Air's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 3)

by Rachael Slate

  He gazed at her, his mate, carrying their child, and love overwhelmed his hearts. “I’ve been ready for a century.”

  Together, they dropped to their knees and dug aside the soil. She placed the seed on his palm and squeezed his hand in both of hers, then led his hand to the hole. Gulping, he gently planted the seed. Our child.

  They scooped the soil over the hole, covering it, and stepped back. Airla plucked a bucket from beside her tree and watered the newly-planted seed.

  He wrapped his arm about her waist and they waited, watching, while glowing swirls of illumination circled upward, until finally, one tiny shoot burst through the soil and soared into the air. It grew, until it rested about a foot high. Their tiny sapling.

  Around them, the Hamadryades had gathered, too, and a melodious singing drifted through the air.

  He slanted his gaze toward his mate and rested his other hand on her belly. “You’ve bestowed me with far more joy than I ever hoped to have, my sweet nymph.”

  “The hope and the joy, we gifted each other, my fearsome centaur.” She slid her hand against his cheek and brought his mouth to hers. Her kiss seared his lips, her respirations filling his lungs with the sweetest air he’d ever breathed.

  And then he knew for certain. Air didn’t command him.

  She did.

  Glossary

  Olympian – the lingua franca (common tongue) of the gods and their descendants.

  potamoi – a river demon

  raptio – sexual slaves

  Adrasteia – Arsenius’s brigantine. Named after his half-sister, the goddess of revenge and balance.

  morphos – a shift in form, whether permanent or temporary. E.g. when a centaur changes form from a centaur to a human, he undergoes the morphos.

  chalkos, argyros, and chrysos – three passwords to the symposium, meaning “copper, silver, and gold”

  asphodelus, eros, aionios – three passwords to Halcyon, meaning “daffodil, love, and eternal”

  lyssa – a madness affecting centaurs, especially related to an incomplete bonding

  melita – term of endearment meaning “honey-sweet”

  quarter – pyrate term for “mercy”

  Old Centaurion – an ancient centaur language

  Meliae – honey nymphs

  hubris – excessive pride toward or defiance of the gods

  Pythia – Oracle sacred to Apollo

  Acknowledgments

  I’m thrilled to share the third book in my Lords of Krete series with you. Things are definitely starting to heat up! War is getting closer and it’s going to be epic.

  Thank you to my awesome beta readers, Ashley, Gina, Lyn, Robin, and Nicola, for always being ready whenever I have something new for you <3

  A gigantic thanks to my review team and street team.

  To Kelley, my keen-eyed copy editor, thank you once again!

  Karie Deegan, my kickass ninja PA, what would I do without you?

  Hugs and kisses to my family. Love always.

  For my readers, I hope you’re enjoying this series and having as much fun with it as I am. Happy reading!

  Meet Rachael

  USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Rachael Slate resides on the West Coast of Canada with her husband, two children, cat, and dog. Plus hummingbirds, songbirds, mason bees, and the occasional butterfly in her garden. When not writing, she's probably thinking about food (cooking, baking, or watching cooking shows). She also adores the outdoors--running, hiking, canoeing, camping, swimming, etc--so that helps to offset her culinary obsession!

  Rachael writes sizzling stories that blend the lines between mythology, reality, and fantasy. In her worlds, you'll encounter strong, sexy alpha males and the fierce, capable heroines who challenge them. And always, scorching hot romance.

  For free reads, exclusive content, giveaways, and to learn about upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter.

  Reviews help readers find the books they love. Please consider leaving a review.

  Thank you for reading!

  Much love,

  Rachael would love to hear from you! You can find her here:

  www.rachaelslate.com

  rachaelslate@outlook.com

  Free Reads!

  Psst! Do you love free books? How about sizzling fantasy romances that sweep you away to exotic worlds, pull you in, and leave you breathless?

  Subscribe to Rachael’s newsletter and receive her scorching hot novella, Rematch, for free. If you haven’t taken a bite of her Chinese Zodiac Romance Series yet, then this standalone novella is the perfect start.

