Struggling to her feet, she grunted and stamped down on the rush of weakness filling her. No time for suffering illness. These people required her help. She’d glimpsed the malice of the pestilence and the fight against it had become her own. Determination mixed with ire in her blood. She would save these people and vanquish Loimos.
Blast it, but Theron was right. She was the only one who could.
Chapter 3
Theron paced the tunnel beside the Black Cave. Though he’d already been exposed and carried the disease, they’d agreed to quarantine those most afflicted. It seemed the disease spread faster between victims who suffered the later stages.
His was early; he was barely affected. Only the occasional weakness in his grip or loss of balance. Nothing that prevented him from carrying out his duties.
What if Cyane couldn’t fulfill hers? He’d witnessed how ill she’d been after healing Keyx. What if she’d collapsed in there, unable to heal anyone—including herself?
The pestilence wouldn’t affect anyone who wasn’t Karkinos, but still…
He rubbed his jaw and continued pacing. This was ridiculous. He had other matters to attend, and yet, the entirety of his focus remained fastened on the entrance of this cave. On that fiery wench within.
She’d called him a fool. He snorted and tossed his head. It might be easy, for someone who’d never been betrayed, to view the world as a fanciful and innocent place. A place where dreams and kindred attachments thrived. Where one’s blood meant something.
Huffing, he bowed his shoulders. No point in dwelling upon the past. Soon, he’d right the future.
Footsteps echoed from the cavern. He straightened, stiffening. Cyane, braced between two women, limped forward.
Theron dashed to them and swept the nymph into his arms.
“She’s weak, Theron,” Elpida, their healer, and one of the first to succumb, murmured. “She must rest now.”
Numbness iced through his veins at the frail creature in his arms. How had he allowed her to do this to herself?
Nay, commanded her to?
The pestilence was clearly too formidable, even for her gifted waters.
He studied the other two females, who not a day before had been on their deathbeds. Now, they stood with strength in their bodies and healthy flushes in their cheeks.
“I will see to it that she rests,” he muttered, unable to contemplate this impossible choice any longer. He veered away from them and headed through the tunnels to his chamber. Once inside, he kicked the boulder that functioned as a door and it rolled shut across the entryway.
He strode to the bed and laid the nymph on it. Her skin was far too pale, her breaths uneven and shallow.
How in the bloody hell was he going to keep her alive long enough to save his people?
For four years, he’d searched for a cure, and here she was, dying upon his bed. Curse the gods. He withdrew the manacles from his pocket and grimaced at them. This wasn’t right.
He perched on the far edge of the bed and lowered his head into his hands. He’d become desperate, and desperate men often reasoned away the brutality of their actions. He was also a leader, the one to set an example with his conduct. This burden was too much to bear. Grumbling, he raked his fingers through his locks, scraping his scalp.
“Theron?” Cyane whispered weakly and grasped for him.
He tensed at the gesture.
She cracked open one sparkling azure orb. “They’re healed.”
“Aye.” He clenched his jaw. “Thanks to you.”
“Hmm.” She fluttered her lashes and rolled onto her side to regard him. “Thanks to the healing waters flowing from Mount Ida. I’m merely a vessel. Blessed to be able to help people.”
He surveyed her, emotions hopping about in his chest. Karkinos males were large and robust, their females slight and supple. This pleasingly lithe nymph would definitely appeal to any Karkinos male. She was a lovely delicate creature, with softness in her lush curves and kindness in her shining depths.
Even more than her form, her mind was clever and her tongue sharp. Karkinos females were also submissively obedient, unlike Cyane. She didn’t seem in the least intimidated by him, and somehow that made him feel even more powerful.
She enticed him in ways he shouldn’t find so tempting.
He cleared his throat and broke his stare.
“I, ah, I should return to them.” Cyane shifted to sit, groaning and cradling her head. “There are more to heal.”
