Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs)

by Fredricks, Sheri

  Alek shifted his arm to pull it out from between their bodies, and his elbow scraped the dirt wall. Pushing his hands down the sides of his hips, he splayed his fingers and shoved them away from his sides. The distance from his body to the wall was less than the width of his hand.

  A fucking coffin.

  Living underground in a series of connecting caves equipped Aleksander for tight living space. Maybe not crammed into the earthen can they were in now, but it prepared him for the rise of claustrophobia that threatened to erupt.

  Ella’s chest rose and fell too fast. She took a shuddered breath and exhaled. “You hurt? Am I too heavy?”

  “No,” he answered both questions with a single word.

  Her hot body quivered against his and her heart pounded like a drum.

  Bacchus! It pounded so hard and fast, he knew she’d been only seconds away from some real bad timing. Adrenaline, he assured himself.

  His fingers drifted up the rough, uneven walls of the dirt hole they laid in. When his elbows extended almost straight above, he hit the ceiling. Particles of dirt rained down and he rapidly blinked his eyes. Beneath him, the ground lay cold and hard.

  There were worse things than the nightmarish thought of being buried alive with a Troll. At least with her abilities, it would offer them an escape.

  Lowering his arms, he crossed them to rest over Ella’s back, meaning only to soothe—needing to soothe her in a way that was completely foreign to him.

  “Ahh, no!” She jerked, arching away from the pressure. “Don’t touch me.”

  Alek lifted his arms in an instant.

  “Where?” His heart, which had begun to slow, sped up, accelerating with every whimper Ella made.

  “My back,” she whispered as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, panting.

  Hot tears dripped onto his Adam’s apple, then tracked slowly toward the dirt in a warm, moist trail. Her breath trembled softly in his ear.

  “What were you thinking, jumping into the middle of a sword fight?” he admonished. Careful, and as tender as he could manage in the cramped space, Alek felt along Ella’s back, starting at her shoulders. Grateful for the dark, he didn’t wipe the rage off his face for that dirty, rotten Satyr.

  “Wasn’t thinking.”

  Aleksander gently skimmed his fingers on either side of her spine. Situated above her shoulder blade, he encountered a wet portion of torn shirt. Shit. She’d done nothing to deserve any of this and at the moment, he couldn’t do anything but help her through it.

  Ella was soft and sweet, everything his life wasn’t.

  He’d felt he was missing something, he now knew what that something was.

  “Listen, Kalos, we need a way out of here to get you patched up.” With a grimace, Alek recalled how much a sword wound hurt. The memory of his decades-old strike on the thigh was as fresh today as it’d been back then.

  Sweat dampened her lower back, and she shuddered as pain sang through her body.

  “Just have to stop the bleeding and wrap you up. You’ll be fine.”

  Ella tried to move, shaking when her body lifted from his. When she would have rolled to begin their dissolve, her breath hitched. She cried out and collapsed back on top of him.

  “Al…” Her voice quavered between her clenched teeth. “This is bad.”

  “No, Sweet-thing. Bad, would be if you’d been hit a few inches higher.” He tried to smile, but it wouldn’t form. His fingers searched to unclasp the front of his armor. He pulled it open. In doing so, he took the full force of her body heat.

  In one of the inside pockets of his vest, he carried the remaining yarrow that he’d picked two days earlier. It twisted his gut worse than colic in a Centaur to know he would use it on Ella. He stared at the curve of her cheek a moment.

  The female in his arms was so strong, so utterly amazing.

  He realized it’d been selfish of him. Bringing her in on the assignment to flush out rebels had to be the single most egotistic thing he’d ever done. He should’ve left her back at her home rock, safe—

  Ella shivered and then burrowed into him. The adrenaline was wearing off and shock settling in. Her fast breathing burned into his damp neck. “Stop it,” she said.

  “Stop what?”

  Her face lifted an inch off his shoulder. “You couldn’t have left me there. Too dangerous.”

  He felt his mouth go slack. “You’re reading my mind now?”

  “Not your mind, Captain Chimpy-nuts. Aura—it glows sky blue, dark green.”

