Troll-y Yours (5 page)

Six

W
as that anguish flitting across the Troll’s rain-streaked face?

Aleksander stuffed his protective side down. More likely a play of shadows, otherwise the sharp-tongued Ella would seem at odds with herself. Still, the way her fingers picked at the soaked dress that clung to her curvy figure showed her distress.

What’s a male to do?

“Come on. You can cleanup at my place. Maybe it’ll stop raining long enough for you to go home.” He snapped the water out of his tail.

Bedraggled and looking indecisive, Ella’s shoulders slumped forward. “Thank you, and sorry for what I said.”

“Apologize later. Let’s get out of the weather.”Alek held out his hand and was pleasantly surprised when she placed her palm in it. Warm and soft, she brought delicious tingles to his chilled body.

They backtracked to the opening of the great palace cavern, with no surprises along the way. Foot traffic remained light since the dinner crowd dispersed for the night. Mall sweepers who pushed noisy cleaning carts eyed them with curiosity. It wasn’t every day they saw Kempor Aleksander covered in mud and tugging a reluctant Troll along with him.

He and Ella traveled through the centuries-old, hand-cored rock. Legend said Trolls built what was now the Centaur palace. Alek had his doubts. If that were the case, why did the gnomes live in underground nests?

Alek guided her past the mall junction that led toward the Neigh Café. The passageway seemed darker, but not spooky dark because hell—he smiled to himself
— nothing scared Aleksander.

Not one damn thing.

“You live in the palace?” Ella asked.

“Bachelor officers’ quarters.”

“Wait a sec, Al.” Her footsteps faltered. “You’re in the Centaur military?”

Aleksander paused his hooves and regarded her quizzical expression. Even windblown with bits of leaves stuck in her hair, Ella torqued his lust.

“I introduced myself as Kempor, did I not?”

“You said your name was Aleksander Hedson.”

Unable to fight his growing smile, he plucked a few twigs from her hair. What a delightful little Troll, turning the tables on him, as if he were a wet-behind-the-ears colt.

“No. I distinctly remember giving you my name. There are those who hear, and those who listen.”

Ella drew in her bottom lip and bit gently.

At the gesture, he stilled and wished she wouldn’t distract him. “I am Kempor Aleksander, Head Centaur Guard.”

Speaking succinctly, he enunciated the last three words clearly and separately.

Ella said nothing, but her eyes grew wide.

Alek resumed walking, pulling her along beside him and at the gurgling fountain, hung a tight left. Just as his mud-crusted legs started up the side staircase, the small hand holding his resisted. He turned and raised a brow in question.
Now what?

Seemingly spellbound over the atrium’s white marble splendor, Ella’s stared while her mouth hung open. Her eyes traveled the bluegrass plaza and she gave an inward gasp. “For the love of the gods.”

“What?”

“I’ve never been farther than the mall.” She gazed all around, stretching her neck to view the second and third levels. “You people really live like this?”

Alek considered Ella’s words. While he took much of his royal living conditions for granted, she reminded him that many living in the wild Boronda Forest stayed in less than ideal homes. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing her background.

Her eyes swept the vast grass covered floors with awe.

Judging from the stunned expression spreading over her face, he’d speculate Miss Attitude lived in a typical underground dirt floor hovel.

“The common spaces have fulltime maintenance crews,” he offered. “You won’t be so impressed when you see where I live.”

“If it’s half as grand as this . . . .?” She gave a low whistle.

“Believe me, Sweet-thing. It’s not.” Military personnel didn’t require the posh surroundings civilians did. Aleksander believed in living a minimalistic life. No muss, no fuss.

With a gentle tug on her hand, he restarted them up the stairs. A glance at his watch showed 2130 hours, or 9:30 pm. Less than two hours before reporting for duty.
And three hours until transition.

Depending upon the gravitational pull of the moon, and the time of day born, each Centaur’s transition time differed. Never would all herds be in human or equine forms. This unique design by the gods was necessary to help them blend with the human world. More importantly, the variance in form aided in times of war.

Clunky and more serviceable than a Minotaur whore, Ella’s shoes tapped loudly on the alabaster stairs. Stealth was certainly not her forte. Unlike his unshod hooves, her wooden heels cracked an echo in the round, cavernous room. Built in an open auditorium design, sound bounced around the vestibule like a caged tree squirrel. An absence of strolling Centaur mares and foals helped to increase the overall size of the underground room.

On the second floor landing, Aleksander walked a short distance before taking the corridor that eventually led to the officers’ quarters. A center strip of bluegrass ran the length of the hall and silenced the heavy clomp of Ella’s shoes. Because it was night, the embedded glow minerals overhead were also subdued.

He smoothed a hand over his goatee. Low mood lighting, a warm female in hand, and his quarters only a few doors away. Things were looking up.

“This is it.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then released to pull the keys from his vest pocket.

If he played it right, the saucy Troll with the bedroom eyes would be naked in fifteen minutes, leaving time for a little bedroom sport before reporting for duty. True, it would all be one-sided in favor of Ella, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the hell out of her.

Alek twisted his key and the door creaked open. He stood aside and allowed Ella to enter before him.

A frown wrinkled her forehead as she hesitated a moment, looking back the way they’d come. Then, she visibly squared her shoulders and walked into his stall.

Ella’s perfume of night-blooming jasmine hovered like a cloud, much like his bad judgment to invite her over. Aleksander knew the rules of civilians in the officers’ quarters. Especially civvy female
Trolls
.

But
damn
. The way Ella’s damp dress fastened to the curves of her woman’s body had him seeing cross-eyed. She didn’t embody the reed-thin figure of the Nymphs. She had the lush roundness, he found so attractive. He closed the door and watched her.