He winced at her obvious discomfort. “Nay, they can wait one more day. Believe me, the progress of this pestilence is slow.” Prolonged suffering was one of the disease’s most malicious traits. Theron whipped his head and shoved aside the painful memories. He had an idea of how to help Cyane instead.
“Come.” He offered her his hand. “You’re not the only one who knows where to locate healing waters.”
“What about the manacles?” Her brows knit together and she bit her lip in suspicion.
“These?” He dangled them in front of her. “Do you wish for me to use them on you again, nymph?”
“No, of course not.” She scoffed.
He leaned forward and purred, “Then don’t tempt me.”
She frowned at the offer of his hand, but finally, she accepted, sliding her warm palm against his. The contact jolted him, sending shocks of awareness straight to his core. She was so exquisite, this nymph. Aye, nymph.
His attraction to her stemmed from nothing more than the nature of her race.
He gritted his teeth and towed her upright, ensuring she didn’t wobble on her feet. Then he led her through the corridors, past the caves and down again toward the shore, but not quite. Hidden within the depths of the mountain lay a sacred cavern boasting of healing waters. None capable of curing his people, though. Nay, these pools soothed aches and pains, and eased the soul as well.
Many of the afflicted visited this place to alleviate their symptoms, and to help suspend the progress of the pestilence.
Tonight, the pools were empty, as they were every eve, for Theron’s private use. It might be fanciful, but he hoped bathing within each evening provided him the strength to evade the symptoms of the disease.
“It’s beautiful,” Cyane hummed behind him.
He shrugged off his shirt and lowered his breeches over his hips. “Well then, what are you waiting for, nymph?”
Cyane gaped as Theron undressed before her and strolled into the gleaming pool. His broad back rippled with smooth, hardened muscle, and the curve of his backside…
She gulped. The only males she’d seen partially nude were her brothers, and certainly, they didn’t count. If they were here, they’d slap their hands across her eyes, toss her over their shoulders, and cart her away.
Ah, but they weren’t here, were they? A smile crept onto her lips. With four overbearing centaurs for brothers, she’d never been permitted near any male, and none had ever dared to court her. Her brothers had claimed men would only abuse her nymph nature, so she’d rarely flexed those powers.
She scoffed. A nymph who didn’t know how to seduce.
However, Theron wasn’t aware of any of this. Here he was, a magnificent and complicated male, asking her to bathe with him, and perhaps, for more?
Inhaling a deep breath, she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it above her head, then stepped from her breeches. Theron had swum around the corner, disappearing from her view.
Tentatively, she dipped her toes into the water at the edge of the pool. The billowing steam didn’t lie. These waters were delightfully warm and inviting. Sighing, she waded in, up to her shoulders, and found it didn’t go any deeper. She swam to the corner and peeked around a boulder. Theron reclined with his brawny arms behind his head beneath a gently streaming waterfall.
The glistening beads flowed down his smooth, firm muscles, appearing so delectably forbidden. His upper body rested above the surface, his pectorals and abdomen etched like the stones surrounding him. The cascading
water blurred his nude lower half, but flutters spread through her stomach nonetheless.
She shouldn’t be attracted to a male who’d done everything to earn her scorn, and yet… There was something far deeper to him, as though she peered at the surface of a well, fathoming that so much lay below. The complexity of him appealed to her curious nature, and just once, she longed to choose her own path.
Ever since she’d sworn with her blood to be bound to her brothers, they’d decided everything. Even this mission hadn’t been her choice. She’d simply been the best person for the task of accompanying Rhoetus on his mission. She’d been the bait.
Where was Rhoetus? Surely, not searching for her. When she’d been captured, he’d visited her within her cell, disclosing the planned rescue by the Amazons, and he’d been so distracted. After she’d caught a glimpse of who had distracted him, well, she knew Rhoetus well enough to conclude his attentions would be diverted elsewhere.
