Troll-y Yours (7 page)

Eight

E
lla was untucking her hair from the back of the borrowed shirt, when Al and his naked torso returned with a scowl.

“Didn’t get the guy, huh?” It was easier to ask a question, than think about what just happened between them.

“No.” Heedless of his appearance, he stalked past to his room.

A few moments later, he returned wearing a green tee under a partially buttoned long-sleeved camouflage shirt. Layered on top of that, he wore upper body armor in a woodland pattern and was in the process of shoving objects into the many pouch type pockets. “How far from the palace do you live?”

Well, what did you expect, Ella?
Promises of future days together?

After their quick dally, it seemed Al couldn’t wait to send her packing.

She’d save him the agony of further delay, and herself some embarrassment. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “Not far. And thanks for the clothes. How do you want them returned?”

“I’ll get them from you later.” He finished fastening the shirt, leaving the top buttonhole open. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

The thought of seeing Al again, if only to return his clothes, lifted her self-imposed pity and made her feel a modicum better. Still, a clean break was best. She’d made the trek from the palace to her boulder home plenty of times and didn’t need her hand held to cross the forest.

“No thanks. I know the way.” Ella swung both the catch-all purse and the book bag that held the paperwork for Troll-y Yours over her shoulder. Then, she picked up the canvas tote, containing her muddy dress and reached for the doorknob. Gods, she was leaving with more bags than when she arrived.

Al’s wide hand slapped the flat of the door near her ear. A frown creased his brow. “I said I’ll walk you home. It’s dangerous out there. Did you learn nothing from tonight?”

“Look, Captain Blowhard. I appreciate the hot shower and clothes.” She felt her face burn at the thought of what else she appreciated. “Walk me if you want, but know that I don’t
need
you to do me any favors.” Ella reached below his heavily muscled arm barricading the door, and grasped the brass handle. She looked him in the eye. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Al stared at her with a look she couldn’t read. Amusement flickered in the depths of those chocolate orbs, but the muscles in his jaw drummed with a tic. In answer to her bemusement, he palmed her cheek, and then slid his hand to the back of her head. He kissed her with unyielding lips not once, but twice.

Breaking the breathless plunder, he grinned at her. “Let me grab some clothes and boots. I’m on duty in less than an hour, but I’ll walk you home first.”

He tapped the end of her nose with his finger, and continued on to his room. Blue-black hairs in his long tail swished a slow, sexy hula until he disappeared into the bedroom, out of sight.

Oh, for the love of Bacchus!
Ella slapped her palms over her face.
As if hands could block the image of a Centaur’s sexy ass that’s branded in my brain.
Tunneling her fingers into her hairline, she massaged her scalp and wondered what in the hell she was still doing in Kempor Aleksander’s living quarters. What happened here tonight was so far off her map, she couldn’t even go there in her mind.

Not just yet.

“You feel all right?”

I’m the epitome of Troll trash.
“Yeah, I’m great.” Ella lowered her hands and noted he carried a duffle bag. The flat strap lay diagonally across his chest. “I need to get home, Al,” she said on a sigh.

“Yes, ma’am.” He opened the door and poked his head out to look both ways before allowing her to exit. Garbed in his military hardware, Al was all business. Tension sharpened the angles of his firm jaw.

Ella’s libido soared higher than the Boronda Falls, and she argued with her thoughts. Mixed and jumbled, tossed into a jigsaw heap, random contemplation used space in her convoluted brain…that would never do.

Everything in its place, and a place for everything—wasn’t that her motto?

Instead of wasting time thinking about the perfection of Al’s smile, and how she’d let herself be used, her thoughts turned over. She needed an explanation to give her overbearing mother of why she was coming home so late—wearing men’s clothes of all things.

Shoeless, she followed his four-beat gait and waited while he locked and checked the door. The curve of his rump tempted Ella, and she ached to reach out and stroke the soft looking hide.

To distract her shifty fingers, she hiked up her sweatpants instead.

Stop thinking of touching his ass!

They set off down the hall. To change the direction of her thought flow, she asked a question, “Will your friend stop by later?”

“What friend?”

“The one that came by earlier.” It must have been her wild red hair, because he was looking at her as if she’d sprouted Minotaur horns. Not that it mattered. Nothing she did could tame her hair, outside of shaving her head bald. He probably thought her looser than a Water Nymph anyway, and she didn’t blame him a bit.

“Earlier when?”

They rounded a corner and headed for the stairs leading down to the atrium. Her two thick legs moved double to Al’s four long-legged strides. “Never mind.”

What the hell?
If Big Al wanted to forget what just happened back in his bed, then two could play that game.

It was better this way anyhow.

