Definitely, something to think about later.
Much later.
Whether or not Ella had anything to do with the group of demoralized mythics remain to be seen. Meanwhile, he looked forward to getting to know the prickly Troll better. Easy on the eyes, soft as silk on his senses. Her words may be barbed, but he’d heard worse in the ranks.
“Thanks again, Al. See you later.” Ella had turned down the steep path for home.
Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers caught the waist of her overlarge sweats, and he dragged her back to him. Damn, he didn’t want to let her go. Rebel spy or not, he had to see her again. Espionage had never appealed to him, until now. Alek wrapped one hand around her waist, the other plunged deep into her hair at the back of her head.
A slight tug down and her chin lifted, lips parted, eyes half closed.
“I’ll see you later, Sweet-thing. You can count on it.”
Kiss me, kiss me. Heat scalded his body, as if the summer sun were directly above. Much like his own heart, hers beat with an unsteady rhythm. His little Troll was a gravitation field that drew him right in, and there was no fighting it.
Aleksander made no excuses or apologies. He didn’t ask—he took. His lips sealed to hers and he plundered her mouth in true Centaur style. For over two centuries, thousands of females had sighed over his expert kisses, and he made damn sure he rocked Ella’s world from standstill to full racing gallop in under two seconds.
A whimper brushed past her lips. She lifted on her toes to better his access, then dropped the heavy bags to wrap her arms around his neck.
Arousal hit them hard.
Gods, she wanted this as much as he did.
His tongue swept against hers, her body became pure sensation in his arms. Frustrated he couldn’t feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressed to his chest through the layers of protective gear, Alek set about to ravish her mouth. To curl her toes, and set her body on fire—
“Ella?”A discombobulated voice shot out of the dark. “I sense you’re out there. Where are you? Do you know what time it is?”
Aleksander reluctantly released Ella’s soft lips. Hyperaware that she stood so close, a sheet of paper wouldn’t have fit between them.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” It took Alek a moment to come out of the sensual haze brought on by Ella’s kiss. He gave a quiet laugh that held no humor and ran a hand through his short damp hair. “Who the hell is that?”
Below, an older, medium-built Troll swung her body into view from behind the largest boulder with astonishing speed. In her robe-clad form she squinted into the darkness, adjusting her Troll senses like antennae to pinpoint their location.
He and Ella could never catch a break, he thought. Each time the moment heated between them.... Hermes, the god of shits and giggles, must be bored on Mount Olympus.
“I’m right here, Mother,” Ella answered, her voice terse. She unwound her arms from his neck and slid them slowly down his chest. “I better go.”
“Who are you talking to?” her mother called out.
Ella sighed, then bent to retrieve her scattered bags. She shouldered the load and flashed him a quick look of discomfort. “Do you understand now, why I want to move far, far away?”
Hell, timing was everything—and theirs was bad. There could be no permanent relationship between them, but if he kept an eye on Ella, she might lead him to more rebels. Possibly the kingpin he'd been looking for.
Could he gain her trust?
Better yet, could he trust himself?
Ten
Even wearing men’s clothes ten sizes too large, Eli recognized Ella’s petite form when she appeared across the river on the trailhead… she wasn’t alone. Next to his sister, with larger-than-life presence, stood Kempor Aleksander.
And didn’t that just rock his world?
From his vantage point on the hillside above the family nest, Eli propped a heel behind him and leaned back. The rock digging into his butt was hard and unforgiving; it matched the disposition of the older female Troll beside him.
Her slender white neck curved as she used the glowing cherry of her herbal smoke to draw tracers in the dark around the Centaur guard in the distance. “Who’s that with Kempor Aleksander?”
“My sister, Ella.”
“Why is she with him?”
“Good question.” Eli stared with gritted teeth through the cover of trees at the embracing couple. “She’s making a huge mistake.”
