Remedy Maker (51 page)

“They seem to be gone.”

“That’s
riptizzle
,” she mused. “And what’s Savella cookin’—”

“Can we leave mythic politics for another night?”

Patience surrounded his neck with her arms, pressing her body closer. “How’d you know what I was going to say?” Need for him grew in pulsating waves, thrumming through her in anticipated joy.

“Babe, I know everything about you. And what I don’t know, I’ll remedy.”

*    *    *

One hundred percent, and absolutely in control. Rhycious hugged her slim form and held her tight. Of all the things to happen, Patience was
his
remedy.

He lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her lips. Who was he kidding? He was hers, and he belonged to the most beautiful Nymph in the Boronda Forest. She was the one who forced him to face his fears and continually fight his way back from the edge.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked. Around the house, a year’s worth of work waited for him. It could wait another day.

“We might walk over to that spot by the stream again.”

She meant the deep pool where the flow eddied and Water Nymphs converged.
No thanks
. “We could,” he said, taking another sip of her lips.

“Or we can do what we did yesterday.

Patience looked so young and innocent standing in the circle of his arms. Thick healthy hair tumbled down her back, her foot sliding up and down his foreleg. Desire ignited, fueled by her touch.

He spied the edge of her Wood Nymph mark peeking from under her hair, and he couldn’t contain the grin curving his mouth. “We do a lot of that these days.”

“We should stick with what we’re good at. And stud muffin, we’re good at it.” She gave a nip to his chin, then pressed a hot kiss to his lips.

“How can I argue with logic like yours?” Sweet gods, if anyone had told him he’d wake up one day to find he’d married a Wood Nymph, beautiful or not, he’d have prescribed a day in the padded turf room.

But here he was, married to Patience, who in reality was more woman than he ever dreamed he’d find. Emotionally, she was as impenetrable as a stream boulder. Mentally, she shared her strength with him. In return, he shared his physical strength with her.

There it was—trust—straight down to the core.

Finally, he found his home. She made him feel whole again, his safety net. There was no reason to look any further.

“It’s an
awsomelicious
good rule to live by.”

Rhycious couldn’t agree more. When Patience smiled at him, her eyes all dreamy, her body soft and willing, he got it. And he’d be sure to tell Aleksander he understood why the Centaur had felt the need to tie up loose ends with Pennelope that night.

“I have eleven hours to burn in my Centaur body.” And he’d never felt more alive. “Want to gallop like hellions through Boronda?”

Patience stroked her hands through his hair, over his shoulders and down his back. Electric sparks ignited where her fingers touched his skin. When she reached his withers, she tugged his sensitive tuft of mane.

“I want all of it, Rhy. The thrill, the wonder, and the feeling like I can live forever. As long as I’m with you, I have all that.”

“
Agape mou.
” My love. Rhycious lowered his lips to hers for a kiss and felt that finally he, too, could live forever.

BOOK TWO IN THE CENTAUR SERIES

AT AMAZON

SHE TAKES A CHANCE.

Determined to forge a better life, Ella launches her new business with high hopes—until a sexy Centaur bumps into her and throws her life off course. Voted “Most Eligible Bachelor in Boronda”, Aleksander shakes up her world and tilts her in more ways than one.

HE’S IN DANGEROUS TERRITORY.

Years of warfare and countless bedroom encounters have stolen Kempor Aleksander’s luster for life. He never expects to rediscover his zeal in the small, redheaded form of Ella the Troll, who fires his blood hotter than the deepest caverns in the forest.

A PASSION SO HOT.

But as trouble lingers in their midst—and edges ever closer—Alek and Ella spiral into troubled terrain. Turning to each other, the pair face down dangers that run impenetrably deep in their mythological world. But will the two lovers discover a passion that runs even deeper?   

One

K
empor Aleksander pounded his hips against the hottest female Centaur in all Boronda—and he was bored.

Up and down…Up and down.

Beneath him, Adelpha in her human form cried out, “Faster—Faster, Alek. I’m almost there.”

In and out…In and out.

“Yes, sweetheart.”
I was hoping you’d been there, thirty minutes ago!
His
phallus rigidus
would soon become
phallus relaxus,
if the blasted woman didn’t hurry it up. He slipped his hand between their slick bodies to encourage her to a speedy ending. After all, as a Centaur himself, he was very experienced in the art of pleasuring females.

Adelpha’s moans grew louder and she wriggled about, so he rolled her taut nipple between his fingers.

Same routine, different female. He clenched his jaw to stifle a yawn. Good thing Adelpha’s tight body felt wonderful wrapped around him.

The bottom of his left foot developed an itch, and as he moved up and down, in and out, he wondered how he’d scratch without breaking his pounding rhythm. He tweaked her other nipple, drawing more cries. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

Aleksander thought about the half-eaten plate of enchiladas in his icebox, leftovers from last night’s dinner. Oh yeah . . . a few forkfuls, washed down with an icy oat-soda, would be nice right about now. But Pan’s hooves, he had to finish this monotonous mattress work first.

For a moment, he mulled if anything over one hundred years was old for a Centaur, and if that were the reason for his bedtime boredom.
Doubtful. As long as my heart keeps beating, I’ll never be too old for this.

Maybe bored, but never too old.

So, why did life lose its luster for him? Moreover, when?

As he pounded into Adelpha, Aleksander reminded himself he’d been raised to be a warrior. He prided himself at having worked into his position of Head Palace Guard.

If not a soldier for Queen Savella, then what? Gigolo?

Last year, his best friend Rhycious, the Royal Remedy Maker, married Patience, a Wood Nymph. While Alek had been restless for a time, prior to the unorthodox wedding, he’d never before given thought to staying tied to one female. Rhy seemed crazy in love, spouting all sorts of besotted crap these days.

