Fire's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 4)

by Rachael Slate

  “Well, you are a rather obstinate male, aren’t you.”

  He hauled her toward him and snared her lips for one quick kiss. “Indeed, I am.”

  * * *

  Demoleon rumbled in delight at the honeysuckle taste of Enyo’s kiss. By the gods, if this wasn’t right, he didn’t wish to know what was.

  “There’s one way to test my theory, sweetling.” He lowered his hand between them, sliding his fingers against the silk between her thighs. Slick nectar greeted his touch and that delicate bud bloomed right beneath his fingers.

  She rocked against him, murmuring, “What do you mean?”

  Grunting, he thrust his fingers inside her, and her airy gasp jolted his cock. “My mate would revel in my touch above any other’s. Let’s see if I’m right, shall we?”

  He coaxed her to kneel, her sex perfectly positioned at his mouth. Teasingly, he lapped his tongue across her sensuous flesh. She moaned, writhing, and her claws scraped along the rock, emitting a high-pitched grating. He gritted his teeth against the ear-splitting noise and sucked harder, his hands clutching the plump curves of her bottom.

  Whimpering, she swayed against him, and her core throbbed, her sheath clenching while he speared his tongue inside her. She screamed, her body pulsing in his arms before going limp. He settled her onto his lap and cradled her against his chest.

  “I believe I’ve proven my point,” he heaved. Such intensity and passion had to stem from the bonding. Or he’d been doing it wrong his entire life.

  Shaky, she nodded. “You might be right, centaur.” She twisted to beam at him. “Although it wouldn’t hurt to test your theory again.”

  He swallowed hard. She descended along his body, freeing his length from his breeches and palming it in her slender hands. Sweet Zeus. Her tongue flicking across his tip nearly made him come. He jerked his hips and struggled for control, yet she’d taken command of his body. As she gripped his shaft, it grew even harder, jutting in a display of pride. She glided her hand beneath him and dug her claws into his ballocks. He yelped in pleasured agony, praying she did it again.

  Flicking her scrutiny to his, she did.

  That was enough to undo him. With her staring into his eyes, his cock throbbed and his release shot forth, spilling across her hands and his abdomen, coating them. Her gaze never leaving his, she leaned forward and flicked out her tongue, lapping up his seed.

  He’d never viewed anything more erotic than the sight of his mate feasting off his essence. Demoleon groaned and propped his head against the wall. Watching her only heightened the strength of his hunger. He could have her, right here, like this, but she was a mate. A creature to be treasured and honored. Claiming her without the ceremony would bring shame down upon him. She deserved better.

  He thrust out his hand and smoothed it across her tawny tresses. “That’s enough, lass. We should probably rest.”

  Both of her brows bobbed toward his swelling erection. “Are you certain? You don’t appear to have had enough.”

  Chuckling, he towed her into his arms, climbed atop a pile of furs, and gathered her along his body. “Aye, well, it’s not likely that I ever will with you, sweet vixen, but as my mate, I would care for your needs, too.”

  “Who says they’re not the same,” she purred against his lips, the scent of himself dancing on her breath.

  He squeezed his eyes once and seized control. “I do.” Pressing her head to his chest, he kissed the top of her locks. “Now, sleep, mate.”

  Laughing, she wiggled against him and curled up to slumber.

  Long moments passed before he could follow. Once he did, no peaceful rest greeted his mind. Visions flashed through his memory, horrid, twisted expressions carved of malice. Suffocating billows of smoke condensed around him, but drifted apart to reveal one torturous image. The blood dribbling from the corner of his mother’s mouth as she rasped one word.

  Run.

  You cannot run from us, centaur. Another voice overtook his mother’s

  He thrashed, his body not quite awake and not asleep, either. He was caught in the in-between.

  A menacing figure emerged from the murky clouds of smoke that choked Demoleon’s lungs. Ebony horns the thickness of Demoleon’s arms crowned the monster’s head, twisting outward in a waving curve on either side, ending in spiked tips. His form was more human than bull, except for his bowed and furred legs which ended in thick hooves. There was no mistaking the influence of bull-like characteristics in his broad, flat nose and his wide, sloping forehead. He was massively muscled, as large as any centaur, and mostly human in anatomy despite the dark red hue of his flesh. Beady, crimson orbs glowed from within his fearsome expression. A minotaur. Could this be the male Asterion, the one Enyo had spoken of?

