Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) (15 page)

Thereus was partially correct. Kyme might be his mate, but she would never be his. Although Ares would never permit him a family, Arsenius wouldn’t discount his sadistic father from allowing him to half-bond to Kyme. There truly wasn’t any greater torture than an incomplete bond.

Well, perhaps a mate who was a virginal devotee to Artemis? What a perfect torment. Arsenius would never bed another female, and he wouldn’t ever have her, either.

He’d found his ambrosia and she would always remain just out of reach.

He grinned as Kyme maneuvered the high rigging. Brave Amazon. If only she wasn’t so damn tantalizing at every turn. The female wasn’t fearless, but gods, she tried to be. She was a fast learner, memorizing knots better than half his men.

As much as he’d love to watch her today, he’d delegated her training to another because he had business to attend. He slipped the key from his pocket and opened a cabin on the lower deck. It was time to review the ledgers and divide the spoils.

Though it was his right, he never claimed his full third share. He had no interest in building an empire of wealth. That world was in his past. He took what he required and delegated the remainder of his share to Thereus, though the centaur hated it. One couldn’t buy loyalty like Thereus’s, though Arsenius would damn well try.

After he checked everything, he delegated the task to his quartermaster. On cue, his “officers” sauntered into the room. He nodded to each as they strode inside: Thereus, his quartermaster; Castor, the pilot; Nestor, his boatswain; the master gunner Venn; the carpenter; surgeon; and Cook. The rest of the crew would receive their share after this meeting.

Each of these roughly-hewn males possessed their share of scars, both inward and out. Every single one of them was able to kill a man with his bare hands. At some point, each had. Though he didn’t trust any of them with his life, save Thereus, he also didn’t doubt their loyalty to each other, to the
Adrasteia
, and to him. It was as good as a pyrate crew could be.

The Lamiae ship had been an unexpected tidbit. The men’s spirits were always lightened by such spoils. They’d gotten the opportunity to slash and stab some miscreations, and they’d gotten paid for it. As Captain, it was paramount to keep his crew happy.

A happy crew was a loyal crew.

***

Hours later, Arsenius twisted the doorknob of his cabin. He hungered for a glimpse of Kyme, even though his gut told him to stay away. He stepped inside but the cabin was empty. Growling, he stalked back outside. He might permit her to roam free during daylight, but the sun had set and the men would be eating, drinking, and no doubt gambling away their pay. Unwise to dangle an alluring virgin in front of them.

He stomped down the stairs and wound through the corridors until he caught Kyme’s exotic scent, leading directly to the Mess. His chest rumbled as he stalked toward the far side, where Kyme was seated with an assortment of unsavory characters—his crew. Among them, Demetrius and Thereus. Jealousy tugged at his control. The centaur taught her a game of cards and they laughed together like old comrades.

“Here you are, lass.” Cook handed Kyme a goblet. Oh, bloody hell, no. He scowled. Kyme wasn’t actually going to drink that, was she? She couldn’t possibly be so ignorant, so naïve? The men around her lifted their cups in a toast, and she brought the rim of her goblet to her mouth. He sprinted across the room in time to snatch the cup before the liquid reached her lips.

Fire lit in her eyes. “What, Arsenius?” She rose, hands on her hips.

He set the goblet on the table. “Do you know what that is,
Amazone
?”

She crossed her arms. “Of course I do. Cook told me on long journeys the water turns stale, so they add spices and lime juice to it.” She rose on her toes to whisper, “I do not wish for special treatment, Arsenius. Regard me as you would any other member of your crew.” Huffing at him, she swiped the cup, drew it to her lips, and gulped the liquid inside.

He scowled at her stubbornness. Damn. He’d already witnessed how she’d responded to Cook’s “seasickness cure” and he might not be able to resist temptation strutting in front of him.

“Never trust a pyrate, Kyme.” Arsenius glared at Thereus, who at least had the decency to frown in guilt.

