Blooming Desire: An Extraordinary Spring Romance Collection

by S. J. Sanders

  He said the magic words. Hot. Bath.

  A smile curled his lips when she groaned. “Mmmm, how can I get you to make that sound again?”

  “Promise me a hot bath and we’ll go from there.”

  “Done. I’ll even wash your back, cheroush.”

  With that he cuddled her against him a little tighter and continued forward, picking his way around rocks and between knots of bushes. It wasn’t long before she, too, heard what had alerted him.

  Laughter.

  The sound of it was so bright and obviously carefree that she found herself smiling. Voices were talking, too, but the words were indistinct in the distance. When he stepped around a large rock formation the site itself came into view.

  After the past day in the dim forest, she was dazzled by the colors around her. The meadow stretching out before her was sheltered by the forest on all sides. The lush field was dotted with flowers in a virtual rainbow of colors. Tall grass ruffled gently in the breeze and in the distance flashed the surface of a huge lake. Far in the distance were a series of jagged mountains. The taller peaks were white with snow. A bank of clouds ringed their crowns like a halo but the rest of the sky was a cerulean so bright it was almost painful to the eye.

  Tents of all sizes, shapes and colors were arranged in various places, some near the edges where the forest met the open land and others closer to the water. There didn’t seem to be any particular order to things. Some were well made and new. Others were shabby and threadbare with age or poor materials. For some reason she didn’t expect the numbers to be so vast. People, well…Centauri, mingled around in groups all over the open spaces. Some were lounging in the grass or where formations of rocks created higher elevations. Her vision was still adjusting to the light and she couldn’t make out details.

  “Looks like everyone is already here,” she whispered, surprised at the scale of the event.

  “It is still early in the season. These are mostly the females.” He hesitated and finally blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I cannot track your daughter from here. The tracks are muddled.”

  “You did your best. Maybe she managed to find her way here.”

  “We are on the Jahtauri side of the grass,” he said, sounding concerned as he scanned the area near at hand. “I have always come into the valley on that side, where the Centauri camp.” He pointed across the meadow but she couldn’t make out any details at this distance.

  “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Our tribes are not always friendly,” A’pone murmured. “This is a neutral space, but it isn’t wise to step through their camp uninvited.”

  “We could go around?” She squinted at the group closer to where they walked the perimeter, keeping close to the tree line. Going all the way around was going to take a while, but better than stirring up trouble by going right into the thick of a camp without asking.

  The cloth flap of one of the closest tent to them flung open with a flourish, startling Veronica, who leaned in sharply to A’pone, tightening her arms around him. The being that stepped out into the sunlight was not what she expected. Her mind had assumed that the Jahtauri would be equine-like. Maybe a different coloration. This being was half man and half enormous tiger. The hair on his head was a brilliant scarlet to match the pelt of his animal half.

  Recognition prickled at her memories. She’d never forget her shock at seeing his candy apple red hair. That was the man she’d seen at the wedding rehearsal. Veronica caught him talking to Tiffany with uncomfortable familiarity. At the time she’d been furious that her daughter was more interested in chatting up some vagrant than spending time with her fiancé. He’d been dressed so shabbily, She assumed he was crashing the wedding.

  He was Tiffany’s friend from university. A musician, her daughter had said. Veronica had been so focused on the man not making a scene, thinking he was going to steal food. She hadn’t noticed the many signals her daughter was giving off. Just the way they stood together, leaning into each other as though drawn by magnets.

  She felt that same draw to A’pone.

  Familiar laughter peeled from inside the tent, a squeal of wordless protest before a pillow flew out o the open door. It smacked the jahtaur’s powerful back harmlessly. He jerked a smoldering look over his shoulder, a cocky smile curving his mouth. “Up you get, lazy bones.” His deep voice rumbled around purrs of satisfaction.

  “It’s cold!” whined the voice from inside the luxurious-looking tent. “Come back to bed, Lin-lin.”

  Veronica clutched her chest at the voice.

  “K’lain,” A’pone breathed, his hand going to the hilt of his blade. A vibrating tension ran through his body. The arm holding her tightened like a band of iron.