“How long have they been dating?” Elegant fingers brought the cigarette to her lips, and she pulled a slow drag. Multiple bracelets slid down her arm and jangled softly together.
“I think they just met. Ella opened the new speed-dating service, and the Kempor was in it tonight—like he of all mythics would need it.”
“Hmm, interesting.” Smoke blew in an easy stream from her pursed lips, catching the cool night breeze that, in turn, drifted across his face.
Protected under the trees from the drizzle, they watched the playboy hit on his sister. Ella didn’t seem to mind.
Upwind, the entwined couple had no idea their actions were observed.
“Is it true he avoids relationships like he would the trots?” Eli asked.
Two fingers held the hand rolled cigarette, as her lips tightened around it. She drew on the end, let the smoke linger in her mouth a moment, then inhaled. Air currents caressed the cigarette’s tip and caused the ember to glow between drags.
“In all the years I’ve known him, he only had one serious affair. And that one dumped him for something better.”
Eli pushed away from the boulder, away from scents of burning clove, and peered down at his family’s rock. His mother stood out front, shouting for Ella. Gods, how embarrassing. Glancing up the opposite hillside, he saw Kempor Aleksander drop his cupped hands from Ella’s face.
Soft footsteps drew next to Eli. His companion’s fingernails lightly scratched his back, bangles dancing musically. “Don’t worry about her. If there’s one thing I know, Aleksander won’t stick around for long.” The hair at his collar received the same massage treatment. “Come over here, Eli. I want to talk business before I leave.”
He followed his contact back to the rock and watched her fluff out the skirt beneath a belt that defined her small waist. He crossed his arms, widened his stance, then waited for her to continue.
“There’s chatter in Boronda of rebel movement. Heard any of it?”
“The Minotaur I befriended hinted a few things tonight. He would’ve said more if things hadn’t gone south.”
Bracelets sliding in a musical clatter, she clamped the short smoke between her lips. Her hands became busy, pulling a small silver case from the voluminous folds of her skirt, and she spoke around the cigarette, “What happened?”
“Phranq took an interest in Ella at the café. When we left, he bull-handled her and the Kempor took exception to that. We had to leave before they got into it.”
“Damn.”
Her pointed Troll ears twitched with the sounds of the night. Nobody knew how old his contact was, but Eli guessed at least three centuries. If she were older than that, she held her age well.
He waited while she removed a fresh cigarette.
She lit the end with the red tip of the old, and tossed the used butt into a puddle. Taking a drag, she turned to him and asked, “Carryyn couldn’t distract Alek?”
“No. He didn’t want anything to do with her.” Hell, Eli couldn’t blame the man. Even hard up, few would get it on with a Minotaur—not to say he hadn’t before.
Movement in the shadows across the stream caught his sharp Troll eyes. The Kempor watched Ella make her way down the foot trail until she dissolved beneath their granite rock. What in the hell did she have in those bags she carried everywhere?
Between the trees in the dim moonlight, the guard weaved his way along the trail, headed toward the palace. His huge muscular torso twisted between the towering elms, making room for the bre
adth of his shoulders to pass, before his hind end disappeared from view.
Standing next to Eli, his underground contact stared at the black space where the Kempor had stood moments before. The cigarette between her fingers, seemingly forgotten, the dangling ash long. Wisps of reddish hair framed her oval face. Her inscrutable expression was unnerving.
Eli touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
A melancholy frown flitted across her features. Then, she smiled, smoothly betraying nothing of her inner thoughts. “I’ll meet you again, in two days at the regular appointed time.”
He nodded and leaned back on the rock. “May I have your name? Something to call you by?”
She lifted her hand to tousle her damp curls, and another flutter of bouncing bracelets erupted. “Yes, now that I know you’re trustworthy. Call me…Pennelope.”
“Be careful out there, Pennelope.”
She rewarded him with a slow, secret smile.
One, he wouldn’t claim to understand.
“I always am.”
