Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) Read online

  Thereus was right. He should be resting, sleeping even. Eating and drinking. Yet he refused to enjoy any simple necessity when they were likely being denied to Kyme. Logic told him he must, for he required strength to fight the minotaur and to carry Kyme back to his ship.

  The beast inside of him countered that had he not slept or eaten for a month he’d still amass the strength to fight for his mate. Even so, he permitted Thereus to shove bread at him and he even agreed to rest for a few minutes. He should be an expert in patience. Every day, he lived with his sister’s disappearance.

  This was different. I can save Kyme. She was close, and suffering. From time to time, tiny pulses stung him, not as great as the first, but enough to remind him she was in pain.

  For half a day, they’d faded entirely. During that time, his trench had achieved the most progress. He’d tried to convince himself she was sleeping, because the alternative was simply not an option.

  She is alive. He would rescue her and he’d never let anyone harm her again. He’d save her because that was what he was meant to do. That was why he’d been gifted this new body, right?

  “I’m in.” Venn’s shout was like a call to battle. Each male scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the entrance. Heavily muscled males braced axes, swords, daggers. The air around them stilled. What to expect? An army of guards? A spell?

  Arsenius gripped his sword as he barreled through them to the entrance. No monsters swarmed them. Good enough for him. Despite Thereus and Venn’s protests, he treaded inside the narrow tunnel. Within moments, blackness engulfed him. He halted, waiting until the others filed in behind him, bearing torches.

  He sniffed the air to catch a hint of her scent, pressed his ear to the wall, and listened for her voice.

  Silence.

  Undeterred, he trekked forward. Fifty feet in, they encountered the first divide. The tunnel split into dozens of others—a first taste of the maze they had infiltrated.

  His heart sank deep into his gut as he finally understood.

  He might search these tunnels for an eternity and still never find Kyme.

  Kyme randomly chose tunnels. As long as she marked the walls, she wouldn’t search any of them twice. The soft glow of her hands illuminated the passageways, aiding her.

  As she veered right, she shivered and the hairs on her arms rose as though she was being observed. Extinguishing her light, she whirled around and peered into the blackness. The blackness stared back. Stilling, she listened for any sounds. Nothing.

  Artemis Tauro, please aid me in my escape. As she called upon one of the goddess’s epithets, “destroyer of bulls” seemed the logical choice.

  Is this a test—Artemis’s or the minotaur’s? Was she passing or failing, and which of those two outcomes would result in her survival?

  Her hands glowed once more as she treaded down the passage. She encountered another divide. With a shrug, she chose the left and seared her distinct mark on the wall. As she proceeded forward, a hint of fresh air taunted her nose and propelled her toward the sweet fragrance. Toward a relief from the damp, cloistering stench of the tunnel.

  Her heart pounded, her pace quickened. Hastening, she almost missed the end of the tunnel. She slammed her feet into place a second before the tunnel ended, opening into a huge, circular cavern. A hundred feet above, a tiny stream of light from a small opening filtered down. Enough illumination for her to extinguish her own. She remained still and cursed her less than stealthy entrance. Her captor might be inside this chamber.

  Silence persisted, so she ventured a hesitant step inside. The air was pure, crisp. She circled the room, surveying the cavern and the many tunnels connected to it.

  Blast it, she’d stumbled upon the heart of the labyrinth, the furthest point from any exit.

  As she stepped closer to the middle of the room, her heart stuttered. In the very center, directly underneath the opening, stretched a large stone slab. No, an altar. The distinct brown stains of dried blood were splattered across its surface.

  Her pulse raced as she spun again and again, fighting the urge to flee. The prickling on her arms amplified. She whirled again and her breath caught in her throat.

  The minotaur.

  She blinked at the apparition across the chamber, attempting to deny what her eyes detected. She’d rather die searching these tunnels than face him as she was. Weak, weaponless. Defenseless.

  “Kyme. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  She shuddered at the rasp of his voice—half-animal, half-human, all pure evil. His breath was labored, the wildness in his crimson eyes bordered on insanity.

