Rhoetus backed off Minthe, kneeling alongside her legs. Where had such sentiment arisen? She wasn’t his mate. He couldn’t offer her vows. Once she learned of his plans, she’d be glad to have been rid of him. There was no future where they could be together.

Yet, something deep within him wished to mend her. There was so much suffering in his world. He couldn’t bear the idea there was just as much in hers.

She was right. He owed his people every ounce of his persistence. The past couldn’t be altered, but the future could.

Determined, he stretched across Minthe, trailing his hands along her curves, to the fullness of her breasts, and down to the heat between her thighs. “Close your eyes, love, and surrender to me.”

Inhaling sharply, she complied, and her body melted at his contact. He slipped his hands beneath her skirts, skimming them upward along her toned legs, to the silk he’d not paid justice to last time.

She bucked at his caress, but he calmed her with gentle murmurs, raising her skirts to bare her to him. Then he braced above her and lowered his face, gliding his tongue across her flesh.

“What are you—” She tensed, squirming—and strengthening his resolve.

“That no one has ever answered your question is a travesty, nymph. One I’m going to remedy. Easy now, and let me show you.” Resting his head on her thigh, he drew delicate circles with his tongue across her bud, making it swell and bloom. She softened, relaxing into his touch, and he bent to suckle her once more. This time, she didn’t protest, instead, her moans grew deeper, her panting shallower. Aye, she craved this.

“See everything you’ve been missing.” He slid his fingers into her tight heat, thrusting them in and out in time to his roaming tongue.

She grew oh-so-wet and tense, writhing sensuously. Until finally, she crashed against him, exchanging her low moans for airy cries.

Slowly, he stopped his efforts, leaning back to smirk at her flushed cheeks.

“Forgive me, I, ah…” Her blush brightened and she gripped her skirts to shove them down, but he stayed her hands.

“Nothing to forgive, and I’d be remiss if there was.”

She stuttered so he grinned to reassure her. Reclining, he palmed his length, stretching so eagerly beneath his breeches. He wanted her, badly, aye, but for the first time, he hesitated. For the first time, he viewed a bedmate as something more than a method to ease his urges. He experienced an affinity with this female. Something about her made him yearn to confess everything. That was disastrous.

Clearing his throat, he grasped for her hand instead, and dragged her to perch next to him. “I like you, nymph. Perhaps more than I should. We’ve been gone a long time. I suggest we return to Thessaly before we’re missed.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her features but quickly cleared. “You’re right, of course. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Nay, it is I who should thank you. You’ve brought me much clarity, Minthe.” He edged forward and kissed the top of her head. “Much clarity, indeed.”

As he transported them back to Thessaly, the burden of what he must do sank like a boulder inside his gut. There was but one path before him.

Without intending to, Minthe had revealed to him what it was.

* * *

Last week, Minthe’s mother made a surprise entrance at Great Meteoron. Minthe had been aiding the displaced nymphs in the courtyard when her mother suddenly appeared. Their reunion had been brief, as Ekho had been whisked away by Petraeus.

Still, the encounter left Minthe uneasy. Something had saddened her mother. Minthe had put on a brave face so as not to worry Ekho further about her concerns. In truth, she didn’t know what to do about Rhoetus. Had they made progress or not? It was so difficult to tell when he kept changing their game.

This week, the nymphs had kept her busy. So many of them had lost their permanent homes, but she couldn’t grasp how hard this must be for them. She’d never known a thing like belonging to one particular place. Which might be why she was having trouble aiding Rhoetus. He wanted nothing more than to restore his homeland to his people. Once he did, he wouldn’t ever have any use for her again.

He would be out of her life. Forgotten.

Mayhap, it was better this way.

The entire week, Great Meteoron had been abuzz with dramatic events. Including the heir to the throne, Hector, being thrown in the dungeon after succumbing to the lyssa, a madness that assaulted any centaur who attempted to escape the bonding.

The union between mates. One destined by the Fates themselves, unbreakable.

Rhoetus had never behaved like those bonded centaurs did. Not like the sons of Cheiron who’d found their true mates. Of course, he wasn’t hers.

She ought to be comforted by the reality, yet somewhere in her soul, she cherished the notion of belonging with someone. Of having a love so pure no one could destroy it.

Delia, Hector’s mate, had shown him just that. She’d risked everything to restore him, and she’d succeeded. They’re so fortunate to have each other.

Today, the leaders had gathered in the great hall to meet with Queen Hippolyta III of the Amazons. A formidable leader who left a trail of cowering enemies in her wake.

Rhoetus had kept his distance in the back of the crowd while they discussed the fate of the Lapith Queen.

Although nymphs were incapable of violence, Minthe couldn’t help a smile at the notion of justice. The Lapith Queen was as guilty of imprisoning the nymphs as King Philaeus was.

