A Centaur for Libby

by Reese Gabriel

  Slowly, his anxiety built until it was nearly as high as that faced in battle. By the time he was called forward in front of the queen, his stomach was in a fierce knot.

  “If it pleases the court,” called the Chief Courtier, having blown his trumpet of announcement. “We call forth Markos, Captain of the Centaur Guard. Come forward, Markos, to receive Her Majesty’s highest honor.”

  His friends let out a most undignified cheer. The rest of the guests gave in to thunderous applause. Markos walked forward, praying it would all end quickly.

  Queen Aquaria looked stunning, her red hair carefully arranged under a four-pronged crown. Her dress was composed of seashells, interwoven with pearls, with an underlay of wetsilk, a material as fine as anything in the universe.

  She looked radiant, though Markos knew her heart was still broken for her fallen husband. There were whisperings about her remarriage, with lots of speculations as to whom she might choose. A few fools had started the ridiculous rumor it would be him. Perish the thought. No offense to Aquaria, but he would never sit still for being consort to a queen. Too much drudgery, too many ceremonies like this to attend.

  “We greet you, Markos.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Savior of Constellia.”

  “Thank you, your Highness,” he answered politely, praying to the stars that the pompous title never caught on.

  The courtier blew his trumpet again. “If it pleases the court,” he repeated his tedious recitation “We call forth Libra Daniels, Attorney-at-Law of the Earth. Come forward, Libra, to receive Her Majesty’s highest honor.”

  Markos repressed a small smile of amusement. No doubt Libby was thrilled as could be to have her full name used.

  A hush came from the audience. Markos turned in time to see her, splendid as any bride. Quite literally, she took his breath away. Her hair was swept back, decorated with tiny blue flowers. She wore a blue gown, low-cut, cinching at the waist and falling all the way to her feet. Her eyes sparkled like jewels, her lips were ruby red.

  “I do believe I’ve just been upstaged,” Aquaria said to Markos, for his ears only.

  Markos frowned. The queen was teasing him just a little. Aside from the rumors of his marrying Aquaria there was quite a bit more talk of him and the dark-haired Earth woman.

  “No one could upstage you,” said Markos.

  “You’re a better soldier than a liar, young man,” chuckled the queen. “If you want my advice, grab her while you still can. You’ll never find another like her.”

  “She doesn’t want me,” said Markos. “She said so.”

  “And since when does a woman give in easily to the man she loves? Shame on you, Markos, for giving in so easily.”

  Markos said nothing. He was watching Libby walk, his eyes lost in her every motion, the tiny turn of her wrist, the shyness in her batted eyelashes. Such a wonderful bundle of contradictions. The heart of a lioness in the courtroom and yet completely unaware of her own devastating beauty.

  Here was true modesty and honor.

  Halfway down the aisle their eyes met. Her lip trembled. He tried to keep himself calm. He mustn’t show his feelings, what she was doing to him, how she made him desire her with all his centaur body.

  By the stars, it would almost be worth being permanently human just for one more chance to make love to her.

  “We are gathered in the name of Constellia,” pronounced the queen when Libby had reached his side. “To bestow the Honor of Leo, the highest medal in the land. To have even one recipient in a lifetime would be a blessing but tonight we have two. And not just any two. For in front of me is the product of an interplanetary union, a match made in the stars.”

  Markos ground his teeth. Could Aquaria make this sound any more like a wedding service? He cast a quick sideward glance. Libby was expressionless. What in blazes was she thinking right now? He would give anything to know.

  “To this pair,” the queen continued her already excessive speech, “we owe most directly our freedom and our lives. Had Libby not won her victory in the courtroom and had Markos not triumphed on the battlefield we would all by now be the perpetual slaves of Scorpos.”

  You would have found a way, Markos grumbled to himself. You could have talked him to death, for one thing.

  “Because of the special circumstances,” said the queen, “I would like to give the awards in a unique way.”

  Wonderful. Now what?

  “Each of you,” said the queen, “will place the award around the neck of the other. You will then each kiss one another.”

  Markos held his ground. This was beyond preposterous but he would not, could not react. Aquaria was his sovereign and an order was an order. Besides, he mustn’t show emotion to Libby. There would be time for that afterward, as he partook of the world’s largest venting session with Dalion.

  Markos was handed Libby’s medal by a Gemini courtier. He took a step forward, positioning his hooves.

  Libby was looking straight ahead, beyond him. She looked like she might shatter if he touched her too hard. His heart slamming in his chest, he put the ribbon about her slender neck, lowering it slowly until the gold disc rested on her bosom.

  His mouth was dry, he was filled with terror. “On behalf of a grateful Constellia,” he whispered the rote words.

  Her lips were soft and supple. He drank them in like a man lost in the desert for a week without water. In a flash the world was gone, hers and his. He longed only to draw her closer, to make it all right and to bind them in flesh once and for all.

  But that was not to be. He could not feel her breasts against him, could not enjoy her sighs, touch again and smell her hair or nibble on her pink, ticklish earlobes.

  Markos straightened himself, separating them. He had survived his kiss. Now he must survive hers.