*~*~*

How in Tartarus would Ella know about Adelpha’s visit this morning?

When he went to hold her hand as they descended the stairs, Ella pulled out of reach. She refused to allow him to steady her—not that the spunky wench needed steadying. Known for their sense of balance and direction, the Troll race excelled at careers requiring top-notch equilibrium and engineering.

There was a stubborn tilt to her chin, and the way her pale blue eyes flashed told him to back the hell off. If only her cinnamon freckles weren’t so kissable.

This time, Ella didn’t partake in sightseeing along the way. Instead, she walked somberly beside him to the public entrance. Once through the craggy opening, the outdoors enveloped them with loving arms. Humans would never understand a mythic’s need to commune with nature, to become one with the Earth, the stars, the trees.

The October rain of earlier had subsided into a refreshing fine mist that cooled his hide-covered body.
Samhain
neared and with it, the changing of the seasons.

Concern over the intruder in his stallroom switched to torment over his little Troll.

“Are you warm enough?” Alek gave his tail a shake hard enough to spank Ella on the ass.

“Cut it out.” Although her words were sharp, her voice held no malice. There was even a hint of a smile ghosting about her full lips. “I’m plenty warm, thanks. I’m more worried about what my mother will say.”

Alek thought she mumbled something about looking like a Minotaur without her makeup. Honestly, it didn’t matter. He’d bet that Ella looked good any time of the day or night.

Oh Pan—have mercy.

A third quarter moon shined its light on the inhabitants of Boronda. Like phantoms in the dark, the outlines of trees brought unwanted memories rushing back. His skin crawled in remembrance of The Great War and two hundred years of feuding with Wood Nymphs. All those lost lives.

Thank the gods, foolish King Nickolaus was dead and Queen Savella reigned.

Under Nickolaus, Centaurs ruled and all other species were beneath them. Trade and commerce ground to a halt, widening a rift between the classes and increasing the crime rate. Within the first year of inheriting the throne, Savella revoked the old ways. She brought harmony and justice back to the mythic people.

Eventually, peace prevailed.

Through the clouds, a glint of moonlight peeked out and shimmered on Ella’s hair, creating a halo of dark red. Wet leaves sparkled as if sprinkled with potassium nitrate and added to the explosive allure of the night.

“Where do you live?” Alek forced himself to get his poetic side under control.

Pointing east with a finger, she answered, “Near Boronda Falls.”

They set off along a faint hoof path.

The weight of her giant purse pulled one shoulder down. Slung over the other, she struggled with two tote bags.

She reminded Alek of the old lady who fed pigeons at the Willow Bay City Park, except Ella’s hair was lush and vibrant. Unlike the human’s thinning gray mop. “Let me carry your bags.”

Drops plonked from the treetops onto vegetation below. The tote of dirty clothes Ella handed over wasn’t as heavy as the hideous purse, but she wasn’t about to give up her satchel of secrets either. Nor did she let him carry her precious book bag.

What was so damn important in there anyway? “You sure I can’t carry that…other bag? It looks heavier than the rest.”

Ella smiled, but shook her head. “I told you, my whole world is in this bag.”

Females... It wasn’t necessary to understand them, when all he wanted was to have them under him. The cute little Troll seemed to be the exception to his rule.

“What made you start Troll-y Yours?” he asked. Perhaps, she needed a date?

“An opportunity to make some money. Commerce was booming, so I thought of a business the kingdom didn’t have. It’s all the rage for humans, so why not us mythologicals?”

Why not, indeed.
Not that he had need of such a service.
Hell no.
Ella was a beautiful Troll, he didn’t imagine her sitting at home alone either, unless she chose it.

Night birds overhead, nocturnal animals below. All foraged for their next meal. A breeze ruffled the leaves. Foliage in the upper canopy shook and millions of water droplets fell from the sky.

Trolls could own businesses—many of them did. However, her profession wasn’t typical. Normally, they were miners, engineers, and labor workers. Trolls were mythics who worked with their hands and performed jobs that involved the earth.

Aleksander’s sixth sense told him if it didn’t make sense, something wasn’t right. “It’s a good business choice. I saw the crowd at each session. You must be raking in the dough.”

He held a low branch out of her way, using the side of his long body. Cold leaves touched his hide and his skin twitched in reaction.

“Tonight was the first speed date.” Ella patted her book bag. “Taking names for the waiting list filled a session, and signups filled another. It’s turned out better than I’d hoped, but I’ve got a long way to go before I make enough money.”

Low foliage and wet grass brushed his fetlocks and legs. Damp soil soaked into his hooves. He longed to dig deep and kick up a few clumps just for the hell of it.