  As he opened his mouth to speak, his lips revealed sharp, ivory fangs. Aye, I’m Asterion, leader of the minotaurs.

  A chill iced down Demoleon’s spine. This was the one who’d betrayed his mate.

  Krete is ours, Asterion intoned. Step aside and we’ll allow your kind to live.

  Yours? Demoleon snorted. Krete was never yours. It belonged to the centaurs before King Minos the second thieved it, and it will belong to us once again. Your race has never been more than a pawn.

  A deep, animalistic chortling cackled through the air. We set Minos on the throne. We can displace him. You centaurs were always too weak to rule. Yet minotaurs and centaurs share a common nature, and we are not eager to destroy you. Again.

  Demoleon fisted his hands, flaring his nostrils. You stole everything from us and you expect us to watch you take what’s ours?

  Our enemy is not each other. It’s Minos, Asterion spat. He schemed against your people, forced us to commit those transgressions, and betrayed us once his throne was secure. For this, he will pay.

  Demoleon paced inside the trance-like dream, not trusting this vile beast. Minotaurs were expert manipulators. Nothing altered the fact that they’d willingly decimated centaurs—and nymphs—for their own cause. Very well. I’ll relay your proposal to my King.

  Doubtful any centaur would agree to such terms, but the minotaur didn’t need to know that.

  Yet.

  * * *

  Demoleon’s flailing awakened Enyo, tossing her off his delectable chest. Omph. She landed on her side and rolled to frown at him, but he was in a deep slumber. Perspiration beaded across his forehead and his lips moved as though he spoke to someone in his dream.

  Or nightmare, by the looks of it. His jaw was tightly clenched, his fingers digging into his thighs.

  She bit her cheek, debating whether to wake him, but his eyes suddenly flipped open.

  “Enyo?” He scanned the chamber for her.

  “I’m here,” she called from the floor.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” He bent over the side of the furs.

  “I should ask you, since you tossed me here.” She crossed her arms and scowled up at him.

  “Oh, forgive me, lass. I was having a dream.” He hoisted her into his arms.

  “What sort of dream? It didn’t appear pleasant.”

  His jaw tightened. “Just memories.”

  What wasn’t he telling her? She didn’t trust his answer, but wasn’t one to pry, either. “Well, they’re in the past and we’re here, in the present.” She trailed one claw along his pectoral, circling and grazing the tip of her claw across his skin.

  His throat bobbed as he watched her. “Aye, that we are.”

  “You should know,” she teased her finger lower, “I’ve rested quite well.”

  “Have you now?”

  “Mmmhmm.” She shifted forward and nibbled along his jaw, her hand descending.

  He snatched her hand before she could reach her destination. “This cannot happen between us.”

  “What can’t?”

  “You know of what I speak, love.” A flush spread across his cheeks.

  She chimed a laugh. Did her centaur suffer from modesty? He certainly didn’t approve of
her nudity. “I fear it’s already happened.” She cast a pointed glance at the massive thickness beneath his breeches.

  “Aye, but…”

  “What is it?” She angled her head at him. What had caused his sudden hesitation when he obviously desired her?

  He cleared his throat. “You’re my mate.”

  “Aren’t we still testing that theory?”

  “Haven’t we proven it true?”

  “Humph. What about it?”

  “Well,” he drew her hand to his chest, “it’s not right for a centaur to claim his mate without the bonding ceremony. Without offering vows.”

  “Vows?” she squawked, jolting backward. As much as she liked Demoleon, they’d not known each other long. Vows sounded permanent.

  “Aye, I’d pledge myself to you.”

  Whoa. “You won’t bed me until you’ve wed me?” Who knew centaurs were so traditional.

  “Not wed, exactly.” He shrugged. “It’s a ceremony that completes the bonding. We would likely also wed, at a later date.”

  She sank on her heels, studying him. His narrowed gaze mirrored her scrutiny. This was important to him, and she respected that, but harpies didn’t make such pledges.

