Ella’s head bounced on his chest from the muscle contractions, jostling her body in his careful hold. Some of her hair had twirled itself around his neck chain, pulling when he moved. Not much he could do about it right now.
Gods, it felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper.
Ella’s warm breath blew in his ear. A ragged, labored sound. The air was thick with unsettled dust, making it hard to breathe. Unconscious and gasping, her body labored to draw in air—and Alek never felt more helpless.
Grit filled his eyes and he blinked to clear it away. Sand seeped past his lashes and lids, and there was no way in kolasi for him to bring his hands up to wipe the dirt. Alek shook his head from side to side, hoping in vain the movement would knock the grime away. Eyes watering, he gave in and simply squeezed them shut, letting his tears wash them clean.
Alek wished he could rip his shirt off and toss it over Ella’s face to help shield her, but all he had were his hands. He kissed her forehead and tried not to inhale the dust caught in her hair. It would only set off another round and he might cough up a lung.
Driven nearly insane with a tickling need to hack and choke, he forced his thoughts away from his discomfort and concentrated on more pleasant things. Like how Ella’s heated body felt so good lying on top of him. How she’d twined her legs with his and made him never want to let her go.
Eyes closed, he held to the warm thoughts and prayed the mythic gods would deliver them to the surface quickly. To ignore the tickle in his throat, he willed self-control back into his body as he waited for the Centaur rescue team to do…whatever it is they planned to do.
When all remained pitch black behind his eyelids, bright spots of light flashed, then grew at a steady rate. Half afraid to open his eyes in case it turned out to be wishful thinking, Alek waited until an atmospheric pop fired off, sounding like a cannon shot in the underground compartment.
He opened his eyes and turned to the left, and smiled at Patience’s puffy-cheeked grin. Between them, the transparent window dissolved.
The moment it was wide enough, she slid her arm through the opening. She reached out her hand, no larger than a spring mosquito, and laid it on his arm.
“Holy doodles, Alek. Rhy came unglued at the hocks when we couldn’t find you.” Patience’s voice was faint.
Perhaps just a whisper, but in the deathly quiet he heard every sweet word.
“As fast as I can shimmer, you two are out of here. You okay with that?”
“Shimmer? Honey, you’re the size of a cricket. How in the hell can you shimmer three of us out at once?” Not to mention, he really hated the idea of being transported Wood Nymph-style. For the past two hundred years, he’d managed to avoid shimmering as a mode of transportation—whether consensual or forced.
During the war, Wood Nymph warriors flashed Centaur bodies into trees. Unfortunate victims were left hanging with half their body in and half protruding out, to die a slow and painful death. Some would suffocate—if they were lucky. Euthanasia, the mythologically humane thing to do, was carried out when victims suffered...or were condemned to twist into grotesque shapes when their bodies morphed to transform. Caught as they were, in a block of solid wood, unable to complete transition—
Because of the war, Aleksander didn’t seem to have the courage to let Patience shimmer him over a log, even though he trusted her as a Wood Nymph emphatically. Hell, Rhycious trusted his wife to pop him in and out of the taproot tree of her heart all the live-long-day.
“Shit.” It drove him crazy that his arms were trapped and he couldn’t scratch his goatee to think, let alone scratch his nose.
A shiver ran through Ella’s body and her breathing turned into a rough wheeze.
“Alek, I know you dig shimmering about as much as you like kicking back in this awesomesauce hole.” Patience used her Wood Nymph abilities to widen the opening of the pole’s surface. She leaned her upper body out of the window and looked around. Her eyes fell on Ella, and she watched her struggle to breathe. “I’d never hurt you, and you know that.”
“I trust you. It’s just that—” He licked his lips and tasted the dirt. “The thought of dissolving into a piece of wood…” Even thinking about it caused his throat to close up.
“Staying here is death for certain. All you’d need is a bow to finish the wrap. Let me get the two of you out of here and you can grab a cold brewski up top. What do you say, tough guy?”
