Shifters and Spice: A Shifter Romance Box Set

by Desiree Holt

  He’s doing this for me.

  Guilt and shame bowed her shoulders. What have I done?

  No, this was for the both of them. A male who truly wished to be bonded would not so easily forsake his mate. He would at least try to woo her for more than a few months first.

  Petraeus sought freedom as much as she, perhaps more. Wild and untamed was how he must remain.

  She exhaled shakily while the nymph finished, wrapping Petraeus’s arm in a poultice and making him drink from a chalice.

  He rose on trembling legs and she dashed forward to support him, one arm around his waist, his arm wrapped around her. Together, they staggered from the cabin. She glanced back and waved to the nymph. “Thank you.”

  Antiope hummed at her and slammed the door.

  Odd.

  Did she disapprove of the enchantment, or mayhap just of Ekho?

  Had she committed a transgression? Rejecting a gift from the goddess Aphrodite?

  She hadn’t ever asked for a mate, or even desired one.

  Poor Petraeus. He stumbled alongside her, delirious from the ordeal, or the concoction Antiope had given him.

  Ekho guided him to the King’s palace and followed his mumbled instructions toward his chamber within. She’d forgotten to request a room of her own, and with the rescued nymphs seeking refuge here, there likely wouldn’t be any available. Besides, Petraeus required her aid. She’d forced this upon him, so he at least deserved her compassion.

  She helped him ease onto the bed and removed his boots. He groaned and rolled onto his back, tempting her to peel aside the remainder of his clothing.

  Despite her determination to remain untethered, this male embodied seduction. His large, powerful body and exquisitely carved muscles caused longings to throb deep inside her core.

  He was divine.

  But he never would be hers for more than one night.

  Sighing, she perched on the edge of the bed and gingerly undressed him, making him more comfortable. Then she squeezed out a damp cloth from the washing basin and pressed it to his heated forehead.

  He mumbled in his sleep, his hand grasping for hers. His strong fingers entwined with hers, resting against his cheek. A contented moan passed his lips and he drifted deeper into slumber.

  Ekho curled onto the bed beside him, savoring one last moment together. She had no intention of ever encountering him again.

  Broken hearts mended better that way.

  “Forget me, and be well, Petraeus,” she whispered the persuasion on her tongue and blew it toward him, willing him to obey.

  By the time the sun rose tomorrow, she would be gone from his life.

  Forever.

  And he would at last become what he was always meant to be.

  Her untamed centaur lord.

  Chapter Eleven

  One month later

  Petraeus reclined on a spacious wooden chair along with his friend Alder, who munched cheerily on a carrot. He scowled across the table and scratched at the back of his neck. Usually, the satyr lightened his mood, but lately, he’d not been able to shake his irritability. As though an instinct deep inside him paced, restless, and attempted to wake him from some terrible dream.

  He wasn’t certain he wished to wake. What if reality was actually the nightmare?

  On top of it all, his heart thumped dejectedly inside his chest, mourning an unknown loss.

  “You should go after her.” Alder paused, tipping his carrot to Petraeus. “She might be in danger.”

  “What blasted madness are you speaking of?”

  “Hmm, that spell is potent, but not unbreakable.”

  He glowered at the smirk on his friend’s face.

  A pretty, white-haired female entered his dining hall and strolled to Petraeus’s side. She was young, but her age was impossible to tell, despite her ivory locks. A flicker of familiarity struck him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

  He gawked at the intruder, and then at the smugness curving Alder’s features. “Who is she?”

  Instead of answering him, she snapped her fingers in front of Petraeus’s nose.

  He blinked several times. A weight released inside his chest and a raging ache panged through his upper left bicep. He gasped and groaned, hunching over. The numbness surrounding his pain had been lifted and now it blasted into him, full-force. “Argh. Who are you and what have you done to me?”

  The maiden cast him a spritely smile but shook her head and bent to his side to whisper, “You’ll find out soon enough. All I can do is restore what was lost. The rest is up to you.”

