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

by Fredricks, Sheri

Alek closed his eyes and felt his heart breaking. Tears leaked from the corners. He wished he could inhale her sweet night jasmine scent one last time before they left this world together. How he loved the way she smelled.

  Wanting to take Ella’s sweet memory with him into the afterlife, Aleksander gently sealed his lips to hers. He gifted her with what little air was left in his lungs.

  Thirty

  Aleksander’s stomach lurched as a whirlpool sensation hit his body hard. A suction of antigravity pulled them upward within the shimmer Patience manifested.

  The Wood Nymph’s slim arms gripped him from behind with a secure, finger-clenched hold.

  “Almost there,” Patience’s soft voice drifted to him, like a light breeze whispered through spring leaves.

  His lungs were divested of air, since he’d given his last breath to Ella. Fire burned in Alek’s compressed chest. Black spots danced in his vision, multiplying with horrendous speed in the shocking pink flash of Patience’s shimmer.

  A small shudder coursed through Ella’s body. Her blue lips worked to take in nonexistent air. Tears leaked out from behind her closed lids.

  And there was nothing he could do—but watch her die in his arms.

  Nothing.

  Alek slammed his eyes shut. An onslaught of despair poured in. Gods of the mythic forest, I’m a lousy excuse for a Centaur. I beg you…take my life, but spare Ella’s. He tightened his shaking arms around his Troll, holding her next to his heart. Even in her unconscious state, her weak fingers knew to cling to his back—to hold on.

  If this was love—if this helpless need to give all you had and then find ways to give more, was love? Then, he had finally found what he’d been searching for all these years—A fulfillment of his heart, a compliment to his starving soul, and hopefully, a partner for life.

  Even if that existence meant traipsing after Ella through the lush gardens of Elysium in an afterlife, the thought didn’t sound all that bad. Unless he wasn’t sent to the mythological version of heaven.

  In that case, he was well and truly screwed.

  Bright flashes spurred his closed eyelids to fly open. The palace corridor came into view through a thin curtain of veiled white. Behind him, Patience held tight, and her energy increased to heat his back. As if he ascended or descended quickly, his ears popped with atmospheric pressure, and they were through.

  A warm room temperature hit his skin the same time his oxygen starved lungs forced his mouth open wide. Life giving air rushed in on his gasp. Alek coughed violently, alternating between wheezes in and choking hacks out. His watery eyes teared up further.

  Patience’s arms disengaged from around his chest. Her body pressure disappeared from his back.

  He blinked his eyes rapidly, clearing the moisture away.

  Ella!

  There was no life behind her half-closed lids, her turquoise gaze fixed and dull.

  “She’s not breathing.” The alarm in his scratchy voice bounced off the soil on which they laid, and sounded foreign to his ears. “Ella!” Alek gave her limp body a good shake. “Ella, breathe.”

  “Give me room, Alek.” Rhycious knelt on the other side of Ella’s prone form. He gently pried her from his panicked grip.

  “Watch her back,” Aleksander warned.

  Rhycious flicked his gaze at Alek for a second, compassion brimming in his best friend’s eyes. “I see it, buddy.”

  Another coughing fit wracked his lungs. Of course, Rhy would see her injury. He was the premier Remedy Maker of the Centaur kingdom, so Alek knew Ella was in the best healing hands known to the gods.

  The stallion need to protect his mate reared up within him, the instinct blocking all rational thought. Strengthened by his mythic nature, Alek rose to his knees but refused to give ground.

  Defend. Protect. Mate.

  As though Ella were a newborn cub, Rhycious carefully rolled her, placing the soft bluegrass to cushion her back. He slid one hand under her neck for an angled tilt. The fingers of his other hand pinched her nose closed. Rescue breathing, basic first-aid treatment for non-breathing victims.

  Aleksander coughed over and over. He worked to gain control over his spasmodic lungs and watched Ella’s chest rise and fall while Rhy administered mouth to mouth resuscitation.

  “Come on, Ella,” Patience pleaded, her feet shifting nervously. She stood behind her husband as he forced air into Ella’s lungs. “We’re all hangin’, Dudette. Just waiting for you to wake up. Alek’s here, too.”