  “Kyme.” The grating etch of his voice twisted over her name. “You have come to me at last, Kyme. Mine. My greatest treasure inside my masterpiece—my labyrinth.” He extended his arms wide toward the enormous cavern.

  How do you find your new home? I see you’ve examined it thoroughly, even redecorated. His voice reverberated inside her mind as his gaze darted to the mark she’d seared into the tunnel wall.

  She winced at the intrusion and attempted to block him out, failing. Instead, her mind raced as she flipped through battle strategies. Her body followed suit and tensed, her arms half-raised in defense in case he approached.

  The gods have smiled upon us both, he continued telepathically, so absorbed in his speech he paid no heed to her stance. Apollo has brought you to me. I assure you, my labyrinth far surpasses those of my brothers. You are lucky I am the one who won you.

  “Apollo? Won me?” Keep him talking. Determine what he seeks.

  His smile widened, revealing sharp, ivory fangs. Yes, Kyme. Apollo arranged for the son of Ares to come. You, however, were an unexpected prize.

  His talk of Apollo was likely a delusion. Perhaps a trick to distract her. Her nails dug into her palms as she studied him. Instinct told her he wasn’t going to attack. Not yet. The minotaur was a man trapped inside the primal urges of a beast. His arrogance fed off his intelligence. This weakness might play to her advantage.

  Though it was eerie hearing his voice inside her head while she spoke aloud, it was best to let him continue his narcissistic oration. “You were spying on us?”

  Of course. This island is ours. We rule Krete, not that pathetic King. My brothers and I, we are princes. Our blood is as royal as any who have sat upon that throne. Yet we are not here to discuss the past. He waved a hand, dismissing the topic, but Kyme had heard enough.

  I watched your display and spied your Queen and the slaver discussing your fate.

  She sucked in a sharp breath at his words. What had her godmother said to Arsenius? She shook herself. It didn’t matter, she’d never see him again.

  “Ah, yes, did you not know? How interesting.” He rasped aloud, licking his lips and leering with possessiveness. “Fear not, for you are mine now. You shall be the jewel of my collection.”

  Resentful anger surfaced within her. She immediately seized it. “You cannot own me, minotaur. Not so long as I live and draw breath.” Planting her weight solidly on both feet, she squared off to face him. She was injured. He was stronger. No delusions of victory clouded her assessment. Nevertheless, Amazons did not surrender.

  Emptying her lungs, she blocked out her thoughts of Arsenius. Images of him would only cause her to want to live, when she must prepare to die.

  The minotaur’s chortling cracked through her mind. Weakened as you are, you cannot fight me, though I commend your bravery. Even so, I will not permit you to die, Kyme.

  He waved to his right, toward a wooden table laden with platters of meat, cheeses, and vegetables. Eat. Regain your strength, and consider my offer.

  “You expect me to agree to being your captive?”

  “Why, yes.” He sneered, speaking aloud. “You made such a bargain with the son of Ares, and in truth, I offer you so much more. It would be unwise to dismiss me, Kyme.” He swept his hand across his body. “You needn’t fear. I would keep you chaste. A power such as yours would be a travesty to waste.” His h
and lowered and he cupped himself, making bile rise in Kyme’s throat.

  The minotaur vanished. The echo of his hooves scraping the stones sent shivers down her spine before the hot, foul stench of his breath fell on her neck. Behind me. He lifted a lock of her hair, sniffing it. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop from retching.

  “I am willing to conserve your virtue, although, perhaps we could come to an agreement such as the one you made with the slaver.”

  Gagging, she forced her stomach not to vomit. Her hands fisted, empty without a dagger. She clenched her fists tighter. Cold steel pressed back. Not caring how this was possible, she plunged the knife backward. The minotaur disappeared and rematerialized facing her once more. A patronizing sneer cut across his face.

  But she’d learned her lesson. As she flung the dagger at him with deadly aim, Kyme lunged for the ground, refusing to be caught if the knife should deflect. The blade found its mark as it flew straight and true into the minotaur’s eye. He collapsed, the thud echoing off the walls.

