Free Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) by Rachael Slate Page A

welled inside her as she snatched the open bottle from the platter and poured him a drink. She shoved the mug in front of him, spilling a few drops on his pristine ivory shirt.
    “Forgive me. Master .” She exaggerated the word, her mocking smile matching her tone.
    He narrowed his eyes but released her wrist. In one gulp, he consumed the foul liquid, slammed the cup down, and demanded a refill. “Damn fine stuff, as usual, Borasco.”
    “My pleasure.” The Wind Borne quirked his lips.
    Damn them both.
    Kyme continued to fill his mug, until the bottle was nearly empty. Still he appeared unaffected. The slaver held his liquor well.
    Just how well would he hold it once she sliced open his gut?
    ***
    From above the rim of his cup, Arsenius skimmed the room until he encountered sapphire eyes. Seraphina shook her head, a movement so slight it was almost imperceptible. Bloody hell. Sera was the daughter of Apollo, the sun god. If anything happened within reach of the sun’s rays, Apollo and Seraphina would be aware. Which meant his sister was secured in a place without sunlight.
    Sera was the sole mercenary he trusted to help locate his sister. Like him, she chose her targets with care, as he’d learned when he’d first met her. They’d been sent after the same mark, but had managed to work together, forging a mutual respect.
    He fell into a deep conversation with a descendant of Hermes on his right, Dolios. They discussed the slave market, the challenges of hiding it from the humans, the declining price of certain breeds. Dolios asked him how he’d acquired Kyme, but Arsenius wasn’t sharing.
    “I do have a mission you might be interested in.” Dolios lowered his voice. “I’ve acquired a particularly sensitive assignment and no one here is willing to take the risk. That doesn’t seem to be an issue for you.” He jerked his chin in Kyme’s direction.
    “I’m listening.” Arsenius leaned back as he downed yet another shot of rum. His plan was working brilliantly. Before she started too heavily with the hero associations, like Thereus had, she needed a healthy dose of the real Arsenius. Of the hard, ugly reality of his existence. After all, he wasn’t any bloody Achilles.
    When she’d regarded him in the Aegean, he almost believed he could be.
    Today’s nefarious activities were a necessity for both of them. Damn, but he should have taken a whore. In the room next to her.
    He’d suspected Kyme would hate this place—the liquor, opiates, smoke, slaves, fornicating, all of it. Viewing real slaves—and being counted amongst them—seemed to be lashing her as unyielding as a whip. He’d made sure to consume even more rum than his usual, hoping she found it repulsive.
    The next part would only get better.
    “It’s a minotaur.” Dolios paused.
    “I’m still listening,” Arsenius replied dryly, not betraying his true interest. He’d love to add a minotaur to his collection.
    “I knew you’d be the one.” The male grinned and lifted his glass in a toast. “As I was saying, a minotaur has breached its covenant. The people of Krete are going mad. The King is outright infuriated. They’d prefer it taken care of. Quietly.”
    “Not a problem.”
    “The King will pay you handsomely, of course.”
    Arsenius shrugged the notion of payment off as inconsequential. It was. “Where on the Isle was the beast last seen?”
    Dolios handed him a parchment containing the coordinates.
    “I’ll set sail tonight.”
    “That’s it?” The male cocked his head. “You don’t have any other questions?”
    “Just one.” He leaned in with a wicked grin. “You want it alive or dead?” Dolios swallowed thickly. Oh, aye, the man feared him. Rightfully so.
    “A-Al…” The male fingered his collar. “Alive, I suppose, since the King wishes to execute him. I-If you can,” he added.
    Arsenius shot him a smirk that asserted, I can do anything.
    Borasco, that bastard, rose and the room grew silent. “Gentlemen,