Air's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 3) Read online

  His eyes crinkled at the corners and he waved his hand for her to accept it. “I will trust in you, nymph, if you will trust in me. Your tree will be safe. The giants and your sisters will ensure as much.”

  They would. Lycus’s sincerity drummed through her and she accepted his hand. “Then yes. Let’s go.”

  After spending a few minutes gathering supplies and informing the nymphs of their journey, they traversed to the borders of Hyperborean lands. “This is where the boundary wards lie. Once we pass these, we should encounter nightfall. You recall how to ride me, lass?” Lips quirked in mischief, he winked at her and performed the morphos into his centaur form.

  “How could I forget?” she hummed and leapt astride his back. Settling against him, it was as if an entire century had never passed. This was where she belonged. Her arms wrapped about his waist, she smiled and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

  He patted her arm as he stepped into darkness. The night sky, brimming with shining stars, captured her breath. Only once a year did she ever gaze upon its beauty.

  “Come, I’ll make a fire.” They might be past the borders, but the land here was frozen just the same. Lycus led them to an open field, helped her to the ground, and transformed into a man before gathering wood for a fire. Crouching, she huddled in the snow and angled her face away from the frigid air.

  Soon, the blazing flickers of the fire warmed her skin and she smiled across at Lycus. “Can you contact your brother now?”

  “I will try.” He nodded once at her and strode from the light of the fire to tilt his face toward the stars. “Rhoetus?”

  For long minutes, nothing happened. The air released from her mouth in a rush of cold, wispy tendrils.

  Suddenly, an ethereal haze descended from the clustering of stars to the west, the vaporous substance clear and shimmering as it settled toward them in the form of a man.

  “Lycus.” The two males thumped into each other, a swift and fierce embrace.

  “Rhoetus.” Lycus gave his head a quick toss, puffing in relief. “I have much need of your aid.”

  Airla rose as the unusual male’s assessing gaze fell across her. If he weren’t Lycus’s brother, she might be afraid of the daunting male. He was far removed from the scraggly lad she recalled. Now, he stood slightly taller than Lycus, and just as brawny, with one eye green and one blue, and haphazard locks of burnished mahogany that completed his unpredictable countenance. He appeared as one whose trust ought never to be crossed. A man capable of just about anything.

  Airla hesitated in approaching him, but Lycus waved her forward.

  “This is Airla. The one I told you of.”

  She flashed her perusal to him. Had Lycus told his siblings she was his mate?

  The flint of recognition in Rhoetus’s smirk proclaimed yes. “A pleasure to meet you again, lass.”

  Even more flustered now, she simply inclined her head and refocused on Lycus. How could his brother aid them?

  “Have you heard from Demoleon?” Lycus waved for them to sit around the fire, and she settled next to him, across from Rhoetus.

  “Nay, not a whisper.” Rhoetus hardened his features. “Things are far worse than you could imagine, brother. Thessaly is not what we hoped. While we’ve gathered a band of warriors in Krete, it won’t be enough.” He dropped his head into his hands and combed his fingers through his unruly locks. “It’s disastrous. I don’t see any victory, only loss. Terrible loss.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand and glanced at Lycus, who stared at his brother, and hope crushed from the air between them.

  Chapter 8

  “Surely, that can’t be true,” Airla pleaded and clasped Lycus’s arm, but numbness spread through him.

  He’d never seen Rhoetus lose faith. Ever. Of them all, Rhoetus was the most determined, the hardest-headed, a force immovable once he set his sights on something. That something had been the throne.

  If their future King lost hope, what chance did they have? Thessaly. He refused to accept that angle of their plan hadn’t worked, but his brother stared at the ground, appearing unwilling to elaborate.

  “What about Cyane, Arctus? Have you had contact with them?”

  A snort and a toss of his head. “I’ve not spoken with Arctus, but Cyane has a mate. The leader of the Karkinos, crab shifters. She promised them her lands in exchange for their army, yet Lycus, it won’t be enough. We need more.”

  “Tell me about Thessaly.”

