Remedy Maker (11 page)

To a Centaur, nothing could be construed more demeaning than to allow oneself to become a beast of burden. Used as a teaching tool, mares told these horror stories to little colts, dire warnings should they decide to break Her Majesty’s laws.

“Piss off, Alek. Patience is exhausted. She can barely stand. Maybe one day when you meet a female of quality, you’ll sing a different tune.” Rhy’s hand reached back and held onto her thigh. “Hang on, baby. Let’s see if Alek can keep up with
us
this time.”

Patience wrapped her arms around Rhy’s torso when he set off in a rocking-horse canter. His tail swayed with the motion, waving good-bye. In a final act of rebellion, the asshole purposely dug his hooves into the loose soil and flung it out behind him.

Alek shook leaves from his hair and spat dirt from his mouth. “Yeah, well piss on you too.”

I did have someone . . . once.

Anger mixed with sadness, the heaviness in his chest grew. When duty called and he had walked out of Pennelope’s life, his heart nearly ripped in two. A young colt of fifty summers, he had survived, just as she had, and a painful lesson learned. There would never be room in his soldier’s life for love and attachment.

Alek jumped the gurgling creek, landing on the opposite muddy bank. By the light of the moon, he followed Rhy’s hoof prints leading to a sycamore tree. It was not as large as the other hardwoods nearby, but the leafy canopy reached for the stars nonetheless.

“Well, this is it. Home, sweet home.” Patience patted the light colored bark with affection.

“Uh, Patience?” Rhy’s perplexed look matched Alek’s sense of unease. “How do Alek and I …” Alek searched the back of the tree and looked for a trap door . . . or an entryway.
Anything
.

Other than finding a buried root with the tip of his toe, access to the interior cropped up nil.

“Simple. We shimmer.”

Whoa, wait a minute
. Alek poked his head back around the tree. “We what?” Surely, he had heard wrong.

“I can take you both in, long as I hold onto you during the fade. Once we’re inside, you’ll be fine. It’s the only way in.”

Her innocent smile held no guile, but Alek wasn’t buying it. “Nothing personal, but I think I’ll bed down out here.” He unwrapped the crossbow from his body and propped the weapon against the tree. No way, no how, would he project himself into that tree.

Not no, but
fuck
no.

“Have you shimmered anyone inside with you before?” Rhycious asked, letting his gaze climb up the tree.

“Well, no . . . but I’ve brought birds and bunnies inside with me. It’s the same thing.”

Rhy let out a sigh and shifted toward Alek. “You sure you’ll be all right out here?”

“You sure you want to shimmer inside a tree?”

“Good point.” Rhy moved closer to Patience. “Lead the way.”

Alek dropped his travel bag on the ground, and slumped down next to it. He’d seen the aftermath of some stomach emptying acts of torture during the Centaur-Nymph war. Equine bodies protruded from tree trunks, half shimmered to die suffering. Their legs twitching, or shrieking in agony, whichever half mounted the bark wall like a hunter’s trophy. If his people were lucky, it was only an arm or leg caught. Amputation freed the unlucky prisoner. More often than not, however, fortune had forsaken the Centaurs to die a painful death.

As careful as Patience would be in shimmering Rhycious into her home, there was an off chance her hold on him could break. It would deliver his best friend to the fate of the damned.

He knew it, and Rhycious knew it.

Alex scraped a hand through his short hair, feeling the growth since his last cut. How his mind had stayed intact and Rhycious’s had fractured, he didn’t know. He’d known the man before his shattering. The one who stood before him today was one-third the original, levelheaded Centaur he’d once been. Rhycious had performed surgical procedures with a steady hand in the midst of battle, while soldiers on both sides fell around him.

“I’ll have some food out to you in a little while, Alek.” Patience threaded her fingers through Rhy’s and smiled into his eyes. “Ready?”

With his free hand, Rhycious scraped his hair out of his eyes and nodded before shooting a glance at him.

Alek gave him a salute.

Patience’s body glowed and lit up her hands that covered Rhy’s in a tight grip. The brightness grew, her inner spark intensified, brightening the ground and tree like a lantern. Radiance traveled up Rhy’s arm and split to encompass his whole body.
Did the gods look like that too—all aglow and beautiful?