Besides, she was capable. After an Amazon warrior had freed her, she was supposed to have contacted Rhoetus and returned promptly to Krete. Yet those bastards had bled her powers from her and she’d been determined to retrieve them.
She should escape from this prison. Perhaps, charm Theron and, once in the throes of passion, beg him to release her manacles, and then, vanish into these waters.
To return to what? Rhoetus had his mission and her other brothers had theirs.
What was her path? To always follow theirs?
She was more than their little sister, more than a simple female. She’d been blessed by the gods, too.
Clenching her fists, Cyane waded toward Theron. Slowly, he lifted his thick, dense lashes and stalked her with his stormy gaze through the curtain of the waterfall.
Her chest tightened, but she resisted folding her arms across her bare breasts. She was a nymph. This was her path.
Still, she’d never bewitched a male, and the burning embers in Theron’s eyes scorched her with their intensity, calling to places deep within her that she’d spent years suppressing.
You’re too young and sweet for what males would demand, Rhoetus had insisted.
They will only take advantage of your nymph nature, Demoleon had declared.
Better to learn how to defend yourself, Arctus had persuaded.
You can conquer those compulsions, if you try hard enough, Lycus, chaste like herself, had goaded.
With each glide forward, she stamped away their chains, freeing herself.
You’re a nymph, Cyane. Time to act like one.
Theron’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t been certain Cyane would join him, not after his behavior.
She waded forward, a fierceness in her tight features and a sensual sway to her alluring form. His shaft hardened and lengthened, awakening to a female for the first time in many lonely years.
She shouldn’t desire him, but he bloody well hoped she did. That it wasn’t simply her nature responding to his lust.
How could one ever be certain of such, with a nymph?
She stole toward him, diving below the surface and popping up at his side, beneath the balmy spray. The edge of the water barely concealed her breasts, ebbing around the full curves of those soft globes. “This place is lovely.” The water molded her short black and blue locks to her face, and his hands itched to brush them aside.
“ ’Tis you who are lovely,” he angled his head at her, “on the inside and the out.”
She inhaled slowly, straightening her shoulders. “Do you truly think so?” Leaning forward, she planted her hand on his shoulder, and rested her chin on her hand. Those thick, curled lashes fluttered at him. “Or would you speak the same to any nymph?”
He fisted his hands at his sides, refusing to touch her. “Nay, only to you, Soteira.”
“Hmm. Soteira? I could aid you, too, if you would but let me.” She arched forward, lifting her chin, and blew her soft murmur across his ear, making his hips jerk and his length jolt. “Why did you ask me to bathe with you?”
“Cyane,” he grated a warning. Damn, what had been his purpose in dragging her here? When he’d viewed her, so weak and pale, he’d simply thought of making her better. The lass beside him was neither weak nor pale, and her vitality toyed with him.
Was that her intention? Could she be scheming an escape?
He snared her hand and peeled it off his body. Her skin was silky in his hand. What would it be like to enjoy such silkiness on his cock? “Why did you follow?” He observed her, not daring to believe anything his eyes concluded.
“I like water,” she bit her plump bottom lip, flushing it red, “very much.”
Gods, her sensuality shot through him, seizing his muscles. She might be playing games with him, but he wouldn’t permit her to overcome him so much that she won.
“Don’t you want me to heal you?” She tilted her head, assessing. “Talos said you’re all infected.”
“Aye, we are, but don’t concern yourself with me. Heal them first.”
“Very well.” She cast her gaze to their hands. “What are you?” Linking her fingers with his, she twisted their hands about. “Your skin is so…hard.”
He gulped at her other implication, but suppressed the urge to prove just how hard he was. “Aye, because I’m Karkinos. A crab shifter.”
Her features rounded. “Truly? Show me.”
The curiosity in her eyes seemed genuine, so he released her hand and swam a few paces from her, then focused on the morphos.
His shell and claws formed over him, an impenetrable, luminescent blue armor. Chuckling at her soft gasp, he extended one massive claw toward her. “Go ahead, lass. Stroke me, if you dare.”