  She waved toward his friend…or was Alder his enemy? He glared at the satyr who obediently followed the maiden out of his castle.

  Damn them both. Toying with him, speaking in riddles.

  Go after her.

  Who was this female they spoke of? Petraeus couldn’t recall—

  Those eyes. An image of sparkling green depths crashed into his mind and clung to his vision, the rest of her face sharpening into focus.

  He knew her, or he had, once.

  Mine.

  Clutching his head, he pounded his fists against it, struggling to knock loose the memories. Someone had swept them beyond his reach, but who would do such a thing?

  Why?

  His gaze shifted to his arm. Dear gods, no. A thin band raised beneath his flesh, searing and encircling his arm. Bonded?

  How in the bloody hell had he allowed that to happen? Or nearly happen, as the band wasn’t visible…yet. Who was this mystery mate he was supposed to chase after?

  He snorted. Unlikely. He’d just as soon sit here and become numb once more. After seizing the cup in front of him, he gulped his ale, sighed, and stared out the window.

  After her image had entered his mind, he couldn’t ignore it. Damned interfering satyr. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, impatience spiking through his veins.

  This was absurd. He didn’t fathom where to begin searching for this anonymous maiden, or whether she even wished to be found.

  Yet his legs seemed to rise of their own accord, and he staggered to the doorway, then down the staircase. His fumbling movements echoed back to him.

  Ekho.

  He swallowed hard as more of her face came into his mind, followed by her slender, lithe body and clever, fierce will.

  Something about a prison…and a damned quest.

  He’d played her knight, but she’d rejected him.

  Yet now, he was willing to risk her refusal again.

  You poor bastard, he shook his head and departed his castle, walking straight into your doom.

  * * *

  Ekho hugged her legs to her middle, enclosing them in her arms, and gazed out over the hilltop. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t ever been able to spill them. Her being might have wished to become Petraeus’s mate, but her will hadn’t permitted it.

  For weeks, she’d tried everything to be content. She spoke often with her daughter, through the breezes. Minthe was well and in good care with Rhoetus.

  Perhaps too well cared for.

  She’d helped restore the other nymph prisoners to their rightful lands, outside of Lapith borders. Those who’d existed within enemy territory had settled into new homes in the centaur lands.

  Ekho had no home to return to. As one of the Aurae, she fluttered from one spot to another, on the whims of the breezes. The only place she’d ever truly belonged was the one place she could never return to.

  The sun had begun to set over the ridge and she huddled against the coming night. Minthe’s birth mother, Nakole, had been wrong. To love wasn’t relinquishing—forsaking love was the ultimate surrender.

  She twirled her left fingers in the air, toying with the delicate breeze in her right palm. Every nymph bore a single entry into their secret realm, to escape from the pain of this one.

  One inhale of this mist and she would find peace. She would return to the realm of her people. Never again to walk, sleep, eat, laugh, cry. She would fade
into the nothingness of a warm spring breeze.

  “Such a pity,” a trilling masculine voice tsked behind her.

  She froze, the fibers of her muscles and marrow of her bones recalling that voice.

  Deimos.

  “You have such power, Ekho, and you don’t even know how to use it.”

  She grimaced. Power to Deimos was the ability to harm and manipulate. Not to any notable end, either. The Lapiths served Apollo, but she was fairly certain Deimos served himself.

  “What do you seek from me?” Her body had grown weary, empty of the will to fight any longer.

  “Well, since those meddlesome centaurs stole back the nymphs, and their powers, I don’t have any left. That simply will not do. Apollo demands his army. One cannot be expected to take over the world without the proper resources.”

  “Take over the world? Does he intend to overthrow Zeus?”

  Deimos chortled haughtily. “Dear nymph, so naïve. Apollo doesn’t seek the Underworld, or the Heavens, or the Oceans, or the Earth. He wants it all.” He leaned in close and his moist breath caused her to shudder. “You, my dear, are the key to helping him secure it.”

