Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) (10 page)

She rose on her tiptoes—as if doing so would make her tall enough to stare him down—and shouted right back at him. “He murdered my sister! You’re the one who handed me the dagger. I gave you fair warning.”

Time to finish this.
“You’re a slave, Kyme. You’d better get used to that fact. Because like it or not, that’s what you are.”

“I am
not
a slave.” Tears welled in her darkened eyes.

Good, push her a little more.
He glared at her, crossed his arms, and shoved back his shoulders. “Slaves aren’t born, Kyme, they’re made. And I’ve made you one.”

“No, if I’m such trouble, you can go find yourself another prize.” She poked her finger into his chest. “You come near me again, slaver, and I won’t hesitate.” Biting her lip, she backed down. After claiming another backward step, she spun, and ran off.

He waited a minute, then another two. She couldn’t outrun him. Couldn’t hide her scent.

Arsenius stormed after her, Thereus on his heels. Pounding up behind her, he seized her wrists, whipped her around, and clasped her to his chest to prevent her from reaching for his weapons. “Not so fast,
Amazone
. You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

“Why? Why do you want me?” Her demand caused the despair inside him to erupt. For some bizarre reason, he craved her permission to sell her. He longed to disclose his secrets, to have her understand and agree. He’d never told anyone the entirety, not even Thereus, who discerned most of his story and guessed at the rest.

The words spewed out. “I need you, Kyme. Because you’re the only way I can save her.” He cursed at his admission and sighed at Thereus. “Take her back to the ship.” After releasing her, he stalked away.

The fool disobeyed him and trotted up behind him. “Arsenius, what the hell is wrong with you? Kyme’s a good woman, you shouldn’t—”

“She’s my slave, nothing more,” he grated through clenched teeth.

“Oh, sure. If I’m right, someday you’ll regret treating
your mate
this way.”

Mate? He scoffed. “What would you know about mates?”

Thereus didn’t answer him, but instead stared off into the distance as he folded his arms. “More than you might think.” He tossed his head. “Hell, why’d you have to take it so far tonight? You might ask for her help. The three of us could figure something out.”

“Stay out of this, centaur.” Arsenius pegged his gaze to Thereus’s. “I’d skin your hide myself if it meant her freedom.”

Thereus blinked once before he pivoted to collect Kyme.

Damn.
Arsenius had glimpsed it in his eyes. His friend didn’t believe the lie.

Too bad, neither did he.

Chapter 9

Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Kyme hugged her arms around her middle to hide them. The centaur, back in human form, raked his fingers through his raven curls. He peered awkwardly at her, as though he had no idea how to comfort her, and he might go mad if she started crying.

That made two of them.

She let out a shaky breath and tried to steady her quavering limbs. “Wh—” She cleared her throat. “Which way is the boat?”

“Follow me.” While Thereus led them through the dark streets, she didn’t utter a word and neither did he. Halfway down one alley, he stopped abruptly and faced her. “Kyme, is there… Can I do anything for you?” His warm green eyes exhibited an endearing note of shyness.

She shook her head and eased as a warmth caressed her skin. The Moon drifted from behind the clouds. Drawn by its magnetism, she lifted her face. Closing her eyes, she basked in the momentary glow. “Will you take me somewhere I can worship my goddess?” She opened her eyes and held his stare.

“I don’t see any temples.” He glanced around and shrugged in apology.

She tilted her face toward the Moon. “It doesn’t have to be a temple. Anywhere I can observe the Moon will be fine.”

He nodded and led them down a side street, then onto a smaller road. The early hours of the morning were quiet, peaceful. The path narrowed even more as it wound up the hillside. As they climbed, the Moon beckoned to her. At last, they approached an open meadow where the Moon shone with augmenting intensity.

“I don’t suppose I might have a few minutes alone?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, Kyme. He’ll whip my ass just for bringing you here.” The centaur crossed his arms and shuffled his feet. “Ah, hell.” He stomped several yards away and offered his back. “You try to run and I’ll tie you to the bowsprit myself.”