  On Rhycious’s third rescue breath, Ella began to cough.

  The sound of her harsh wheeze was sweet music to Aleksander’s ears.

  For a few minutes, Rhycious watched her with critical eyes, then he backed off and allowed her body to respond naturally to breathing air on her own again.

  “Ahh! Ow, ow.” Ella cried out and immediately rolled to her side, facing Alek. “My back, it hurts.”

  Patience let out an audible gasp, her eyes riveted to Ella’s back—a sight Alek hadn’t seen yet, only treated in their confined, underground space.

  As the Wood Nymph’s cheeks drained of color, Alek blood pressure rose. Needing to know, he asked. “Rhy, how bad is—?”

  “Patience, go to the infirmary and have the staff stand by.” Rhycious’s gaze returned to Ella as she twisted and moaned on the ground. “Have them prep for surgery.”

  Patience took off, her nimble feet flying over the churned bluegrass carpet, rich walnut hair streamed out behind her.

  Alek reached out and grabbed Ella’s hand. “It’s going to be all right, Kalos. I’ll be right here by your side.”

  He ignored Rhy’s questioning look at the endearment, though he expected as much.

  When the tables were turned and Rhycious confided in his involvement with a Wood Nymph, Alek had all but told him he was insane. A rueful notion hit him. The equivalent of Karma sprang forth; with his not-so-divine history involving female Trolls, who was the crazy one now?

  Crazy indeed.

  Ella squeezed his hand as pain wracked her body.

  His heart went out to her, silently praising how she was a brave little thing.

  “Alek.” Rhycious broke into his thoughts. “Inside my backpack, I have a pair of pants you can wear.”

  For the first time since transitioning from his true form, Alek gazed down and realized—his legs and ass were hanging free. He reached for the brown canvas remedy pack and unzipped the large main compartment.

  Rhycious glanced anxiously in the direction of Patience’s departure. Lines of worry crossed his face. Without her calming presence, the big Centaur had an off chance of falling into a postwar flashback, and then all hell would break loose.

  Using caution, Aleksander brought Rhy’s attention back to him, even if it meant taking the brunt of the Remedy Maker’s kingdom-famous anger. “I’m sorry for having Patience shimmer us out of there. But I sure am grateful. Ella would have died if she hadn’t.”

  Rhycious rose to his full muscular height and checked the hall in both directions, satisfied only Centaur guards were visible. His hard, stony stare met Alek’s. “I never want to see you that close to my wife again. Are we clear?”

  “No worries, my friend. I’m grateful to you both.” He didn’t want to be plastered against any female but Ella.

  An acknowledged nod between friends, and they were back on track.

  Alek stuffed his bare feet into the borrowed camo pants, noting how his muscles shook from the effort. Aftereffects of adrenaline—he hoped. The jagged pink scar on his leg, a sword wound from long ago, made him wonder if Ella would now have a battle scar of her own.

  Ella coughed, the abrupt motion causing her to moan.

  Alek swallowed past his own raw throat. His lungs burned as if a kerosene explosion were ignited inside them. Ignoring his discomfort, he bent to lean over his lovely Troll.

  Tear tracks left streaks in the powdered dirt on her face. If she’d been able to dissolve to the surface, the supernatural travel mode wo
uld’ve cleaned her right up.

  A little dirt never bothered me. I’m Kempor Aleksander.

  His big warrior hands bracketed Ella’s face, and he kissed her fevered brow. “You’re going to be fine, Sweet-thing. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Ready?” Rhy bent at the knees, moving his arms into position with the intent to lift Ella off the ground.

  Mine!

  Unjust and irrational, overwhelming possession flared through him. Thoughts of a male, any male, touching his female sent violent spires to erupt in his stallion’s nature. It crushed his breath, caused his heart to beat out of control. Alek clenched a fist to gain control of his internalized outburst. He checked himself before reaching to clamp a firm grip on the massive shoulder of his friend.

  “She’s mine.” His words came out a low vibration, a caution to back the fuck off.

  Rhycious immediately pulled his arms away and held his palms up. He looked surprised at the warning.