Aleksander squinted from the dazzling brilliance, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

Rhycious gazed down at his blazing body, and then smiled at Patience. Their bodies vibrated, like the paint can shaker at the hardware store, causing the outline to distort and fade.

 And just like that,
poof
, they were gone.

*    *    *

Flames of light flickered across Rhy’s body. The feather-tickle sensation skimmed along his hide and made his skin twitch in stimulated reaction, as if he chased off a fly. Wind howling through the tree boughs blocked Alek’s voice. But in true mythological magic, there wasn’t a breath that blew across him, or lifted his tail in a breeze.

He stood weightless, suspended by the bright lights that engulfed them, illuminating their secluded world within its globe. An after-a-rainstorm fragrance filled his senses, her scent, concentrated in an explosion of aroma. Rhy breathed it in deeply, absorbing it into his pores and cells. He wanted to hold it close to him for all time.

To remember her when it came time to let her go.

Flashes of topaz broke in to disrupt the pure white that had fallen over them. Moments later, the brightness faded with a soft atmospheric pop. Rhycious grinned at Patience and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before releasing them.

He scanned the new surroundings in awe. Pale gold wallpaper in a filigree design covered her walls. A bold striped rug lay next to inlayed flagstone.

 “This is some room.” Careful not to knock anything over with his tail, he turned a complete circle. He found the interior design extraordinary, and crown molding unique. “More space than I thought, now that I’m in here.” When he faced her again, he asked, “Have I shrunk?”

Her weak laugh trickled out and she turned away from him. “No, goofball. Think of it as a different reality plane. The tree is solid through the core, but Wood Nymphs live within the recipient tree’s spirit. Our souls are tight with them here.” She moved past a burl coffee table in an abstract shape, the top besieged with fashion magazines. When she reached the step leading into her kitchen, she paused with her hand on the wall. “That’s why when the tap-root tree of our essence is cut down . . . .”

The Nymph within dies as well.
He nodded with solemn understanding.

“My digs aren’t all that, but it’s pimp to me.” Patience puttered around in the back of the kitchen, out of sight. “Check it out if you want, I don’t mind. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s fine. Thanks.”

Cupboards opened and closed, a pan rattled on her stove. “What? No wine or beer? I thought Centaurs love the puke-fuel.”

“Not this Centaur.” He laughed. “Hey, can I help you in there? Why don’t you let me cook while you sit and rest.”

She tsked at him. “Thank you, but no. I can manage. My body rejuvenates when I’m inside my taproot tree. I feel better already, but I need some food and full night of snooze.” Her soft steps padded across the cooking space, and back again. “Besides, there isn’t a whole lot of room to maneuver in here. My living space was designed for one person.”

Yeah, Rhy understood the square footage of single space living.

Against the wall, opposite where the magazines lay scattered, an unusual cream-colored sofa slung in an inviting style. Rippled with puffed horizontal stuffing, the form reminded him of a giant cupped hand. Once back in his two-legged form, he’d like to test it out with Patience. Smiling at the thought, he shrugged off the backpack and tossed it to the cushions.

Sycamore leaf-shaped wall sconces threw flickering shadows deep into corners. The radiant glow must feed from a natural piped-in source, such as tree sap. Low mood lighting meshed with a comfortable atmosphere, and stress of the last forty-eight hours drained out of him, as if someone had pulled the stopper.

“You have a great couch.” Rhy ran his hand over the soft, supple leather. Tempted to reenact an earlier scene, he’d have a happy ending this time.

She handed him a glass of water. “It’s a one-of-a-kind, made by a Nymph crofter.”

Patience ducked into the kitchen before he could reach out and kiss her. Chopping ensued, followed by sizzle. The smell of garlic and other delicious smells wafted out, one-step above him. Pinching its protest of emptiness, his stomach let out a huge growl. Wisps teased his nose, leading his hooves to clop across the flagstone when he followed the aromatic trail.

And stopped in his tracks.

Top of the stairs. Dead ahead.

Bedroom.

If fireworks exploded overhead with the pops and fizzles of a shooting star, he wouldn’t have noticed. Through the door, a wood bed hung suspended from ropes attached to the ceiling.