  Rhoetus leaned back and groaned. “A waste of time and effort. The centaurs of Thessaly, and many other descendants, are prepared to engage in a war against the sun god. Hades and Persephone recruited any warrior who might otherwise have flocked to our aid. ’Tis no different than what we’ve come to expect of them. The centaurs of Krete are alone, as we always have been. We cannot count on our brethren. We never have been able to.”

  “A war?” It sounded like the gods on Olympus were determined to stir up trouble for their descendants. Not surprising.

  “Aye. A rematch of the war of love long ago. Hades and Persephone seek to determine their own fates, and Apollo views this as his chance to overthrow Zeus.” He huffed in frustration. “There will be no one left to fight for us.”

  “So then we fight for ourselves.” Lycus fisted his hands and glanced at Airla. Rhoetus seemed resigned, but he had a mate, a future, and he refused to surrender either.

  “What? With a handful of crabs?” His brother scoffed.

  “Nay, we’ll have more than that. I have faith our brothers will enlist their armies. As I have found mine.” He cocked a brow toward Airla.

  Her lips parted and her eyes rounded. “Truly?”

  “Aye.” He inclined his head. “You, your people. The giants, too. I’ve spoken with King Zethes and, in exchange for helping to free them, they will fight.”

  Rhoetus scratched his jaw, assessing. “I thought you sought to protect the nymphs. You know they cannot fight.”

  Lycus slanted his gaze to Airla and winked. “This one can.” Then he regarded his brother. “In truth, what I seek is for them to be protected. I’m confident in their abilities to do just that. You should see how she inhibited me, brother, and a griffin, too, no less. Airla possesses a power over roots of the earth that would make her a formidable opponent against any Minotaur.”

  “Indeed?” Rhoetus shifted his calculating gaze to Airla. “Impressive.”

  Her cheeks flushed, so Lycus grinned in reassurance. “You are right, Aella. It’s time for the nymphs to choose their own fate. This is our chance to rebuild our lives and I wouldn’t keep you away from it. Krete is your home, too. Let’s fight for it, together.”

  “Fine sentiments,” Rhoetus droned, “but we require greater numbers still. Don’t forget they decimated our people—centaurs—fierce warriors that our forefathers were. I can’t risk anyone’s lives until I’m certain of victory.”

  Lycus nodded, shifting back to study his brother. Something had changed in the male. Vulnerability shone from within him which hadn’t existed before. Lycus had finally discovered his reason for fighting, right when his brother was surrendering. None of this made sense, but he wouldn’t allow Rhoetus to make the same mistake. “We’re going to fight. Even if it takes us a hundred years to gather an army great enough. Krete is ours, Rhoetus. The throne is yours. Don’t turn your back on your foresires. On your siblings. Not when we have gone to the ends of the world for you.”

  Rhoetus surveyed him, a sober, grim look. “You’re right. Even if I doubt our chances, I owe everything to try.” He slanted his gaze to Airla. “You might not realize this, lass, but you’re the difference in this. Despite whatever my brother has done here, you’re the only reason he possesses the will to fight. We’re not all quite so fortunate.” He arose, heaving a sigh. “I’ll see what can be done. Demoleon is beyond my reach, so I’m afraid, you’re on your own. What request did you have of him?”

  “Airla’s grove is frozen here. We must thaw the trees so we
can bring them home.”

  Rhoetus cocked his head. “How many trees?”

  “A hundred.” Eager, Lycus regarded his brother. “Have you any idea where we can safely plant them?”

  “Aye, that’s easy enough. I’ve ensured the meadow inside Mount Ida is heavily warded against the sun god’s prying eyes. If you can free your trees, you’re welcome to send them there.”

  Relief filled him and he grinned at Airla.

  “May we meet again with better odds.” Rhoetus’s body dissolved into mist that vanished into the Aether.

  Lycus ruminated his brother’s somber warnings. And his advice. The wisdom in Rhoetus had always been there, but now, it breached the surface and permeated his being. If only the male didn’t have such a bleak outlook to accompany it.

