It was done so quickly and expertly, it made her shudder.
Holding out the piece of apple on the tip of the knife, he asked, “Want a piece? No?” He sucked it off the knife.
If he was trying to unnerve her, it was working.
“You’re a chubby little thing, ain’t you? I thought y’all were supposed to be stick thin.”
“Who are you?” She hated that her voice shook. “What do you want with me?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? Money. I want lots and lots of money.”
“I don’t have any money. And neither does my family.”
“Ah, but you are the money, my dear.” Liberally sprinkled with reddish highlights, his short-cropped hair peeked out from beneath a camouflaged cap with a tightly bent visor. He sliced off another piece of apple, flicked it into his mouth, and crunched down. “People will pay a lot of money for a piece like you.”
Ella’s heart raced. She’d heard of humans who hunted the mythologicals for their imaginary powers and to abuse as sex slaves. Did he know she was Troll? “I don’t understand.”
The hunter smiled. He flicked a piece of apple and it hit her in the face. When she flinched, he chuckled. “You don’t need to understand.”
He took a step closer and flicked another piece at her.
She tried to swivel out of the way but with only the points of her toes touching the floor, she couldn’t do more than pirouette. The bit of apple struck her cheek.
“ʽTalk to Mr. Shaun. Rocks for rent.’” In falsetto, the hunter mimicked Ella’s words. Then, he snorted and tossed the apple away. “You think I didn’t see you come up out of the ground? I know what you are, so cut the shit.”
Her arms shook so badly. Reaching with her fingers, she grasped the chain that held her up. In her hanging position, trussed as if she were a Boronda deer ready to gut, her numb fingers couldn’t hold on. If she couldn’t find the physical strength to maintain, she’d find the inner strength to protect herself.
“Or what?” she asked. “You’ll kill me? I’m not worth much dead.”
“I don’t have to kill you. Maybe take a finger…or two.” He came toward her with the knife and reached for her lock of hair that lay over a shoulder.
Chilled by his cold smile and descriptive words, Ella braced for anything. But what happened next surprised even her.
The rickety front door burst open, dousing the interior with a shaft of golden sun. Sounds of splintered wood filled the shack as the door slammed back against the wall.
There was an almost comical look of stunned surprise on the human’s face to see a miniature Centaur in true form.
The warrior launched himself mid-air with a back leg martial arts kick and snapped out at the hunter’s hand, holding the knife.
Flying from human’s grip, the blade skittered along the floor.
The Centaur whirled and used a back hoof to kick it through the open door, then he galloped out after the knife.
“What the fuck was that?” The hunter yelled additional curses, grabbed his rifle, and ran out after him. Boot stomps grew fainter as the small Centaur lured him away. A gun fired somewhere in the distance.
The only mythic who had ever caused her pulse to race, shouldered his way past the camo netting that waved in a gentle breeze and hurried to Ella.
“How did you—?” she began.
“Not now.”Al worked methodically to slice through the knotted rope above her head. His lips pressed to a thin line, brows riding low over his eyes.
One of her arms came loose and dropped to her side. White-hot pain shot into her shoulder, leaving her gasping for breath.
“Almost there, hang on.”
“Not funny, Al.”
His devastating smile, totally out of place, dropped a warm bomb that heated her icy blood.
The sharp knife he used sawed through the corded rope like a Troll dove through dirt.
Ella’s other arm dropped. More of the same searing pain. At least now she stood on the floor without the tip-toe weaving, though her head felt stuck in a crevasse.
He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t think so.” Though not as tall as Al, the human was a large man, his body poured into the hunting style clothes he wore. Armed with the rifle, he blocked the door. “Get your hands off my property.”
Al swept Ella behind him, protecting her with his larger frame. His fingers tightened on hers and he squeezed twice before letting go. Thankfully, the tingling in her fingertips signaled the numbness was gone and feeling had returned.
“You made a couple big mistakes today, pal.” Al widened his booted stance, and Ella felt the tension radiate off him. “Number one, you’re in my forest.”