  “Seductress.” K’lain whirled toward the tent and took a swaggering step back the way he’d come before spotting them. The jahtaur’s focus shifted from gazing lovingly at the interior of his tent to focus on A’pone standing just behind that structure. The warmth in his expression bled away, replaced by an emotion that made Veronica’s heart ache. Terror. “Tiffany,” Veronica whispered at the same time A’pone lowered her to her feet.

  “Stay behind me,” he hissed, wrapping both hands around the grip of his sword and stepping forward as it slid free,.

  Trouble? Murial’s voice and cheerfulness suffused her at the single word.

  Black lips peeled back from K’lain’s savage fangs and he barked out a sound that was both fear and rage. “A’pone. How dare you sneak into my camp and threaten me here.” His fingers flexed and deadly claws extended from sheaths. He reached to his striped shoulder, jerking free a huge, curved scimitar from an elaborately jeweled scabbard. “’Lain!” Tiffany’s worried scream rose.

  “I told you the last time we met that if our paths crossed, I would kill you,” A’pone said with quiet, cold neutrality.

  “My daughter is in there,” Veronica cried as A’pone moved forward, sword held the guard position. K’lain’s golden gaze darted into the tent, an expression of tenderness, love and terrible anguish plain on his face. “Run, talina-lin. Do not look back and do not stop until you reach my brother’s tent. Quick as a cheroush. Go.” He whipped his attention back to A’pone, flinging himself between the centaur and the tent, swinging his blade with a war cry as he tried to drive A’pone away from the tent and the escape route of the woman inside.

  “Brother,” sneered A’pone and lunged to meet K’lain’s opening strike.

  The woman who bolted from the tent was not the daughter that Veronica had seen mere hours ago at the rehearsal dinner. This was a wild, barbarian princess. Her sandy-blonde hair was bed-rumpled, cut short at her temples but falling down her back in random braids woven with ribbons. A thick lei of twisted leaves and greenery, shells and bits of wood, was the only thing she wore to cover her chest and a skimpy leather loincloth like a bikini bottom covered her groin. A large blade was sheathed at her hip from a low-slung belt. She didn’t even have anything on her. Her skin was painted with bronze stripes and spots, though many of the markings were smeared across her flesh.

  Steel rang as the weapons connected, the two massive warriors trading blows with equal ferocity. Each male had something to protect and defend, but A’pone had the weight of some prior wrong to avenge.

  Instead of the sound of fighting spurring her to sprint away from the danger as commanded, Tiffany’s hand went to the weapon at her side. She whirled to the fight, eying A’pone with raw hatred burning in her eyes.

  “Tiffany!” Veronica cried, ducking from behind A’pone’s protective mass.

  “Mom?” Tiffany’s eyes went wide, the pretty jade green a stark contrast behind her dark face paint.

  Metal screamed against metal and K’lain fell back a step as A’pone lunged forward, forcing the blades apart. He advanced on the opening, trying to unbalance the jahtaur before he could bring up his scimitar. The feline’s lower body twisted away, claws jabbing out to strike at the centaur’s belly.

  Mu
rial’s battle scream rang out but neither man broke from their conflict. Blue sparks spun around his muzzle as he opened his mouth. From inside his jaws a radiant glow swelled as he made ready to blast the jahtaur into oblivion.

  But, as though things weren’t complicated enough, a second cheroush arrowed into the fray, slamming into Murial. This one was larger and a lighter color. Streaks of reds and pink ran along its flanks. The impact sent feathers and tuffs of fur flying and the bolt of energy and fire slammed far of the target, splintering a large boulder. The pair tangled together with yowls of fury. Clawing and biting, they spiraled to the ground, landing heavily in the tall grasses.

  Her heart felt like it imploded as the contact with the cheroush wrenched out of her mind. It left a cold, empty hole inside her soul that threatened to drag her down into it.

  The tree yanked her back, though, evergreen and mint filling her head with calm.

  Murial was gone from her mind as though he never exsisted.