  “If we return to my people as mates, they’ll have no choice but to accept you. You’d never need fear any harm from them, nor any retribution. Not that they would deem such necessary after they learned the truth.”

  Ahh, so this bond would form a bridge between their races. For his people. “There isn’t a vow in this world you can make which would convince my family to believe the same. Bonded males, mates, marriage, they mean nothing to harpies.” Hurt spread and rippled across his features. She pursed her lips, regret tightening her chest. “I’m not certain I can do this.” Tears stung her eyes as she withdrew from the furs and rushed down a dark, empty corridor.

  This had been a fool’s dream, anyway.

  The blood spilled long ago had ensured their races would forever be only one thing.

  Enemies.

  Chapter 7

  Agony crushed Demoleon’s chest and he wheezed. Enyo had refused him. Nay, his mate had rejected him. He ought to have disclosed everything, but he’d longed for her to choose this. To choose him. Not because without her he’d descend into a savage form of madness.

  The lyssa.

  He sneered and pounded his fist against the wall. This was why it was better to mate within one’s own species. A centauress would fathom the magnitude of their situation. Sadly, there were few females of his kind in existence.

  The Fates had chosen a harpy for him, anyway.

  Asterion’s offer thudded through Demoleon’s mind. He ought to consult with his siblings. Rhoetus had long ago ventured to Thessaly to recruit a centaur army there. Anyone’s guess whether he’d found success. If he had, there was no reason to accept the minotaur’s proposal. They’d have enough warriors to defeat Minos, seize the throne, and fend off any minotaur attack.

  Besides, Asterion’s boasts could be just that. They’d had a century to pursue freedom, and they hadn’t. What had changed?

  He snorted. Likely nothing.

  Demoleon quit the chamber and strolled through the tunnels, scouring them for Enyo. Murmured whisperings carried from deep within a corridor he’d not encountered before. Odd. Hastening, he strode down the passageway until it ended and he spied into a dim cavern. Enyo stood at one end, pacing and muttering to herself. “No, I cannot.”

  A pause.

  Enyo raised her hands. “Don’t ask me to do that, Sephoe. I won’t.” She paced to the far side and pressed a hand to the stone wall, resting her forehead above her hand. “Forgive me, I know. I promise to do what I can, but not that. I beg you.” Suddenly, she hitched her breath and spun toward him. Her eyes grew wide, round, and full of fear. “What are you doing here?”

  “Easy, Enyo.” He held up placating hands and edged forward. “I came seeking you, to apologize. There’s no reason to rush any of this.”

  Concern pinched her features and she backed to the wall. “You shouldn’t be here. Leave, Demoleon.”

  “Leave? Why?” What could she possibly be hiding that she didn’t wish him to see? Gods, he hoped not the minotaur Asterion, from his vision. He hadn’t been sure how to discuss that matter with her. “Is he here?”

  “He?” Enyo blinked. “Who?”

  Demoleon sliced a hand through the air. “No one. Tell me, what are you hiding?”

  She perched her hands on her hips. “I’m not hiding anything.” Seeming agitated, she peeked behind her. “They’re right here, out in the open.” Head cocked, she spun to glare at him. “Guess we’ll find out now if you can keep your vows.”

  He scraped a hand down his jaw. She was speaking in riddles. “By the gods, I don’t know what you mean. Who’s here?”

  Enyo tilted her head and pointed at the wall behind her. “My sisters. Who else?”

  His stomach dropped. Confusion pulsed through him, racing his hearts. “I see no one.”

  She scoffed a laugh and placed a loving hand on the solid grey stone wall. “They’re right here, in the amber stone behind me, entrapped in it.”

  He squinted, striving to view what she did, but nay, all he spotted was a solid rock wall. That inkling of dread climbed higher. Sweet Zeus, there was something terribly wrong.

  With Enyo.

  His mate had gone mad.

  * * *

  What was wrong with Demoleon? Enyo frowned. Her sisters were right there. She twisted and glimpsed them once more. All forty-five of them, floating in solid amber, trapped for a century. They’d spoken to her through her mind, pleading for her to end her affair with the centaur.

  To relinquish him.