The human snorted. “Your forest, huh? I’ll be sure to remember that.”
Ella leaned to the side to sneak a peek and saw the human’s rifle direct Al to step away.
“I found her first, pal. Go chase after that mini-freak instead. He couldn’t have gotten far, after I shot him.”
Aleksander didn’t budge. He stood very still and very quiet.
In fact, it seemed to Ella the same silence enveloped the woods beyond the four peeling walls.
Both arms remained loose at his sides, his breathing deepened.
The weapon motioned again. “Move your ass, or I’ll shoot you, too.” Breathing hard from the exertion of running after the small Centaur, the tip of the hunter’s rifle dipped.
Al didn’t waste a precious second. He leapt forward, arms extended, and tackled the human around the waist. They went down in a tangle of flailing limbs and loud curses. The rifle lay pressed between them, held in place by Al’s upper body, and he delivered some bone cracking blows to the human’s face.“Ella, run!”
No time for more than a brief glance at the pair wrestling on the floor, she put her sneakers into action, and blew past the cabin’s door that hung on broken hinges. Lightweight cargo netting pushed easily out of her way, and she hit the Boronda dirt in a dead run.
Branches of trees swayed ahead, beckoning her to run faster, to hide in their woodland. The air current was gentle. Not strong enough to cause such a wild action.
Thank Bacchus! The mythological forest came alive.
Wood Nymph guards emerged from gnarled tree trunks with swords drawn. Through the slats of the metal helms, their fierce expressions were riveted on the hunting shack she’d left behind.
Their presence meant safety and it kept Ella’s legs pumping forward in a fast-paced motion. She understood why the Nymphs couldn’t go in and help Al. The mythic decree appointed at the beginning of time, the one they all lived by, dictated that humans would never have proof of the mythological people’s existence.
The crack of a rifle’s rapport rang out and she stumbled, torn whether or not to go back. Her heart pounded with indecision.
Al! Please, let him be alive.
Interlocked branches opened, creating gateways of unobstructed paths. Behind her, the trees relaced their limbs. The Wood Nymph action covered her trail of escape and effectively blocked thoughts of returning to help Al.
Panic nipped her heels, and while blinded by tears, she ran.
Thirteen
From his prone position atop the belligerent human, Alek glanced at Ella’s jean-clad ass as she ran from the shack. Feet flying, she hardly touched the debris littered floor. Relief coursed through him. For once she chose to not stick around and argue. He returned his attention to countering blows and dodging anvil-tough fists.
Cold, hard, and twice as deadly as a copperhead, the hunter’s rifle lay pinned between their struggling bodies. The wooden stock struck his cheek repeatedly, but Alek wasn’t worried about that part. He was more concerned with the end pointing down, the side with the bullet-sized orifice that kept him fighting to prevent the human’s hand near the trigger.
He gave the man credit. For a human, he was strong.
“Son of a bitch! Get off me. She’s getting away,” the hunter grunted
out between clenched teeth. He kicked his legs, scrabbling to switch their positions.
That’s the idea, you bastard.
The human arched, bridging his back.
“Shut the hell up.” Alek used his elbow to punch the male on the chin. “Give up your weapon.”
They struggled, each working hand over hand to gain control over the rifle. When Aleksander lifted his arm to deliver another blow, the hunter reached up and snuck in a punch of his own. Unprepared for the strike that rattled his cage, Alek’s grip loosened for an instant.
“Fuck you.” The human slid his free hand up the stock toward the trigger. “I ain’t giving nothing up. Not my gun.” He shoved harder, his hand slid further. “And not my prize!”
The crack of the rifle shot deafened in the close quarters of the hut.
At first, there was no sensation at all except for the feeling of impact. Fighting on borrowed time, Alek used his forearm like a battering ram and got off some hardcore face bashes before a burning fire erupted from his upper thigh.
A century and a half ago, arrows pierced his leg and back. While he lay bleeding on the ground, a Wood Nymph warrior had raised his sword to finish him off. The fight to live kicked in and he had tried to roll out of reach, but the enemy’s sword laid him open from the back of the thigh to the front. Though gravely injured, Alek was able to raise his own weapon in time to save his life.
