The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens Book 7) Page 17

  I leaned forward and gently stole his mouth with my own. “I love you, gída.”

  He smiled back at me.

  “One. Two. Three.” We all clasped hands, and then we jumped.

  Chapter 17

  Petra

  Rayale had left us many hours ago after carving Ty a simple wooden flute. My lovely centauress sat before a campfire of green flame, admiring its design.

  “She is really quite skilled,” she murmured, more to herself than me.

  I grinned. “Yes, she is.”

  Tossing me a smile in return, Ty placed the flute down and moved toward me on her knees. I leaned back, watching her with a lazy curl of my lips, eyes lidded and heart pounding violently in my chest with my rising awareness of her.

  Her scent of flowers surrounded me when she crawled over my thighs, straddling my waist. Tymanon was already nude. She had no shame when it came to her body. I was glad of it. Humans could be so very prudish, and though my female appeared as one of them, in her heart she was very much a centaur. Biting the corner of her lip, she twined her fingers through the tips of my hair.

  I sighed, leaning into her touch like a man dying.

  “I hope she finds him,” she murmured sweetly, even as her hands began a sensuous caress of my muscle.

  I swallowed hard, blood rushed through my veins, filling my cock, making me hard and desperate and manic for a taste of her.

  The second we’d returned to Gnósi, the desires that had been so dulled in Time suddenly roared to life with a quickness and fierceness that stole my breath. I wet my lips, keeping my hands firmly on the ground. If I touched her now, I would lose what little control I possessed. The rising tide of my satyr’s wild desires rose high within me. I wanted to bite her, wanted to suckle her and shove so far deep inside her that she cried out in ecstasy just shy of pain.

  Not bad pain, no. The good kind that left you weak, left you gasping and panting and sobbing, but that also made you glow, made you feel alive and powerful.

  But only a nymph could handle that level of intimacy with a satyr. I would frighten Ty with the ferocity of my desires. So I clamped down on my back teeth and sat perfectly still, letting her do to me whatever she willed.

  “I... I do too, álogo.”

  She smirked, and I should have known what she was about to do, but the moment her tiny hands grabbed hold of my horns, a powerful shudder ripped through me, punching me through the gut, making me jerk and cry out with desperate need.

  I shoved my fingers into the dirt, clinging tight to the roots of grass, telling myself not to unleash on her. Not with her.

  I would figure out some way to cage my needs and still keep myself and my álogo satisfied. But even as I thought it, the heat continued to gather and build deep within me. The need to sing through my horns gripped me with punishing force, causing me to break out in a wash of sweat. My muscles were rigid, tense.

  She paused, frowning at me as she leaned back. “Petra? Have I hurt you?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Gods, no. But I couldn’t speak. I was terrified that if I moved even an inch, I would give in to the mating call and take her in a way she would not enjoy, would not want.

  The thought of ever hurting my beloved sent cold chills down my body.

  I shook my head.

  The glide of her fingertips on my lightly-bearded cheek created a maelstrom of emotions within me. I bit my tongue hard, hoping the pain would help dull the sex magic curling like a ball of white-hot flame through me, demanding to be released, demanding I let it go.

  Making love to Tymanon was the single best thing I’d ever done in my life, and so far, I’d managed to keep things tender and sweet. But I’d been so long without her touch that I was a hair trigger away from complete and total lack of control.

  “Your eyes burn like fire.” She cocked her head even as her fingers continued to sweep up and down my cheek.

  I gasped. I couldn’t do this tonight. I wouldn’t be able to control myself, not with her. I would take care of myself. Release just enough of the energy so that I could touch her without fear of harming her.

  “I... I... Tymanon, you must get off my lap now,” I said, voice guttural and harsher than I’d intended.

  She blinked before looking down at my cock, then back up at my face, and nodded. “I believe I know what this is, Petra.”