  Though Rhoetus had brought him naught but ill news, hope thrummed through Lycus’s veins. He was earning the trust of his mate. Perhaps, even, her affection.

  Despite Demoleon’s absence, hope wasn’t lost, it was right there, in front of them. Waiting for them to grasp it.

  After all, King Zethes had a plan so reckless it just might be brilliant.

  Airla gawked as Rhoetus dissipated into nothingness. His abilities seemed to mirror the hollowness inside his soul, a cavity so deep it could only be filled by one thing. His mate.

  Yes, she sensed the loneliness and despair within him. What had happened to his female? She prayed he would one day reunite with her. Sadness filled her at the notion of being parted from Lycus in the same manner. Was she a fool to cast him aside because she clung to notions of freedom and independence? Could her actions one day hollow him in such a way?

  How could she live with having driven him into pits of suffering? It was against her nymph nature to cause any creature harm, and in building a wall between her heart and Lycus, she’d done that.

  She shifted to watch him, his scrutiny frozen on the expanse his brother had vanished into. That he had somehow learned to view her differently meant so much. He trusts me. Dare she to offer him the same?

  The truth was, she’d spent a century hating him for relinquishing her. Though she might not have known they were mates, she’d perceived one thing. He was hers. To learn he’d never done what she’d accused him of meant accepting she’d been wrong. She’d judged him unfairly and harshly, and they both suffered because of it.

  Her heart had never stopped clinging to the love she knew was destined for them. From the moment they’d met, she’d longed for that vision of their future. All that stood between them now was the wall of ice she’d constructed.

  But the one thing she’d learned from living in this frozen wasteland was that even the thickest ice could be shattered.

  The air around them was freezing, but she shivered from something else entirely. A sensation she couldn’t blame on lust or rationalize as her nymph nature. This desire burned far deeper than her body. It seared straight through to her soul.

  “Lycus?” she whispered, rising in front of him. “Do you mean what you declared? That you want me to fight at your side?”

  He lifted his face to hers, those pale pools reflecting the flares of the firelight. “Aye, Airla. I fathom I was wrong and I beg your forgiveness for the transgressions I’ve committed against you. I would spend my life atoning for them if you would but permit me.”

  The sincerity in his eyes melted the frost around her heart, and brick by brick, the wall lost its foundation. “I trust you. Perhaps, I always should have, but I was too stubborn to see it. I longed so badly for the future you stole from us, I didn’t view the one that could yet be. I don’t wish to spend my life blind anymore. There’s too much pain and suffering in both our pasts to force even more into our futures.”

  “What are you saying, Aella?” He gripped her hands, enclosing his large, warm ones around hers.

  “Your brother lost love. I felt it. All I’m certain of is, I can’t risk losing mine, too.”

  He shot to his feet and swept her into his arms, his mouth claiming hers. Joy and pain, anguish and hope, filled his kiss. Panting, he wrenched his lips from hers. “If you offer me a century, love, I’ll spend it erasing the last one.”

  “I’ll give you more than that.” She traced her fingers across his jaw and cheek, resolve steadying her. “I want to be your mate. In my heart, I’ve always known this is our fate, to belong to each other.”

  A growl rumbled through his throat and his lips snared hers again, devouring with enough heat to liquefy her fortress of solitude and sear his mark onto her heart.

  As though desperate and consumed by need, he spread his hands across her back and over her bottom. The thickness of him pressing against her front wouldn’t be denied. Eager and greedy, he clutched her clothes as though to tear them off. She laced her fingers behind his head and braced against the wintery tempest of his desires.

  Lycus snapped his fingers and the storm blew around them, curiously framing bricks together until a dwelling of snow blocks stood, beckoning them inside. She arched a brow and linked her fingers with his for him to lead them inside.

  He unpacked and unrolled a bed of furs, stretching it across the snowy floor. Surprisingly, the air inside grew warm, protected from the chill outside. He prowled in a circle around her, the hunger flaming through him so hard it made it difficult for her to breathe. Her centaur might not have the experience she did, but she was the one full of nerves and on edge for what would happen next.