He smirked at her, unsure whether this was a true victory, but next time she might not behave so brazenly to defy him. “Aye, stale water, spices, and
rum
.” He emphasized the last word, grinning with satisfaction as her eyes widened. She clapped her hand over her mouth and coughed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath, hoping to draw in patience as well. “It’s too late,
Amazone
, unless you wish me to help you vomit.”

At his offer, she pressed her lips firmly together, her cheeks already flushed from the warmth of the liquor. She wavered on her feet. Damn. He cast a warning scowl in Cook’s direction, but the scoundrel had already slunk off. There’d be time to reaffirm Kyme as his territory later.

He snared Kyme and tossed her over his shoulder, hoping mayhap she would expel the toxic liquid. As she pounded her fists into his back, his only regret was that in this position, her plush bottom was close enough for him to nuzzle, and his hand was dangerously near the velvety softness between her thighs.

Arsenius closed the cabin door with his foot, crossed the room, and dumped Kyme on the bed. “Wash and get some rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow.” He cast her a quick nod and strode to the weapons cabinet. His hands unsteady, he unbuttoned his shirt, shucked it, and hung the garment on the cabinet door. He tensed as Kyme removed her boots, slipped off the bed, and treaded to the washbasin. Out of habit, he extracted the daggers hidden along his body. Water splashed behind him. Clenching his jaw, he did his best not to imagine those droplets of water cascading down her creamy throat, in between her full breasts.

Arsenius bowed his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Closing his eyes made the images worse. What was taking her so bloody long? At last, the splashing stopped. A cloth rustled and footsteps padded toward the cabinet where he kept his clothes. He crouched and unsheathed the daggers from his boots. Behind him, the rustle of cloth crumpling to the floor resonated through him as loud as thunder.

Gods, she was naked behind him, wasn’t she? As he stole a glimpse, his hair fell into his eyes and obscured most of the view, but not enough. He caught the graceful outline of her form as she eased up on her tiptoes and drew out one of his shirts. The plump curves of her bottom begged for him to knead his fingers into that soft flesh, perhaps his teeth to steal a lover’s nip. His cock hardened in his breeches, making them uncomfortably tight.

Look away, look away.
At length, he pulled his eyes forward. Breathed steadily in and out. Staggered to his feet. Squinting down, he viewed his hands grasping his weapons. What was he doing, disarming? He bloody well wasn’t going to stay the night in here, not with Kyme possibly intoxicated and definitely uninhibited. After shoving the dagger into his boot, he grabbed for his shirt. He’d sleep somewhere else tonight.

Two smooth as silk hands glided across his back and he froze. Kyme’s ambrosial scent blasted him as she pressed her cheek against his spine. Her hands leisurely skimmed up and trailed back down. He was about to command her to go to bed but a searing heat blazed across his skin.

Her lips.

He ground his jaw. Somehow, he’d seize the strength to stop her.

Her fingertip traced a lash line across his back. He still bore the sting of each one. As her lips fell upon them, the burn of her kiss was an entirely different caliber of heat. Of torture.

None of his lovers had ever displayed tenderness toward his scars. Females in general were repulsed, as much by his scars as by how he’d gotten them.

Not Kyme.

His heart shifted inside his chest, and cracked. He hung his head in defeat. He didn’t possess the strength to stop her from touching him. She sighed into him, her lips caressing his skin and her hands gliding around his waist. As she held him, her actions spoke more clearly than any words.

After a few moments, her hands trailed upward, rolling across the muscles of his chest. He lifted his head.
Tell her to stop.
As he twisted around, she maintained her tight hold on his chest. “Kyme, go get some rest.”

Her sweet pink tongue flicked out and licked her bottom lip. His groin tightened once more. He placed his hands on her arms and plucked her off.

She perused him from beneath her thick lashes. “I thought we had an arrangement?” The corner of her mouth curved.