  Plus, you can check out the bonus epilogue for Trancing the Tiger, Foul Play: a Moon Borne short story, and a bonus prologue for Water Borne.

  Grab your free reads by joining Rachael’s newsletter.

  *Please check your inbox/junk folder for your freebies*

  Also by Rachael Slate

  Look for these titles, available here.

  CHINESE ZODIAC ROMANCE SERIES:

  BOOK 1: TRANCING THE TIGER

  BOOK 2: REMATCH

  BOOK 3: BY THE HORNS

  BOOK 4: MATCH ME LATER

  BOOK 5: REINING HIM IN

  BOOK 6: MATCHING DRAGONS

  BOOK 7: NEVER MATCH A DRAGON

  BOOK 8: IN WOLF’S CLOTHING

  HALCYON ROMANCE BOOKS:

  HALCYON ROMANCE SERIES:

  BOOK 1: MOON BORNE

  BOOK 2: EARTH BORNE

  BOOK 3: WATER BORNE

  LORDS OF THESSALY SERIES: (series now complete!)

  BOOK 1: WICKED LORD OF THESSALY

  BOOK 2: BRUTISH LORD OF THESSALY

  BOOK 3: MASTERFUL LORD OF THESSALY

  BOOK 4: UNTAMED LORD OF THESSALY

  BOOK 5: LOST LADY OF THESSALY

  LORDS OF KRETE SERIES:

  BOOK 1: WATER’S MARK (A ZODIAC SHIFTERS PARANORMAL ROMANCE: CANCER)

  BOOK 2: EARTH’S MARK

  BOOK 3: AIR’S MARK

  BOOK 4: FIRE’S MARK

  BOOK 5: AETHER’S MARK

  CURSED IMMORTALS SERIES:

  BOOK 1: SHADOW BORNE

  Preview of Fire’s Mark

  Want more Halcyon Romance? Read on for an exclusive sneak peek at the first chapter from Book 4 in the Lords of Krete series, Fire’s Mark, coming Fall 2017!

  She’s a monster of myth and legend

  A century ago, the Minotaurs exploited harpy Enyo in their schemes against the centaur race, and her sisters paid the price. Now, she won’t rest until they’re free—and she seizes retribution from the Minotaur who deceived her. But her plans for vengeance fall to ash when a beastly warrior tries to thieve what’s hers. She can stave off the passions scorching between them, but not after he learns what and who she truly is.

  He’s a warrior sworn to slay her

  Dragon shifter Lord Demoleon of Krete has vowed to recover the mythical sword of Aegeus, the one weapon capable of destroying a Minotaur. Without the blade, his brethren stand no chance of victory against the vile King Minos and of reclaiming their rightful centaur throne. But an enticing vixen seeks the sword too, and they can’t both have it. When he discovers she played a part in the decimation of his people, he’s bound to eradicate her, and her entire race. Yet, his heart has other ideas.

  Engulfed in the flames of their desires

  Enyo and Demoleon must work together to save both their races, but a hatred this primal threatens to squelch their love. When War descends and the wills of their families clash, the only way to save one, is to destroy the other.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Below Mount Ida, Isle of Krete

  Year 100 of the reign of King Minos

  The sword was his. Demoleon, Lord of Krete and Commander of Fire, paused, wiping the sweat from his brow, and stared at the famed blade. The sword of Aegeus. The one weapon capable of vanquishing a Minotaur. Without it, his centaur race would have no hope of victory.

  His lips tugged into a grin and he chuckled. This had been
easy. Well, not for anyone but him, as his abilities had allowed him to sear a path through the rock, down into the depths of Mount Ida, where the famed sword had been lost, after the hero Theseus had used it to kill a Minotaur so many eons ago.

  Now, it was his.

  Demoleon leapt from the tunnel he’d carved, onto the rock floor of a subterranean cavern. The sword’s silver hilt glinted at him from across the vast chamber, its blade embedded in a man-sized boulder. He shook out his hands and rolled his shoulders, the ochre flames dissipating from his flesh. This blade was precisely the hope they needed. It would bolster his people. Especially when it rested in the hand of their rightful King, his bloodsworne brother, Rhoetus, as they descended upon the battlefield together.

