***
Thereus had never dreamed of this future. He leaned on the windowsill, the forest where he’d bonded with Kalliste in his view.
In all his years, he’d avoided bonding like the centaurion plague. He’d been wary of females, of their treacherous ways. Always out to trap some poor fellow for a husband.
He craved freedom. The life of a pyrate had suited him immensely. He’d never had to answer to his disapproving elder brothers or face the disappointment of his father. He’d never had to concern himself with an uncaring bonded mate like Delia. Or being tortured endlessly by a mate’s loss like Oreius.
Before his marriage, females had served only one purpose—to sate his unquenchable centaur lust. He’d enjoyed their company for an hour or two before trotting off to the next cottage and the next bouquet of willing, eager females.
Their once alluring, vibrant hues paled in comparison to the gentle blossom Kalliste had become. Here was a woman so pure, he’d gotten the better end of the deal. How could he ever desire any other? He didn’t deserve someone like his mate, but there it was.
He rubbed his left bicep. In five years, his damn arm had never felt so good. So right. He had everything he’d never known he wanted.
His family. How had he lived without them? Surely, he’d been trudging through life, never experiencing true joy. Until now, at least. He grinned.
Last night he’d made love to his bonded mate countless times and each time he’d been amazed at how insatiable he was for her. How her passion reflected his. He chuckled. The Fates were wise indeed to pair him with a nymph.
Dawn’s rays splintered through the room, indicating it was time to head into meetings with his father and brothers. His new mate slumbered in her bed, recovering from last night’s exertions. His son was off somewhere, exploring with his cousins. Thereus shrugged on a vest, his new bonding mark showing, well, flaunting, proudly.
Let Petraeus choke on that.
***
Thereus strode into the meeting room. His brothers shot from their chairs. He braced against the onslaught of slaps on his back, dodged the ruffling of his hair, and dipped his head at the shouts of congratulations.
“Well done, my son.” Cheiron’s voice rose above the others.
Thereus inclined his head at his sire. Approval flashed in his father’s grey eyes, undiluted by any sign of astonishment. Thereus frowned. His father had known. Through it all, Cheiron never wavered in his conviction of this outcome.
Thereus grinned as he took his seat. Wise sire. He leaned into his chair while his brothers resumed their discussion. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he sighed. At last, he’d acted worthy of his family’s approval. The weight of his inadequacy lifted a tad from his shoulders. Not a complete redemption for his feigned death. The astringent scent of suspicion wafted from Hector and Agrius in particular. Odd. Especially from Agrius. He shrugged. If nothing else, at least he’d beaten the lyssa.
As for Petraeus? His youngest brother slumped in his chair, arms folded across his chest and his scowl searing into Thereus’s bonding mark.
Thereus caught his gaze and cast him a smirk from across the table. Petraeus glanced aside, brooding at the wall instead.
No point in gloating over his victory. Too much.
Thereus ran his thumb along the black band. More than anything, this mark was a warning. Kalliste was his. True, she remained free to choose another male, but damn. That male better be prepared for a fight to the death.
I am.
***
“Our ancestor Cheiron trained Achilles, and Achilles fought for the Greeks.” Hector folded his arms, as though for his part, the discussion ended with that simple statement.
Thereus leaned forward. “Aye, Achilles fought on the side of the Greeks, yet did he not fight for love? The love of his Patroclus?”
“Love.” The snort came from across the room. Petraeus.
“Aye, love.” Thereus fisted his hands, determined to let the taunt pass.
“What do you know of love, you’re naught but an ill-bred cur.”
“Petraeus.” Their father’s voice boomed.
Too late.
“I’m the cur? Yer belly ’tis yellower than a bilge-rat!” Thereus shot to his feet. “Trying to pilfer a centaur’s mate from underneath him.”
“She was already mine, till you showed your wretched face at Westgard,” Petraeus snarled while leaping across the table.
Thereus braced and caught his brother’s weight, and his brother’s fists, tumbling them to the floor, the stones cracking beneath their combined mass.