On her way out, the Amazon Queen paused before Rhoetus. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Lord Rhoetus, of Krete, my Queen.” He gave a grand bow and straightened. “This is Minthe of the Asteriae.”

“A pleasure.” The Queen’s sly lips curved. She assessed them both with her cool grey gaze, and nodded. “I have business with someone on Krete. Perhaps you would accompany me there? I could use the aid of someone who knows those lands.”

“I would, milady,” he slanted his stare toward Minthe, “but at the moment I have pressing plans which cannot be postponed.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” She smirked and nodded slightly. “Farewell to you, Lord Rhoetus. May we meet again.”

“What was that about?” Minthe whispered once the Queen had sauntered out of view.

“I know not. Bloody hell, what business do the Amazons have on Krete?” He fisted his hands at his sides, and something shifted in his stance.

Minthe feared, not for the better. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, love, nothing at all.”

Hmm. Nothing sure sounded a hell of a lot like everything.

* * *

It had to be now. Rhoetus straightened his shoulders, accepting his fate. The centaurs were on edge. Pretty soon, they would secure this castle and any chance he had for success would be gone. He probably should have acted when Hector, the presumed heir, had gone mad, but something in him had hesitated. Hard to pinpoint what, but the most likely cause was cowardice. He grimaced, hating himself for his weakness.

This past week, he’d been fortifying his strategy, and his plan was iron-clad. He had the entire castle and all the patterns of its guards memorized.

King Cheiron had yet to offer him that promised audience. Which was for the better. This castle was in complete chaos from an ominous war with the Lapiths hanging over their heads. Cheiron would never spare his army for Krete. Not when he had his own war to fight.

The time had come to enact his true purpose here. Rhoetus couldn’t give them any more reason to suspect him than he already had. Besides, he couldn’t be anywhere near Minthe any longer. Every second he spent in her presence only made the yearnings within him stir deeper. Her compassionate heart and saucy spirit held him entranced, and distancing himself from her was like pulling a blade through his flesh. Yet the agony of doing so was necessary. The less Minthe knew, the safer she would be. His betrayal must be a shock to everyone, including her. Or they’d never deem she wasn’t a part of it. He might not care for his reputation, but he couldn’t bear to have hers tarnished as well.

She was simply too precious to him.

Rhoetus nursed his mug of ale and swigged the last drops. As night fell across the castle, he took a few moments to reflect in his chamber. This was inevitable. This was the plan. His brothers had sanctioned it. They’d be expecting his success. If he returned a failure, he’d never have their respect again.

No time for sentiment. Despite what he’d come to conclude of the Thessaly centaurs, this must be done.

For the good of my people. For our future.

Sighing, Rhoetus transformed into the Aether. The guards outside the King’s chamber were easy enough to slip past. In the in-between realm, none could detect him. He was free to move about, as stealthy as a shadow on the wall. Still, he made certain to knock them unconscious so as not to be disturbed.

After, he floated inside the chamber, to where the King rested. Gods. This was an unforgivable act, but he had never planned on redemption anyway. Not for himself. Only for his people. Everything was for them.

Thessaly had an enormous army. Legions of soldiers bound to obey their King.

Soon, that person would be Rhoetus.

He gripped the dagger’s hilt and crept toward the head of the bed, then gazed down upon the slumbering sovereign. Cheiron had led a long, fulfilled life. His death would have great meaning. Once Rhoetus claimed Cheiron’s throne, the centaur army would be his. They’d be enough to vanquish King Minos and the minotaurs from Krete. Forever.

One small act would ensure all this.

He breathed in and out. He’d killed before, enemies who’d threatened his people. Damn, but he’d never hesitated then.

Cheiron wasn’t an enemy, per say, but he wasn’t an ally, either. He’d stood by, withholding aid, while hundreds of his kin had been murdered. Surely, that was a crime worth punishing.

How many times had Rhoetus and his brothers reposed about a fire, grumbling about the transgressions of their brethren in Thessaly?

Suddenly, the King’s eyes shot open, those grey depths at first confused, but understanding crossed them.

Gods, can he see me?

Rhoetus swallowed hard, but this wasn’t the time to succumb to cowardice.

The King arose, in his human form, stepping from his bed, and knelt. “I have been expecting you.” He lowered his head. “Do what you must.”

So he does see me. Rhoetus released his breath and emerged from the Aether, moving behind the King. “You know why I’m here.”

“Aye. I knew it from the moment you arrived.” Cheiron raised his head and straightened his shoulders. “I failed you, Rhoetus. I failed all of you. I heard whispers of what had happened in Krete, but I chose to ignore them. I chose not to believe them. I was consumed by grief, over the loss of my son, Thereus, and my wife. Truth be told, I was filled with anger over the departure of our kin, for abandoning their own. My father shared stories of the centaurs of Krete, and none of them favorable.”

Rhoetus whistled low, a lightness of vindication washing over him. “You knew.” It was true. The resentment his family had suffered this past century, it wasn’t without cause, without justification.