  Veronica didn’t know what caused the animosity between these centaur and jahtaur, but she didn’t want her daughter’s lover killed. She certainly didn’t want A’pone wounded, or worse. She ran to Tiffany, the tatters of her heart in her throat. Scalding pain blurred her vision and stung her cheeks as they flowed.

  At least she could stop her from pulling a knife on A’pone.

  “Mom!” Tiffany met her halfway, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was chalky white, lips so tight they were colorless. “Why did you have to come here?” she demanded.

  The unspoken but heart wrenching, you ruined everything, twisted her already aching soul.

  She threw her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. The device sucked me in.”

  A’pone snarled in pain as his opponent’s claws opened his side. He reared back, his massive front hooves lashing toward K’lain’s face. One connecting with the jahtaur’s jaw as the double-handed sword struck the upward sweep of the scimitar. K’lain’s cry of pain echoed through the meadow as his weapon flew from his twitching fingers. He staggered back, eyes rolling from the impact of blade and hooves.

  “For my brother Dh’lan,” A’pone said through his teeth. “For my father who suffered every night that Dh’lan lay in a pool of his own sweat as the festering gut wound slowly took him.” He advanced on K’lain’s crumpled form. The bleeding wound in his side ignored, he pointed the tip of his sword at the jahtaur’s chest. “An honorable male would have made a clean kill. I told you long ago that I’d show you how it’s done.”

  “Don’t,” Tiffany’s broken plea appeared to cut through the battle lust clouding A’pone’s head. He spared a glance to her but his sword hovered, ready to deliver the killing blow.

  “Please, A’pone,” Veronica whispered, holding her weeping daughter against her.

  Her voice brought more humanity into his eyes, drawing him back from whatever horrible abyss of grief and revenge had consumed him. “W-what’s this?” he asked, his voice losing some of the ice and rage. The sword wavered an inch.

  “My daughter. We found her.”

  “He’s my one. He’s my mate. My life partner. Please. P-please spare him.” With an Amazon woman’s strength she tore herself from Veronica’s grip and ran to K’lain, throwing herself between him and the sword aimed at his heart. She glared defiantly up at A’pone. Tears glistened on her cheeks but fury was etched into every line of her body.

  A’pone lowered his sword, color draining from his face as he came face to face with the human shield between him and his quarry. He bared his teeth, snarling his frustration.

  “You’d better kill me, too, or I will murder you in your sleep,” she spat at him, pure hellcat and venom. “Your fucking beast already killed my Kerkardo. Isn’t that enough death for you?” Her voice hitched and she began weeping openly. “Why must you hold onto this? It happened when he was so young. Can’t you forgive him? Are aren’t you strong enough for that?”

  The sword finally lowered all the way as A’pone closed his eyes. “He told you?”

  “It haunts his dreams. Every night. Every. Fucking. Night,” Tiffany answered, continuing to glare up at him.

  When A’pone stepped back, slamming the sword into its scabbard, Tiffany’s shoulders drooped with relief. She twisted her body so she could throw her arms around the fallen jahtaur behind her. Her voice lowered to speak in soothing tones to the male. One of his enormous clawed hands took hers and wrapped around it. His other hand cupped her cheek before sliding into her hair, gripping her.

  “I told you…to run.”

  “I’m not good at following orders,” Tiffany whispered brokenly.

  Veronica gripped her hands together over her heart, aching desperately. For her daughter and the man she loved. And yearning for A’pone, who watched them with an empty expression, emotions guarded behind an impenetrable wall.

  She took a step toward the centaur, wanting to offer comfort. His tail lashed behind him in agitation and anger. He didn’t look at her until she whispered his name. The look he gave her was horrible to behold, as though someone had cored out his heart. “Here is your daughter then. My duty to you is done.”

  “Done? But you said…”

  “That was before I knew this,” he said icily, sweeping a disgusted look at her daughter and her lover, “abomination tainted everything.”

  He didn’t even glance at her, his posture rigid. By this time others were coming out of their tents to see what was happening. They were all Jahtauri and most of them had weapons drawn and were casting murderous looks at A’pone.