He wasn’t an idiot, choosing life over death was a given. Moreover, if he could give Ella a chance to live a fulfilled life, then there was no choice to make.
Aleksander firmed his resolve and pushed his fear aside. He didn’t have to like shimmering; he just had to do it.
Taking a deep breath, he met Patience’s turquoise eyes straight on. “Get us out of here.”
Patience smiled widely. “First, I’ll shimmer you both in here with me. Hold onto your friend and whatever you do, don’t let go of her. You copasetic on that?”
His stomach dropped below his navel, but he firmed his jaw and nodded. “Affirmative.”
“Once you’re in here, you won’t be able to breathe, so take—”
“What?” Since he was conscious, he had the power to draw a lungful of air beforehand. But Ella would not. “There’s no air in there?”
Patience chewed her bottom lip before answering. “This is a dead piece of wood, Alek. It’s dark…and colder than a Minotaur’s ass, too. But it’ll only take a couple seconds and then you’ll be standing next to Rhy.” She pointed her finger up. “He’s waiting for us, and you know what he’s like when he’s workin’ the worried and waiting game.”
Fuck. Since the stroke of midnight and acting upon the false information fed to the Centaur military, to his badly-timed transition that caused Ella’s life-threatening injury, to a forcible shimmer out of their self-imposed grave.
Shit. This night sucked all around. And I sure as hell don’t want to be here when I turn back into my true form.
“Alright,” Alek nodded. “Get us out of here. We wouldn’t want to get on Rhy’s last nerve.”
Her miniature hand patted his arm. “A one-way express shimmer, coming up!”
Perspiration prickled the back of his neck, although the ground temperature didn’t warrant his body’s response. He noted his increased respiration, as well has his doubled heart rate.
I’m Kempor Aleksander, Head Centaur Guard. There is nothing that I’m afraid—
“Holy toes of Bacchus.” Invisible energy, like the power of a gale force storm, suddenly cocooned him in a blanket. His gaze shot to Patience, who blazed brighter than a bolt of lightning. Her inner spark intensified the radiant brilliance so vibrantly, it illuminated the dirt chamber and chased shadows to far corners.
Where her miniature hand touched his arm, the white radiance transferred to him. The energy tickled, as if a thousand feathers brushed his skin. Though there wasn’t a breath of wind, the howling sound charged all around them.
It lifted Ella’s red hair, suspended it, and magnified her unique scent of jasmine.
Aleksander inhaled deeply, wanting to draw her essence into his lungs and feed his starving soul. He thirsted for Ella, and only she could quench that thirst.
With the heightened noise, he couldn’t hear her breathe. His eyes searched her relaxed face but couldn’t tell if her lungs drew air or not. Please, he begged the mythic gods. Let Ella survive this hell, and I promise I’ll rededicate myself.
He felt a tugging that encompassed his whole body, and reflexively tightened his hold on Ella. One moment, he was looking at the inside of dirt box and the next, he found himself lying on a cold wooden floor.
Gasping for air—
…that wasn’t there.
Twenty-Nine
A bitter cold wind blew in from the north, raking icy fingernails across his scalp. Eli hunkered deep into his fleece-lined jacket and fisted his hands in the pockets. Inside the palace, the temperature was always balmy. Never too hot or cold.
Unlike the sweeping cliff point atop which he stood.
And waited.
Why am I’m constantly waiting for someone, or something?
While he stared out over the lookout point, dawn broke over the valley. Behind him, the sun struggled to rise, spilling brilliant shades of orange to paint the western mountain range.
Trees on the distant ridge stood like soldiers at attention, lighting up as if they were on fire, spearing streaks of bursting yellow between slots of early morning mist. Beyond the serene stream that zigzagged through the valley below was the flat granite face of the Centaur palace. The tips of the boulders would grow warmer as the daystar climbed higher.
When the older Centaur stepped off the trail into view, Eli checked his watch. The male’s stroll was casual and unhurried, his face expressionless. His devil-may-care fashion was khaki trousers, brown shirt, and leather jacket.
