The passageway quickly opened to a large rectangular room; low ceiling, plenty of blue grass, scattered tables. Centaur mares with children in both two and four-legged bodies, spoke in groups while their foals had one last gallop before tucking them in for the night. A few turned to wave at Al. Most were curious, openly assessing their new guest.
Ella smoothed her wild hair and brushed a hand over her filthy shirt. Placed on public display and garnering attention stretched her rattled nerves. She felt each pair of eyes judge, rip her apart, and condemn her Troll nationality.
“You look fine.” Al looped her arm through his, and together, they strolled through the throng of onlookers; him pretending as if they did this daily, Ella with her stomach in her throat. “They’re all just jealous.”
The insane thought made her smile. May the gods bless Al. She decided to play along, more to bolster her courage than for humor. “I wonder if it’s my filthy clothes or pointed ears?”
Near a picnic table filled with screaming kids and tired mares, Al stopped his four hooves and turned her to face him. Warm brown eyes smiled down into hers, his dark goatee stretched over his perfect white teeth. Infinitely tender, he cupped her face in his palms and lightly brushed his lips across hers, moving them sensually back and forth.
“Let’s go.” Instead of linking hands, this time he snaked an arm around her waist, tucking her in close beside him.
The females, whether mated or not, gazed at Ella with astonished expressions. Was it so hard to believe he’d kiss a Troll? Come on people, she thought sagely. There were plenty of whispered stories about Centaur and Minotaur couplings. Now if that wasn’t a disgusting mental image….
Through an arched doorway inlaid with chiseled marble, the grass floor turned to grey stone. Here the décor switched from the park-like setting of festive family to military drab. Colors leeched away, leaving bare rock walls and a row of sandy-brown doors.
Military personnel conducted themselves in a no-nonsense manner, briskly walking to their destination, saluting as they passed. Al chose the second door on the right and turned the knob. Painted across the front in bold black letters were the words Kempor Aleksander, HRM Head Guard.
Ella swallowed audibly. More than just handsome, the door plaque signified the male’s importance. She combed her bangs behind an ear, suddenly feeling very small and self-conscious.
A handsome young officer in true form passed by, and nodded in their direction.
“Bastian.” Al addressed the male. “Would you find Bomani and Hippy and ask them to meet me in my office, please?” He opened his office door and gestured for Ella to step inside.
“Yes, sir.” Snapping a fist to chest salute and bowing, Bastian trotted off. But not before she saw the way his eyes passed over her, brows pinched low.
Inside the office, there wasn’t much to differentiate his work place from that of his stallroom. It was the same, yet not. A part of him she didn’t know, with rolled maps, leather-bound books, and what looked to be an antique collection of arrows scattered over cabinets and bookcases.
Strategically placed in the dominant position facing out, an oak desk took up most of the room. Paperwork in neat stacks dotted the top. An unfinished cup of coffee sat in the corner. To the right of the desk, a long cabinet stood attached to the wall. Adjacent sat what looked like a cold box.
Two decorations graced the walls of the Head Centaur Guard’s office. Behind his desk hung a framed picture of a two-legged grinning Al standing next to a huge, true form Centaur with angry black eyes. Curled into him, a beautiful laughing Wood Nymph held two fingers above the unsmiling male’s head.
The other piece of wall décor was a nasty looking, rusty old sword that’d seen better days.
“Have a seat. This shouldn’t take long.” Al rolled his chair to the side for her. “Would you like something to drink? I have energy drinks and…” Opening the cold box, he glanced inside. “One soda.”
Ella’s ears twitched and she couldn’t stop her grin from spreading. “I’ll take the soda. I haven’t had one in years.”
He popped the tab on the cola and handed it over. “Knock yourself out.”
Cool and bubbly, the lip smacking fizz tickled from her tongue to her tummy. Ahhh...
About then, a four-foot tall whirlwind rushed into the office and stood at attention on two straight legs. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“At ease.” Al flicked his tail out of the way and sat his rump on the floor behind the desk. “Prisoner report, Bomani.”
