Wicked Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 3) Read online

  He caught the vessel and removed the cork, then guzzled.

  “I took a gamble, centaur. That less blood would be shed should I sew you up and send you on your way. I suggest you don’t prove me wrong.” The spiked tip inched closer to the base of his throat.

  Setting aside the flask, he flicked his scrutiny to her. A mistake, for those sultry eyes were swirling pools of entrancement meant to drown him.

  Not that he would care. One taste of those full, petal-pink lips and he’d die a happy male.

  “I thank you. In truth, I mean you and your family no harm.” The words came out easier after his parched throat had been soothed, although a new thirst claimed its place. His cock stirred, growing thick and long as his survey dropped to the soft buckskin breeches caressing the fine curves of her hips.

  “Eyes on my face, centaur.” The tip poked into his neck.

  He jolted, dragging his admiration off her fine shape. “Forgive me. One does not normally encounter noblewomen clad in the garb of men. Does your family permit your attire?”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her mouth twitched at the corners. “No,” she waved him to the side with her blade, “which is why you’ll turn your back while I change.”

  His attention drifted to the shelf on his left and the feminine garments tucked inside. Brazen. He grinned, shifting to his side to give her his back, despite every instinct inside him screaming to aid her in the process of undressing.

  And then to perform other acts her family would undoubtedly frown upon.

  The rustling of her clothes as she changed was a pained screeching in his ears, but at last, she hummed from the entryway. “Finished. You may turn around.”

  He rolled onto his back, wincing at the panging reminder of his wound.

  “Hmm. You should let me examine your injury.” Strangely enough, she queried instead of demanded, her stiff stance hesitative. Was she intimidated by him, even in human form?

  “Aye, thank you.” He nodded and she approached him as one would a wounded bear. Ha. “I’ll not bite you, lass.” A lie for certain. He’d bet every inch of her curves would demand some form of nibble. Still, he winked, easing his head to rest flat, and attempted to appear far more innocuous than he truly was.

  Her breath sucked in while she knelt beside him, folding open his waistcoat and peeling aside his ivory tunic. His muscles jerked at her feather-light touch, and he whipped his gaze to hers. The same sparks flared in her eyes.

  They both suffered this attraction.

  Eione frowned at his abdomen. “The gash ought to have healed faster than this.” She tugged that plump bottom lip between her teeth, making him fight a groan. “I fear your wound may have become infected. Your skin is already flushed and heated.”

  Her nearness drove his horse to madness. She smelled so damn sweet. The pain in his abdomen blurred like a distant dream, but a searing agony flamed across his upper left arm. His entire body burned, not from fever of infection.

  Oh, hell, no.

  The lyssa.

  Eione brushed her fingers across the male’s sculpted abdomen, biting back a moan at how the muscles danced along her fingertips, jolting at her touch as though she played a tune on a lyre. This intoxicating attraction toward the handsome male could prove damning in so many ways.

  Already, she risked much by saving his life. By concealing his presence.

  Sliding her tongue across her bottom lip, she peered into the male’s entrancing pewter eyes. She’d never experienced the yearning to kiss a man. The Lapith suitors who called upon her family’s manor directed their attentions toward her elder sister. None had gazed at her the way this male did. As though she were a sun-ripened berry ready to be plucked, and devoured.

  She cleared her throat and shuffled backward. Of course he behaved thus. Even if he weren’t already delirious from fever, centaurs bore the reputation of being the most virile and lusty creatures the gods had fashioned.

  If another female were present, he wouldn’t cast Eione a second glimpse. She was naught but a headstrong noblewoman who pranced about in the forest clad in men’s clothing. Not an inch of her made a suitable bride for a worthy male.

  Just as she pulled away to stand, he clasped her hand. “Thank you, Lady Eione.” Firm, strong fingers enclosed about hers, sending sparks of yearning spiking through her veins.

  Did she care if he sought her hand, or only her body? A male like this could ruin her family’s schemes and never be around to be punished.