Chapter 4
Cyane gaped at the enormous phosphorescent blue crab before her. Well, he wasn’t quite crab, and not quite human, either. Theron’s stormy eyes squinted wickedly at her from within the beast’s glowing gaze. Spiraling swirls formed an intricate pattern etched across his shell, an incandescent white glow burning from within those grooves. The entirety of his form barely fit inside this cavern, and the gigantic claw he swung toward her was as big as she was.
Snuffing her apprehension, she rose to Theron’s challenge and skimmed her fingers across the claw’s surface. Smooth and solid as marble. Oh, my.
He was simply…magnificent.
Too soon, he shuddered and shrank, transforming into his masculine form and prowling toward her. “Well, Soteira?”
This time, his hand, not his claw, extended toward her. She eyed that firm grasp, unable to deny how much he fascinated her. Theron’s people were unlike any she’d encountered. “Where did you come from? This doesn’t seem like your permanent home.”
“Indeed, it’s not. Our ancestor, Carcinus, was tricked by the goddess Hera into an impossible match with the hero Herakles. Ruined and shamed, he abandoned his offspring, to be placed among the stars instead.” Theron waded backward to perch upon the ledge. “The Fates took pity upon us, gifting the Karkinos with abilities both human and crustacean. Eventually, our people multiplied, and we broke off into three branches. One, governed by myself, another by Talos, and the third… Well, after the disease struck, Talos and I joined our people together and I assumed leadership of them all.”
The tic in his jaw suggested he wouldn’t continue his tale, so Cyane didn’t press. That he had shared this much meant she’d earned a small amount of his trust.
“Now I see why your skin is so firm. So…rigid.” Holding his stare, she glided toward him, settling between his legs. Her breath shaky, she slid her palms upward along his chest, halting as her gaze lifted to his face.
Through half-lidded eyes, he stalked her. “Aye, very rigid.”
She swallowed hard at the implication in his teasing tone, and at the obvious manifestation of his lust.
He snared her wrist and lowered their hands into the water, drawing hers toward his lap, and his thickness. As he coaxed her fingers to his shaft and she stroked him, he tossed back his head and groan
ed.
She parted her lips while she inched closer, her movements tentative and delicate.
Not hesitant in the least, Theron clasped his hand around her waist and tugged her onto his lap to straddle him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, their peaks pebbling against his flesh, and she gasped at the arousing sensation.
Theron tilted her chin, a quirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sweet nymph, you’ve never done this before, have you.”
Cyane choked on her breath, her embarrassment spinning to indignation. Had it been so obvious? She shoved off Theron’s lap, spinning about, heat flushing her cheeks. This was an enormous mistake.
“Wait, lass.” He seized her hand, whirling her around to face him again. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Mock me?” She scoffed, shaking her head and wrenching her wrist, but Theron’s grip was unnaturally firm. Blasted crab pincers.
“Aye, not at all.” His tone lowered, softening. “I’m simply surprised. I’ve never encountered a nymph who—”
“Who’s a failure at seduction?” She snorted. “Well, you can blame my brothers for that.”
Theron’s thick brows bunched together. “Brothers? I thought nymphs were only female.”
“Bloodsworne brothers, four of them. They’re centaurs.” Cyane twirled her free fingers in the air. “Believe me, they would have words with you.” She thrust her fingers into his chest, but he merely chuckled.
“I’d like that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him. “They’d beat you first and never bother questioning your motives.”
He cocked his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Then I would definitely like them.”
“Why? For being stiflingly protective?”
“Indeed. They’re right to protect you.” His intense perusal scanned her. “The question is, where are they and how did you escape their tyranny?”
She huffed a laugh at his jest. “That’s not important.”
“You were a prisoner of King Philaeus. Why didn’t they rescue you?” He shifted closer. “Unless you didn’t wish to be rescued?”
Water's Mark - Cancer Page 3