No hands grabbed at them to wrench them apart, so his father must wish for this to play out. Aye, very well, he’d give them a performance. He crooked his knee toward Petraeus’s gut and gave a swift kick. His brother rolled off him—a second’s reprieve. While Thereus was larger, Petraeus was younger, and it appeared, in a far more incensed rage.
Thereus shot to his feet in time to have Petraeus’s leg swipe out at them, and he crashed to the floor again, this time his head cracked instead of the stone tiles. His vision blurred in and out, but not enough to erase the taunting leer of Petraeus above him.
“I cared for her and Lucian during your absence. I brushed away her tears, I taught the lad to wield a sword. Where were you?” He spat on the tile next to Thereus’s head. “With your hand up every available female’s skirt, no doubt. You think this,” he jabbed at Thereus’s bonding mark, “makes you worthy of her?” Petraeus snorted in disgust.
“Aye, you’re right.” Thereus rubbed his jaw as the words poured from his mouth. “I don’t deserve her.”
His brother’s features rearranged from enraged to pained and back again. His hand clutched at Thereus’s leather vest, his other formed into a fist and hovered, ready to pummel into Thereus’s face.
“I thank you for caring for my family,” he murmured. “Now I’ve returned, they are my responsibility.” Misery flashed in his brother’s grey eyes. Ah, so that was the cause of his indignation. “Forgive me, brother. I did not,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “do right by you, after Mother’s death.”
Petraeus sank, swiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands.
Thereus grimaced and shook the fuzz from his head as he rose to sit. Seeing his brother so shaken, he wrapped his arms around the little weasel and squeezed. “I mean to redeem myself. I do not view this bonding lightly, and I will not forsake my family ever again.”
Shifting away, Petraeus regarded him. “If you truly do care for her as you say, you’d better stay this time. By the gods, the next time you desert her, you’d best be truly dead.” His stare darkened. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”
Thereus gave a curt nod. “Agreed.” He scanned his other brothers for approval, but Agrius and Hector were engaged in a hushed argument. They halted their discourse the moment they perceived Thereus regarding them. Odd.
Once they set the room to rights again, Thereus seized his chance to resume the discussion of war. “While on the subject of Cheiron, ’twas Zeus, of all the gods, who took pity upon him when Heracles shot him with a poisoned arrow. ’Twas Zeus who transformed him into the stars.” He pointed to the sky.
“Zeus fought on the side of love in the Trojan War, my brothers.” Thereus slammed his forefinger into the table. “Doubtless, he’ll patronize them again. Then whose flank will you wish you’d defended? Imagine the dispersal of power should this war ever be won.” He leaned back and examined each of their expressions. This was the climax of his proposition. Humans were spreading. Centaur lands diminished. Many descendant species wrestled against extinction. He lowered his voice. “There’s a play for power in Olympus. The spoils will be lavished upon the victorious. Consider what that would mean for the centaur race.”
Agrius broke the stillness with a low whistle. “You’ve a point, lad.”
Thereus shot him a grin and cocked his brow at the rest of his brothers. “I’ve had word the Amazons have chosen to f
ight. We cannot let those wee lasses go unescorted into battle, aye?”
“Enough.” At last Cheiron’s stately voice rose above the snickering of his brothers. “You’ve had long enough to consider this. What say you, my sons?” His focus fell upon them each in turn, according to his birth.
“I will serve Hades and Persephone.” Hector spoke first, his tone grave.
Agrius folded his arms. “I am in accordance with my brother.”
Thereus faced Oreius, who nodded. “And I as well.”
Everyone faced Petraeus.
“You don’t need my vote.” He huffed.
“True, my son.” Cheiron inclined his head. “However, we will not pursue this unless the vote is unanimous.”
Petraeus grunted. “I will always fight with my brothers.” Though he didn’t meet Thereus’s eyes, from his tone, he detected his youngest brother’s effort at reconciliation.
“Thank you.” Thereus tilted his head at Petraeus, his forgiveness genuine. The brothers never fought for long, as even his reappearance attested. Besides, he was in an awfully damn good mood. It would take time before things would be mended between them, but this… This was a start.