The smallish Centaur opened his mouth to speak.
Then, Al added, “Make it the condensed version.”
Ella smiled at Bomani, recognizing him instantly as the brave warrior who helped rescue her.
His cheeks pinkened, but otherwise, he kept his lineal stare to his commanding officer. “Under guard, I transported the human to the lower grotto and placed him in a holding cell as you ordered, sir.”
“I take it he’s recovered sufficiently?” Al reached for the open soda and borrowed a sip, winking at Ella.
The thought of his mouth covering the same spot hers touched made her lips tingle.
Footsteps sounded outside the office and a moment later, a tall, unsmiling female dressed in fatigues walked into the office. Two long silver swords hung from one hip, three sheathed knives on the other. A belt of assorted weapons crisscrossed her torso and others lay tucked into the waist of her pants.
Ella remembered her as the woman sitting with Al the night of the speed-date. A night that felt like years ago.
Her precision shaped arms were the same, but now the lady soldier wore her hair pulled back and braided.
“The human lives,” the female Centaur said. “But he won’t for long, if he doesn’t cease his screeching.” Her arms folded across the weapons and she planted her feet apart.
“What’s he complaining about?” Al asked, handing the soda can back to Ella. “He should be grateful we didn’t terminate him right there.”
“He’s demanding to be released and wants to see the man in charge. Alek, if you don’t do something about your prisoner—and quick—I swear I’ll give him a Minotaur necktie.”
Al grinned and used his finger to gesture to her menagerie of weapons. “Were you trying to persuade him into silence through visual stimulation?”
“I’ll quiet him for you,” Bomani offered, petting the long knife strapped to his belt.
Al drummed his fingers on top of the desk, then went to stroking his soft goatee.
Ella knew it was silky under her fingers…and he was velvety in other places, too. The leftover tingle from her lips slid lower, like a lover, over her breasts. So inappropriate.
As if the warrior-woman suddenly noticed Ella sipping her soda, she locked her piercing green eyes on her and pointed with her chin. “You’re the speed-date Troll, aren’t you?”
“Kempor Hippolyte, meet Ella. Our yodeling human hunter thought it’d be fun to abduct and sell her to the highest bidder.” Al’s introduction pretty much summed it up. “Ella, Hippy is our Inner Sanctum Guard, and personal bodyguard to Her Majesty.”
“Hi.” Ella smiled and nodded, relieved there wasn’t a more personal relationship between Al and the Amazon. “I remember seeing you the other night, too.” She turned to face Bomani. “Thank you for coming when you did. You were so brave.”
“You’re welcome.” Bomani gave her a tight smile, his face flushing further. The poor Centaur appeared distressed under her praise.
“Okay.” Al slapped his hands, and then rubbed them together. “Next on the agenda—Ella.”
*~*~*
“Hippy, I’ll need your ass and elbows for a bit.”
Kempor Hippolyte rolled her eyes in Alek’s direction, his reference to hard work nonthreatening. “As long as it doesn’t take me away from Savella much longer. I have about forty-five minutes before her meeting with Khristos ends.”
Like Hippy, Alek didn’t hold a warm spot for Templar K
hristos, the Centaur High Priest. The man of religion had lived through the reign of two monarchs and one long-assed war. In the end, it left him a bitter, racist Centaur. Hippy would want to whisk Savella away from the crotchety old grump as fast as her royal legs would carry her.
“This won’t take long. Ella will be a guest of the palace for the next several days, and I’ll need temporary housing for her. Would you—?”
Hippolyte held up her hand. “Why not call for Benjamin? He’s the steward and knows which guestrooms are open, not me.”
Alek sighed. “She also needs a change of clothes. I doubt Ben can help with that.”
The old palace steward wouldn’t know what to do with a female Troll, let alone dress one. However, the thought had merit and brought a little smile to his lips.
Hippy lifted a single brow. She volleyed her glance between him and the Troll who tapped the last few drops of her upturned soda into her open mouth. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“Sweet-thing, go with Kempor Hippolyte. I’ll finish here and then find you.”