It was the same now as back then, Alek saw red. His vision narrowed on the human hunter and a need to eliminate the threat overrode all else. Basic Centaur military training and decades of war spewed from deep within. Instinct took over for his shock-filled brain. He swung with his fists, concentrating on hammering a hole into the hunter’s head with lightening fast blows.
The human fought back and countered bravely, though his slugs had no effect on Aleksander. A final cracking right cross, and it was lights out for the hunter.
Pan’s hooves! Maybe I should look into the easy life of a gigolo.
Alek rolled off the hunter and sat up, breathing heavy. Dirt from the floor covered him everywhere, and blood soaked his pants where the bullet ripped through the fleshy part of his upper thigh. When his eyes told his brain he’d been shot, the pain intensified.
“Aleksander.” Bomani peered around the draping of the camo netting. His worried eyes took in the human’s laid out body and Alek’s bloody leg. “How badly are you hit?”
“Unknown. Standby.” He refused to allow his hands to shake as he quickly worked snaps and the zipper, then tore off his tactical vest. For a bandage he was sure he’d need, Aleksander pulled his faded green t-shirt over his head.
Bomani clip-clopped inside and stood guard over the unconscious man. A smeared trail of red dripped down the smaller Centaur’s arm, but his injury was drying and on the mend.
Alek probed the hole in his pants and searched the moist, sticky area carefully. From his cursory tactile exploration, the bullet passed completely through the soft tissue of his inner thigh, completely missing the bone. “There seems to be an entrance and exit wound.”
“As gory as that may be, it’s actually good news.”
Alek grit his teeth against another wave of agonizing pain that popped sweat on his forehead. Spots danced before his eyes. He lifted his wrist to glance down at his watch. The dial swam and played Tilt-O-Whirl before settling down again. It was less than two hours before the transformation into his true form.
“The bleeding will stop when I transition, then I’ll be fine.” His damned human body healed so slowly. How that species survived was an evolutionary miracle. In his Centaur form, he healed at the accelerated mythic rate.
Bomani pawed the human none too gently in the head, then stepped to Aleksander’s side. “Let’s get you patched up.”
Together, they used the t-shirt as a field dressing to wrap his gunshot wound tight and staunch the trickle of blood.
Pain burned through his leg, and Alek hissed through his teeth. “Shit, that hurts.”
“What do we do with him?” Bomani tucked the tail end of the bandage under the wrapping and secured it in place.
Painful and sore, Alek tested his injured leg with a slight movement. “He saw enough of Ella to want to hunt her, and now you in your true form. Queen Savella’s ordered mercy at every opportunity.” While he understood the reasoning, leniency was often construed as weakness. “Help me up.” He set his hand on Bomani’s wide withers and with the male’s help, he maneuvered to a standing position.
“I’m not saying Her Majesty is out of touch,” Bomani replied. “But if she wants to mandate an order of clemency, then maybe this slug bait should be her problem, not ours.”
“Releasing him is out of the question.”
Beneath the manicured beard, the smaller Centaur grew a cunning smile.
“And so is killing him,” Alek quickly added.
Bomani dropped the grin and adjusted his scabbard’s belt with hard twisting pulls.
They both glanced at the hunter who groggily dragged his boot against the dirty floor. He was coming around, and they needed to decide his fate—quick.
Alek rubbed his goatee, then stopped when he remembered his blood covered hand. “We take him with us.”
“To the palace?” Bomani’s lifted brows disappeared into his hairline, his incredulity clear.
Yeah, it was a ridiculous idea. Plus, Kempor Hippolyte was sure to go completely Minotaur on him, but time had run out and a decision had to be made.
Alek nodded. “Yep. Let’s tie him up and drag him along.”
“Can I thump him unconscious? He fucking shot at me.”
Through his pain, and worry for Ella, Aleksander smiled. “Sure, go ahead. And give him one for me.”