  Alek wasn’t sure what to make of that, how interpreting colors could come so close to what he’d been thinking. Didn’t matter, in a moment she’d only feel agony when he applied the medicinal plant. Then, he’d have time to remind himself what an asshole he was for bringing her to the palace in the first place.

  “I’m going to lay some yarrow on your back, Ella. Do you know about yarrow?” At her nod, he brought his arms over her back, scraping his knuckles on the lid of their dirt box above. “It’ll burn, but will slow the bleeding until I get you out of here. Ready?”

  She nodded and braced a hand to his chest. “Are you?”

  With his heart in his throat, Alek couldn’t answer aloud. When it comes to hurting you, never. In a quick move, he found the deepest section of her laceration and pressed the homeopathic medicine into the wound.

  “Oh, gods!” Her body shook, feet kicking.

  Aleksander sucked air in through his teeth and silently called himself every foul name he could think of. To know it was his fault she was in the palace when the rebels launched an invasion. His fault she’d reacted so bravely to save him. His fault when her legs stiffened in pain, her body convulsing, her tears flowing free on his neck.

  Ella was brave, strong, and intelligent.

  Not exactly the wallflower he’d first thought.

  Aleksander felt her tense body uncoil, the harsh breath in his ear subside. “Does your back feel better?”

  The pounding of her heart moderated, matched her breathing, her hand fell away from his chest. Tears leaked from her eyes and dribbled onto his throat.

  He slid his hand around to cup her exquisite face. “Ella?”

  No answer.

  As if the mythic gods drove in a steel pike, his heart lurched inside his chest.

  Aleksander gently shook her and called her name louder. “Ella…”

  Twenty-Seven

  Heart in his throat, for what seemed like hours, Aleksander forced himself to take slow steady breaths. Not for the first time, he called upon his Centaur training. He attempted to slam the door on his rising panic and shifted Ella’s unconscious body to a more comfortable position in his arms.

  Gamato! He’d never felt more trapped. Neither a crack nor glimmer of escape in any direction inside the cool, damp earth.

  The miniscule dirt casket lay shrouded in darkness, except for a chip of light here and there. Beneath his fingers, he skimmed the velvety skin of Ella’s arm, concentrating on the texture, relying on the tactile sensory to keep him grounded.

  “We’ll get out of here, Sweet-thing,” he said, more for his peace of mind than hers. “Don’t you worry.”

  Every step into this latest battle, he’d expected to make his equine transition. Knew what would happen if he did. Other than risking his life in a fight for the death, and taking as many fucking rebels with him as he could, he would never have jeopardized Ella’s life.

  It was never in the equation.

  I’m so sorry, beautiful.

  Everything rested quiet in their hole made for two. So quiet, he could hear the pounding of his heart.

  Alek had no way of knowing how deep Ella dissolved them beneath the corridor floor. Kolasi, he hadn’t known that Trolls could even atomize others with them. This was the first he’d heard of it.

  Crap, just when you thought you knew a species…

  The earth surrounding them vibrated, as if a heavy object had fallen some distance to the ground. Brown powd
er sprinkled onto his face, and he shook his head to scatter the dirt.

  Ella’s body lay on his…warm and soft, and despite the five-level-alarm trumpeting through his body, he felt strong when with her. Thinking back, he always had. She was infuriating and frustrating. With the innate ability to exasperate him, like no other mythic in the forested woods of Boronda.

  Ironically, he trusted Ella more than he trusted anyone else he’d ever known. With his life at least. Trusting her with his heart was a little trickier.

  Another shudder moved through the surrounding soil, and more dirt trickled down. Is it getting harder to breathe in here? He ran his hands over the gritty walls, wondering if he could sense a distance to the surface. Holed up inside their compact space, his ability to throw precognition further than the earthen barriers, proved fruitless. Like a human, he was helpless.

  Flat on his back, enervated.

  Powerless, resourceless…defenseless in the ground.

  Shit.