  Too easy.

  “Your perceptions are accurate.” The minotaur snorted behind her as the one in front of her faded.

  Dread knotted itself within her gut and took up permanent establishment. She blinked and shuddered. He isn’t real. The reason why none of her weapons had worked.

  Indeed, you are clever. His voice grated inside her mind. Which is why you will not attempt to defy me again. Eat, Kyme. Once I have finished off your rescuers, I will return for you. His sinister laughter echoed as he vanished once more.

  No. Kyme dropped her head into her hands. How could she, how could any of them fight an enemy who didn’t exist, at least not in corporeal form?

  Her terror renewed. Was any of this real? Was her body here, inside this mountain, or was this the image the minotaur wished her to perceive? Even now did she lie unconscious somewhere else?

  She examined the table laden with succulent meats, not daring to eat. In the tale of the maiden goddess Persephone, she had eaten of the food Hades, the god of the Underworld, offered her, and in doing so, she’d been imprisoned in the Underworld. That they’d later fallen in love presented no relevance to Kyme’s current situation. She hoped.

  She closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall and again sought Artemis’s aid. The minotaur’s mind tricks were a thousand times more evolved than she had imagined. He would kill Arsenius and the others. The minotaur had confirmed her worst fear. They were indeed attempting to rescue her. How she wished to warn them.

  Arsenius and his men didn’t stand a chance.

  ***

  “About bloody time, Venn,” Arsenius snapped at the winged male, whom he swore had taken a quarter hour to catch up with them.

  “Forgive me, Captain. An issue with the wards, but I’ve fixed it.”

  Arsenius didn’t care what was behind them. His mate, his Kyme, lay ahead.

  “Easy, Captain.” Thereus laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Arsenius shrugged it off. “I’m a son of Ares, the god of violence. Cool and collected is not part of my repertoire.”

  “Don’t worry, none of us will be singing the praises of your patience.” Thereus barked a laugh at his side.

  Arsenius folded his arms and glared into the tunnels. “Which way?” He loathed having to rely on others when his strength should have been enough.

  “To be honest, one direction does not call out to me more than another. Your guess is as good as mine.” Venn frowned. “We must mark the tunnels so we can retrace our steps. Otherwise, we’ll spend eternity in this hellhole. Not my preference.”

  “Nor mine.” Thereus chuckled. He carried a barrel of gunpowder and trailed the black dust behind them. They would light it once ready to depart.

  As he considered the fork, Arsenius let his instincts assume control. He veered to face each of the tunnels, slow and methodical. As he stared into the third one from the left, he caught her scent. Delicate, exotic. Kyme. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to dart straight into the blackness.

  What stopped him was another scent. Sulphur and brimstone. Death, evil. The minotaur. He was somewhere down the last tunnel on his right.

  Never had he been so torn. Go to her when it may be a trick? Or follow the minotaur’s scent and face his enemy, risking Kyme? With a snarl, he made the decision. It was one the man he used to be would never have made.

  He went for Kyme, all the while his gut telling him it must be a trap.

  They followed the tunnels deeper into the mountain, toward its belly. He had no difficulty tracking her scent, selecting left, straight or right as the trail demanded. At long last, the tunnels ended. An enormous cavern loomed ahead. A single opening at the top lit the chamber. By the coppery scent of blood, the altar in the center was used for sacrifices.

  The circular chamber offered a pantheon of tunnels to choose from. Arsenius didn’t scent her in any of them. No, she was here, in this chamber.

  He bent over the altar, but the blood wasn’t fresh. Not hers. Still, his fists clenched as he recognized the blood as human. Probably the maiden’s. The scent of the dead lass’s blood fueled his vengeance. By nightfall, he vowed, the minotaur would never harm again.

  She is near, his instincts persisted. I just can’t see her.

  A bright light flashed at his side. Arsenius drew his sword and tensed, ready to strike. As the figure materialized, he loosened his grip and narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s good to see you too, Aden.” The goddess Adrasteia smirked.