  Her elder sister had whispered of betrothals. As soon as one was secured for Lavra, Eione would be the next one sold to some wretched, unsuspecting male who’d never guess at Eione’s true nature—or permit her such freedom ever again.

  In her world, docile Lapith women wed powerful Lapith men and produced acquiescent Lapith children who would continue that cycle. Her mother had and Eione would. She rubbed the amethyst necklace hanging from her neck—all that remained of her mother, Philyre, who’d died giving birth to Eione’s younger brother, Dryas.

  Philyre might not have escaped her fate, but she’d gifted Eione her first bow at age seven with a twinkle in her eyes promising Eione a brighter future.

  Heat flushing her cheeks, Eione jerked her hand free. “Why were you trespassing?”

  He frowned at his empty hand before angling his face toward hers. “I did not intend to. As I tried to explain, I mistook the borders of your family’s lands.”

  “That doesn’t clarify why you are in Lapith country.”

  He clucked. “No, it does not. I’m in search of a rare well. A nymph informed me it is located on Mount Pelion.”

  Eione snorted. The poor male had likely been tricked. “A nymph will tell you anything if you spread her legs wide enough.”

  His eyes jerked wide as though he’d never envisioned a lady uttering such a vulgar musing.

  She shrugged. “I traipse about the forest clad in men’s clothing and engaging in men’s sports.” One hand perched on her hip, she arched a brow. “Don’t assume I’m as delicate as I appear, Lord Agrius.”

  The shock froze as a mask upon his face, but then he chuckled. “I shall bear that in mind.” The wicked intents crossing his features drove longings deep into her belly and she pressed her thighs together, shoving aside those yearnings.

  Permitting Agrius to have his way with her would definitely thwart her family’s plans. To them, her innocence was worth more than she was.

  “Why do you seek this well?” the question blurted from her lips, shooing aside her darker reflections.

  “A Lapith child in my village suffers from a curse and this nymph informed me the sacred waters would cure him.”

  Odd. She narrowed her glare on him. The hairs on her arms and neck raised. She whipped out the dagger she’d tucked into her boot and poised the blade toward his throat. “Why not send a Lapith to procure the waters? Why risk yourself for a mere village boy?”

  Agrius leaned back and scratched his jaw. “A valid question.” He dropped his hand and huffed. “In truth, ’tis no village boy. The one who is ill is my brother. I could entrust such a task to no one but myself.”

  She sank onto her knees, lowering the dagger. “You told me it was a Lapith boy so I would be more empathetic to your cause.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “You saved my life, but I could not expect you to spare another centaur’s.”

  “You will not lie to me again.” She tipped the point of her blade toward him once more. “The next falsehood you speak will end your life. Understand?”

  His eyes flashed in mirth. “Aye, Agrotere.”

  ***

  Agrius chuckled at the capable and fiery female who’d drawn a blade on him as fast as any male. That she hadn’t yet sliced his throat indicated he could trust her.

  “Your brother, what is wrong with him?”

  He started at her renewed questioning and inclined his head. “He’s grieving the loss of his mate who died in childbirth to their sons.”

&nbs
p; “And you, you have no sons? Or daughters. Or…wives.” Her tone pitched high over the last word.

  Ah. His horse stamped about, demanding to utter what he could not, because she was the only female he sought.

  My mate.

  The longer he scented her, the more this flaming ache in his arm screamed she was the female his horse had chosen.

  Sweet gods. He blinked and focused on Eione’s lips, on the words she formed. Not on that lush mouth, fastened around his cock.

  Hell. He scraped a hand across his jaw and shifted his hips to conceal the enormity of his arousal. “No wife, no children.”

  “Ah, good.” Eione nodded. “That’s, ah, good.” She cleared her throat, a flush creeping along her cheeks in a most becoming manner.

  Gods, she was exquisite.

  “Why does your brother not fetch the waters himself?”

  “Oreius?” He expelled the air from his lungs in a low huff. “My brother is not well. Hasn’t been well, not since his mate passed.”