Ella toed off her muddy shoes, then stepped deeper into the small living room. She looked a little lost and a whole lot of nervous, wringing her hands the way she was. Her teeth chattered from the cold, and she crossed her arms to control her shivering.

Perhaps the encounter with the males had shaken her more than he thought. Though one of them, the Troll, called her by name, Alek wondered how she knew them.

To draw her attention away from his brown, standard issue couch, he clopped his hooves down the short hall. “The shower is in my room. I’ll get some clothes you can wear.”

Inside the stallroom, Alek waved to indicate the separate bathroom off to the side.

“Thank you.” Ella’s gaze drifted over his sparse bedroom.

There wasn’t much to look at. No family photos or artwork hanging on the plain white walls. No curtained window with a view. There was only a neatly made floor bed with a blue comforter for his true form, a tall secondhand dresser in the corner, and next to it a wooden chair that’d seen better days.

It didn’t take long for her eyes to land back on him. “You have a nice place. Sorry to be such a bother.”

Nice place?
Yeah, he wasn’t buying that one. Unless where she lived—hmm. “No bother at all. The bathroom is yours.”

The sway of her hips under the hideous dress shouldn’t cause his pecker to bray to the moon—but it did. And according to
Meat Wrench
, Ella had what it took to get him there.

Aleksander waited until the bathroom door closed and the sound of spraying water hit the shower walls before releasing the breath he’d held. He needed to change his train of thought before his erection grew out of control.

In his equine body, it wasn’t an easy feat.

Bacchus, the god of pleasure and ecstasy, must be at the helm of chaos again. Because tossing a lovely Troll in his path, who had no use for a certain handsome Centaur, had little to do with Alek’s long-term relationship goals.

Why couldn't job satisfaction fulfill him as it had Kempor Hippolyte? As Head Palace Guard, he should be ecstatic, on top of the mythic world! Hippy found her inner peace as bodyguard and inner sanctum warrior to Her Majesty.

For reasons unknown, Alek remained restless.

He loved his job and performed it well. He’d gained a great deal of satisfaction out of it, but where was the touchable, concrete evidence of a job well done? The tangible fulfillment?

The
something
which wanted him back.

The love?

To keep his mind from picturing the tantalizing Troll who splashed water in his shower, Alek unloaded the arsenal of weapons carried beneath his civilian attire.

Strapped knives, throwing stars, and a small caliber handgun joined the growing pile in a drawer of the nightstand beside the bed. Normally, he’d leave the tools of his trade out in the open. Because of his guest, he thought better of it. Next, he changed out of his muddy shirt.

The water shut off, and there was silence.

“Al? There’s no towels.”

Aleksander stroked his goatee and grinned.
Thank the gods for Bacchus, meddling in his affairs.

*~*~*

“Very funny.” Ella eyed the poor excuse for a towel that was laid over the rail of the huge shower stall. The white scrap was no larger than her hand. Beyond the steam, his chuckles stirred her insides and hardened her already pebbled nipples. The little washcloth wouldn’t cover enough of her rounded body from his view.

He was probably getting an eyeful through the frosted glass as it were. Distorted to a wavy form, his figure stepped closer and another white towel flipped her way, this one larger.

Grateful for the extra yardage, she grabbed it and wrapped herself in the cottony softness before pushing the shower door open.

“Hello, Sweet-thing.” Al stood across from her, leaning against the door jam, arms crossed, wearing a drop-dead sexy smile on his face.

The Girls
singing from her molded breasts
,
noticed he’d removed his rain soaked shirt and neglected to replace it.

Raw male abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed with every indrawn breath. His long black tail swayed lazily behind.

Her eyes drifted across his male perfection while she admired this Centaur from
Elysium
.

A silver armband wound itself around his arm above the bicep with two interlocking scythes etched into the design. His gold neck chain looked beautiful lying flat against his smooth, tan skin. Hot and all consuming, his gaze traveled her length.

He seemed to take all of her in, from her pink toenail polish, up her mummy-wrapped form, to what Ella figured was a god-awful tangle of curly red hair. Scrutinized as if she were a cream-filled pastry instead of the ugly Troll she was, her face heated and she fought the urge to hide inside the shower stall.

Self-conscious of each brightly-lit nose freckle, Ella asked, “What are you looking at?”

“Wet temptation.”

Inwardly, she groaned.
His pheromones are mixing with the steam, and now I’m inhaling it.
The logical side of her brain—the part not yet infused with Al’s visual and chemical presence—reminded her of what she already knew…He was a player to the Nth degree.

A few dates with those of her kind, hardly compensated for the worldly experience this half-naked Centaur proposed.

Though he held the position of Head Palace Guard, and was the best-looking Centaur she’d ever laid eyes on, Al didn’t fit into her long-term plans. Right now, it was more important to earn money and take a fast trail out of town. There wasn’t time to play patty-cake—even while she stood wrapped only in his towel. Better to keep him at arm’s length with her heart intact.

A slow spreading grin and smoky brown eyes caressed her figure with blatant sexual desire.

Oh ,hell.
Ella had to put a stop to this before she became another faceless name in his memory, or worse—she caved in.

“Give it a rest, Al.” To add emphasis, she rolled her eyes and added what she hoped was a disgusted look to her face. “I’m not buying your pickup lines.”

The smile slipped and his brows lowered a notch. “What makes you think I’m trying to pick up on you? I’ve already
got
you naked and in my room.”

“Believe me,” she mumbled, “I’d rather be anywhere except here. But you’re the lesser of two evils, so I have no choice.” Ella hugged the towel closer. Fat, dumb Trolls were not attractive, and now she was surely both. It was hard to argue and keep her body hidden beneath the bath sheet. Her composure and state of mind would benefit from some clothes.