  My nostrils flared, and I curled my fingers even harder into the stiff, unyielding, stony dirt. My skin felt on fire. The ball of magic trapped inside of me had grown so that I felt consumed by it, ready to scream out in agony from holding it all in.

  “I read about this in my books.” She smiled, and despite my pain, I managed to grunt out a passable chuckle.

  “I’m sure.”

  “No. I have. This is your sex magic. This is what a satyr truly is, am I right?” She peered at me from beneath her lashes, looking all lovely and soft and frustratingly wise.

  I grunted.

  “If you unleash this magic upon me, Petra, what will happen?”

  She’d stopped curling her fingers through my hair, but still she sat on me, tempting me with her slick heat, making my head dizzy with thoughts of her and I twined together, crying out as we reached our peak as one.

  Forcing myself to breathe, I focused just long enough to answer her question. “It’s a type of madness that overcomes my kind, passion that can sometimes border on pain.”

  She frowned, and my heart twisted violently.

  “And the nymphs... they like this violence?”

  I opened my mouth, snapped it shut, opened it again. But words had completely left me. What was I supposed to say to that? Yes. They loved it, begged for it, sometimes even cried for it.

  It sounded terrible, dark and foreboding. But in truth, it was anything but that. It was consensual, a giving and a taking that both our kinds needed.

  “Tymanon, you are not built for this. I do not wish to hurt you. I only want you to be fulfilled, satisfied.”

  She thinned her lips. “But you need this, do you not?”

  My nostrils flared. “No. No. I... I don’t.”

  “You lie.” She glowered at me. “I can satisfy you just as well as your nymphs.”

  I shook my head. “You do, my heart. You do. I love what we do. It is perfect for me. You are perfect for me.”

  Amber eyes thinned to fine slits. Before I even knew what she was about, her hands snaked out and her fingers latched onto my nipples. Without warning, she twisted violently.

  It caused me to cry out, to bow into her touch, to shudder from a brilliant burst of pain followed closely by a trembling shudder of pleasure.

  “Don’t... don’t,” I grunted, even as my body moved toward her of its own volition, begging silently for more. “You don’t know—”

  “Oh, but I do. I do know, and I want this. I want you. You think satyrs are the only ones in all of Kingdom to mate violently? You think a centaur doesn’t grab hold of my flesh with his large teeth and bite down to the point of drawing blood?”

  I gasped, my cock starting to leak as I envisioned myself doing just that to her, envisioned myself hearing her scream and cry out for me as she begged for more and more.

  She smirked. “I may never have enjoyed that violent form of mating before, Petra, but I suddenly find myself intensely curious about the prospect of doing it with you. Smack my arse.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. My palm tingled and burned with the need to do it. But I was scared, terrified out of my wits that she wouldn’t like it, that I would be lost in the act and she would plead with me to stop. What if I couldn’t stop? What if I was too weak to stop?

  I grimaced, bearing down on my molars as I ground them back and forth. “You don’t know—”

  “Stop telling me what I do and do not know or want. I want this. I want you. Now sing for me beast, and make me yours in every possible way.”

  With an inarticulate cry, the magic poured out of me in a sharp burst. Song pierced the heavens from my h
orns. Instantly her body turned pliant, supple, and a long, low moan reverberated in her chest. A look of such sensual beauty stole over her already lovely features, turning her into something mythical and enchanting.

  I was on her then, shoving her down to the ground, keeping one hand behind her head to bear the brunt of the impact. But all she did was laugh that tinkling, lovely, bell-like sound that shivered over my skin like bursts of electricity.

  “If you say stop, I promise, my álogo, I promise I will stop. I vow it to you.”

  Molten eyes gazed up at me with unflinching adoration. “I will never say stop.”

  A hungry moan tore from my lips, and then I leaned down and bit her flesh right above her heart, not enough to break the skin—I would never do that to her—but enough to leave my mark upon her.

