With a sharp cry, he offered her the very essence of what made him male, and it wasn’t nearly enough. She freely gave him her body. Let him sink into her, time and again, faster and faster. His powerful thrusts were a balm to her soul. The muscle beneath her grasping palms a healing prescription for what ailed her.
Rhy’s unique scent of clover and musk rose to surround her, and this time it was she who drove her tongue past his lips. His wild hips retreated and plunged, seeking and longing for something more.
He threw his head back and she saw his agony, the strain that drove his cock into her body, and fought to withhold from ending it all too soon. She felt the inner torment with which he struggled, the ghosts he fought, and it ripped her heart to shreds.
Rhycious was her healer, her remedy maker. And she wanted to heal him, too.
Right here, right now, self-control trespassed. She had nothing to give, except herself and her love—whether he wanted it or not.
Should he reject both, her heart would shatter into a million pieces.
Patience wrapped her arms around his big body and used her hips to urge him on. In love with a man for the first time in her life, she pressed her cheek against his chest and helplessly hung on for dear life.
A wild sensation grew, brighter and hotter. It was more intense than anything she’d ever felt before. The spreading continued to grow like a bubble. It pushed reason and sanity aside.
Patience strained her neck back. Rhycious rode her body with quick, fast rhythms of delight. If this were all she could have in her life, it would be enough.
“Rhycious!”
“I’m with you, babe.”
Together they flew to the rim of the precipice and with a mighty roar, he leaped over the chasm, holding her tightly, tumbling them both to freefall over the edge.
Patience closed her eyes tight and pretended, just for the moment that Rhycious loved her back.
Fourteen
Outside the sycamore tree, Rhycious leaned against the rough bark waiting for Aleksander and Daisy to arrive. A few feet away sat Alek’s travel bag collecting dirt and ants. Patience warmed his chest where her back rested against him. He wrapped a protective arm around her, keeping her close to his heart. His other hand stroked her velvety throat.
“Don’t forget, drink the tea I made, and be sure to get plenty of rest,” he advised.
“Yes, doctor.” Her tongue outlined each of his knuckles, sending a dick-hardening sensation to his brain. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’d be more fun if I had a little company.”
He chuckled, the hard shell of his heart cracking a bit more. The green in her sweater caught the emerald sparkles of her eyes. Well-worn jeans hugged her perky ass. Peace and contentment flowed slow and easy through him. It’d been so long since he’d felt this way. The PTSD had taken it all away.
You’re mine.
The unbidden words crashed into his thoughts with shocking clarity. He waited for the knee jerk reaction to hit, the emotional response of his disorder that would send him screaming in the opposite direction.
And waited.
It never came.
Warmth spread within him, and he embraced the enlightenment the same way he held Patience—tight.
For a mind and body-blowing hour, his little pixie had driven the dark ghosts away, chasing the shadows from his mind. In their place, a new light shined. Dim at first, but it grew brighter the longer he held her in his arms.
Why a Wood Nymph?
Why not?
Good and kind, Patience lived up to her name. She answered his silent, open-ended question in the way her soft hand caressed his arm that banded her to him.
A breeze picked up a few scattered leaves, tossing them like confetti to twirl in the air. Bright green foliage swayed, practicing their dance in preparation for the upcoming festival. He shook his addled head, hiding the motion in a brush of his lips against her hair.
Gamó1to—dammit. He had it bad.
Aleksander appeared, weaving his way toward Rhy, kicking a fallen branch out of the way with the toe of his laced-up boot. His green fatigues were tucked neatly inside, combat style. Besides the battle rattle and arsenal of weaponry, he wore a mystified expression on his face.
The way Alek glanced at Daisy while they walked together, her mouth yakking and hands flapping, Rhy wondering if Kempor Aleksander hadn’t finally met his match.
Rhycious buried his nose in Patience’s silky hair and inhaled the peppermint scent from her bath. His mind drifted over their love session that followed. Behind his zippered barrier, Mr. Happy nudged, reminding he was privy to his thoughts.