*~*~*
Aleksander jogged his hooves toward the palace, hoping to arrive five minutes early for his meeting with Colonel Petros. Air swirled, the pressure changed. A glance toward the sky revealed a small clearing. Bright stars sparkled in the clean, crisp night.
Above his tail, a tickle grew and crept up his spine. The sensation used his vertebrae like ladder rungs, climbing to reach his withers. A magnetic pull of the moon, combined with the time and season he was born, Alek’s need to change form drew near.
He pressed the button on the side of his watch to blink the light and read the time. Two minutes until shape shift—and he wouldn’t make the meeting on time. Damn.
A spot under an aged oak proved fairly dry. Alek knelt onto his front legs, then dropped his rear-end on the ground, taking care to not lie on his tail. It hurt like a kick to the crotch if the long hairs were stuck under his flanks when his tail retracted.
Alek unwrapped the nylon strap from his torso and unzipped the hit and run bag. Reaching back, he scratched his itchy withers. While his spine shrank, dissolving into his lower back, he watched his hindquarters and extra set of legs disappear. Pressure accumulated, as if some unseen force pushed to retract his body. Joints popped like cracking knuckles. Unconcerned, he unfolded the clothing he’d need for his time on duty.
Transformation complete, his two legs grew goose bumps in the dark. Aleksander quickly donned his BDU pants and covered up. Once his socks were on and boots tied, he jogged the remainder of the distance to the grotto’s side entry, nearest his office, where military personnel converged.
Though, first he had to pass through general military housing to reach the corridor where the offices were located.
Late night couples walked with arms around each other. Tails playfully spanked, then teased as the silky strands caressed heightened senses. Mares pushed strollers or carried sleeping foals, ending their evenings with husbands, or Mare’s Night Out. They laughed softly amongst themselves.
A few waved, but he didn’t stop for conversation.
Alek fought to keep his mind from slipping to the inevitable. To the unfulfilled desire of what he could never have—a family of his own. Since Festival of the Trees last year, a celebration of life and a new season, he noticed children more often. Children of all mythic species—running around, lifted high in the air by proud males.
Paper rustling in his vest pocket reminded him that he still carried the Troll-y Yours flier. What the hell…I could hang out with some ugly guys or flirt with a pretty Troll. Moreover, he would be doing it for the kingdom, not because he wanted a relationship.
Hell no. Man, I must be getting desperate.
Didn’t that make his heart sink?
Alek kept walking, kept drumming his boot heels on the cold stone floor. Once upon a time, he could’ve had what he so badly wished for. But that time was long gone. The young, freshly enlisted Centaur chose career over love. He’d broken a lovely Troll’s heart and galloped off to war.
Passing through the common area, he automatically scanned the residents for concealed weapons. SOP, standard operating procedure, a practice he couldn’t stop himself from performing.
Down the rock-sided corridor, second room on the right, Aleksander opened the beige door with his military rank stenciled in black letters and entered the office.
The room sat empty. However, a steaming mug of fresh coffee occupied the outer corner of his desk.
He crossed to the long locker and stashed his bag within, then pulled opened the door of the cold box that sat beside it. Compliments of Queen Savella, a supply of energy drinks chilled inside. He grabbed one.
“Run into trouble?” Colonel Petros stood outside the office door, resting a dual-colored hind leg, his steel grey hair trimmed in the traditional high and tight.
Alek waved him in.
The older Centaur picked up his mug off the desk. Respectfully, he angled his black and white tail into the corner and kept his pinto hide to the side.
“Intruder in my quarters earlier.” Alek popped the top of the aluminum can and took a long sip. “Zotico was on patrol in my residential quad, but didn’t see anyone.”
Petros chuckled, his hazel eyes creasing with merriment. “Yeah, I heard about your scamper through the hall.”
“I saw the intruder. I nearly had him. How Zotico missed him…I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his rough cheek. Damn, I forgot to shave.
