Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) (5 page)

Kyme, it would appear, did not like being refused. As he shifted around to check on her, his previously obedient shaft went into full revolt, hardening. She lay draped across his bed like a vestal offering, her pretty pink sex bared for his keen admiration. Her fingers stroked the sheets, providing him a vision of them stroking something else.

Gods, had he ever beheld a female so beautiful? A gentleman would look away.

Hell, that wasn’t him anymore, so he stared. Absorbed every detail, every curve of her sensuous body. Her smooth hairless skin was like cream poured onto his crimson sheets. Toned legs and arms, a flat belly, and her breasts… Through the thin fabric, their rosy tips teased him. His palms itched to cup their weight. He fought the urge to climb into the bed and bury himself deep inside her.
I could give her such pleasure.

No.
He clenched his fists. Her heavy-lidded eyes were not caused by any true desire for him. She was in a state of delirium. Taking advantage of her was wrong.

Kyme must remain a virgin. Or his sister would rot in hell forever. He refused to let that happen. He couldn’t fail Lena again.
Must have air.
With shaking hands, Arsenius closed the door behind him and locked it. No one was getting in or out.

Certainly not him.

***

The ship rocked back and forth. Back and forth. It should have sent her stomach reeling. The motion had nauseated her for the past, what? Two, three days? At this moment, the rocking didn’t bother her. Perhaps she’d grown those sea legs.

Kyme wrinkled her nose, trying to recall something, anything, about the time that had passed. Her memory was a delightful blur of colors, fuzzy as clouds, and she didn’t recall anything, except the slaver had cared for her. Her skin flushed while she reminisced about him, the hard planes of his chest, his arms wrapped safely around her.

Why was she wearing her tunic, and why was it clean? Her stomach clenched. No. She shook the tension from her body. She was secure in the knowledge that he required her virtue intact.

This heavy pit in her stomach resulted from the augmenting fear that she was growing weak—and it had nothing to do with her powers. Her revenge, which consisted of slicing Arsenius’s throat, was becoming less appealing.

Damn, when had she agreed to consider him by his name? Logic told her to call him slaver. Keep him inhuman and never make this personal.

Oh, why had he nursed her? He should have let her shrivel up on the floor and suffer. Now she was indebted to him. She was a warrior. Honor mattered to her. Could she in good conscience murder someone who had taken such gentle pains with her? “His plans for you have not altered. Do not be weak,” she muttered as she stabbed her feet into her boots.

Weakness is what men expect of women
, her godmother had declared.
However, it is women who should rule. We can do it all—birth children, hunt, fight. And men? In the darkest places of their hearts is the realization they will forever need us. They are terrified of our power. Never show them weakness. Be their nightmare. Be a proud Amazon.

Right. Kyme fortified her heart as she adjusted her belted ivory tunic and refastened the clasp at her shoulder. From the moment they were born, Amazon daughters were warriors. She’d never longed to be held or kissed.

I’ll be damned if I allow a few caresses with the slaver nullify a lifetime of training.
She had a mission to complete, sisters to protect.

After rising, she used the washbasin to clean. She desperately craved a bath, but not more than she detested the concept of asking for one and the price it would fetch. Now that they were at sea, freshwater was no doubt a luxury.

If a bath was out of the question, fresh air would prove second best. She decided to venture outside of the captain’s cabin. Her curiosity prodded at her. If she was to be held captive upon a ship, at least she ought to have the freedom to explore.

She didn’t fear any of the men on board. Still, she searched the cabinet and tucked a thin blade on the inside of her boot. The Moon was slowly fattening up, but unless she absorbed the Moonlight directly, her powers would not recharge. Hence the dagger.

Pausing at the door, she twisted the knob. It did not give way. Locked. The bastard. What did he surmise? That she would dive overboard and swim to shore? However tempting, the seas often changed without warning. Not to mention the sharks.

It didn’t matter. She would melt the lock. After whispering a prayer, her hands glowed a soft amber. The metal lock heated to an iridescent reddish-orange and then melted in a liquid pool of freedom. After blowing on it to cool, she twisted the knob and made her escape.

Chapter 5

Kyme ducked and prayed no eyes strayed in her direction as she slipped out of the cabin. She would begin her search with the cook. The slaver had sedated her, but with what and for how long? Questions she preferred not to ask her captor. Mayhap the cook wouldn’t answer her, but Amazons had methods of persuasion. She smiled. Like her knife.

The galley would be below, so she wound down the stairs and past several lads scrubbing the deck. She spotted a ladder inside a hatch and descended, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The air was stale so she breathed through her mouth to avoid taking it in. She’d entered the wrong compartment. This was not the cook’s galley, neither was it the sailors’ sleeping quarters. This was the cargo hold. On a slave ship, the cargo was just that—slaves.

Blinking, she peered into the darkness. The captives in these cages were of divine blood. Descendants. Not one of them was human. Indeed, any human unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of this cargo hold might die from the shock. An unspoken agreement existed between divine creatures that most humans in this time were not to be made aware of their continued existence. Humans had a new god—Science, and a new source of worship—Intellect. The old gods were forgotten, but they would not simply disappear. No, they would never fade away.

The slaver had been busy. In one iron cage, she counted at least half a dozen mischievous gnome-like sprites called Kobaloi. In another, a pair of metallic man-eating birds sacred to Ares known as Stymphalian Birds. And in the far corner, a Kourai Khryseai—a golden maiden forged by Hephaestus. Others rattled in their cages, in the far areas of the hold, places she deemed unnecessary to explore.

No wonder the slaver locked her in his quarters. She was by far the most valuable captive on board.