*~*~*
Aleksander limped toward a vibrant clump of yarrow, the yellow flowers shone achingly bright against new grass shoots that sprouted over the slope like a mantle of green fur. Trees framed the area in an uneven edge.
Farther up the rise, Bomani turned toward him and snapped a smart salute, then proceeded to direct the recently arrived troop of Centaur soldiers carrying the unconscious human on a stretcher. The right-place, right-time male’s flaxen tail held a proud arch and swung in accordance to his marching steps. Under Alek’s order, the Centaur would escort the hunter to the palace and place him in custody until Savella came to a decision with his destiny.
Soldier’s Woundwart—that’s what Rhycious called the vibrant gold plant. Aleksander kept the weight on his good leg and reached down. He picked a handful of leaves and using both hands, crushed the feathery-leafed plant as Rhycious, the Royal Remedy Maker, taught him, releasing the essential oils.
It took him a moment to loosen the wrap and stuff the mashed leaves on both sides of the bullet wound under his bandage. Pain sucked the breath out of him and detonated his inflamed nerve endings, causing an atomic blast to rip through his leg. Behind his tightly clamped teeth, an agonized moan slipped free. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his vision swam.
The natural antiseptic value of yarrow would help stem the flow of blood. Through a throat rough and dry from gasping, Alek forced himself to breathe through the raw agony while taking short puffs of air.
A burst of squawking birds flew up from some low-lying bushes, and seconds later a six-point whitetail buck wandered from the tree line. It dipped its great antlered head and seemed to gaze at him from an angle. When Aleksander straightened from his bent position, the deer bounded away, into the harlequin shadows of the forest.
After two centuries of war and fighting in the Boronda Forest, Alek knew nearly every inch of the habitable mythic land. Three hours march time to the east, housed the impenetrable Centaur palace. Two hours uphill and north, Boronda Falls. Rhycious’ cabin at the edge of the southern woods stood a good three-hour gallop away.
What he didn’t know vexed him the most.
Where was Ella?
*~*~*
Crap and double crap! A living maze. Branches const
antly moved, formed twists and turns…and Ella slowed to a fast walk.
The Wood Nymphs creeped her out with their snake-like tree movements. She pushed against the iron-tough network of interlocked branches, trying to forge a path away from where the wooden limbs directed her, and was smartly spanked on the ass.
“Hey! Watch it.” Unless she wanted more Nymph warriors who were into BDSM to paddy whack her butt, the best choice was to keep moving. “Will you guys let me out of here to check on Kempor Aleksander?”
Ella shoved her hair out of her eyes and followed the bizarre interchanging path the Wood Nymphs set her on. Where it led, she hoped they knew. It seemed like she was traveling in circles, and for all she knew, she very well could be. With a deep breath and clenched jaw, she pressed on.
A tree growing at an angle lay in her way. After throwing her leg over to climb past, she swore the log raised itself higher mid-slide. Nymphs have one thing on their mind, no matter the circumstance.
Whispered laughter, no louder than a breeze, skimmed invisibly through shimmering fronds. Then, the sound broke apart and floated away, as if it had never been.
A buckeye tree blocked the end of Ella’s path with five-finger flames of large reddish-brown leaves. Low hanging boughs, heavy with chestnuts, swayed in the motionless air.
A Wood Nymph soldier awaiting his orders? Perhaps. Whatever the order, or the decision, the limbs on one side lifted, filling the air with the creak of bending wood.
Ella eyed the brightly colored tree for a moment before ducking her head and scurrying under the limb. Once through to the other side, the limb released and a rush of air blew past. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and looked around.
A small, irregular shaped clearing fronted a massive boulder outcrop. Dark grey granite on both sides with white quartz shot through the middle.
Her Troll eyes appreciated the beauty and she stepped closer.
High above, at the top of the rock ledge, a river birch with silvery leaves grew, spreading its lower branches to drape like a summer shawl over the boulder.
Troll-y Yours BBW Erotic Curvy Fantasy Romance (The Centaurs) Page 9