  * * *

  Every step of Petraeus’s journey to the nymph encampment had cleared his mind and fueled his memories.

  He’d willingly removed the bonding mark from his arm, yet he hadn’t made himself forget her.

  Ekho had done that. Why?

  It made no sense. He’d made the grand sacrifice; he’d surrendered any claims on her. And still she’d forced him to forget her.

  Only one explanation nudged into his mind.

  Ekho wanted him…and she couldn’t have him.

  The nymph of persuasion had compelled herself—not to fall in love, or not to fall in love with him. Either way, the command could be broken. The same white-haired female who’d restored his memories possessed the power to free Ekho. He was certain of it, and his blasted friend Alder had better come to his aid when he needed him.

  First, he had to complete one task—finding a nymph who didn’t wish to be found.

  Simple enough, or so he hoped.

  Far fewer nymphs gathered in the camp than the last time. He wove through the crowds until he reached the main tent.

  Instead of Hector, his brother Thereus poked his dark locks out of the tent flap and cast a wide grin at Petraeus, his emerald eyes glinting. “There you are, lad. About time.”

  The centaur’s light mood had to be some sort of method for managing his grief. Thereus’s mate, the nymph Melita, had transformed into a tree, thereby saving the centaurs and Lapiths from engaging in a revival of their conflict.

  At least, temporarily.

  He scratched his jaw and regarded his brother. That whole misunderstanding regarding him kissing Thereus’s mate seemed forgiven. Regardless, Petraeus wasn’t about to sleep in the same room as Thereus. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as everyone else. Helping the nymphs.” Thereus lifted and dropped a shoulder casually, but Petraeus didn’t accept it. His nose told him more was at work here.

  “Ah, so you’ve come at last.” Arsenius, the fierce son of Ares, stepped into the clearing, Kyme at his side.

  Surrounded by three imposing warriors, Petraeus tensed and seized one step backward.

  From the trees behind him, Hector, Oreius, and Agrius emerged, effectively cutting off any chance of escape. Of the five brothers, Thereus and Hector were the tallest and largest, followed closely by Oreius, then Agrius and himself. Their hides ranged from Thereus’s rich black to Hector’s blue dun, Oreius’s silver dapple, Agrius’s smoky black, and his buckskin. Each brother had been trained as a skilled warrior from the moment of his birth. Combined with their natural centaur abilities—such as stealth and strength—they made formidable opponents to any who dared to cross them.

  All in all, not a crowd he’d like to be on the wrong side of.

  “Easy, lad. We’ve been expecting you.” Arsenius held up one massive hand.

  Kyme, unburdened by such diplomacy, carelessly toyed with her daggers, and suddenly whipped one straight into the trunk of the tree behind him.

  “Ho!” Petraeus ducked, not that her aim had been off. The hilt stuck into the bark, precisely where she’d intended it to.

  “Ho, indeed.” She lifted and dropped a shoulder, smirking playfully.

  “You’ve been up to quite a pretty party of mischief, brother.” The dangerous gleam had returned to Thereus’s eyes.

  Petraeus swallowed thickly. So, this was it. They’d finally figured out the truth—that he was the one behind each betrayal.

  Now, there’d be more than hell for him to pay.

  “I can explain.” He ran his finger along his collarbone, already sensing the tight, unforgiving embrace of the noose.

  “Oh, aye, you will.” Hector cocked his head, narrowing his glower and folding his arms. “See, a funny thing happens when we, your elder and much wiser brothers, gather together over a drink or two. We discuss things. Like how we met our mates. Or how they were almost stripped from us. And how, in each of our stories, our youngest and most unruly brother has been notably absent—or meddlesome.”

  Ah, that was how they’d figured it out. He might not have been as stealthy as he’d believed.

  “You may not have crossed me,” Hector continued, “but when I’d learned how treacherous some of your actions have been…” He cut off, shaking his head like a stern father disappointed in his son.