  Aye. He couldn’t bloody wait. Demoleon strode forward, rubbing his hands together, sparks jumping off his skin, in anticipation. At the base of the boulder, he blew on his hands, once, and then wrapped both around the hilt of the sword.

  Power sang through his blood. He jolted, but tossed his head and focused on freeing the blade. On saving his people.

  He gave one swift, legendary tug.

  Nothing happened.

  Furrowing his brow, he wrenched again. And again. But the bloody thing wouldn’t budge.

  What in Hades?

  Damn. The Oracles and elders he’d consulted had mentioned a thing about an enchantment. Growling, he released the sword and straightened, frowning at the blasted thing.

  “Nice try.” A soft snickering resounded from up above.

  Demoleon staggered backward, craning his neck. No one else was supposed to be down here. No one else could be.

  He tilted his gaze, higher and higher, until he caught sight of a figure perched on an overhanging ledge. A pair of feathered wings framed the creature, the shadows obscuring all details save for the luminescent, glittering golden orbs trained on him.

  “The sword is mine,” the creature, nay, the female, hissed.

  “If ’tis yours, lass, then why haven’t you claimed it?” He backed to the blade, standing between it and the maiden.

  “Argh!” She swooped, charging, spiked claws swiping at him. “I’m no lass.” Her wings beat a rush of air between them while he blocked her blows with his forearms, ducking this way and that.

  One claw caught his upper arm, slicing through his flesh like a blade. Hell.

  He grimaced and grabbed for the creature, but his hands snatched leather instead. Shrugging, he tugged, and his opponent screeched, crashing into the ground. He leapt atop her, winding the leather strip around his forearm and pinning her against the rock. Without her wings thrashing between them, he finally caught a glimpse of her.

  By the gods.

  He swallowed. Hard.

  She was a beauteous thing. And not a lass? Ha! Not a stitch of clothing on her. It didn’t take a second scan to determine her sex, not with those full breasts straining from each of her heaving breaths. Or the delicate scent of nectar perfuming from the soft flesh between her legs. Strangely, two matching arm bands wound across her upper arms, long strips of leather dangling from each. He seized hold of the other one, winding it, too. Just in case.

  “Are you quite finished leering at me?” she snarled, writhing beneath him.

  He jerked his stare from her breasts. “Ah, forgive me.”

  “You’re not forgiven. Now, get off me, you filthy beast.” Those piercing eyes narrowed, the pupils were slits like those of a raptor. Indicative of one thing. She was a predator.

  She tossed her head, waist-length tawny locks woven with several intricate braids thrashing against the ground. Her small nose, with a slight hint of a break-like curve, scrunched at him in distaste.

  “Afraid I can’t do that, lass. Not until you agree not to attack me again.”

  A perfectly sinful smile crossed her blood-red lips. “That’s a promise I’ll never make.” Then she opened her mouth wide and a piercing cry shattered across her lips.

  ***

  Enyo of the Harpies scoffed and tossed the incapacitated male off her, dusting herself and rising to stand. “Ignorant, assuming, thieving, lecherous beast,” she hissed.

  He rolled onto his back, braced his hands over his ears, and grimaced. “You forgot obstinate.” Then he kicked out his leg toward hers, crashing her onto the floor again.

  Before she had a chance to respond, he was upon her once more, caging her in against the rock wall.

  “That sword be mine, sweetling.” His breath was close enough for her to inhale. His lips were full and firm, with a wickedly seductive tilt to them. Who was this male?

  “I’m not your sweetling, either.” Ugh. She narrowed her eyes. His arms were thick and brawny, bulging and rippling with muscle. Upper chest bare, he wore dark leather breeches and tall boots. There was something off about his gait, a slight limp and favoring of his left leg. She made note of that weakness.

  Eyes that swirled like molten copper studied her, and the timbre of his deep lilt continued to rumble through her. Glints of copper glimmered in his tightly clipped locks, too. Despite her animosity, he was not displeasing to her eyes. Not even with the scorched markings across his left cheek that lent to his fearsome presence.