Ella stood and tossed the empty can into the round-file near his desk. “Thanks, Al. See you in a bit.”
He returned her easy smile, then watched her shapely ass follow Hippy out of the office. The rounded cheeks beneath her form fitting jeans lifted up and down, up and down. Meatwrench tingled, signaling he’d like to continue the motion.
“Sir, now that we’re alone, I have some developing intel.” Bomani pushed the door closed, then moved to stand in front of Alek’s desk. “There’s been talk of an upcoming rebel movement.”
Sexual thoughts of Ella washed away and the pressing order of business moved in. The weight of palace security settled once more on his shoulders. “What are the deets?”
On the other side of his wide desk, Bomani shifted his feet. His hand rubbed the back of his neck and he took a deep breath. “My girlfriend, Roxie? She’s a stylist in a hair salon.”
Aleksander didn’t know many personal things about the Special Ops male, let alone his having a girlfriend. He nodded at Bomani to continue, wondering where this headed.
“A Minotaur came into the salon for a ferricure and—”
“A what?”
Bomani chuckled. “You know, where they soak their hooves, then have them filed and painted?”
What the fuck is the hardcore, throat slashing soldier talking about? For the love of Bacchus, Aleksander couldn’t believe they were discussing the painting of hooves. Shaking his head, he waved the conversation to go on.
“Roxie overheard the female speak of a proceeding that’ll take place during the next invisible moon. Said she’d mentioned the word ‘rebel’ more than once, too.”
“Do we know where, or what the activity might be?” Alek rubbed his forehead, trying to remember the present phase of the moon. Ella’s scent lingered on his fingertips and nearly broke his concentration.
“Negative, sir. And Roxie can’t question the Minotaur’s stylist either. They won’t talk openly with her because of me.”
“What about you?” Alek grew slightly irritated at this news. Bomani’s size didn’t match the height of the male within, and he didn’t deserve the intolerance thrown at him.
Bomani’s muscular shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m Centaur, sir. Satyrs don’t trust us. Well, except for Roxie, but she’s special that way.”
Back to square one; mythological prejudice. “So, what you’re saying is we need a non-Centaur female to go undercover and root out the necessary intel from a hair stylist?”
“Yes, sir. Unless you have a better idea. It’s a waning moon tonight, which gives us approximately six days to figure out what the rebels are up to and where it’ll happen.”
Alek nodded in agreement. “Well, we can’t send Hippy. Maybe Patience, she has mediation skills.”
Bomoni shook his head and chuckled. “That would be like inviting the Remedy Maker over for a palace-wide castration. You know how protective he is of his wife.”
True, marriage had joined the couple at the hip. They did everything together these days—or not at all. Rhycious and Patience were in love. Aleksander couldn’t be happier for them, even if he was slightly jealous.
“I have to check on Ella.” Alek slapped his hands on the desktop and pushed with his rear hooves to stand. The sudden need to see and touch her grew until the pressure pinched his chest. “Let me mull over who else we can send in, and I’ll get back with you.”
“Yes, sir.” Bomani saluted, then spun a precision turn and left like the whirlwind he arrived in.
Alone in the office, Alek took a moment to close his eyes and breathe. To slow his mind and cool his stallion lust. The potent need for Ella had surprised him, engulfing him when he least expected it. He opened his eyes and looked down at his clenched fists. Desire hooked its barbs deep and pulled him from behind the desk.
He managed to close his door without catching his tail in the jam, and then headed for the mess hall to pick up a late dinner for Ella. Securing a decent meal, he asked a few stall cleaners which room Hippy assigned her.
Now, he stood outside of Stallroom Five. Nervous as a green colt, excited at the same time. Hell, his smile alone was responsible for weakening the spreadable knees of mythic females. You are Kempor Aleksander. You fear nothing and no one.
Except for a certain little Troll on the other side of the door who seemed to hold all his power.
Nineteen
Drop…dead…gorgeous. Not her, but the clothes Kempor Hippolyte found for Ella to wear.