  Though not nearly as surprised as Aleksander felt.

  “I understand completely.” Rhy offered a small consoling smile. “I’m the same way when it comes to Patience.”

  Yes, of all people, his PTSD afflicted friend would know. Aleksander moved into the spot vacated by Rhycious and carefully slid his hands under Ella, avoiding her injured back.

  She moaned softly. When he lifted her in his arms and stood, she turned her face into the crook of his neck. “Al, it hurts.”

  “Everything will be okay, Kalos.” Alek promised her. He pledged the oath from the depth of his soul, murmuring further words of comfort and love in the old language. “Let’s go.”Alek glanced over at Rhy to convey his intent of heading toward the infirmary.

  The stunned disbelief that appeared on his friend’s face would’ve been amusing any other time.

  “What?” Alek asked. “Did you forget something?”

  Rhycious shook his head and snapped his jaw shut. “No, it’s nothing. Never mind.”

  Angry shouts echoed from the cross-corridor ahead, quickly followed by galloping hooves.

  Rhycious thrust himself in front of Alek, sword drawn, ready to protect him and Ella from oncoming danger.

  Alek held Ella’s shivering body close. Her life—his future—literally lay in his arms.

  Thirty-One

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Yeah. Come in and shut the door.”

  Eli pushed Nubbs’ office door wider, surprised to see his sister’s boyfriend sitting with his ass planted in a seat, next to the only empty chair in the room.

  The commander waved him in, his face set in a frown, and pointed at the only available seat.

  He lowered himself into the leather, no-fuss chair and resisted the urge to grip the arms.

  Beside him, Kempor Aleksander wore the same haggard expression as the CO. His black brows were drawn down and it looked like someone currycombed circles into the Centaur’s short hair.

  Nubbs made quick work of introductions. “This is Eli. He’s one of my undercover operatives. I’m sure you know who Aleksander is.”

  Eli glanced to his left and noted the dark look sent his way.

  The Kempor didn’t appear pleased to make his acquaintance. Little wonder why. Ella must have given a personal accounting of him as a brother.

  Dirt streaked Aleksander’s face and shoulders, remnants of battle. While his upper half was filthy, he wore a clean pair of camouflage pants and boots.

  A frisson of worry slipped through Eli’s composure. The last he’d seen of his sister, she had witlessly dove to the arrogant Centaur’s rescue and transported him underground.

  She had placed herself in danger, and Aleksander had allowed her to do so.

  Eli turned to face the Kempor. “Where’s Ella?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “When my sister decides to save the sorry ass of a Centaur, I make it my business.” His hands gripping the chair, kept him from launching forward to confront the egotistical male.

  Nubbs raised his brows, but said nothing. The wooden chair creaked as the male leaned back to watch the two of them snipe at each other.

  Kempor Aleksander took a deep breath inward, his mouth working to fight back words. Too soon, a winner prevailed. He shifted in his seat and turned a hard gaze on Eli. “Ella is in the infirmary recovering from minor surgery. The Remedy Maker believes she’ll be released as early as tomorrow.”

  The mulish set to the Kempor’s jaw gave Eli a moment’s pause. Inside, his blood turned cold at the startling news. Could it be the panty-raider held feelings for Ella?

  It was doubtful. Either way, hooking up with the soldier had been bad news.

  Eli returned Aleksander’s stare. The Centaur outweighed and outranked him but damn it, his sister was under the male’s protection.

  “She was your responsibility while here in the palace. As far as I’m concerned, you let her down. Ella doesn’t take unnecessary risks. It’s not in her nature.” Unable to stay seated another moment; he stood to look the Kempor in the eye. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “Fuck you.” A mask of fury changed the landscape of Kempor Aleksander’s face. He leapt out of the chair and drew the sword from his hip. “If Ella had been treated right at home, she wouldn’t be here now.”

  The nasty tip of the razor sharp weapon lowered to a point below Eli’s chin. Espionage and infiltration were his trades, not combat fighting. Other than the multi-tool pocket knife he carried everywhere, he had no defense against the sword.