“Enough money for what?” he asked.

“To get the hell out of Boronda.”

Nine

E
lla concentrated on the moonlit trail that ribboned between giant trees and sharp boulders. Her eyes focused on the shadowed path, her bare feet sure and firm.

“I can’t stand living at home. I want my own place,” she blurted, then instantly felt foolish for voicing her thoughts aloud.

Confounded, she grabbed the rolled waist of her saggy sweats and hiked them up before they slid off. Gravity insisted her waterlogged pants belonged amongst the many puddles on the ground.

Al stepped closer and pushed another dripping branch out of her way. Spicy musk filled her senses, and she recognized it as his special manly scent. Ella moved past his outstretched arm, the aromas of damp earth crashed in, cutting through with composting leaves and pine needles.

Why would he care if her business boomed or bombed?
She mentally shrugged a shoulder. As head guard of the Centaur palace, maybe he was naturally inquisitive.

Or maybe—the suspicious thought snuck in—he was interested in her evening profit. After all, how much money could a soldier earn? Enough to retire on?

He released the branch. It snapped back into place. “Who were the males? One of them called you by name.”

“I don’t know the Minotaur, but the Troll is my brother, Eli.”

Al swiped his face and blinked through the damp air. Sharp and assessing, his gaze traced over her.

Ella shook back her thick hair and wished for a giant jaw clip to pin up the mess. While her erotic encounter with its delicious release should’ve taken care of her anxiety, reality set in. For instance, her parents’ reaction when she returned home hours after the Neigh Café closed for the night.

Cold as ice, dread spread tentacles through her stomach. No doubt Eli will have used his time wisely and worked their mom into a frenzy.

Once again, she’d endure her brother’s torment.

Frustrated from the evening’s events, Ella swatted a thin pine bough out of her way. Before she could catch the limb, it swung back and slapped Al in the chest with a resounding thwack. “Sorry. You don’t have to walk me all the way home, you know.”

Great, now I have guilt.
More than anything, she didn’t want a witness to her mom going off on her. If that should happen, the pile of humiliation dumped on her would know no bounds.

“I have time.”

Behind her, steady hoof beats reminded Ella about the width of her butt. Self-conscious, frizzy haired, barefoot and bloated, the thought of ditching him flicked through her mind. It wouldn’t be hard. A little spin, some concentrated projection, and she’d be gone—hidden beneath the crust of the forest floor.

She glanced over her shoulder and met Al’s hot gaze.

His iridescent pink aura shouted the overtones of his sexual desire. Overhead, a patchwork of branches blotted out much of the moon’s light, but there was no mistaking his gleam of interest. His eyes clung to hers, analyzing her reaction. The shadow of his beard lent a masculine aura, his lips firm and sensual.

Goosebumps broke out on her arms and it only served to pebble her nipples harder. The
Girls
remembered his warm mouth, moist hot tongue, and incredible sucking action. Ella blew a hard breath.

The backdrop of the crunching twigs beneath their hooves and toes, along with the sounds of roaring water, became more distinct with every step.

Dropping from a height of nearly one hundred feet, Boronda Falls crashed to the jagged granite rocks below. Bright green ferns, now vague outlines in the dark, spread fronds in wide-plumed fingers and bordered the stream on either bank.

At the split in the trail, Ella took the route that passed near an area nicknamed Horsetail Cascade. It was there, at the base of the falls, her family lived beneath one of the many scattered boulders lining the embankment. Always damp, always noisy.

Not the same high-class accommodations Al had back at the palace.

Besides living with three family members inside the nest, there were stuck-up Water Nymph neighbors to contend with on the outside.

Churned from the river’s constant roiling, a screen of thick mist mixed with the light drizzle and proceeded to soak her clothes through. She plucked at the t-shirt to keep it from sticking to her high-beam nipples.

Al shook his head and a shower of water sprayed in all directions. The action left his hair standing on end, which only managed to double his appeal.

Oh Bacchus.
This male with the boyish charms was very dangerous to her plans, not to mention her heart.

Using his elbow to hold the duffle bag tightly to his withers, his equine body gave a great shudder, casting raindrops from his hide like a playful dog. Bursts of orange exploded from his aura: vitality, vigor, good health, and adventure.

A towel…he needs a towel.

And a rub down.

Oh Bacchus….

Before turning to make the sharp descent to her home rock, Ella stopped and swallowed hard. “Thank you for walking me home.” Al was so good looking, he turned her insides to mashed turnips. In order to not be affected by his overdose of sexiness, she forced her gaze to the mud, squishing between her toes. “I’ll be fine from here.”