It took all his Centaur willpower to not spin his Nymph around, kiss her senseless, and make her beg him for Round Two. He grinned to himself—oh, that suspended rope bed! It’s not the size of the mattress, it’s the peak you seek.
Patience leaned to look over her shoulder at him, digging her fine ass into his growing arousal. “Do you have to split so soon?”
This naughty girl required a follow-up physical exam. Good thing he worked on call. “Don’t be starting that with me, dreaded Nymph.” Rhy’s free hand caught her hip and held her luscious posterior curves away from his erection to give him some room. “Your smile says you know exactly what you’re doing.”
At her answering wiggle and giggle, he caved in to his longing and turned her to face him. Her hands rested on his upper chest, fingertips smoothing over his Penn State tee. He encircled her in his arms and gazed down into her teasing eyes.
“Yeah, I have to go.” Powerless to resist her temptation, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Queen Savella’s expecting a report on my progress, and I’ve got zilch so far. Also, I’m going to nose around about Serenity, see what I can find.”
Rising to her toes, Patience brushed a kiss against his lips and finger-walked her hands upward to stroke the skin above his collar.
His body ached for her touch.
“Thank you, Rhycious. Wish I could come with you and help.”
“Not on your life. I want you here, where I know you’re safe.”
Rhy groaned when she crushed her breasts into him. Her mounds, soft and delicious, speared straight to his crotch. She stoked his banked fire with her caresses; smoldering passion flickered with needy flames once again.
“Get thee from me, wicked woman.” He gave her a playful push and spanked her cute butt.
Aleksander and Daisy drew up and eyed them with upraised brows, darting curious glances between them.
“Ready to go?” Alek bent to retrieve his pack, brushing ants off the canvas material. He shot Rhy a dirty look.
“Just about.” Rhy stepped toward him, and then turned to address Daisy. “You’ll stay with Patience?”
Daisy swung a friendly arm around Patience’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Absolutely. We’ll have some girl time together while you’re gone.”
A crease marked the space between Patience’s brows. She looked about as happy as he felt leaving so soon, her suffering fresh in their minds. “Be careful, stud muffin.”
He caught her gaze and held it. She devoured him, as if she were photographing him with her eyes. Alek snorted at the endearment, but Rhy ignored him. He was more interested in the way she took to nibbling her bottom lip. Someone worried about him for a change. It was a ridiculous concept, but heartwarming just the same.
“I’d puff out my chest and bang a sword against my chest plate, if I were decked-out in armor.” The military hardware lay at the bottom of his cedar chest back home. Judging by the arc of the sun and length of shadows, and factoring in the distance yet to travel, he pursed his lips at the impossibility of retrieving before the journey.
“Ahem.” Alek jerked his head to get Rhycious in motion. The Kempor seemed twitchy to move out and march—overdosed on Daisy, perhaps.
Rhycious gave short sigh and grasped Patience around the waist, Daisy’s arm fell away to give them space. He dropped a quick kiss on the sexy m
ole at her temple. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Go inside and stay there.”
A lock of hair slipped over her shoulder to bounce and tease him. He reached to give it a tug, and watched the tendril curl around his fingers as if it, too, wanted to keep him at her side.
Rhy stepped back and watched her hair unwind from his hand. Nodding in her direction, he said, “Go.”
“Aye-aye, mon capitan.” She snapped a tart salute. The saucy wench drooped her eyelids and wet her upper lip in a most erotic manner, but the anxious look on her face told him what he already knew. For his ears only, she added in a whispered tone, “Hurry back, big guy.”
A shocking pink flash lit up the bark of her tree—she disappeared with a pop. Daisy shrugged at Rhy, winked a smile at Alek, and followed Patience. Her own unique spark the color of tangerine.
* * *
Rhycious followed behind Aleksander travelling toward their destination, a meeting with Savella. They were alert, surveying between stands of trees growing in the western sector of Boronda.