  “Oh, that is so sad.” She drew her mouth tight. This female was caring and empathetic. Her kindness pricked at his chest.

  “My turn for a question.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you didn’t intend to kill me, why did you shoot me?”

  Her spine straightened, shoulders setting stiffly. “I was hunting. I mistook your centaur flank for a stag’s. You’re much the same color in the dawn’s rays.” Her tilted chin dared him to defy her words.

  Instead, he reclined, chuckling. “My brothers will hound me on this for a century, at least.”

  She chimed a laugh, crisp and light in his ears. “I promise not to tell them.”

  The image of introducing Eione to his brothers and his father, as his mate, flashed through his mind, filling his chest with warmth and pride.

  Then the picture faded and the truth of their worlds closed in. Her family would never accept his offer of marriage, and to take her hand without their permission would be an enormous transgression among his people.

  She would never be his.

  “It’s getting late.” She sighed at the setting sun and crept to the opening. “I should return home.” Her golden locks, framed in the entrance, glinted in the sun’s rays. So lovely, exactly as she’d been when he’d first glimpsed her, mistaking her for a goddess.

  Now, he knew. She might not be a celestial being, but she was just as forbidden to him.

  “Lady Eione.” He shuffled forward on his knees, pleading her name and grasping for her hand. Agrius closed his fingers around hers, and there was no denying the truth. He was wrong to presume she might be his, yet nothing had ever felt so right as her slender hand wrapped in his.

  “Yes?”

  Agrius seized the back of her head and slanted her mouth to his, stealing her kiss like the wicked beast he was.

  She flung her arms around his neck and urged him on, kissing him with the ferocity of the huntress he’d encountered this morning. Her mouth fastened to his, tongues tangling in a duel neither would win. She was right. Though she might appear to be a delicate flower, and none had plucked her yet, she was in fact, a wild rose, whose thorns proved as sharp and fierce as her petals were fragile.

  Her full breasts plumped against his chest while she scrambled closer, their bodies melding and leaving nowhere for his erection to hide. As though determined to observe the proof of his passion, her hand shifted lower, skimming the front of his breeches and framing his aching length.

  Her panted gasp and following moan fired through his veins, demanding he stake his claim on her. Now.

  While she was so very pliant and willing.

  Eione’s hand rested against his sex, rubbing in a hesitant and inexperienced manner. Her body told her what she craved, even if she couldn’t name it yet.

  Oh, but she would. He would instruct her.

  Wrenching his mouth off hers, he clasped her wrist and gazed into her eyes. Wanting and, strangely, trust, sparkled in those depths.

  Damn. What the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t do this. Not with her, not like this.

  She was a mate. A creature to be cherished and worshipped. Among his people, the greatest and most sacred gift.

  One did not romp about in the hay with one’s mate.

  Nay. A respectable centaur offered her everything he possessed if she would but do him the honor of wedding him. He pledged his life, his possessions, his soul, to her.

  Any male who did anything less wouldn’t be worthy of the mud caking her boots.

  “Eione,” he panted, nudging her hand off his stiff shaft, the torment worse than a thousand arrows to his centaur heart.

  “You are the most desirable female my unworthy eyes have ever laid upon, and I cannot tell you how greatly it pains me to stop, but this isn’t right.”

  Her lower lip trembled and she drew the plump flesh into her mouth. He couldn’t bear to meet her stare, lest hatred for him burned within, but he gathered his courage, tucked his finger under her chin, and tilted her face toward his.

  Slowly, her lashes lifted. “You’re right, of course.” She blinked back what might be a tear and disengaged herself from his embrace. “You should be well enough to depart on the morrow. Please, go before the sun rises.”

  She scurried from the den, wrenching his human heart along with her.

  ***

  Eione fisted her hands in her skirts and dashed toward the manor. Foolish girl. She shook her head, fighting tears. That male hadn’t crossed her path to rescue her from her fate. No one could.

  Not even a lusty centaur craved her innocence. She wasn’t worth the risk.