  She gasped, but she did not push me away. Instead she circled her arms around my neck and pulled me in tighter. Her legs cradled me, and I could no longer contain myself. I slid into her welcoming heat, pumping in and out as I pinched, bit, and even smacked her arse when we’d twist and turn so that I could reach.

  It was enough to make her cry out, to turn her pale skin a blooming shade of angry red. But Tymanon was no shrinking violent. She gave as good as she took. Clawing at my chest, she even drew faint beads of blood, and I shook, spasming beneath her touch, amazed and enraptured at the ferocity of her lovemaking.

  I never knew my Ty could be like this, would want this kind of passionate lovemaking.

  Somehow we’d rolled over, and I was now lying flat on the ground and she atop me, writhing and undulating above me, gorgeous breasts swaying hypnotically in front of me as I pinched her nipples hard enough to make her cry out with shuddery sobs. Our bodies were coated in sweat. My song filled the night. Jasmine bloomed all around us.

  The sky danced with the light of a million stars and I knew the memory of this night would remain with me forever, the night I finally let myself go with her, the night my centauress surprised me yet again by accepting me as I truly was.

  No nymph had ever made me feel this whole, this perfect. No nymph had ever owned me heart and soul, as my Ty did.

  Again her nails scored my flesh, and I could no longer hold on. With one final thrust of my hips, I poured my seed deep within her, wishing for just a moment that she and I could bear children someday, wishing we too could create life. But we were not of the same species, we could never create anything other than the cries and magic that now filled the night.

  But it was enough.

  She was enough.

  With one last shriek, Tymanon went stiff upon me, and I felt the flutters of her orgasm convulse around me, keeping me stiff and in delicious agony all throughout the night.

  It was several hours later when we finally cuddled, content just to remain in one another’s arms and dream about our future together.

  “When this is all over, where will we go?”

  She turned, looking up at me with a bright, contented smile as she ran her finger over my bottom lip. I loved her. With all my soul, I loved her.

  “Where would you like to go?” she asked, eyes shining back at me.

  I shrugged. “I do not care. Wherever you want to go. Libraries.”

  “Libraries?” she giggled, sounding carefree and effervescent, and I couldn’t help but grin.

  I loved this side of her, this open and tender side only I would ever get to see or know. To the rest of the world, Tymanon might seem reticent or even shy. But she wasn’t, not at all. My woman simply saw the world through a different set of lenses.

  She was so very special to me.

  I picked up a curl of her hair and rubbed it between my fingers. I loved the softness of it, loved watching her comb it out faithfully every night, loved knowing that for the rest of our long lives, I would get to watch her do it again and again and again.

  Tomorrow we were free.

  “You love your books. I would take you to all the libraries of all the realms and watch you read to your hearts delight all the rest of my long days, so long as I’m with you.”

  “And this is why—” she whispered, leaning up until her mouth grazed mine “—I love you so, my gída.”

  She kissed me, and my toes curled. I would never, ever have enough of her. Not now. Not ever. This female had become my sole addiction in life—having her, pleasing her, seeing her smile all the rest of her days.

  “And your sister?” she asked.

  I froze because I had forgotten. In all the time we’d spent together, the years we’d spent inside the labyrinth of time, the pain of Myra had, shamefully, become a distant memory. How could I have forgotten her so easily? How could I have thought Tymanon and I would have forever? To free Myra, I would have to swap places with her. I sucked in a sharp breath, hurting to the very depth of my core.

  “Ty,” I choked out.

  “Shh. Shh.” She smiled softly, brushing her fingers over my chest. “I’ve figured it out. I solved the riddle, my love.”

  I blinked. “What?” She couldn’t possibly mean it the way I thought she did. Freeing Myra wasn’t a riddle. It was black and white. There were no other options.

  She smiled. “I had plenty of time to solve your problem, my love. Tomorrow, she will be free, and you will be happy again.”

  I smiled, even as ice skated down my spine, turning me cold, making my head suddenly ache. “You mean we will be happy? Us? Right?”