“What’d he look like? We can put out an alert—”
Alek shook his head. “I didn’t get a clear view. I saw black boots disappear around a corner, that’s it.”
“Well, hell.” Colonel Petros hooked a thumb on a pocket of his vest and blew on his steaming coffee.
Yeah, that about sums it up. Alek took another sip, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon, then set the tart drink aside. His locker door remained opened, exposing the contents. He took a quick DOPE, otherwise known as Data On Personal Equipment, and reached for the throwing stars first. Titanium tipped arrows were running low, and he needed to repair the scope on his crossbow. The timely ritual to check his weaponry kept him stocked, locked, and loaded at all times.
Alek filled the front pouch of his tactical vest with the deadly shurikens. “How’d it go with patrols today? Any new leads?”
“We came up empty at every turn.”
It was while he was sliding daggers and knives into slots and straps that he noticed Petros’s extended pause. Aleksander raised his brows in question, hand hovering over the crossbow.
The colonel’s steely eyes met his. “There’s a new player in town.”
“Which side of the crown does he stand?”
Petros swirled the cooling coffee in his cup, gazing into the inky liquid. His mouth worked a moment before he answered. “That’s the thing. Without further intel, we don’t know. From the data we’ve gathered, the person of interest is female…and a Troll.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn. “I need Nubbs. Now!”
Eleven
Ella sat hunched on the commode lid with her hands covering her ears.
“What’s the matter with you? Only Troll-trash stays out so late. Do you want everyone to think my daughter sleeps with more males than a Minotaur cow? Why did you come home so late last night?”
Even with the bathroom door closed, her mother’s shrill voice splintered loud and clear.
“Why in Tartarus were you wearing men’s clothes? Were you rolling around in the mud? Why can’t you be more like Eli? He’s a good example for you to follow.”
The water tank’s high mounted flush chain hung to her right. Ella pulled it to bury the sound of her mother’s tirade. Water swirled and muffled the nagging voice. All too soon, the tank refilled, and the irritating words came back.
A pounding fist broke her last twig. Ella stood and shouldered her purse, grabbed her notebook, and yanked open the door.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” Red faced with a mouth pu
lled into harsh ugly lines, her mother looked every inch the Troll of nightmares.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, though I appreciate your concern. Would you rather I didn’t come home at all?” Hurt that she always played second fiddle to Eli, and angrier than she’d been in decades, Ella squeezed past her mother’s annoyed countenance and kept her eye on the prize…the front door. “I fell in the mud and borrowed some clothes.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying right here.” To emphasize the location of here, her mother pointed at the floor.
Ella sucked a deep breath and planted an image of the landing space outside of their rock firmly in her mind. She took a fleeting glimpse at her mother’s angry face, then spun a fast circle to initiate her dissolve to the surface.
When she emerged topside, the staccato call of a blue jay greeted her, and she swiveled her ears to capture the sweet sound. Sweet—compared to her mother’s screeching, that is.
Under her hand-me-down black t-shirt, Ella’s heart banged in her chest. Fury poured out with every breath. She tried hard not to detest her mother, but she was tired of trying. No matter what she did and how well she did it, Eli always did it better in her parent’s eyes.
Her fingers gripped her notebook tighter. What’s the use of even trying?
At one hundred and three years old, it was past time to move out and be on her own. Troll-y Yours just had to make enough money, so she could find a place to rent. Better yet, buy her own nest.
Last week, her Wood Nymph friend, Serenity, reminded her that she knew of a businessman with both commercial and residential spaces for rent. Mr. Shaun owned unoccupied rocks near the palace, an ideal location for Ella. And it had nothing to do with how close I would be to Al.
Finally. The first bright spot in days…and an opportunity to move the hell out.
Ella opened her notebook, leaned a jean-covered hip against the boulder, and clicked her pen. On the top line, she wrote, “Talk to Mr. Shaun. Rocks for rent,” then underlined it three times.
Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs) Page 7