  The grey stone manor rose before her and she straightened her shoulders. Tomorrow, Agrius would be gone and with him, any chance to change the course of her future. No Lapith would dare defy her family. The only male who would ever touch her would be the one her family sold her to.

  She clenched and unclenched her fists, then straightened her skirts, and marched inside the manor, past the guards.

  “Ah, milady.” A brown-haired handmaiden curtseyed before her. “Your father and brothers have asked for you. They are in the Great Hall.”

  Inclining her head, she veered to the right, through the tapestry-lined stone walls of the corridor, and stepped into the Great Hall. Her elder brothers, father, and sister reclined around the large oak table. The twins cast her sinister smirks. Nileas and Myron were both tall, husky males with ashen hair and blue eyes like their father and sister. Eione’s other elder brother Antion and her younger brother, Dryas, resembled their mother, with violet eyes and golden hair.

  Platters of meats, cheeses, breads, and extravagant dishes stretched across the table’s surface, threatening to sink the top beneath their weight.

  She frowned at the table and directed her attention to her father, bobbing as she approached him. “Father.”

  “Ah, yes, child. Come closer. We have most agreeable news, have we not, Lavra?” He winked at her sister, who beamed and squeezed her hands in her lap like an anxious child about to open a delightful present.

  Eione shot her gaze between the two, her stomach dropping. Oh, no. Whatever was pleasant news to her sister would be an ill revelation to her.

  “We have at last secured a betrothal between your sister and…” He paused as though Eione would appreciate the anticipation. “Prince Philaeus, the only son and heir of the great King Pirithous III.” He clapped his hands together and chuckled.

  Ah. That wasn’t so terrible. Eione flashed her sister a smile. “Congratulations, Lavra.”

  “I’m going to be a Queen!” Lavra squealed.

  “Indeed.” Eione didn’t bother pointing out that Prince Philaeus was a disgusting, pompous scoundrel.

  “There’s more.” Her sister giggled.

  “Yes, Eione.” Her father nodded and the churning in her stomach amplified. “In addition to your sister’s betrothal, we have secured one for you. Prince Philaeus refused to wed without seeing his closest fri
end, Lord Adrastos, happy in matrimony as well.”

  No. No. Her nails cut into her palms as she clenched her fists at her sides.

  “If you recall,” her father rapped the top of the table with his knuckles, “he took a rather fond liking to you at the last ball we attended.”

  Ha. She remembered all too well the scrape of his filthy hands across her bottom and his slimy mouth that had just missed hers.

  Yet, he’d accosted many a maiden in the same manner and she’d hoped he’d pursue them instead.

  This was awful news. She squeezed her eyes shut, but her father’s words permeated her ears nonetheless.

  “You are to wed Lord Adrastos alongside your sister and Prince Philaeus. Wonderful, is it not?” Her father’s booming tone jolted her and she dragged her eyes open.

  “Yes, Father.” She lowered her head in a reluctant bow and spun on her heel, storming through the halls toward her chamber.

  “Eione.” Her sister’s sharp reprimand drew her to a halt outside her chamber doors. “You will not ruin this for me. I am to be a Queen.” Her features bunched into a sneer. “You are twenty, sister. It’s not as though you have any other offers, or suitors.”

  She stared into Lavra’s eyes, so like her own, and yet felt no familiarity with this woman who sold herself for a crown.

  Instead of replying, she slipped inside her chamber. Her breaths pinched her chest, unable to fully inflate her lungs.

  This was wrong. This couldn’t be her destiny.

  A thud on her door whipped her around. The door slammed open and the twins, Nileas and Myron, strolled in.

  Nileas bore a small silver chest in his arms. He threw the box onto her bed, coins and jewels spilling across the rosy blankets. “Don’t even think about defying us, sister. You see that chest?” He jerked his chin at her bed and she pivoted toward the jewels, throat tightening. “That’s your dowry.”

  Myron smirked. “That is all you’re worth.”

  Agrius tensed as someone approached the den, but his horse sniffed out the scent. Hers.