Kyme scrunched up her nose. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound pleasant. She knelt and assumed the position she did every time she prayed to Artemis. Knees tucked under her, she lowered her head and lifted her hands, palms cupped in supplication. Speaking softly, she uttered the sacred prayer, “By the glow of the Moonlight, I honor thee, Artemis.”

Tears stung her eyes as the first ray of Moonlight swept across her skin. She grabbed onto it with her mind and greedily sucked in the energy. The luminescence fell upon her like a mother’s embrace. The power coursing through her was better than any opiate. Or kiss.

Her relationship with the slaver was too complicated. Who was this woman he sought to save? She shook herself.
I don’t care.

She let out a deep sigh as relief washed over her. A part of her had feared the goddess might be angry with her. Too soon, the Moonlight faltered, its offering depleted. The Moon wasn’t yet a quarter full, and therefore wouldn’t fully revitalize her. Yet she’d absorbed sufficient energy to incapacitate the centaur. This might be her only chance to escape—she’d be a fool not to seize it. She’d memorized the faces of each of the slavers at the symposium and would force one to aid her in her hunt. Kyme straightened her spine. It had to be now.

After she broke her connection with the Moon, she rose and approached the centaur.

“Ready?” he inquired over his shoulder.

She nodded.
Must do this…

He tensed. Did he sense something? She clenched her hands behind her back.
Not hiding anything. Not going to attack you…

“Kyme, about tonight.” His dark hair fell into his eyes as he glimpsed at her sideways. “Ah, hell.” He groaned. “Look, there are some things you should know. You and me, we need to have a talk. Tomorrow, an hour before noon.” He searched her face, those green depths full of desperation.

Curiosity—that faithful little companion—struck her like a lightning bolt. “Very well.”

His shoulders relaxed, his mouth curling in a slow grin. She returned the smile, though hers wasn’t as genuine. Like an obedient slave, she followed him back to the ship, and allowed him to lock her inside the slaver’s cabin.

Kyme slumped onto the bed with a huff. Damn, what was wrong with her? She’d hesitated. She
never
wavered, always springing straight for the kill. Was she going soft?
Gods, no, please.

All because of a male. She winkled her nose at her hands, repulsed. She wasn’t worthy of being an Amazon.

She plopped onto her back, the slaver’s words slamming into her full force.

Her. Because you’re the only way I can save her.
Suddenly the cabin was too small, her breath arduous as though a vice wrapped around her chest.
You’ve outdone yourself this time. All this pining and whimpering, and he’s using you to get his lover back.

His lover.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, her stomach churning.
Slaves aren’t born, Kyme, they’re made,
his words echoed cruelly in her mind,
And I’ve made you one.

To hell with that.
Nobody enslaved an Amazon. Nobody. She’d stay tomorrow, because she was curious about what Thereus wished to declare, and because he wasn’t her true enemy.

Yes, it would be so much more satisfying to use her energy against the slaver. After everything he’d done to her, he deserved to suffer the sting of her bite.

***

“Is something wrong, ah, Arsenius?” The wench wiggled beneath him. Her bodice was torn from where he’d ripped it. Her skirts hiked up to her waist. His hips ground into hers through the leather of his breeches. He kissed her again, just to make her be quiet. She tasted awful. Soiled, unclean. Like him.

What the hell was his problem? He’d never had trouble getting hard for a woman. Even before his
morphos
, despite the twisted things he’d been forced to do. Here, between this whore’s thighs, he couldn’t do a thing. Nothing.

Images of Kyme assaulted him. Her delicate scent. Her purity. How he craved it.

After tonight, after witnessing the repulsion and hatred in her eyes, he’d considered himself cured. He’d sought to rid himself of her. To forget. Bloody good plan, wasn’t it?

Arsenius shoved off the wench with a grunt. The whore, whatever her name was, gaped at him. He fumbled in his pocket for a generous amount of gold and laid it on the table. “Tell Madame I had a great time.”