*~*~*

The Troll is her brother?
Reeling over the newsflash, she caught Alek off guard when she basically told him to take a hike. As the highest-ranking officer in Her Majesty’s military, he wasn’t used to taking orders. Especially, by a wisp of a Troll.

“How much farther is your nest?” he asked.

If Ella’s brother indeed turned out to be the suspect who eluded earlier patrols, then Aleksander wanted an exact location of their underground home. He rubbed his brow to erase the growing frown.

Is Ella involved with the rebels
? His mind turned the question over. Her speed-date sessions were the perfect cover to pass information and recruit new blood. Additional surveillance would be required to test his little Troll’s allegiance to the Crown, and the only way to accomplish that would be by continuing to see Ella.

Not a bad trade-off, considering he might discover who in the hell had been in his quarters earlier.

“We’re here.” Ella lifted her delicate hand and pointed to a large boulder in a grouping of three that lay a short distance away. “Thanks for carrying my clothes.”

Aleksander passed the straps of the tote to her outstretched hand. “I’ll wait until you’re burrowed in before I leave.”

I wish I were burrowed in you.

What a conundrum. Although, he wasn’t interested in a relationship, the thought of permanence did hold a small amount of appeal. Females wanted love and a home. But in order to provide the cornerstones of a stable relationship, he’d have to sacrifice his hard-earned career. Something, he wasn’t willing to do—yet.

Sex
.

When he dug deep and admitted the truth, it boiled down to being horny. He’s a horny male; she’s a sexy Troll.

Nevertheless, Alek surprised himself by realizing he was more interested in finding the rebel in charge of the uprising than another one-night stand. Maybe two hundred years old really was the end of the libido line with him.

Definitely, something to think about later.

Much later.

Whether or not Ella had anything to do with the group of demoralized mythics remain to be seen. Meanwhile, he looked forward to getting to know the prickly Troll better. Easy on the eyes, soft as silk on his senses. Her words may be barbed, but he’d heard worse in the ranks.

“Thanks again, Al. See you later.” Ella had turned down the steep path for home.

Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers caught the waist of her overlarge sweats, and he dragged her back to him. Damn, he didn’t want to let her go
.
Rebel spy or not, he had to see her again. Espionage had never appealed to him, until now. Alek wrapped one hand around her waist, the other plunged deep into her hair at the back of her head.

A slight tug down and her chin lifted, lips parted, eyes half closed.

“I’ll see you later, Sweet-thing. You can count on it.”

Kiss me, kiss me.
Heat scalded his body, as if the summer sun were directly above. Much like his own heart, hers beat with an unsteady rhythm. His little Troll was a gravitation field that drew him right in, and there was no fighting it.

Aleksander made no excuses or apologies. He didn’t ask—he took. His lips sealed to hers and he plundered her mouth in true Centaur style. For over two centuries, thousands of females had sighed over his expert kisses, and he made damn sure he rocked Ella’s world from standstill to full racing gallop in under two seconds.

A whimper brushed past her lips. She lifted on her toes to better his access, then dropped the heavy bags to wrap her arms around his neck.

Arousal hit them hard.

Gods, she wanted this as much as he did.

His tongue swept against hers, her body became pure sensation in his arms. Frustrated he couldn’t feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressed to his chest through the layers of protective gear, Alek set about to ravish her mouth. To curl her toes, and set her body on fire—

“Ella?”A discombobulated voice shot out of the dark. “I sense you’re out there. Where are you? Do you know what time it is?”

Aleksander reluctantly released Ella’s soft lips. Hyperaware that she stood so close, a sheet of paper wouldn’t have fit between them.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” It took Alek a moment to come out of the sensual haze brought on by Ella’s kiss. He gave a quiet laugh that held no humor and ran a hand through his short damp hair. “Who the hell is that?”

Below, an older, medium-built Troll swung her body into view from behind the largest boulder with astonishing speed. In her robe-clad form she squinted into the darkness, adjusting her Troll senses like antennae to pinpoint their location.

He and Ella could never catch a break, he thought. Each time the moment heated between them.... Hermes, the god of shits and giggles, must be bored on Mount Olympus.

“I’m right here, Mother,” Ella answered, her voice terse. She unwound her arms from his neck and slid them slowly down his chest. “I better go.”

“Who are you talking to?” her mother called out.

Ella sighed, then bent to retrieve her scattered bags. She shouldered the load and flashed him a quick look of discomfort. “Do you understand now, why I want to move far, far away?”

Hell, timing was everything—and theirs was bad. There could be no permanent relationship between them, but if he kept an eye on Ella, she might lead him to more rebels. Possibly the kingpin he'd been looking for.

Could he gain her trust?

Better yet, could he trust himself?