  Or perhaps, it was a century of being captive that made any new flesh appealing. Yes, that must be it. Surely not the rough edge of his firm jaw nor the way his thick brows drew together above his hooded eyes, darkening his stare into something lethal and predatory and…possessive. He was a large male, burly and powerful, far bigger than she. A formidable opponent. But she would best him yet.

  She curved her lips into a smug grin. “You tried to remove the sword, and you failed. It isn’t yours to claim.”

  His stare centered on her, assessing. “Can you unsheathe it, then, Siren?”

  Ha! He mistook her species for another race. Sirens. Granted, most confused the two. Sirens were also birdlike females, who lured sailors into the depths of the sea with their enchanting voices, where they feasted upon their flesh. Harpies were far more fearsome than that. They were the hounds of Zeus, sent to crush his opponents.

  But let the male think what he liked. He would soon join the others, those who attempted to thieve from a harpy.

  “Argh!” She lashed out at him, thrusting him backward, and braced for his attack.

  “I’ve no wish to fight you, Strinklia.” Screech. Oh, he had no notion of the force of her cry. She could kill a man with one piercing scream, if she so chose.

  Enyo opened her mouth, another shriek forming in her throat, but the male lunged forward and snared her lips with his, muffling her cry.

  She froze. His lips were firm, hot, and the taste of him was…delectable. She snatched his shoulders, digging her claws into firm flesh, and dragged him harder against her mouth, fervent, demanding. She would have his kiss.

  The male growled and retaliated, his hands cupping her cheek and throat, directing her head, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth to stroke her tongue.

  She moaned, consumed by unbidden desires for this male. Why, oh why, hadn’t she eliminated him before he’d kissed her?

  The ground vibrated beneath her, small rocks sprinkling down the cave walls. She pulled back, panting and relief rushing through her. No harm done. It wasn’t too late to remove this male. They would do the task for her.

  ***

  Demoleon’s chest rose and fell with his straining breaths as he attempted to process what had just happened between him and this vixen. She hadn’t balked at the scars on his left cheek, hadn’t flinched or hesitated to touch him as most females did. He blinked, and the grin on her lips seemed almost…victorious?

  Bloody hell, that was what sirens did, wasn’t it? Seduced males to their deaths.

  A rumble thrummed beneath his feet. He glanced down at the vibrating pebbles on the floor, then up again, only to find the lass had retreated to the safety of her perch.

  And left him to battle whatever was coming.

  He scoffed and braced for an attack.


  An inky nebula flowed across the ceiling and walls, amassing toward him. At first, the wave appeared to be some form of shadow, but as the blackness neared, he detected minute parts.

  It was a rush of…ants?

  “Myrmekes,” the female sneered. “They think you’ve come to steal their gold.”

  “I’m not here for bloody gold,” he snarled.

  “Try telling them that.” She barked a haughty laugh.

  Damn, these were no ordinary insects. Some were the size of small canines. Others, as large as a boar.

  And they were all charging toward him.

  Demoleon tossed his head. One way to end this. He performed the morphos into his dragon shape and blew a rush of fire at the pests. Their wailing and sizzle crashed through the air, but they backed off…and swarmed the female instead.

  She yelped and leapt down, onto the opposite boulder from him. One glance at him, then she lunged for the sword.

  No way in Hades was he letting her take that blade. Demoleon shifted into his human form and leapt toward the blade, his fingers wrapping around the hilt just above hers.

  A blast of light erupted through the chamber. Stinging jolts pierced his flesh. But the blade pulled free, into both their grasps. The female grunted, her grip as firm and unrelenting as his.

  One ant leapt toward them and together they swiped the sword at the creature, slicing it in twain amidst a blaze of radiance.

  The other ants wailed and, squinting at the fierce illumination, skulked back into the darkness. An agonizing pang slammed into his left foot as the Siren smashed her foot down upon his lame one, and his grasp sprang free. On instinct, his body shifted into his natural centaur form.