The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(25)

“I’ve been there before, Ty—”

“Yes, and you’ve also failed.”

I clamped down on my back teeth, glaring furiously at her. Heart pounding with adrenaline and an emotion I did not particularly enjoy.

Humiliation.

Glancing toward me, she held up her hand. “Do not for a moment believe that I think you incapable, Petra.”

I scoffed. “Oh, no? Then what would you call this? Do you not trust me, Ty? Is my word nothing compared to that of another centaur’s? Another male’s, perhaps?”

Shock painted scrawling lines across her pretty face as she stepped back. “Do you honestly believe your words? I’d thought you rather smarter than that, my friend.”

Trembling at the sound of raw hurt in her words, I wanted to kick myself. This was not me, this odious, spiteful, jealous beast. That was exactly the emotion chipping away loudest at me.

I was bloody jealous.

So damn jealous at the thought of another male prancing around her that it made my hackles rise, had me seeing red. It was wrong of me, because Tymanon wasn’t one of my nymphs. She wasn’t mine at all.

I closed my eyes.

“Forgive me, álogo.” My voice cracked on that word and I winced, hating myself even more. “I fear I am full of anxiety for what comes next. And you are right, I did fail my trial. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“No, Petra, I will always hear you. But I am who I am, and I cannot change that for anyone. I do not believe in running blindly into anything. I must count all costs first and try as hard as I can to be prepared for whatever comes. If there is the possibility of us learning anything from them, then I say one night’s delay is worth it. Don’t you?”

Clamping onto her lower lip with her blunt front teeth, she looked tense, as if internally debating with herself before finally sighing and gently placing her hand over mine, squeezing only once. Yet, even when she let me go, I still felt the pulse of her beat against my flesh, the heat of her touch, and the strength in her callused fingertips from years of shooting a bow.

I was used to the softness of a nymph’s hands. Never having known a day of work in their lives, they were soft everywhere. I’d always thought there was nothing better, but now I knew how wrong I was.

Tymanon wasn’t just my companion on this journey. Somewhere along the way, she’d become my everything—my sun, my moon, and my stars. I ached for Myra in a way I never had before because I had been so very wrong about her.

Deep-seated shame filled me along with confusion, fear, all of it. I did not want to need Tymanon in this way, and yet the thought of any other male touching her as I wished to do filled me with a sort of manic desperation that I did not understand or fully know how to handle.

Sex I understood on a visceral level. But this... this was altogether foreign territory for me.

“Tymanon.” My voice was a heated burr. “I do not think I can go with you. I will camp here tonight and meet up with you in the morning. Learn all you can, álogo. I will not stop you.”

A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and when she looked at me, I felt myself grow dizzy. All her emotions played through her pretty amber eyes.

Tymanon looked at me like I was a puzzle or a curiosity, like I was something she couldn’t understand and yet desperately wanted to. No one had ever looked at me like she did. She didn’t just see me. She saw all of me, the good parts and the ugly ones too.

Last night, when she’d spoken to me of a satyr’s needs being paramount to who they were as a person, I hadn’t felt the censure I had coming from others before her. Satyrs were often the butt of jokes in Kingdom, and usually we just shrugged it off, because often the jokes were steeped in truth. But I had changed. From the moment I’d discovered Myra’s fate, I was lost and honestly, a little afraid of what this might mean.

But being with Tymanon made me feel grounded again, peaceful. She made me feel not so scared anymore, not so confused.

So I didn’t think when I stepped toward her and brushed my knuckles down the petal soft skin of her cheekbones. Didn’t pause when she sucked in a sharp breath, looking at me with something like terror in her eyes. I moved closer to her. She was taller than me in this form, but not by much. Leaning up, I stopped thinking completely, and simply did what I knew I should never do with her.

I kissed her.

It wasn’t a frenzied, sensual kiss that promised more lust-filled delights come night. There was no tongue, no biting or nipping, no wet sucking noises filling the space between us.

This wasn’t lust consuming me right now. It was so much more, so much deeper. I framed her lovely face between my large, heavy palms and breathed my soul into her.

When I pulled away, she wasn’t the only one trembling. I was too, every inch of me. That one touch of her soft lips had done more for me than a night between a nymph’s thighs. My breathing was harsh, loud, and abrasive to my own ears. I was scared of what she’d say, or wouldn’t say.

Tymanon stared at me, her fingers had covered her mouth and she was gently toying with her bottom lip. She swallowed hard, hooves nervously prancing back as she continued to stare at me like she didn’t know me at all.

I should never have done that. Gods above, what had I been thinking? Sick to my stomach, and feeling like I needed to get away from her, I shot her a crooked grin.

“Sorry. Guess I’m still just a satyr after all.” Then I laughed. The sound was loud and obnoxious, and I hated myself. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.