  “It’s Arsenius.”

  The angelic creature before him shrugged. “Arsenius, Aden, no matter how many times you change your name, he continues to watch over you.”

  “Tell him not to waste his time.”

  “Now, now, brother.” Adrasteia glided toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was nearly as tall as he was, and capable of staring him in the eyes. Which she did now, hers glowing a harsh grey, like steel. “The gods are not all-powerful. Ares is as much subject to the whims of the Fates as everyone else.”

  “Surely, you’re not including yourself in that statement, Adrasteia.” The shuffling of Thereus’s hooves echoed off the wall behind him. “It’d be a real disappointment for us to learn you’re not omnipotent.”

  His half-sister, the goddess of revenge, spun to face the centaur, her long dark curls twirling with her and landing flawlessly in place.

  Gods. He shook his head. Everything was about perfection for them.

  Adrasteia winked at Thereus. “Mortal, there is much for you to learn.”

  “I would be a most willing pupil, if I were to have one as divine as you for a tutor.”

  Ugh, his stomach roiled. Every time. Every bloody time she popped up, the centaur attempted to coax her into his bed. The only saving grace was she always refused him. Out of respect for Arsenius? Gods knew, she was one of his few divine siblings he tolerated. That she always appeared right before momentous feats, like capturing a legendary creature, was not lost on him.

  “Why are you here, Adrasteia?” His terse tone reflected his growing frustration. He didn’t mean to sound so agitated, but Kyme was near. This was a distraction. If the goddess wasn’t going to help, she needed to leave. He didn’t request any ‘witness to his heroic deeds,’ as she claimed she was.

  “Rest easy, brother. For once, I am not your shadow but your aide.”

  “Tell Ares I neither seek nor desire his intervention.”

  She strode closer, until they were nose to nose. “One, you do not tell me what to do. Two, do not refuse the aid of a god—our father’s or mine.” The angrier she became, the brighter she glowed. “And three, this is not only about you, brother.”

  “What do you mean?” He eased back, relaxing his stance and hoping his calm demeanor would diffuse hers. After all, she was the goddess of revenge—daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, and Ares’s right hand—not a being to be trifled with.

  “The minotaur has co
mmitted hubris.” The silvery glow around her flared.

  “What kind?”

  “The very worst.”

  Arsenius choked on his outrage. The crime of hubris had different levels, and not all were punished by the gods. At the lowest degree was simple arrogance—deeming oneself supreme. At the highest were the most unimaginable crimes—things one would do if one believed oneself above every law.

  Connecting Adrasteia’s words, he staggered as though someone punched him in the gut. The girl, the one who’d been attacked. The reason he was here in the first place.

  “Yes, not only was the manner of her death most dishonorable, this is personal. She was a daughter of Ares.”

  “Our sister?” He barely found the voice to ask as another fear sucked the oxygen from his lungs. Lena.

  “No, it was not her, Arsenius. We do not know Lena’s fate, but this sad creature’s was not hers.”

  Damn, he was a bastard for experiencing any kind of relief. He’d lost another sibling, albeit one whom he hadn’t known existed. The rage within him seized control once more. He would savor tearing the minotaur apart.

  “What of Lena?” His chest constricted and the room grew silent as he inquired about his sister.

  The goddess softened her tone. “Her fate is shrouded in mist… I would save her if I could.”

  He nodded, the vice around his chest tightened further, making words impossible. Damn, every time it was the same answer.

  Thereus cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Where is your lovely partner, Nemesis?”

  “She is busy attending other matters.” Adrasteia dismissed his inquiry with a wave of her hand. “The minotaur is yours, Arsenius. Ares wishes it so.”

  Oh aye, didn’t that gut him. He didn’t doubt his father played a role in the business he’d been getting lately. Eager to see how many monsters Arsenius could destroy, like he was bloody Herakles. The gods must be having a grand time on Olympus, placing their wagers and watching him fight.