t she been allowed to visit her husband? Honestly, what father would throw his son in the dungeon for brawling?

  Melita perched on the edge of her bed, puffing. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, glowering at the crimson carpets. No. She refused to sit in her rooms any longer.

  She stormed out of her chamber and down the stairs in search of her centaur, or any of the brothers. Anyone to explain to her what they obviously wished to keep hidden. She stepped inside one of the empty studies and scanned the papers on the desk. None of those letters concerned her.

  As she veered toward the door, male voices boomed in the hallway. What would Thereus conclude if he caught her spying? Mortification burned her cheeks and her pulse pounded through her veins. He’d asked for her trust and she hadn’t given it. How could she expect his?

  She scanned the study for a hiding spot. Atop the small, spiraling staircase hung a pair of heavy drapes. She sprinted up the steps and bolted behind the draperies. Dust shook into the air. She clasped her nose to halt her sneeze and thanked the gods. These stuffy drapes might be enough to cover her scent.

  Heavy masculine hooves clanked on the marble floors. “Little brother, join me for a drink,” a deep baritone called.

  She peered out from a crack in the drapery. Thereus accepted the glass Agrius handed him.

  Melita burned. His dark hair was slicked back, fresh from a bath. Instead of coming to her, he was imbibing with his brother?

  He slugged the amber liquid and tipped his glass for more. Agrius obliged him. Thereus flashed to human form and collapsed onto the armchair beside the fire. “I owe you an apology, more than anyone else.” He raked his fingers through his locks. “I’m afraid with all of the regrets coming out of my mouth lately it might suffer from a lack of sounding sincere.”

  His brother huffed, downing his drink. In human form, Agrius reclined opposite his younger brother and pegged him with a hard stare. “Little brother, I don’t want your apologies. You’re here, you’re alive, and that’s enough. I can see you’ve changed. What happened, Thereus? Why did you leave us?”

  Her breathing escalated. Her left foot tingled from being pressed against the wall. As she shifted her foot, the floor squeaked. She bit her tongue to stifle a curse. Her pants thund
ered in her ears as she strained to listen whether they’d detected her movement. The drone of their voices remained uninterrupted. She released a lengthy, controlled exhalation. Praise Demeter. The men below were too absorbed in their conversation to notice her.

  Ought I to declare my presence? She nibbled on her bottom lip, holding in her questions. How unfair for Agrius to receive his answers before her. Her spying was wrong, but so were many of the lies between them. Besides, they’d already spoken too much for her curiosity to remain unsated. Her body quivered in anticipation of what Thereus would reveal to Agrius, but not to her.

  “I made a rash, foolish, horrible mistake.” Thereus’s words stilled her muscles. Oh. That mistake.

  “What did you do?” Agrius’s voice drifted up, soft and not damning.

  “I committed adultery.” Thereus grimaced and stirred the liquid in his glass. No. Poor Thereus. Her sins haunted him so.

  Agrius shifted forward, hands on his knees. “Tell me what happened, brother.”

  Thereus scrubbed his hands across his face. “I imbibed of far too much liquor and mistook a maiden in a stairwell for my wife.” He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Not only that. It gets worse. Much worse.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the maiden was a virgin, and I cannot recall if she was even willing.”

  He did remember. Well, sort of.

  “What became of her?”

  Thereus lifted his head and cocked his head at Agrius. “I’ve no idea. None of the servants seem to recall her and her name isn’t in any of the ledgers. It is as though she never existed.”

  Agrius cleared his throat. “Are you sure she did?”

  Yes, yes, here I am! Melita’s nymph half screamed. She clamped her mouth shut.

  “Hell, yes. Brother, I began bonding with her. That’s why I left.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. This was Thereus’s true confession? Bonded to her? To the real her? Could Alkippe’s proclamations be true?

  Agrius’s muffled curses echoed in the room and Thereus let out a grim laugh. “Fleeing seemed best. I assumed, well, hoped, Kalliste would forget me.” He snorted. “Let’s not deny it, brother. She hated me. Despised our kind. What choice did I have?” He sprung from his seat and smashed his glass into the fire. “Bloody hell. I had no idea about Lucian, I swear.” His fingers raked through his hair. “I would’ve done everything differently, had I known.”