  Options on how to unearth themselves flipped through his brain, one thought after the other, like an old-time black and white movie from long ago. He might attempt to dig them out, but only as a last resort. Visions of the ceiling and walls caving in, choking them, and burying them alive, played out in vivid detail.

  He’d like to believe that he was overreacting. He’d like to believe that someone, anyone, had seen them dissolve below ground. However, either his own intuition was kicking in big time, or Ella’s earlier terror was contagious.

  An elevated sense of urgency completely trumped his personal sense of conduct. Under normal circumstances, he would never consider lying in the dirt, his lower body nude below the waist. Especially when he needed a barrier between his wits and the female draped in his arms. Until he’d seen Ella’s eyes. Looked deeply into them and saw the panic. Real, immediate danger.

  “Ella.” Alek said in a soft voice. “We’re getting out of here.”

  Metaphorically, if not in reality. The ground vibrated less often now. Whatever had caused the disturbance must be moving farther away, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing—or bad.

  As a Centaur warrior, he’d encountered violence during times when he transformed. He and all the soldiers were highly skilled and trained for any eventuality. Up to and including shape shifting. The war was over though, the skill seldom used. Now the kingdom valued brains above brawn.

  Aleksander needed some of that supercharged brainpower right about now.

  Mentally, he flicked through the options checklist again and spoke to Ella as if she were conscious and listening. “We could dig ourselves out—and possibly be buried alive due to the ground collapsing.” Nope, not a good choice. He kissed her forehead and felt a sheen of perspiration touch his lips.

  “Maybe shout and hope someone hears us.” Who was he kidding? Unless the passerby’s ear dragged the ground, nobody would hear a thing. “If I help you to spin, could you dissolve us to the surface?”

  Without her mentally picturing their landing spot, they didn’t have a chance in hell.

  Alek nearly laughed aloud at his ridiculous thoughts, the confinement turning him barmy. Besides, his shoulders were wider than the dirt coffin was tall. There’d be no spinning today…or any other day, if he didn’t figure this out.

  He arched his neck back and squeezed his eyes shut, his arms cradling Ella carefully against him. Above his head, the dirt wall scraped his scalp. Beneath his extended toes, the opposite wall pressed in. On either side of them, above and below, the dirt remained constant, cold, and oppressive.

  A shiver raced through Ella’s moist, clammy body, her breathing rapid and light. The onset of shock settled in, making itself at home inside her.

  With only his body to provide the necessary warmth she needed, and no fresh air for extra oxygen, Aleksander clenched his teeth to keep from roaring his frustrations.

  Poor Ella. This was all his fault. He squeezed his closed eyes tighter.

  Oh, what he wouldn’t do to feel the wind’s cold bite on his face as he galloped through the woods once more. Ella would ride on his back, and to hell what other Centaurs might say. He’d tuck his front legs up tight and jump logs, weave through the trees, and swim the hot springs pond with her holding onto his tail.

  Then, after he transformed into his human body, they’d make love on the bank, cushioned by the soft moss that grew there. He would hold her sweet Troll body close, spill into her, and love her until they were both grey-haired and wrinkled.

  He would then, have everything in life he’d been missing; a female of worth who he loved, a hearth to come home to, and children. Lots of freckle-faced, red-haired children who would have the best of both Centaur and Troll worlds.

  Alek held onto his thought and let the dream wash their predicament away. Night-blooming jasmine, Ella’s very own unique scent, filled the small chamber and caused his heart to expand.

  This was his woman. She’s mine. Though, she might now regret knowing him. “I’m sorry, Sweet-thing. Looks like I took you down with me.”

  Time slipped by and he must have passed out or dozed off, because he didn’t hear the drumming at first. Faintly…through the thick layers of soil, Alek held his breath to listen again. Not the thump of his heart, that much was certain. It was more of a woodpecker’s tap-tap-tap that originated from somewhere above.

  His pulse sped up. Had the enemy found them? The coring method to locate mythics who hid below surface was a tried and true technique which sometimes involved dropping explosives through the hollow core pole.