  They’d declared they would never accept a bond between her and Demoleon. If she chose him, she’d be an outcast from her own people.

  The pressure was too much to bear.

  Demoleon had interrupted their argument and, now, he was behaving most strangely. Her sisters weren’t exactly hidden. Anyone could walk in here and view them.

  “I don’t see anyone,” he grated, his teeth clenched.

  “Well, you’re blind,” she snapped.

  He seized a step back, regarding her with a bizarre glint in his depths. Like she’d suddenly grown a third arm. He scanned the room, before resting his survey on her once more. Intelligence lit his features, which narrowed into pity. “It cannot be,” he muttered to himself and tossed his head, his front hoof stomping the ground. “It cannot be.”

  “Are you quite well?” She raised both brows at his crazed behavior.

  “I am, my fair Enyo, but I fear you are not.”

  She grimaced at the absurd accusation. “I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

  “Aye, I’m afraid that might be the truth of it.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles.”

  She glowered at him as he inched toward her.

  “Strinklia, your sisters aren’t here.”

  “Ridiculous.” She puffed. “Then where are they?”

  He swallowed, his thick throat bobbing, and pressed his fingers to her temple. “In here.”

  Enyo staggered backward from his touch, from his declaration. “That’s preposterous.” She peered over her shoulder, and sure enough, her sisters were there, floating in amber. “They’re right in front of me.”

  He lowered his hand to her chin and tilted her face toward him. “Nay, love, they’re not the ones trapped. You are. Inside your mind. I fear this cavern isn’t your prison. It never has been.”

  She slapped aside his hand. “You’re mad. I’m imprisoned right here with my sisters, and I’ll free them, alone if must need be.”

  His brows bunched together. “You can’t see it, can you. I’ll prove it to you, then. I vow, I’ll set you free from this curse.”

  “I don’t want your vows, centaur,” she snarled, shoving him aside and storming past him. “Go and find someone else to make them to. Because I’ll never have
them. Or you.”

  * * *

  Her words might have been made in haste, in fury, in madness, but they stabbed into his hearts nonetheless. Demoleon winced and clutched a hand to his chest. By the gods, what had happened here? “Asterion,” he bellowed into the chamber.” I know you are the cause of this.”

  He spun around, searching, until a hazy figure appeared in the back of his mind. Or was it in the front of his vision?

  Pearly fangs gleamed at him. “What, don’t you like my game?”

  Game. His gut sank. “Enyo isn’t yours to toy with. Release her from this torment.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” The minotaur cocked his head, his hooves scraping across the stone as he clasped his hands behind his back and strode to the wall supposedly containing Enyo’s sisters. “It’s true, they’re not here. They never were here. They’re not anywhere anymore. A liability, they were, unfortunately. Harpies are one of the strongest species, one capable of battling my breed. They knew too much; they might have unraveled everything. Now, none remain to speak the truth. None except Enyo. Oh, aye, I spared her. That sweet, vicious little harpy who’d only been all too eager to do my bidding.”

  Demoleon crushed his fists together to prevent himself from swiping the vile sneer from off Asterion’s face.

  The minotaur shot him a piercing glare. “If I remove the vision from Enyo’s mind, she loses her family. Is that what you wish for her? She’ll learn of their deaths, and make no mistake, the grief will destroy her. Enyo, harpy, the last of her kind. A rather sonorous ring to it, don’t you agree?”

  Fury and sorrow spiraled through him. The last of her kind? Gods, no. Well he fathomed how that torment would haunt her, would do just as the minotaur claimed. Destroy her.

  “You care for Enyo, aye? So do what’s best for her. Let her remain in her fancy. Withhold the truth from her and save her soul. Leave the harpy alone.”

  Demoleon flashed his gaze to Asterion’s. How could he make this choice? How could he not? He couldn’t bear to share the truth with her, but if he stayed, he’d have to live with keeping such a secret from her each and every day. She didn’t wish for his presence and, besides, she’d commanded him to depart. He swallowed hard, indecision making him powerless. Finally, he bowed his head. If nothing else, he must leave to disclose the minotaur’s schemes to his brothers. They must be made aware of Asterion’s proposal.