  Joy radiated through her face as she whispered, “Yes, my love. We will be happy again. Now sleep and dream about the new life you’ll have.”

  Tymanon would never lie to me.

  She hugged me close, humming softly beneath her breath. But sleep eluded me for many hours that night.

  Chapter 18

  Tymanon

  Awake, I sat up, causing the cool sheet draped over Petra and me to gather on my lap. Pouting, he reached out for me even in his sleep, and I grinned as I patted his hand. There were no more boundaries between us.

  Smiling to myself, I moved my hand once he’d finally settled back down. I rubbed at my arms and winced when I ran over a tender area. Glancing down, I noticed I was covered in bruises. My heart leapt in my chest, rattling the bones of my ribcage at his marks.

  I’d thought I’d known what making love was. But I’d known nothing. What Petra had shown me last night, no male of my herd could have equaled. For so long, my gída had felt inferior, but he’d been so very wrong.

  Petra had saved me, in more ways than one. He’d opened my eyes to the reality that there was far more to learn in this world than just what could be found between the pages of a book. I was complete now, knowing not just intellectually what love meant, but able to feel it too, to understand it to the very root of me.

  There was now only one thing left to do.

  When you loved something, you didn’t stifle it. You let it grow. You let it fly in the hopes that it would choose to stay by your side forever, and not just because it had been caged and conditioned to do so. Today, I would choose to let Petra fly.

  Our journey had begun only days ago and yet it felt like years to us both. I trusted him in a way I trusted no other. My sacrifice would be for him alone. And deep down, I believed that someday he’d find me again, because what we had wasn’t just words. It was truth.

  It was real.

  But this was the only way.

  Leaning over, I ran my nose lightly along the scruff of his cheek. I’d studied this face for two incredible long years. Each day, my love grew stronger, deeper, and fuller.

  Hearing the stories of his Myra, I felt as though I knew her too and the tragedy her loss had been for him, the way it’d changed him so deeply.

  He needed her back to be whole. The only way he could truly choose to be with me would be for him to have an actual choice in the matter. Selfishly, I wanted Petra to choose us, but I would never fault him if he didn’t. The love of a sibling was a powerful emotion. If he chose to remain with her, I would understand. I undertook this
sacrifice willingly.

  Gently kissing his cheek, I inhaled his scent of man and wild spring clover one last time, filling my heart and mind full of him, taking this memory so deep inside me nothing and no one could ever strip it from me.

  “Antío zoí mou, I agápi mou, I kardiá mou.” Farewell my life, my love, my heart, I said in the old tongue, hoping that subconsciously, he would always remember it was love for him that made me do what I was going to do.

  Sensing Lachesis’ return before she’d ever said a word, I stood and turned.

  She stood behind me, alone as before.

  “Two years I left you in that realm, Tymanon.” She held up her fingers. “Two years. Why did that time not change your mind?”

  I cocked my head. “Do you not wish me to remain always in Gnósi with you? I should think you’d want that. I know how keenly you desire my intellect be part of your challenges.”

  She held up her hands. “Do not misunderstand me, centauress, queen of nothing, for I keenly wish your skills to forever remain a part of my games. But it is rare in life when I encounter someone I cannot fix my eye on. I suppose that in the end, I expected you to reconsider.”

  I chuckled softly, glancing over at my still-sleeping Petra. Lachesis would keep him so until I’d departed. It wounded to me to know I might never hear his voice again, that this could possibly be the last time I ever saw him. But she was wise to keep him sleeping, for if he awoke and asked me to stay. I would, though I knew I shouldn’t. I would always be weak for my satyr.

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve reconsidered, telling myself over and over that it wouldn’t matter to him, that so much time has passed for us now that he’d rather die than lose me.”

  “Then why persist?” she asked softly.

  I looked back at her, at her milky-white eyes studying me so intently, and I shrugged. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I swore an oath to him that I would do whatever I could to bring her back to him.”

  “He would release you of that vow now, Tymanon. Surely you know this?”