Kyme eyed the creatures warily. Some snapped at her through the bars of their cages. Others appeared passive. For the moment at least. Who would buy such beasts? For what purpose? Biting her lower lip, she frowned and veered to search for another path into the vessel’s underbelly.

A hand clamped down on her shoulders. “A little lost, aren’t you?” The rich, masculine voice resonated in the wooden chamber.

She jolted and twisted but the grasp was firm. Hands itching for her knife, she relented. She would cooperate, for now. “Yes, I’m actually searching for the galley.”

“Other side, rear of the ship. Does Arsenius know you’re out?”

Her silence gave him the answer.

“What might you be wanting with our Cook? You’re not hungry, are you? And just how did you break that lock?”

Hungry? Sure. “Yes, but I have a very special diet, so I deemed it best to consult with the cook myself. And I…melted the lock.”

The male let out a low whistle. “Not going to make the captain happy.” He chuckled. “I like you, female. Stick with me. I’ll take you to Cook. Name’s Thereus, by the way.”

He released her and as she spun to greet her new “friend,” her breath caught in her throat.

A centaur stood before her. If the Amazons chose to mate with one race instead of the Gargareans, it would be the centaurs. Amazons loved horses. They were the first to tame horses and to ride them. Centaurs and Amazons shared a special kinship. They were both brutal warriors, both independent and refusing to conform to societal standards. In the case of the centaurs, this often meant intoxication and brawling.

She immediately returned his grin and the affinity between them filled the tight confines of the ship’s cargo hold.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m Kyme.” She extended her hand, which he gallantly kissed.

“Arsenius warned you’d be a handful, but he didn’t wager you’d wander.” Thereus sent her a friendly wink.

“The captain should know better than to cage an Amazon.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

He offered her a warm, effortless grin. “I agree.”

She assessed her potential ally. Centaurs had the upper body of a man, joined at the waist with the body of a horse. His horse half consisted of a massive black stallion, sleek and muscular. His human half was no less intimidating, from the leather vest he wore over his bare, muscled chest, to his piercing emerald gaze. His easy demeanor made her overlook how powerful he was—until she noticed the dark glint in his eyes. Centaurs were as unpredictable as Amazons, and just as deadly.

One of the creatures, a despicable Lamia, rattled the bars of her cell. The vampiric succubus shrieked, “They’re coming!”

Kyme frowned. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t know, don’t want to.” He shrugged. “She’s been hollering like that for the past week.” He swept out his arm for her to follow him.

Somehow, that massive centaur managed to nimbly—and silently—climb the ladder onto the main deck.
How curious.
She scooted up behind him and trailed him across the ship. Ignoring the occasional stares of the crew, she marched proudly, shoulders back and face forward. Criminals they might be, none would sense fear rolling off her.

They descended another set of stairs and he led her through a narrow passageway. Her eyes strained against the dusky lighting, and she wrinkled her nose at the foul stench of the dozens of men living on board. Apparently, not every divine creature worshiped hygiene as much as she.

Halfway down the corridor they turned a corner. Thereus opened the heavy wooden doors and held them aside for her. “I’ll return for you after I replace that lock.” The mischief in his eyes told her he’d keep her escape their secret.

She strode into the small galley and spotted a male hunched above a large cauldron. Cook was not what she expected, though she assumed so many arms would be advantageous to such an occupation. He was one of the Gegenees, a race of giants with six arms. Standing eight or nine feet tall, three of his hands wielded knives that were busy chopping vegetables on a side table as he prepared the crew’s meal. The other three stirred and sampled the contents of whatever liquid bubbled in the cauldron. The herbal concoction thankfully vanquished the rank stench of men.

She stole a quick glance at the door to confirm the centaur’s absence. “Hello.”

His jolted at her presence, then his gaze traveled over her in a long, appreciative leer. “Why, hello to you as well. What can I do for you, milady—?”

“Kyme.”

“Kyme,” he grunted.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. His proliferation of limbs wasn’t the only thing making her stomach squirm. He was sweaty, pudgy and no doubt the patch over his left eye hid the fact that it was missing. Still, she managed to return his smile.

“I wonder if you might tell me what goes into your ‘seasickness cure.’ I’ve had the benefit of enjoying its effects for the past few days and I’m curious.” She leaned in closer and purred, “It is truly genius.”

Cook mopped his forehead as he cleared his throat. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Males were so predictable, no matter their species. A little flattery and he melted in her hands. She smirked inwardly. Already she’d acquired a second ally on this ship.

His chest puffed. “Ginger, mint, and of course, my own brand of laudanum. There’s no better way to pass the time.” He winked at her. “Though if you’re feeling better, we might find other amusements to occupy ourselves on this long journey.”

Ugh
. He didn’t even have the decency to turn around as he used one of his hands to adjust himself.

Laudanum, a mixture of liquor and opium.
That bastard slaver.
Her vow included not only chastity, but an abstinence from all things impure. She didn’t consume liquor or opiates, or perform any act in excess, except for mayhap bloodshed. Such was the purpose of her powers anyway. Remain pure and be a powerful weapon for Artemis.

Kyme liked her existence. She had a purpose, a family, and way of life to protect. What her goddess asked of her was a small price to pay in exchange for the honor of being an Amazon. For the privilege and responsibility of her gift. Studying her hands, she recalled how she’d melted the slaver’s lock. Surely, if Artemis was angry about her consumption of the opium, she would have stripped her powers. Wringing her fingers, she hoped that was the case.

She refocused on Cook. “
Mmm
… I’d love to spend time with a male of your obvious talents, but I’m afraid the captain wouldn’t approve. I’m something of a special cargo—”

Shouting cut off the song and rhythm of the sailors. Something was happening on deck and the high-pitched tone of the clamor told her it wasn’t pleasant.