  Alek knew firsthand about the kill ratio of this modus operandi and the fact it hit nearly one hundred percent effective. To eliminate the enemy threat during the Great War, he’d employed this method himself.

  Shit! Panic threatened to seize once more. He forced himself to breath slowly, to decrease the palpitations of his racing pulse. Helpless to protect Ella, Elysium seemed only a heartbeat away. Would the searching probe miss them entirely—or hit dead on?

  Alek could only pray to the gods for a positive outcome, if not for him… then for Ella.

  The rhythmic tapping grew louder. He felt the sound wave percussion like a ticking time bomb against his skin. Loose dirt rained down, threatening to cause a cave in at any moment.

  Which would be worse? To be buried alive, or blown to bits in a dirt coffin?

  Mindful of Ella’s injury, he hugged her tight and buried a kiss to her fevered temple. Behind his shut eyelids, a prickling sensation grew. His throat closed up and he choked out his next words. “Whatever the future, know that you’re mine, Ella—in this world and the next.”

  From above, a fist-sized dirt clod broke loose.

  Alek turned his head instinctively, and the crumbling rock struck his cheek. Whipping his gaze back to the low lid of their grave, he drew his breath in open-mouthed, rapid gasps. A puncture in the dirt ceiling, like a black hole drilled to hell, gaped as an ominous black orifice.

  When he heard an object slide closer to the bored opening, his heart leapt into his throat. Reflexively, he tightened his arms around Ella, wanting so badly to protect her, to save her life from what was most certainly utter doom.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I won’t see you again, because I’ll be roasting in hell…where I deserve to be.”

  Sorrow engulfed his heart, constricting his chest with dagger sharp pain. The thought of not having a future with Ella, beyond the next few seconds, brought tears to his eyes.

  Pushed slowly, a four-inch diameter pole slid into view with terrifying grace.

  Twenty-Eight

  Aleksander stared at the solid wood probe with a mixture of shock and curiosity. The panic that threatened to monopolize his overwrought emotions slowly receded to a manageable level. With a conscious effort, he inhaled deeply to slow his rushed breathing and began to rationalize like a seasoned Centaur soldier again.

  The dowel stopped its downward spiral about twelve inches from his face. He sucked in his breath when a small
area on the pole’s surface began to move. Blinking his eyes to refocus, Alek watched, transfixed, when a circular shape appeared. Streaks of wood grain striations melted away, fog swirled in its place.

  As if it were a living entity, it pulsed with salmon-colored flashes. The grey mist cleared, evaporated, like someone had opened the drapes and allowed the sun to clear the mass away and took the pulsating light with it.

  The wall of the pole thinned, and as though he gazed through a miniature window of sorts, Alek dropped his jaw at the sight left to him.

  Shrunken to Lilliputian size stood Patience, the Remedy Maker’s Wood Nymph wife. She waved her tiny hand at him, trying to smile while puffing her cheeks out in an odd fashion.

  Baffled, Alek attempted to smile back, his tense facial muscles held rigidly in check.

  If Patience were here, then Rhycious would be two steps away. The married couple seldom left each other’s side.

  Patience flipped her long, wild mane of brown hair behind her shoulders and held up an index finger that he squinted to see.

  Ah hell. This is not the time for Charades.

  Next, she touched the points of her fingers of one hand repeatedly to the open palm of the other. With her cheeks swelled to chipmunk proportions, she gave him a wink then peered above her expectantly.

  Aleksander watched what happened next in a stunned wonder.

  Patience shimmered into a thousand particles of shocking pink light, reminiscent of a Fourth of July fireworks display. Instead of bursting outward and falling away as a thunderflash would, the points of light drew together to form a fiery pink light. It streaked like a comet…up the pole, out of sight. Fog whirled while the shimmer closed the window.

  Once again, wood grain appeared and the pole’s exterior materialized as a hard opaque surface.

  Alek released his breath with a great gust of air, and then inhaled a lungful of dust. The motes expelled when he choked out a cough, which only raised more dust in the earthen cubicle. He turned his head to cough into his shoulder and tried not to let his body spasm with each gasping shutter.