  With a curse, the centaur turned and simply galloped from the camp, making his way to the Centauri side of the meadow.

  Veronica wrapped her arms around herself as the unfriendly gazes turned her way. She lifted her chin, trying to hold herself with as much pride as she could manage. If she’d learned anything from running an international company, it was to never show your weakness. Her daughter gave her a disgusted look, as though she’d betrayed her somehow.

  Veronica considered the situation. The male she thought she was falling for believed she was damaged goods because her daughter was shacking up with a jahtaur. Her daughter, whom she’d do anything for, assumed she was here to wreck her life and that she had soiled herself by consorting with a centaur.

  Yes, that seemed about right.

  She could have avoided all of this if she’d only stayed home instead of intruding on her daughter’s life.

  All she wanted to do right then was find the way to get back home but before she could get Tiffany’s attention, a silver-furred jahtaur hustled through the chattering crowd. Multiple strands of colorful beads circled her neck and chest, the only thing that concealed her breasts.

  “I was told the chieftain was wounded.” Her green gaze swept over Veronica with surprise. “Tiffany, is this a tribe mate of yours?”

  Tiffany’s lips pursed around something bitter and Veronica knew her daughter wanted to deny any kinship to her. “Yes.” The admission was grudging.

  “She looks like kin.” At least the healer seemed to have a hint of compassion for her. “Welcome. Now, Chief K’lain, what has happened to you?” The healer set about attending to the bloody wound at his head, lightly scolding all the while.

  Veronica backed up through the crowd. Better get away while she could before the healer found out she was associated with the centaur who’d started the fight in the first place.

  Her skull buzzed, a headache starting at the back of her skull and spreading over the crown. A sick churning tightened her stomach. Spots of light twinkled in her vision, a sure sign a migraine was coming on. She moved in the direction she’d seen Murial plummet from the sky.

  She’d only been bonded to Murial for a few hours but the connection had been so strong and wonderful. Now, an effervescent, fearless part of herself was missing. It was her fault that Murial was dead. If she’d never crossed through the portal, someone else could have bon
ded to him. His sweet spirit would still be alive.Tree’s presence poked her like a thorn. That is not how it works. You are not interchangeable. You are a unique puzzle piece that has been missing from our lives for long, lonely years. Veronica actually sensed the weight of the passage of those endless years. Of tree’s patient waiting and searching. She saw many generations of Centauri and Jahtauri being born, living and dying under the tree’s branches and not a one of the millions of them was the right fit. Until Veronica.

  Now, you, the cat-bird and I are going to fix this situation, Tree said. You are Te’acina. Chosen by me. No one, not even your offspring will use that disrespectful tone with us. Your offspring believes that because a chieftain and cheroush have bonded to her it makes her above the rules of decorum. She is mistaken. No one insults us without retribution.

  Veronica thought about the branch that had almost impaled A’pone. Hopefully the tree had a less drastic lesson this time. She didn’t want to cause her daughter harm.Hopefully the young woman was just acting out of fear that her lover might be killed, but Veronica could see how having some importance in the tribe might have inflated Tiffany’s ego.

  Walking through the grass, she let intuition guide her. In a crater of burnt grass and dirt she found the two bodies of the cheroush. She rushed to Murial’s side, falling to her knees beside the pretty little cat-bird. Tears springing to her eyes, she carefully picked his body from the warm ground. “Oh, my little Murial. I’m sorry. You were so brave to try to protect A’pone.”

  He was protecting you, Tree said.

  She pressed her forehead against his impossibly soft pelt, letting her tears fall freely. The body of the other cheroush was sprawled out near her, just as still. Anger speared her. Yes, her daughter had other concerns to attend, like the wellbeing of her mate, but she had not even sent someone out here to fetch her companion?

  The rustling of Tree’s agitation in the back of her mind was all the agreement she needed.

  She turned her attention back to Murial, stroking a hand over his wings, admiring the iridescent coloration in the sunlight. When she slid her fingers beneath one of his wings, she felt the unexpected rise and fall of his ribs under her touch and jerked her hand back. With a soft cry she pulled him against her chest and held him close, checking for more wounds.