  Libby took his medal in her hands, hands which could work such soothing wonders on his body. The hands of a woman, a lover, a hero. How different those fingers were from his own and yet how well they intertwined.

  “On behalf of a grateful Constellia,” she said, rising on tiptoes to place the ribbon about his neck.

  Markos bowed his head to receive the gift of her arms about his neck, her breath against his cheek for a precious fleeting second. Clenching his fists, he resisted every impulse not to sweep her into his arms, stealing her very breath away.

  She closed her eyes, offering him the lightest press of flesh. This second contact was so much worse than the first. Not only for how it aroused it him but because he knew this kiss would be the last.

  Before long she would be back on Earth and he would be only a distant memory for her.

  “Three cheers for the heroes,” called the queen. The chamber resounded with cries, of every pitch and tone, representing the whole of the zodiac.

  Markos would treasure this moment his entire life.

  The trumpets blared again. Markos took Libby’s arm to walk her back down the aisle. Such was often the symbol of a beginning between two people, but in this case it was the end.

  “Thank you,” Libby said to him as they reached the back of the chamber, her voice calm and steady, “for rescuing me.”

  “It was my duty,” he said. “And I thank you, for proving my innocence.”

  “Justice is everyone’s due,” she said, sounding strangely stiff and formal.

  Markos nodded. “The law is your one true love, I know.”

  Libby’s veneer broke as pain flashed across her eyes. Markos regretted his words at once. “Libby, I didn’t mean—”

  “No apologies,” she cut him off. “I deserve any punishment you choose to give me.”

  Punishment made him think of happier times, when he had spanked her in the hotel room, when they had devoured each other with lust and still been left wanting more, like an unquenchable fire. A fire that burned through two worlds and allowed them to change the fate of Constellia.

  “You know I would never wish to bring you harm,” he said.

  “I know that, Markos.
”

  He tapped his front hoof. “You will be going home after the celebration?”

  “Yes, if not sooner,” she said. “I’m afraid I am feeling rather exhausted. I would really like to sleep in my own bed. Do you suppose it will be night when I get home?”

  “It will be less than a second after you left. Something to do with the flow of magic in the stream of time.”

  “I suppose Argos would be the one to explain it,” she said.

  “He’ll only confuse you more.” Markos shook his head.

  Libby smiled. “And what about you? What does your future hold?”

  “I’m not sure. What is it retired heroes do?”

  “Whatever they wish, I would imagine.”

  “Kalos can put me to work,” he quipped. “Adding figures. Or maybe I’ll knock down buildings with my head like Dalion.”

  “Whatever you do,” she said, a little moist-eyed. “I know you’ll be the best at it.”

  “So will you, Libby. Honestly, you are the bravest creature I have ever known.”

  “Me?” she laughed. “You’re the one who destroyed the scorpions single-handed.”

  “But you faced the greater challenge—you came here unarmed, to save me. I will never forget that.” He took her hand. “I wish you well, Libra of Earth.”

  Markos could feel the slight vibrations in her hand, the tension in her brow, imperceptible to anyone else. So she was still capable of responding to him…

  “Likewise, Markos of Constellia. I wish you well, always.”

  “Always,” he concurred.

  Markos did not stay for the rest of the celebration. Dalion caught up to him at the door. “Where are you off to?”

  “To get drunk, what else?” growled Markos.

  “There is nothing else.” He shook his head. “At least not when it comes to females.”

  “Leaving without me?” called out Kalos.

  “So much for a good time,” grumbled Dalion.

  “The more the merrier,” Markos replied, stepping out into the night air. The only one missing was Argos but he would be occupied tonight, sending Libby home.

  “Just do me one favor,” he told them both. “Get me drunk fast and if I try to go and stop Argos from sending Libby back, knock me out with a large, wooden club.”

  “My pleasure,” said Dalion, meaning it.

  Kalos said nothing.

  “Not a word out of you,” Markos warned him, knowing his sympathies lay with Libby. “She is leaving and that’s it.”

  “I’m not the one you have to worry about,” Kalos pointed out.

  He’s right, thought Markos. The real enemy is my own heart…which lies as broken as any victim on the battlefield.

  The little group set up camp at the edge of the woods. They lit a fire and commenced drinking from a huge barrel of ale. Dalion and Kalos took turns with a long wooden straw while Markos hoisted the entire thing to his mouth, spilling half of it down his bare, battle-scarred chest.

  They shared pipes as well and rowdy songs. The moon had traveled well along on her nightly journey when Argos finally arrived.

  “It is done?” Markos asked.

  “It is done,” said Argos.

  “Pass the barrel,” said Markos, taking a deep drink. He did not need to ask if it had gone well. Argos was Argos. Which meant that Libby was home now, safe in her own world.

  “We should offer her a toast,” said Kalos.

  “No,” said Markos, with sudden harshness. “We will not. I don’t want her name spoken of again.”

  The four of them fell into silence, the mood of the evening shattered.

  “I am going home,” said Kalos. “Good night, my friends.”

  “I will accompany you,” said Dalion. “You’ll surely get lost on your own and stumble into a pit somewhere.”

  “You are both drunk as can be,” said Argos. “I will watch you both.”

  They said their good nights to Markos.