Springtime euphoria filled the air with the scent of a thousand wildflowers and the chatter of small animals. Two weeks from now, the Festival of the Trees would start the race to rutting season. Rhycious’s groin tightened at the testosterone peaking thought.
A prickling spread across his lower back. The slow descent of the setting sun pulled and stretched his back muscles. Transformation into his true self, the sleek Centaur body, was upon him.
“Alek. Wait up.” He tapped his watch. “Be right back.”
Rhycious climbed over a five-foot wide log lying on its side. He wondered whose tree it might have been, and if he had been the one wielding the saw that had cut the Nymph down.
Been there, done that.
Not going back.
Privately screened, he removed his boots, popped the button on his pants, and unzipped. Seated on the ground, he slid them down his thighs and placed everything off to the side, near his hit-and-run bag.
The sun’s last rays winked out behind the purple Boronda Mountain range, and he changed into his four-legged self.
Rhy stuffed his clothes into the bag and heaved his body upward, forelegs first. The pack slung over one shoulder and he gripped it to leap over the gigantic trunk, legs tucked neat. Alek turned at the sound of his four hooves striking on the ground.
“Ready?” Rhy asked.
“Gods, this brings back the memories.” Grinning from ear to ear, Alek clapped his hands and rubbed them together.
“Yeah, more than I care to remember. Or not remember, as the case may be.” The dossier listing his memories of drinking in bars were not those of jubilance.
Fifty feet in front of them sat an innocuous granite boulder situated between the trunks of two trees. Rhycious eyed the rock, a terrible tenseness in his body.
Beneath the boulder lay the hidden entrance to The Three Legged Mare, a notorious bar frequented by Boronda’s most disreputable black market dealers. Dim, dank, and seedy as an underground cavern could get, Rhy curled his lip in distaste. Contained in the subterranean rooms were mythological creatures that would stab first and question second.
He and Aleksander had pulled themselves out of these dungeon-like dregs on more than one occasion, back when Rhy had been a drinker.
Unbidden, an image of Patience floated before him, neck arched and mouth parted in a moan. Her lovely face flushed with a sheen of ecstasy, lips rosy red.
Rhy reached up and jerked the leather thong out of his hair. Once again, his happy place chased the ugly memories away, but left raw need in its place.
Like a mind reader, Alek asked, “What’s going on with you and Patience?”
Rhy fought his smile but Alek caught it, and snorted. He went on to explain, anyway. “I don’t know. It feels good, but . . . you know. I can’t be around anyone, not like that.”
“Maybe if you give it a while, it’ll be different this time,” Alek suggested.
Rhy hefted the backpack higher on his shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable discussing his private life. He motioned ahead of them. “Let’s do this.”
Aleksander took a last glance around before pressing an indention found in the side of the rock. The cap of the boulder lifted with smooth hydraulic action, and a cacophony of noise and coarse language instantly assailed them. Alek waved Rhy ahead of him and followed behind his swinging tail. Once swallowed by the dim interior, the hatch cover sealed with a clang.
Luminescent mineral lighting, like those used in the palace, had replaced the rancid wall torches of a century ago. Black scorch marks marred the rock walls in ten-foot intervals, scars from the past.
Rhy and the wall had a connection there.
A pitched ramp took them down into the bowels of the smoke-filled, deviant atmosphere. Small round wooden tables speckled the barroom floor like mushroom heads, worn stools creating rings around each. Satyr cocktail waitresses, with nimble cloven hooves, darted between the crowded tables, maneuvering away from groping hands. Their skimpy, open backed blouses and micro-minis garnered them plenty of attention—although not much in tips, judging by the looks on their faces.
Patience’s own style reflected class and elegance, even in a sassy skirt and sexy top. He clenched his jaw, hoping Daisy would keep her word and not let Patience out of her tree until he returned.
Alek gave a narrowed, glinting gaze, searching the crowd through the smoky haze. “I don’t see him. Let’s check the back.” He cut his way between the patrons, pushing two drunken Trolls out of his way.