He shuddered, almost forgetting why he couldn’t seduce her. “I can’t. We can’t…” He pointed to her chest. “You’re intoxicated.”

She stuck out her bottom lip in a flirtatious pout. “No, I’m not. I barely tasted the rum. See?” As though to prove her argument, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. Her breath was sweet, with the slightest traces of nutmeg and rum. Pushing off him, she teetered on her feet and smirked.

He edged aside and studied her. The voice in his head claimed she wasn’t intoxicated, but he didn’t dare trust it. She’d never had a drop of the stuff in her existence, who knew how it would affect her?

Even worse, he might not be strong enough to resist an Amazon when she had her sights set…

On me.

Chapter 14

Kyme peered into those far too serious, glowering eyes and laughed. “I’m not intoxicated, not with liquor.”

Nor was she about to be refused. Her goddess had permitted them to kiss before, and so long as she remained a virgin, she could indulge in Arsenius’s seduction.

His throat bobbed while he swallowed thickly. Was he as consumed by wanting as she? “I’ll pay you instead.” He crossed his arms over his expansive chest.

“What would I do with gold, Arsenius?” She planted one hand on her hip.

“Even so, I was wrong about our arrangement.” He huffed. “I cannot risk the frenzy again.”

Ah, so that was where his fear lay. “Your frenzy does not frighten me, youngling.” She smirked at him. “You forget, I am a warrior. I assure you, I have fought worse.”

“None like my frenzy, you haven’t.”

Huffing, she used her fingers to count. “A cyclops, a gorgon, a hydra, a herd of—”

“On your own?” He lifted a brow.

“Of course on my own.” She scowled. “Many before you were even born.”

He lowered his head, his eyes still clouded with wariness. “As have I, in my frenzy, and I decimated them all.”

Toying with her shirt, she slid the top two buttons free. “You underestimate me, Arsenius. An unwise move.” As she took another step forward, he seized one back.

She regarded the massive swell of his erection straining against his breeches. His resistance was merely for her benefit. But she’d never been so free. She had her goddess’s permission, she had no fears of him bonding to her, and they were both fiercely attracted to one another. It was perfect. Everything she’d ever longed to experience she could. With Arsenius.

He backed to the desk. She placed her hand above his heart. His pulse raced, just as hers did. Desire darkened his eyes, any objection disintegrating.

Kyme stretched on her toes to reach his shoulders and undid the leather thong binding his thick black hair, burying her hands in the shoulder-length silk. Bending forward, she brushed the tips of her fingers along his throat. His skin was smooth, thicker than hers. Like armor covering that chiseled muscle.

“What do I have to do to convince you I am acting of a clear mind?” She arched her brow. “Taste me again and let me prove there is no liquor on my breath.
Hmm
?”

His hand shot out to grasp her throat, and he drew her close enough to inhale against her mouth. “Very well, say I believe you,
Amazone
, what course of action do you propose?”

As he released her, she lowered her lips to press against the base of his throat and flicked out her tongue. The salt of his skin tantalized her and his male scent flooded her nostrils. Her lips feathered lower and she lapped her tongue across his nipple. He threw his head back and stifled a groan. His hands at his sides, he leaned back and clenched the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles paled.

“I want to pleasure you.”

His gaze whipped to hers, so full of lust it caught her breath. Growling, he bent forward to claim her lips. As he thrust his tongue against hers, he drew her closer.

Their hands crushed together, shoving down his breeches. He kicked off his boots, and hauled her onto his lap as he sank onto the top of the desk. After wrenching their lips apart, his unsteady hand wrapped hers and he led their hands down his body.

Her gaze lingered on the wicked intent inside those dark charcoal depths. Their hands skimmed his hip, and she glanced down, purring in approval. His shaft was thick, straight, and large enough to overfill both her hands. She wet her lips and sighed at his brawny arms, broad shoulders, and rippling abdomen. A male this flawlessly sculpted was indeed perfectly proportionate everywhere.