Cheiron did deserve his fate. He’d just admitted it.

Yet why did the blade in his palm seem to burn his flesh in protest?

* * *

Minthe awoke with a choked breath in her lungs. Something was wrong. Rhoetus had strayed from his true path. She felt it in every fiber of her being.

Where was he?

She opened her hands like a book, illuminating them with her powers. Employing the starlight, she found him, in the most unlikely of places. The King’s bedchamber? Sweet gods, what was going on?

After hastening down the hall, she halted outside of the chambers. The guards were unconscious, crumpled on the floor, and the door to the chamber made no noise as she snuck inside.

Voices droned from within. The calm murmuring of the King. A tense grumbling like Rhoetus.

“Aye. I knew, and I did nothing. If you have come to claim vengeance, it is yours,” Cheiron intoned, sounding resigned yet firm.

Vengeance? She held her breath and stole closer to peek at them. The King knelt on the floor in his nightshirt, while Rhoetus paced, tossing his head. “You were tried at our Council and deemed guilty. Your admission only strengthens my resolve. I have no choice in this, and for that, I am regretful. We might have had a great alliance, my kin and yours.”

“Do as you must. I have accepted my fate.”

Cheiron bowed his head, and the glint of metal flashed in Rhoetus’s palm. A sword? No, a dagger. Meant to kill.

The King.

Minthe couldn’t hide any longer. She rushed forward. “Please, no.”

Rhoetus whipped his perusal to her, such pitiful resignation within those pools, which then widened in disgrace, and the dagger in his hand clanked to the floor. “Minthe?”

He glanced from the dagger, to the King, and back to her. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

“Please don’t do this. It isn’t your true path.”

“What in the bloody hell would you know about that?” he snarled. “All you’ve done your whole life is run from yours.”

His words cut her and she stumbled, bracing against the wall for support. “That’s not true. When I saw where you were, I ran to you, Rhoetus. To you.”

“Why in Hades would you do that?” A shimmering blue breeze rushed past him. His forehead furrowed, a cry snarled from his lips, and he grasped his left arm, grimacing in pain.

Ekho’s breeze of persuasion? What was her mother up to? She gaped at him, then blinked. The strain on his face as he gripped his arm… Sweet gods, she’d been around enough centaurs to know that could only mean one thing. Rhoetus was her mate.

“Mate?” He gazed at her, such anguish in his expression. Haltingly, he seized one step toward her.

The glint of his dagger caught her eye and she shook her head. “Don’t you ever call me that. I want nothing to do with you, you blackguard.”

“Damn it all,” he snapped, rearing. “Everything I touch is cursed.” Then he disappeared, vanishing into the Aether.

Minthe stared after him, in shock and dismay, and hurt beyond reason. He’d used her, this entire time, to get close enough to the King to murder him.

“Are you well, my dear?” The King arose, striding to her side. She ought to be the one consoling him. He’d almost been executed, after all.

Still, she shivered and broke into tears.

“No, I’m not,” she whispered. “I doubt I ever will be again.”

* * *

He was a bloody failure. Mayhap, this plan had been doomed from the beginning. Rhoetus snarled and pounded his fist into a tree. The anguish on Minthe’s face.

It would haunt him for the rest of his existence. The utter betrayal. The hurt, the anger, the disappointment. He hadn’t realized how badly it would sting.

Or how much he actually cared about her good opinion. Nay, how much he cared for her. I love her. More than just his mate. She’d claimed his hearts.

In her presence, he hadn’t been able to fulfill his mission. Instead, he’d retreated like a damned coward.

Well, she was lost to him forever now. Who knew why Ekho had persuaded him to forget their bond? Or why she’d compelled him to remember, in that moment? Bloody nymph. He snorted and slammed his other fist into the tree, smashing his knuckles. Even the pain stinging across his hand didn’t comfort him. The hurt in his hearts was far worse. Those cuts would mend. His hearts wouldn’t.

He’d carry this wound for the rest of his life.

Cheiron had been ready to lay down his life and surrender his kingdom. Why? Did the old centaur truly carry that much guilt?

Doesn’t mean we’d been wrong about him. In fact, they’d been far too right.

Not that it mattered anymore. By this time, news of Rhoetus’s treachery would have spread. All of Thessaly would be searching for him. An attempt on the King’s life was enough to mean the surrender of his own.

Have to catch me first. He sneered, punching the tree again. They never would. Because he never intended to face any of them again. Not Cheiron. Not Minthe. Certainly not anyone else from Thessaly.

If they ever stepped foot on Krete, he’d make sure they regretted it. This was his land. His home.

They wouldn’t help him, so he’d find another way to reclaim it.

By the gods, such was the only hope he had left to cling to.

Rhoetus sank onto a boulder and nursed his cuts, wrapping bandages around his fists. Better to let these heal. One never knew when one might require one’s fists.