The reflection in the bathroom mirror didn’t lie. Form fitting cargo pants in olive green, hugged her curvy hips like the banks of the Boronda River, the style flattered with its many pockets. A cropped, short sleeved silk blouse in the most amazing shade of topaz floated in a dreamy drape to touch the top of her waistband. The only clothes she’d ever worn had been whatever her mom gave her, and the occasional present from a friend.
Never, had she slipped into anything as beautiful—or sexy. Ever. Is this what Centaurs wore when lying around their stalls? Lucky mythics!
Ella pulled the brush through her unruly hair, wishing her body matched the clothes. If she had hairpins, she’d sweep every strand and knot the red mess on top of her head. However, the bathroom drawers were empty. Only the thoughtfulness of Hippolyte provided the hairbrush and clothes.
She laid the brush down and nearly missed a soft rapping at the room door. It would be Al she surmised, because the nice female guard had left saying she’d see her tomorrow.
One last look in the mirror, and she turned away. It is what it is, and it doesn’t get any better. Ella placed her hand on the doorknob when she thought of Al’s stallroom intruder. A Troll in the Centaur palace wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for many of the residents who lived here. Precaution may benefit her best.
“Who is it?”
“Kempor Aleksander.”
Ella smiled. “Who?”
“It’s me, Alek. I brought you a late dinner.”
“Aleksander Hedson?” She stifled a giggle with a hand over her mouth.
A heavy hoof stomped on the other side of the door. “Gamó̱to! Open up, Ella.”
Ella even felt the percussion under her feet. She smoothed her hair one last time, then pulled open the door. A covered white platter caught her eye first and she followed the attached arm to the broad chest, past his smirking lips, to twinkling brown eyes that gazed down at her. He let out a soft wolf-whistle.
“Hi, Al.”
He drew in a breath and heaved a great sigh. “I asked you to call me Ale—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ella tugged him by the arm into her room. “Get in here. That food smells fantastic.” Loud and boisterous, her stomach pinched and gave a growl as spicy seasoning teased her nose.
When he’d moved past the threshold, Ella swung the door closed.
“Watch the tail!” Al tucked his hips under him like a scalded pup and bolted forward.
“Tsk, q
uit whining. You’re fine.” My, oh my. Yes you are.
Al placed the platter on the only table in the room.
Though tall and café style, the table was small and circular, the platter oblong and large. Another discontented snarl erupted from her empty gut.
“Hope you like pizza, because that’s all the kitchen had at this hour.” When he lifted the tray’s shallow lid, warm smells of yeast and herbs drifted in steamy spirals.
The scent of oven hot food caused her mouth to salivate. Unabashed of her hunger, she swallowed.
“All we need are a couple of icy suds and this meal is complete.” Ella passed him a napkin and plate.
“Look behind you in the cold box.” He motioned to a wooden cabinet at hip height which sat squatted against the wall on the floor.
Ella pulled up on the metal latch. Sure enough, inside were four dark bottles, just waiting for their caps to be popped. She pulled out two and nudged the door closed with her knee.
Beautiful clothes, breathtaking palace, and mouthwatering food. “I like this place, more and more. You guys have it all.”
Al laid two huge slices of pizza on her plate, the cheese leaving a connecting line to the tray. He opened her beer, then dished a couple slices for himself. “Creature comforts. I can walk the palace boundary in less than a day. You, on the other hand, have the whole Boronda Forest. I would never tire of that.”
They ate in companionable silence, broken only by her occasional sighs. Inside her mouth, Ella’s taste buds were throwing a party. She’d had pizza before, but never like this. Gourmet, with goat cheese, spinach, and mushrooms. Sure, it was vegetarian because in true form, that was all Al could eat. However to classify her dinner, she ranked it in the out-of-this-world category.
“Sweet-thing, you look gorgeous.” Across the table, he leaned back and let his gaze drift over her. While chewing, he smiled and winked and make her insides flutter.
Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs) Page 13