Concern lit her face. Apologies streamed from her mouth. She assumed it was her fault, and he was going to let her believe the lie.
Such a bastard.

He staggered back to the ship. His first mate stood watch, no doubt waiting for him. Arsenius cast him a nod, dismissing his pitying stare.

Gods, he yearned to collapse somewhere, to claim the oblivion of sleep. He spotted the cabin.
Can’t go there.
Instead, he climbed one of the masts, up to the fighting platform, and lowered his weary body. He rested his head on his folded arms and stared at the stars. They shone brightly, but it was Kyme’s eyes which burned into him.

***

A sharp spike poked into his arm. Arsenius swatted at it, but the thing jabbed him again. Jerking open his eyes, he glared at the powder monkey trembling below him. “Well? Speak up, boy. You’d better have a good reason for waking me.”

“Oh, Oh, I do, sir,” the boy interjected. “If you’ll just look, sir, Captain. He…he’s here.”

Arsenius rubbed his face in his hands. The fog of sleep lifted, and with it his blissful ignorance. He swore as he recalled Kyme and the horrible things he’d done to her. Spoken to her. The despair in her eyes.

Oh, damn, the wench. That had been an enormous mistake, and not only because his groin ached even worse than before. Thereus was right, bloody centaur.

There’d never be anyone else for him.

“Sir?”

He opened his eyes and lifted a brow at the lad.

The powder monkey pointed to the lower deck. Damn, they remained docked. The slave from last night hovered below the ramp. Why the hell was he here?

Cursing, he rose to his feet, ignored the pounding in his head, and strode to the slave he’d freed. Arsenius crossed his arms and waited.

“I-I…” He shuffled his feet and stared at the planks.

“Go home, lad.”

He lifted his head. “No home.”

“Well, what do you seek, then?”

He offered up the satchel of coins Arsenius had gifted him. “Can’t take your money. Let me work it off?” The honor and integrity in the lad’s eyes implored him. Aye, he’d offered the youth a second chance, but he thirsted for more. An opportunity to anchor his past behind him. To purify his soul and seize his life as a free man.

Arsenius cleared his throat. Aye, he understood. “Can you sing?”

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “Sing, sir?”

“You wish to work on board a pyrate ship, you’d best be able to sing.”

At once, he spouted hymns, and gods did he have a voice to rival Apollo.

“Quartermaster!” Arsenius shouted.

Thereus jaunted to his side. “Captain.”

“Show this lad—”

“Demetrius.”

He nodded at the youth. “Show Demetrius to the crew’s quarters and add him to the payroll.”

“Aye.” Thereus inclined his head and took command.

Arsenius strode away before the lad soiled him with any more gratitude.

***

Kyme awoke to the rich depth of male voices and the gentle rocking of the ship. Who would have fancied the sound of her freedom floating away would be so beautiful?

In the sensible light of the dawn, she shoved her fears deep and concentrated on developing a rational plan. The slaver had told her the truth. He wasn’t going to sell her yet. If she absorbed the Moonlight one more time, she’d gain some extra security.

If she fought Thereus or the slaver, her energy would deplete. Whichever one she didn’t strike would pursue her.
Must be stronger.
Tonight, she’d sneak outside, and then she would make her escape.

She paced the room, twisting the ring of Artemis around the middle finger of her right hand. The slaver had kept his distance last night and she was glad. She had no desire to converse with him, either.

A quick rap at the door had her nearly erupting out of her skin.

“I’ve brought ye some grub,” a young boy’s voice called out.

Kyme sighed in relief. He fumbled with the keys for a second before the lock clicked and the door opened. The boy thrust a tray inside and relocked the door.

Slave. That’s what you are to him. A slave.

She wrinkled her nose at the meal. Some mush of vegetables, and possibly meat, hardtack, and tea. She grabbed the mug and sniffed. Cloying sweetness betrayed the liquid as an aphrodisiac.
Nice try, Cook.
She grimaced and set the mug aside, thankful the slaver kept a flask of water for her in the cabin.