Over the cliff’s edge, wisps of cotton-candy haze broke apart. The ghostly pieces floated upward, then disintegrated in the sun’s powerful rays. To keep warm, Eli stuck his hand back in his pocket.
Nubbs stopped beside him on the flat ground and glanced out at the wide-spread scenery. “Been waiting long?”
“Would you care if I was?”
Nubbs swung his gaze toward him, then chuffed a soft laugh. “Hell, no.” He tilted his head toward the tree line behind them. “Let’s get out of this fucking wind.”
Once they stood protected by the pines, Eli waited while the commander gathered his thoughts.
Stress had taken a toll on the intelligence officer and added age since Eli had met him. Lines of worry and weariness creased the Centaur’s face in downward racing streaks.
Always on guard, always planning moves, always keeping three steps ahead of the enemy.
“How close are you to uncovering their leader?” Nubbs asked. It was, after all, why they were meeting.
“My contact feels she can promote me through the enemy’s ranks, since I gave them the outdated layout plans. Proves to them I’m loyal or some shit. Enough of them saw me dodging the guards if I need my story to stick.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “You work in the palace, why didn’t you just give me the info instead of having me breaking into the Kempor’s room?”
Nubbs raised a single brow and looked him up and down. Patience was clearly not his forte. “I’m in intelligence. Aleksander is in charge of the palace. If I were to start poking around, asking about old details, it would raise more questions than I’d care to answer.”
Eli turned his face into a frosty breeze that blew between the trees and let the cold keep heat from coloring his cheeks.
Being the greenhorn of the team, he had a lot to learn. Knowing how to take thinly disguised criticism from the top dog was only part of his education.
“The schematics I poached were over fifty years old.” Eli took his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his head where the breeze tickled. “My contact hasn’t scheduled another meeting, so I’m assuming she’s satisfied with the results.”
Nubbs grunted, nodding his head in agreement. “A lot has changed over the years, assigned rooms, for one.”
The older Centaur crossed his arms and appeared to want to say more, but didn’t. Instead, he gazed at the toe of his boot and shook his head as if clearing old memories.
It was frightening to think what this male must know. Two hundred years of war, battle plans, and escape routes. More recently, espionage in the black market kept the man deep undercover.
Nubbs tipped his head to gaze sideways at Eli. “You ever catch her name?”
It took him a second to figure out whom the CO was asking about. “Yes, sir. It’s Pennelope.”
The commander drew himself up and stared hard into Eli’s eyes. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Describe her to me.”
Eli swallowed. Fuck, did he screw up somehow
Intent grey eyes narrowed on him and waited, all expression lost.
“Female Troll, approximately five feet six inches, medium build, red hair—I think it’s called auburn—to about here.” Eli touched the top of his shoulder.
Since the start of his description, Nubbs hadn’t moved. The man’s face was hard as the granite rocks of Boronda. The muscles in his cheeks clenched. Slowly, Nubbs turned away to gaze at the view beyond the ledge. Eastern sunlight painted all in its path, leaving only the valley below in shadow. Distant mountaintops came alive with color as the warm rays rose higher in the sky.
Nubbs popped the top button of his jacket to reach inside and removed a leather pouch. With meticulous precision, he unwound a string keeping the top flap closed and pulled out a hand-rolled blunt.
Once a long time ago, Eli tried smoking the strong Centaur weed, and it knocked him on his Troll ass. He waited while the smoke was lit and his CO had taken a few deep drags before clearing his throat.
“Tell me,” Nubbs said, blowing a lungful of grey smoke. “Does she wear a shit-load of bracelets on her arm?”
Crap. He wished the old man would just spit it out and tell him how he’d fucked up. “Yes, sir. Bracelets on both arms.”
Nubbs pulled another hard drag and held it, before exhaling with force. “Back off the investigation for now. When I’m ready, I’ll relay further orders.”
Bacchas, Pan, and whoever else he could name! What the hell is going on? Eli ran a frustrated hand through his hair. This was every bit his investigation, too, and he had the right to know. “Sir? May I ask why?”