Petraeus shrugged. “Besides, I’ve heard war is good for the pocketbook.”
Hector groaned and the others chuckled. Thereus joined them. Aye, this was a new beginning, for everyone.
***
Melita paced in the study Thereus used, hoping to catch him before he trotted off to yet another meeting. This dream she was living in was too perfect to be real. Never had she felt so cherished as she did in her centaur’s arms. Her whole life she’d been waiting… Waiting for this.
Like a god of judgment, Agrius stepped into the room, shattering her dreams.
Though a smoky black, the sun faded his coat to a luscious chocolate, his hair and tail, and legs remaining dark. Combined with his dark amber eyes, he was truly an unsettling sight.
“Agrius.” Her smile faded under his scrutiny. Had something happened to Thereus?
After closing the door, he waved for her to sit in a chair and he took the opposite. He regarded her, unblinking, his features giving nothing away.
She shifted in her seat and forced her hands to spread flat in her lap, though they itched to smooth the unwrinkled fabric of her skirt.
He cocked his head at her, inhaling through his nose. Testing her scent? Why?
Oh gods. Her heart sank heavy as a boulder flung into the ocean.
His voice was velvet as he murmured, “Who are you?”
Her breathing strained as though she were under water, lungs burning for freedom. The drumming of her pulse drowned out every other sound, pounding in her ears. How to respond? “I am Thereus’s mate.” The answer came with surprising ease.
He grunted. “Indeed, it appears you are.”
Damn. She should have guessed this would happen. She ought to have faked an illness or made her husband retreat to Westgard, and… What? Kept him from his brothers, as well as every other centaur and scholar, forever? How ridiculous. Yet, under the heat of Agrius’s perusal, it seemed a better option. Think, Melita. What she declared might very well mean her life or death. Agrius was here because…
She stilled, in hope. He hadn’t told Thereus. Or anyone else. Agrius must have approached her because he loved his brother and wished for his happiness. She only had to convince him she was the source of his brother’s joy.
“I love him.” She stared directly into those amber depths. “I’ve always loved him.”
His nostrils flared as though he tested her words for truth. “I believe you.”
She smoothed her clammy palms on her skirts.
“Aye. I’ve never seen Thereus so content. Also, Eione vouches for you.” His smile flashed and then faded. “My dear lass, you must tell me the truth, all of it.”
Let the interrogation begin. Her shoulders sagged as she closed her eyes for a brief moment of thanks it wasn’t her husband opposite her. She wouldn’t have the strength to tell her story to Thereus.
Peeking open one eye, she clasped her hands tight in her lap. “How did you guess?”
“Old Centaurion may be a dead language, but a few of us had the misfortune of having it beaten into us as lads. Hector has read your name as well. I told him I wished to question you first.”
This was bad. Far worse than she had ever anticipated.
“King Cheiron…” Her throat closed before she finished the sentence. Guilt over fooling him stuck her the hardest. Not because he was their King. He was the father she’d never had.
Agrius snorted. “Sorry to disappoint you, lass. Nothing, nothing happens in my sire’s kingdom without his knowledge. Your name on Thereus’s arm is no surprise to him, I’m sure.”
She swallowed thickly.
“Trust me, Melita. If my father has kept silent, there’s a reason.”
Fear flooded her veins. “I’ve committed treason.”
He arched a brow at her. “Then you’d best be telling me everything, lass.”
She slumped in her chair. “My mother belonged to the Meliae—honey nymphs. My father is King Pirithous III. When I was a babe, she entrusted me to his care. I was raised with the servants. I came here with my half-sister Kalliste, as her handmaiden.” She sped over the events leading to Thereus’s departure and focused on absolving Alkippe of any crimes. “When my babe died, and Lucian was left motherless, I decided to care for him and take Kalliste’s place.”
“You devised this plan on your own?” His stare bore into her.
“Entirely my idea.” She lifted her chin and mirrored his stare. The corners of his mouth lifted. Damn, he’d detected her lie. She didn’t care. She’d never admit to Alkippe’s aid.