  “Good night,” he replied sullenly, seeing through their little ruse to excuse themselves from his surly presence.

  Markos drank some more, then lifted the barrel overhead. Crying out in fury and frustration, he threw it with all his might. It landed somewhere out of sight, alone, forgotten. Just like him.

  Markos could not go home like this, sodden in self-pity. It was time to cleanse himself in the manner of the ancients. Tamping down the fire, he turned toward the deep woods. He would enter it and he would not leave until he had an answer to the meaning of his life without Libby.

  If it took ten years, twenty or a hundred he would go.

  If need be he would walk to the ends of Constellia and jump into the depthless black sea. The only thing he would not do would be to return to Earth to chase after her. Never, ever in a million purple sunsets.

  Chapter Eight

  Libby was at her desk daydreaming. Turning a pencil over and over in her hand, imagining the way Markos had ripped the stinger from Scorpos and used it to kill his own soldiers. Five minutes ago she had been playing with a paper clip, wondering what Markos would make of this neat, twisted little bit of metal. Surely he would have some clever thing to say.

  Before that she had been thinking of Markos’ kisses, how he instinctively understood which parts of her body to enflame and when. She could make him feel so strong and yet so weak. He could make her so hungry for sex that she was ready to dig her nails into his powerful body and yet he could restrain her with a word, a look, rendering her helpless and completely captivated.

  Libby snapped the pencil and tossed it in the trash. This was no good at all. It had been two weeks now since she left Constellia and still she could think of nothing but the handsome, stubborn centaur. Look at this work on her desk! A higher pile than she had ever faced in her life. Even Frank was feeling sorry for her. He hadn’t given her a new case—wacky or normal—all week.

  Things were getting worse too, not better, and she had nowhere to turn for help. It was like she had become this totally different person, starry-eyed, not able to focus on her work. Last week on impulse she had jumped into a fountain, fully clothed.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” Aggy had said. “This is a little above my pay grade. In my profession the bogeymen are supposed to be fake.”

  Markos was anything but fake and he was a long way from being a part of her past. Constantly she thought of him and when she wasn’t thinking about his life and what he was doing she was thinking of things to tell him and share with him about her own.

  A couple of times, in the middle of the night, in moments of sweaty, pre-orgasmic weakness, she had actually sought to transport herself back. She still had his clothes, which were in the hotel when she transported back moments after she left, but the scent of him had faded after a few days.

  In a vain effort, she had tried to teleport her own scent, masturbating for him, legs wide open, hoping he would breathe her in and come for her. Things like that never happened, though did they? Sure, the universe might dump you off in some Mad Hatter world every now and again but you could be sure you would come back empty-handed, with nothing but a broken heart to show for your troubles.

  She checked her watch. Eleven-thirty. A few more minutes of staring into space and she would go have some lunch. Then it would be off to court to try and sound like a real lawyer.

  How boring it was to be in a courtroom with only one judge—two-handed—and to have only humans for opponents. She had had to catch herself once from objecting on the grounds of the district attorney behaving like a scorpion.

  “Miss Daniels?” she heard Kevin at the door.

  “Hey, Kev, what’s up?” Libby looked up from Mt. Suicide, shifting a pile of folders so she could see him.

  She knew from the frown on his face it was not good. “Don’t tell me,” she said hoping for something small and easily fixable. “Somebody superglued Judge Waller’s gavel again?”

  “I wish.” Kevin shook his head, not a trace of levity. “I’m afraid we have a si
tuation out front.”

  In other words, something no one wanted to deal with so they were going to try and stick her with it.

  “Kev, can I take a rain check? I’m sure there will be another nice disaster by tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, kiddo.” Vinny Pirelli appeared in the doorway, the blue shirt of his police uniform contrasting to the white of Kevin’s. “This one’s got your name written all over it.”

  “Really? You found a plane to skywrite ‘sucker’ over the courthouse?”

  “Less mouth,” said the hardnosed cop aiming a thumb over his shoulder. “And more action.”

  Libby blew strands of hair from her face. Had anyone else ordered her around like that, including her boss, she would have told him to take a flying leap. But Vinny was different. He was one of those quiet heroes, who did his job and never asked a man or woman under his command to do anything he wouldn’t do himself twice over.

  “You owe me,” she said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail for the occasion.

  “I’ll buy you a nice steak,” said Vinny, giving her a wink.

  Libby grinned. “I’m holding you to it.”

  If Markos were an Earth policeman, she decided, he would be like Vinny. Only a lot better-looking.

  “What’s with the skirt?” Vinny asked, as if that could possibly make any difference right now. “I didn’t know you owned any.”

  “I’m full of surprises,” she said as she tromped down the hall in her heels, brand-new, an inch taller than anything she had ever owned before.

  She had gone shopping shortly after she got back from Constellia. For some reason she needed to feel more feminine, lighter, prettier. It wasn’t to impress anyone in particular, at least not on this world.

  “So are you going to brief me or not?” she asked as Vinny took up his place beside her.

  “We got us another ‘interplanetary traveler’. Claims he knows you, won’t talk to anyone else. Harmless enough, I would really hate to see him in the system.”