A semi-nude Nymph, barely out of her teens, shuffled her feet behind black iron bars fastened with an oversized padlock. A beauty mark, enhanced by cosmetics, spotted the side of her mouth. Her lack of expression mimicked the enthusiasm in her cage dance. Nobody paid her much attention; the music drowned out by raised voices.
What a way to make a living. Rhy pulled his eyes away from the unfortunate girl and planted them on Aleksander’s wide shoulders. He was thankful Patience’s career kept her far away from the dregs of Boronda’s underworld lifestyle, though she’d had a taste of the hidden dangers that lurked within. He felt his hand curl into a fist just thinking of how he had almost lost her.
The boisterous crowd parted before the seven-foot Centaur in full battle gear. Envious eyes, attracted to the glimmering shine of throwing stars and Alek’s valuable sword, warily observed them over their drinks. Buzzing conversations dipped at their approach, and continued in low murmurs once they passed by.
Rhy patted his waist and hip, double-checking that his knives were in place. All manner of creatures drank their lives away in the bleak hole of The Mare. The growing world, with all its technological advances, had brought his people to this: hiding in a miserable fucking hole.
But . . . isn’t that how I live? Hiding in my cabin?
Two serving platters of empty shot glasses hovered next to his shoulder a moment before a Satyr with thick kohl eyeliner parted the trays to appear. The top of her head reached the bottom of his chest.
“There’s an empty table in the rear,” she shouted above the noise. “I’ll come back for your drink order.” The waitress scooted away, dodging rude comments and groping hands, her two black hooves a blur in motion. Satyr agility worked to their advantage in this arena of thugs.
On the other side of the room, a narrow hall connected the seating area in the rear to the front taproom. On either side of the dark walkway, wooden doors marked Stag and Doe hung from tired hinges. The further back they went, the further the wall sconces were spaced. Light decreased in subtle increments.
Alek stopped and tapped Rhy’s chest with the back of his hand. “He’s in the corner. Come on.”
The throng of loud customers packing the front, thinned out in the back room. But the cold, dead look in their eyes increased.
A shaggy brown Minotaur smoking a hand-rolled stuck his hairy leg out and blocked Rhy’s path, challenging with a chipped hoof in front of his seated Minotaur friends. The male dre
w on his blunt, gathering a lungful of smoke, and blew it in Rhy’s direction, shaking his horns.
Rhycious locked his four legs and braced them wide. He reached across his body for his hip sword, but it wasn’t there. Gamóto!
“Lose something, Centaur?” The bull leaned back in his chair, took another drag, and laughed a sound between a moo and bark. He flicked his ashes to the floor and used his tail to knock them toward Rhy.
These assholes were way out of their league and he almost felt sorry for them.
Almost.
Rhy reached out with his hoof closest to the Minotaur, and hooked it around the chair’s leg. A quick upward sweep, and the chair tipped backward, crashing the bull-headed male to the floor.
“Mutherfucker!” The guy floundered on the beer soaked floor, looking like a beetle, trying to get his two clovens under him.
Rhy smiled smoothly, betraying none of his annoyance. He helped the Minotaur out by crunching the creature’s tail under his hooves and continued on to Aleksander, but paused for a moment.
He leaned to be certain the male heard him clearly. “Be sure to ice your wound to reduce the swelling.”
The Minotaur’s friends glared, their faces set in a vicious expression. One slid back his stool from the table and stood, throwing a red-tipped smoke to the floor. A smaller male seated next to him grabbed the guy’s shirt and whispered, inclining his head toward Rhy. In tandem, they stared at his silver armband.
Savella’s twin scythes caught the dim bar light. The Minotaur obviously thought better of it and sat back down.
Rhy walked over to Alek, who watched him from the corner table, arms crossed over his chest plate. A shit-eating grin creased his face, radiating lines outward from his eyes.
He unfolded an arm to slap Rhy on the shoulder. “Yup, just like old times.”
“Gamóto. I’m getting too old for this.” Rhy swished his tail out of the way of a scampering cocktail waitress.
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