  More often than not, centaurs settled their differences with their fists. As the youngest, he’d had to learn to throw a hard punch, or be forever on the receiving end of theirs. He’d had to be faster, offensively and defensively, or he’d never have survived their sparring.

  They weren’t lads anymore; they were full-grown, solid centaur males. Doubtful he could take on all four, never mind Arsenius, whose war frenzy could decimate an army. He’d not underestimate Kyme, either.

  Together, they encroached upon him. He contemplated the merits of begging, but instead held his ground. Everything he’d done, he’d done for them. Because Ekho had told him to.

  Damn. If he allowed himself to be captured, he’d never find her again.

  He steeled his resolve for one last argument. “I don’t expect any of you to forgive me for my actions, but know this, I betrayed each of you for your own good.”

  A series of snorts and scoffs rumbled through his brothers.

  Well, it had been worth a shot. They continued their advance.

  “Because my mate told me to.” That stopped them.

  Instead of acting surprised though, Oreius glared at him. “Indeed, and where is this mate?” He cracked his knuckles, ready to throw a punch regardless of how Petraeus answered.

  “Gone.” His determination slipped, just a little, before it fortified again. “That’s why I’m here. I need your help to win her back.”

  “Well, about bloody time.” Thereus puffed and rolled his shoulders. The tense stances of his brothers eased, several of them glancing at each other and smirking.

  He blinked while Oreius grudgingly handed Agrius a sack of coins. “Wait. Did you gamble on whether I accepted my mate?”

  “Of course.” Hector shrugged and counted the coins he’d received from Arsenius.

  Resentment battled with relief inside his chest. Although they clearly weren’t about to murder him, they damned well could have aided him, too.

  Curse them for jesting, especially when his mate was still lost to him.

  “So, you’re not going to punish me for—”

  “Nay, lad.” Arsenius swung his gaze to Kyme.

  The Amazon rolled her eyes and stepped forward. “Because everything she told you to do, I ordered her to.”

  His jaw dropped. “You’re behind those blasted persuasions?” If Arsenius weren’t so frightening, he might have requested a private word with Kyme. Instead, he drew his brows together. “Whose command are you under? When did you tell th—”

>   “The details aren’t important.” She waved off his questions. “What you should focus on is getting Ekho back. I’ve had word she’s not in the best place.”

  His throat dried and visions of Ekho replaced the madness revealed today. Kyme didn’t have to tell him. He already knew. “Philaeus’s castle.”

  “Yes, and if you have any hope of freeing her, you’re going to need a whole lot more help.”

  He frowned. “How much more?”

  She lifted the tent flap, revealing hundreds of vials, every hue of the rainbow.

  “A hell of a lot more.” Arsenius’s timbre boomed behind him and his heavy hand clamped down on Petraeus’s shoulder. “Best get to it, lad.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Go on, nymph. Deimos is waiting.” Lavra drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of her ebony throne. King Philaeus sat next to her and Deimos stood at his side. All three watched her and waited for her obedience.

  She declined, crossing her arms. For two days, they’d drained her essence, pouring it into a collection of vials. Deimos had employed her own gift against her to bring her here, and to bleed her dry.

  Now, they offered her a vial of her powers and the chance to join them, if she would but speak one persuasion.

  They’d tried to break her, torture her, seduce her.

  The one thing that might make her choose their side, they couldn’t offer her.

  As it turned out, nymph powers weren’t all that potent in their bottled form, wielded by anyone but a nymph. What they sought, only Ekho could attain for them.

  The manipulation of King Cheiron. Having the centaurs beneath Apollo’s command would deliver a fierce blow to Hades and Persephone.

  It was a betrayal she refused to commit, no matter what torment they put her through.

  “Very well. I’m afraid it has come to this then.” Lavra waved at the guards framing either side of the entrance to the chamber. One nodded into the corridor and a male strode into the throne room.

  She knew him just by the confident swagger of his steps.