The question was ignored, or at least he felt it was, because the answer he received wasn’t what he expected.
“I need to confer with Kempor Aleksander about this latest fucking development,” said Nubbs.
Uneasiness slipped in and tried to play havoc with his nerves. Too many of his paths crossed with the Kempor’s as of late. Such as Ella’s personal involvement with the male, stealing the meaningless documents from his room, and now his overt operations waited on the outcome of his CO’s meeting with the man.
All roads led to Kempor Aleksander, and Eli couldn’t stand the guy. Did Nubbs know the male was six feet under at the moment? Eli opened his mouth, intending to ask what he should do in the meantime.
Steel fury-filled eyes gazed back at him.
Not a stupid Troll, he shut his trap.
Nubbs’ face wore a mask of vehemence. Veins popped-out in his forehead. “Until further notice, you’re on a need to know basis. What a damn clusterfuck.”
The Centaur took a last hit off his smoke and threw the glowing roach to the ground. He nodded once, then walked down the dirt trail, jacket flaring out behind him.
Eli watched his retreating back until he disappeared around the bend.
The blunt’s sweet smoky fragrance washed away with the wind, leaving red embers to smolder in the dry pine needles.
Eli ground the stub beneath the heel of his shoe. Irritation rankled with Nubbs’ lack of trust. For nearly a decade, he’d served his commanding officer in an undercover position, learning every skill and tactic the male imparted. He’d never had a dressing down, never a complaint.
Still, he was left in the dark on his own op.
Hell, Pennelope treated him with more respect and confidence.
Eli turned toward the cliff’s edge and a magnificent view of the Boronda Forest. The last of the haze had all but disappeared. Broken into pieces and dissolved by the sun, the more powerful energy source easily overcame the fragile mist.
Not much he could have said and gotten away with, because Nubbs wasn’t someone you’d want to fuck with. When it came to that breed of Centaur, a smart Troll did as he was told.
*~*~*
Panic swept through Aleksander as he lay on the chilly floor, unable to help Ella while her body convulsed in the airless room. The way her muscles contorted, stiff and uncontrolled, reminded him of Damos, a childhood friend with epilepsy.
Filled with concern for the precious Troll who’d ri
sked her life for him, he’d neglected to inflate his lungs to capacity prior to their shimmer. Even so, he carried more air with him, than the unconscious state allowed for her.
Terror rose and he fought the fear down. Suffocation in the cold, airless room was much like drowning in the Boronda Falls, according to the war stories from Water Nymph survivors.
The burn from lack of air started in his throat about the time his gaze flew up to Patience. Standing, she was of equal size and proportionate to them, now that they were inside the solid core pole. Alek read the alarm reflected in her eyes.
Patience looked down at their prone positions and acted fast, having read their vulnerability correct. She threw herself down next to him, spooning her body flush to his, and wound an arm around his waist. The other arm, she shoved under his neck to wrap across his chest.
Aleksander prayed to the mythic gods that she held on because his arms were full of Ella, and no way in kolasi would he ever let go of her.
As before, the shimmer began inside Patience. Her Wood Nymph abilities fired on all botanical cylinders. This time, the process was a blur in warp-speed. The pink spark initiating her shimmer turned brilliant white in an instant. Her warm energy-force burst out, entered his back, and passed through to engulf Ella, who thrashed uncontrollably in his arms.
Inside his skull, his brain grew hot. Whether from the depleted oxygen or brain cells dying out, he didn’t know. Opening his mouth, he tried in vain to gasp air into his starved lungs, but the pole was dead wood.
A dead entity.
The tips of his fingers were numb, his body routing the last of his air supply to vital organs to keep him alive. He felt his tight grip on Ella slip when her shoulders thrashed, and then her shaking body turned sluggish. Her movements slowed.
Is this it? Is this how I’m to die? Ella’s foot jerked and kicked him sharply in the shin. She was dying. And it was all his fault.
No! Please…gods, save her, he begged.
Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs) Page 20