“Your servants didn’t question your identity?” He smirked at her with a cocked brow. “Alkippe in particular is quite sharp.”
“I did this on my own.” She leaned forward and spoke firmly, trying to mimic his confident smile. “Kalliste rarely ever came out from her rooms. None of the servants knew her. It was not so difficult, as you can imagine.”
He eased back, peering at her with approval. “I am sorry for your sister’s death, and also, for your child. The babe, ’twas a female?” The brilliance in his eyes dimmed. He truly did seem aggrieved. Female centaurs were so rare, so precious.
Melita managed a weak nod and winced. Thoughts of her daughter sliced anew into her heart, but she swallowed the pain.
Agrius regarded her with his head cocked. “So you are the one. I knew centaurs only bonded with one female.” He chuckled. “Thereus certainly has woven a mare’s nest. Although,” he rubbed his chin, “The Fates and the gods seem to have orchestrated this quite to their will.”
She straightened. “You won’t tell him?”
His frown wasn’t encouraging. “No, lass, I won’t tell him. You must.”
“I can’t—”
He cut off her protestations with a wave of his hand. “He will discover it, someday, somehow. The truth is better received from someone you love.” He leaned forward. “My brother will not forsake you. You have nothing to lose from telling him the truth, and everything if you don’t. Your love cannot grow with this, this falsehood,” he swept his hands over her, “beclouding you. The real you. The woman he mated. Let Kalliste rest in Elysium. Do not waste the life you have.”
Her upper teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. Agrius made it sound so simple, as though her confession would be easy. Her shoulders sagged and she lowered her head. Even if Thereus forgave her, he might not have the power to save her from her crimes.
She lifted her face, heart pounding, as she asked the question she’d dreaded the answer to ever since reading those scrolls in Thereus’s study. “What about centaur law? The treason?”
He stilled as though searching for a response. “This runs deeper than the both of you. Kalliste’s family must also be notified. Leave the discussion with King Cheiron to Thereus and myself, lass.” He sighed. “This mu
st be set to rights, starting with your confession to Thereus. Promise me you will not force my hand to take other, more severe actions.”
As she opened her mouth to protest, he raised his hand to cut her off. “Promise me, Melita.” Hard amber eyes pierced her every defense.
How would Philaeus respond when he learned of Kalliste’s death? Bile churned in her gut, rising in her throat. Even more, now that Thereus had bonded with her, what would happen to him if she did indeed hang for her crimes? She swallowed hard, the acid burning on its descent. “I promise.”
Sweet Demeter, how am I ever to fulfill such a vow?
“Wife,” the word came out as a low growl. Thereus had waited all day to be with her. After the declaration of war, the tasks piled up. Letters to Halcyon, to his estate. He and his brothers had spent hours going over whom to recruit and when. They’d poured over ledgers of names and supplies.
The weariness in his body dissipated the instant he noted Kalliste sitting at her dressing table, brushing her long mahogany locks. Refusing to be the beast he’d been with her last night, he stomped back his horse. He would show his wife he was capable of civility.
Thereus paced to her, snared the brush from her hand, and continued the task. She moaned sweetly as his hands caressed the silken strands. Aye, my love. I’ll prove I can be gentle as well. He bent and indulged in the heady fragrance of her perfume. His honey nymph. He growled, unable to suppress his lust.
If someone had only told him he’d one day be paired with a woman like her… By the gods, the things he would’ve done differently. Regardless, here she was. Mine. He pressed delicate kisses along her hairline and down her neck. She melted against him, moaning. He kissed her skin again, determined to release more of those feminine cries.
“Thereus,” she murmured, “I must speak with you.”
He ran his tongue along the delicate curve of her neck. “No words right now, my love. I’ve had more of them today than I can bear. Let me hold you, let me love you. We’ll find another use for our mouths tonight.” To emphasize his point, he kissed lower, untying the laces on the opening of her shift, and revealing her soft, luscious breasts.
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