  Beneath that possessive, passionate stare, she was at his mercy.

  Behind her, he untied the hook for her cloak, which glided down and pooled around her feet. Slowly, as though unwrapping a precious gift, he peeled her dress from her shoulders, kissing the skin he bared, until she rested nude, clasping one wrist in front of her.

  “Don’t be shy now, nymph,” he purred against her ear and flicked his tongue across her neck, making her moan and tense with longing.

  Rustling indicated he disposed of his clothing, too, and he slowly ran his fingers up and down her arms. “You are so lovely, Airla. In more than a century of dreaming of you, I never envisioned such beauty.” He trailed the back of his forefinger across her jaw and nudged her face to tilt toward his. Lycus slanted his mouth across hers, languidly stretching out their kiss.

  How much did he know? How much would she have to teach him?

  He put an end to her ponderings the moment his fingers dipped between her legs and thrust inside her. She gasped and bucked into his palm, the yearning crushing all musings from her mind.

  It didn’t matter who had more experience. Because this, this lust would be like nothing either of them had ever faced.

  This crushing hunger might very well be the end of him. Lycus groaned, his body trembling at the sensation of his fingers inside Airla. If he ever had any control, it was gone now. Deserted him before the battle had even begun.

  His ballocks were so full, they would burst before he ever made it inside her. If his finger didn’t lie and her sheath truly was this tight and glistening, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Damn.

  Already, the slit of his length beaded, desperate for that precious heat.

  Airla, she whimpered in his arms, her body his to command, as though she were as incapable of overcoming her desires and commanding control as he was.

  Well then, it fell to him. He gritted his teeth, determined to at least be inside her before he exploded. Nudging apart her thighs with his knee, he slid his fingers from her core and spread them across her opening, desperate to get this right on the first attempt. He grabbed his shaft, aligning himself and pressed inside her. Sweet gods, his erection throbbed, on the verge. His tip inside, he clasped her hips and slammed his to hers, thrusting all the way inside her while his seed shot into her.

  The convulsions seized his muscles and he skimmed his hands upward to cup her breasts, gripping her against him, his body determining its own rhythm to pound into her.

  With her feet off the ground, only his arms kept her up
right. Airy cries screamed from her lips and his bonded male’s seed spilled and spiraled through her body, clenching her core around his width.

  He grunted against her neck, driving his hips back and forth, prolonging what had been so much quicker and far more raw than he’d envisioned. Should he have been more tender? Gentler, slower?

  Finally, his body ceased its ferocious demands, allowing him to pause inside her. Had she enjoyed this? Had he done it right?

  Despite the frigid air outside, perspiration slicked their bodies together, the wetness of his release spilling from between her legs. He untangled from her and rumbled at the sight of his seed slipping down her thigh. That flushed pink sex glistening because of him.

  Unable to resist, he smeared his fingers through those pearls, back along her opening, then speared his fingers inside her and groaned at the incredibly taut, slippery heat greeting him.

  His cock twitched, as hard as ever and just as insistent.

  Aye, he sought to take her again. And again. Until neither of them had any air remaining in their lungs.

  She twisted toward him and he glimpsed the same conclusion in those darkened pools. Grasping her hips, he coaxed her around, so the luscious folds of her flesh were his to admire. He dropped to his knees and flicked his tongue across her bud, growling at their combined taste on his tongue. This was meant to be.

  She curled her fingers into his hair, directing his head. Obedient, he listened to her mewls and slashed his tongue across where they grew the loudest. The tiny nub above her opening blossomed beneath his tongue, and he worshipped it ever harder, licking and sucking. Quivers traversed her legs, buckling her knees, so he directed her toward the furs and settled between her thighs. His nymph was delectably pliable as he bent her legs to her arms, pinning both above her head while he penetrated her, that taut opening submitting to his will. Braced above her, he ground his hips, devouring her like the wild beast she’d created. Every minute of waiting had been worth this moment, and he savored each sweet glide of his cock and sensual moan from her lips.