  “Enough!” Nubbs slammed a fist down on top of his desk, the wood cracking beneath the impact. “Put your fucking sword away and quit being so damn thin-skinned. Eli, watch your mouth before I bust it for you. Aleksander is many things, but he’s always respectful to the females. You girls go have your catfight on someone else’s time. I need you both to pull your heads out of your testosterone asses and listen up.”

  Still pissed enough to cause his ears to ring, Eli narrowed his eyes as Kempor Aleksander sheathed his sword.

  Nubbs pointed at them with the finger from his good hand, the one with all the digits. “Have a seat and behave yourselves. We’ve business to discuss.”

  Resolved to ignore the Centaur seething next to him and get his mind back to the job at hand, Eli gave his full attention to his commanding officer.

  “With your permission, Aleksander, I’d like to go over the details of the latest development on the rebels.”

  “Granted.”

  Nubbs made a parody of steepling his fingers and leaned forward on his elbows. He addressed the Kempor. “Eli successfully infiltrated the rebel stronghold and became a trusted member of the group.” The CO nodded in his direction, approval stamped in the motion. “He has a direct contact who meets with him. A red-headed female who collects his intel and hands out orders.”

  Kempor Aleksander absorbed the information.

  Though, Eli noted the way his eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.

  “The way she’s described,” Nubbs continued, “she’s a fucking dead ringer for someone we both thought long gone. You might even say ‘the one and only’.”

  Kempor Aleksander turned in his seat, dragging his dark look from Nubbs to Eli. Both dark brows pulled down and concern dug lines in the dirt on his face. “Does she smoke hand-rolled cigarettes?”

  “Yes.” Eli nodded.

  “Carry them in a silver case with a starburst design on the cover?”

  Again, Eli slowly nodded.

  “Wears a lot of bracelets?”

  “It’s a wonder she can lift her arms.”

  Nubbs and Aleksander shared a long silent look, his CO clicking a pen in rapid motion.

  The older Centaur broke from the staring contest first and threw down his pen. “Dammit. She’s back.”

  “Who’s back?” Eli bounced his glance between the two irate officers. “Back from where?”

  Kempor Aleksander ignored the questions and spoke to Nubbs through tight lips.
“I thought she’d been exterminated.”

  Nubbs ran a fingerless hand down his face to the back of his neck. “I never stated the Troll was dead. You came to that conclusion on your own.”

  “You never corrected the assumption.”

  Eli found the exchange puzzling. Pennelope was in it for Pennelope, that was a given. But extermination? “What in the hell would warrant the female’s death?”

  “I didn’t presume she’d return after her exile from the kingdom.” Nubbs cursed under his breath. The bleak look in his eyes unfamiliar from the calculated hard gleam Eli was used to. “I couldn’t execute my wife, Alek. So I banished her.”

  Wife? He did not just say wife. The news rocked Eli back in his chair.

  A Centaur—married to a Troll?

  Kempor Aleksander leaned forward in his seat. “Just where in Pan’s forest did you think she’d go? You exiled her to where? And to whom?” Aleksander slid out of his chair and took up pacing along the wall. The heavy black boots stomped in wide, heavy steps. “You thought you’d just kick her out and make her someone else’s problem? That’s fucked, Nubbs.”

  The CO brought the stubbed fingers of his left hand to trowel through his hair from forehead to crown, perhaps forgetting he missed the digits. Streaks of grey, like stripes on a military patch, were beginning to push through the blond strands. The male was showing signs of wear and tear in his under-the-radar position.

  All this for Pennelope? She’d be well pleased.

  The stone floor didn’t deserve the Kempor’s anger and the more he paced, the more it grated on Eli’s nerves.

  Kempor Aleksander made an abrupt turn when he otherwise would have kissed the wall. He rubbed that damned goatee of his and shot dark looks at Nubbs beneath his equally lowered dark brows. “We need to think of a way to bring her in.”

  “I could setup—”

  Nubbs cut Eli off as he addressed the Kempor. “What do you propose?”

  “Think of a reason to flush her out. We’ll lay a trap for her.” Aleksander stopped his pacing to lean both hands on the back of his chair. “Pennelope isn’t stupid. She’ll have to buy into whatever we come up with.”