Like a fucking massive swing.
Gods
,
please don’t let me get a full-blown woody right now
. Oh, the moves to dream up on a dangling bed  . . . .

He cleared his throat. “Hey, whatever you’re cooking in there smells great.”

Rhy glanced at his watch, praying for a daybreak hours away. The twinge south of his belly had nothing to do with food this time.

“Hope you’ll like it,” she said. “I’m throwing stuff together in a stir-fry.”

He propped his front hooves on the top stair and peered in at Patience. She’d pinned her long hair up in a messy bun, chopsticks sticking out at odd angles. Loose tendrils hung on either side of her beautiful face, the curls bouncing while she worked her knife. Off to the side, his screwdriver she had used in her hair lay on the counter.

The long, elegant slope of her neck bent as she performed her task. Like a stark tattoo, the tree bark imprint stood out. He waited for the familiar burn of disgust to roil through him. When he’d last studied her mark with Samuel at his side, hateful memories had spewed forth and slugged him in the gut.

 Staring at her markings now, it wasn’t revulsion that rose to the surface. Neither were there reminders of his traumatic past. What he felt now was deeper, stronger. All consuming.

Lust.

Patience piled a dinner plate high with food and grabbed a fork. “Think Alek would like a beer?”

Famine of a different sort curled his stomach, cramping his abs. He had waited years and years for a mate to come into his life. Then feared it wouldn’t happen—sick with thinking of what he’d do when she finally did.

And in those centuries of solitude, he’d never guessed she would come in the form of a dream-quality pixie.

His enemy for two hundred years.

The fact staggered him, and shook him to the core.

“I’m sure he’d appre—” A wave of dizziness blindsided him, and he teetered on his hooves. It was a good thing his four legs were holding him up; he would have gone down standing on two.

“Rhycious? Whoa, dude.” Patience grabbed his arm with one hand and held the full plate in the other. “Dear Bacchus, you’re pale. Here, sit down and chill.”

He did as he was told, right where he stood.

Holy mythic gods.
When had he fallen for her? It’d been two days for crying out loud.

Why couldn’t she have been some Minotaur with oozing sores on her face? The timing for their budding relationship was worse than lousy. His orders from Queen Savella were now in progress. The Spring Equinox would take place in two short weeks. And the search for Patience’s wayward sister had yet to begin.

If she’d come into his life a few months from now, they might have had a chance.

A cool hand brushed hair off his forehead, out of his eyes. “Rhycious? Here, maybe you need this plate of food. I’ll make another for Alek.”

He took the offered plate. “I feel like a fucking idiot. Thought I was going to pass out.” Embarrassment turned a slow eddy inside him, anger reaching to crawl out.

Breathe in to a count of ten. Breathe out with pursed lips to a count of fifteen. Rhy performed his breathing exercises twice more to keep the PTSD at bay. If he were claustrophobic, the confined space inside her tree would have set off his emergency alarms.

“Highly unlikely. You went too long without food and your sugar level dropped or something. And stop baggin’ on yourself like that.”

“
Gamóto, polytima.
I suppose you’re right.”
More like I scared the crap out of myself.

“I’ve got the goods on passing out.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Now tell me if you’re through being
funkdafied
so I can fix Alek a plate.”

“I’m good.”

Her glance took him in with a single sweep. “I’ll second that,” she winked. “Eat while I hit the kitchen again. You need anything?”

“You.”

Color bloomed in her cheeks. She ducked her head and returned to the kitchen. Rhycious caught the sway of her hips, and the desire to take her from behind kicked in gear. Need stole over him, made him grit his teeth, and settled in a warm flurry between his legs. When she came back from shimmering outside, he wanted to taste her this time. He couldn’t get enough.

Giving that Nymph pleasure would be the first addiction he’d permit himself to have.

Patience crossed the living room with another full plate of food, tousling his hair in passing. Her body held lines of fatigue, but her eyes seemed brighter.

“Be right back, stud muffin.” She glowed bright for a second, and then disappeared with an air pressure pop.

Rhy picked up his fork and dug in. With each mouthful of delicious hot food, he chastised himself for his mental weakness. He should be ashamed and hide in his cabin.