Perhaps it was possible. Maybe it’d fill the gaping hole in his heart.

Tied to one female? Ha! Ridiculous.
I’d rather have Minotaur fingers curled around my throat, pinching off the air.

“Oh! Don’t stop.”

Startled, he snapped back to the present and plastered a grin to his unsmiling lips.

Adelpha’s heavy-lidded eyes peered back, slightly irritated, wholly aroused. Her long legs wrapped his hips and squeezed tight, refusing to allow him escape.

As if he could. While his mind could care less,
Meat Wrench
—the name he called his buried cock—twitched happily
.

Adelphia pouted her kiss-swollen lips.

Surreptitiously, he glanced at his watch. One hour before the boys met for a beer. Lifting her leg over his shoulder, he hammered her in earnest.

Short pounding strokes tipped her over the edge and scattered her wits to the ecstasy beyond. Adelpha screamed her delight.

A few more pumps and he abruptly pulled out, releasing himself outside of her body with a loud grunt of weariness.

Another satisfied female.

Too bad satisfaction skipped his stop.

“Mmm, Aleksander.” Her sharp-tipped fingernails scratched lightly across his back. “When will you admit I’m the only one for you?”

When I decide to geld myself.
He timed his escape from between her scissoring thighs and made to roll off the low floorbed.

Quicker than a tail snap, Adelpha snatched his gold neck chain and pulled him back to her.

Pain from the strangling was scant, compared to the irritation building inside. “Adelpha, let me up.”

“No,” she whined. “I want to cuddle, and—I’m horny again.”

The only thing horny-like about Adelpha were her crescent-shaped ruby earbobs and the BDSM hobbles she intended on attaching to him—
marriage.

Half-reclined on the bed, head held immobile by the small fist twisting his chain, Aleksander weighed his options like any seasoned warrior.

He gathered his arsenal of weapons: an uncommonly sharp intelligence. He reviewed his knowledge of her weaknesses: Adelpha’s fear of losing her beauty.

Aleksander turned to face her, stopping when the gold links’ pulling on his throat brought him to a halt. Lastly, he studied his opponent: blonde hair spread in frothy display, her narrowed eyes calculating as a cat’s.

One side of his mouth turned up in feigned surrender. “My transition is in less than thirty minutes. I doubt getting squashed by my true form is what you had in mind. Imagine your delicious body
then
, sweet-thing.”

Not to mention coupling between equine Centaur and those in human form was against the orders of society.

She relaxed her hold, and his chain slid from her fingers.

He laid it on thick, but she wouldn’t know the difference. “I report to duty in a short while—”
nine hours from now
“—and if I’m late . . . ? You wouldn’t want me demoted, would you?”

Adelpha fell back with a harrumph. Millions of air beads crackled inside the mattress as she stretched her arms overhead. “Course not. I thought we had time for another quickie, is all.” Her sleek body rolled away and she rose to her feet.

He eyed her, seeing through the deceptively shrewd demeanor.

For Adelpha, it was all about marrying into a notable station, which was why he’d taken no chances on impregnating the cunning filly. His military position within the Centaur kingdom was as high up as they came—below Queen Savella, of course.

Aleksander flicked his gaze over her nude body, then climbed out of bed. The sooner he kicked her heart-shaped ass out his stallroom door, the better.

“Get dressed, Adelpha. I’ll walk you to the Atrium.”

*~*~*

Ella made a grab for the loose sheets of colorful paper she’d nearly dropped on the busy walkway of the Centaur inner mall. Last spring, she’d made up her mind to start her own business in the kingdom’s recently opened free market. She’d wasted no time in applying for a permit at the palace and was granted permission a month ago.

Two weeks prior, contriving the opening night for Boronda Forest’s first ever speed-dating service sounded like an exciting adventure—a way to get out of the house and away from her overbearing Troll mother.

Opening night nerves from the overwhelming response heated her face, which she knew would highlight every freckle on her ivory skin. For herself, she could care less about meeting a male. It was all about making enough money to get out from under her parents’ rock and moving far, far away.

She could do without relationships and all the headaches that came with them.

Ella’s hair caught in the dangling strap of her book bag, and she yanked the reddish strands free. Long curls fluttered from the chrome buckle. Before she could step aside, a Minotaur walking backwards and talking to friends ran into her.

And the fliers made their getaway.

“Crap.” Ella knelt carefully on her long skirt and gathered the sheets nearest her. “Do you suppose you can help me?”

Transfixed by the strewn multi-hued papers, the female Minotaur stared at the rock floor.

Stupid cow.

The girl shrugged, then leaned down and lifted a yellow sheet closer to her squinty vision.

“Are you going to this?” She handed the sheet to Ella.

“I’m the one putting it on.”

“So, are you going?”

Raising her chin, Ella peered up. “Yes. I’m going.”

Was this heifer for real? No sense explaining to moo-child that the owner of the speed-dating service ought to be there for her clients.

Stupid cow.

“I’m going, too. I signed up last week. Did you sign up?”

Ella bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a desire to take the fliers in her hand and wallop the girl between her bovine eyes. Professional attitude won out. “What name did you register under?”

“Carryyn. And that’s spelled with an r-r-y-y.” Thick fingers, matching an equally thick brain, brandished another sheet plucked from the cold floor. She waved it inches from Ella’s face.

“You’re in the second session.” Leaning away from potential paper cuts to her nose, Ella remembered the female’s uniquely spelled name . . . then gathered ten fallen fliers for every one of the Minotaur’s.
Maybe her horns keep her off balance.
“Thanks, Carryyn.” She stuffed the papers inside the book bag and rose to her feet. “See you later.”