Troll-y Yours (26 page)

Uh-oh.
Guess she spoke aloud.

He broke their connection and glanced away, searching the room, looking for answers to questions unknown. Without conscious thought, his battle scarred hand came up and rubbed his goatee, a habit she’d come to adore.

Ella tossed the used tissue to the dresser and reached to cup his face. Hope lay bare in the windows to his soul, kicking a bonfire of warmth into her heart. His smooth cheek and course chin hair were a vivid contrast that felt good in her hands. “Aleksander. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“These are tears of joy, my psychotic overlord.”

Interminable seconds passed by, filling her ears with ghostly sounds of a tick-tocking clock.
Tick, tick, tick…

The beginning of a smile touched his lips. As if needing further confirmation, he asked, “You’ll be my wife? You’ll mate with me?”

A loud beat drummed in her head, picking up its pace until Ella realized it wasn’t a drum at all but the hammering of her heart. With every pump of that organ, she floated closer to
Elysium
.

Shit.
More tears spilled over, which meant her freckles were blazing like the lighthouses along the coast. She managed a wobbly smile. “Let’s see if the ring fits, shall we?”

Please, mythic gods, let the damn ring fit.

Bacchus and Pan must have smiled in tandem.

With shaky fingers, Al lifted her left hand and expelled a breath that blew warm on her cheeks.

Gods, she loved this man.
As if the ring were made especially for her, Ella the Troll, the stunning family heirloom slid into place. She stared at the exquisite stones on her third finger. It felt so right. As if she’d been wearing it for years. Lifting her eyes, she met Alek’s own.

He was holding his breath, waiting for something.

Is there a Centaur ritual for engagement I’m not aware of?
Confused, she tipped the point of her ear toward her shoulder. If she screwed this up, was it over for her and Al?

Still holding her hand in his large palms, his thumb caressed the new ring in gentle pushes from left to right. Back and forth, he slowly turned it on her finger…waiting.

Unable to take much more, afraid her life would forever remain one big regret, Ella blurted out. “What do I do? Is there a special response I should give?”

Twin dimples cut diagonal grooves in his cheeks and bracketed his rakish smile, but didn’t erase the worry in his eyes. “It’s absurd, really. But humor me here. I
really
need to hear you say the words, Ella. To have them spoken aloud.”

Kempor Aleksander…lacked confidence? Something in this world frightened him and that something was—her?

Wow. Talk about a life-changing moment.

Ella focused on the diamond swirls of the ring. The emeralds sat next to sapphires and were so lovely. A sign of nature, eternally flowering—the kind of thing that would lift her spirits every time her eyes fell on it.

“Yes. I will mate with you,
Al
Hedson.”

At her use of
Al
, Aleksander gave her his fierce look of mock anger.

She giggled, and then she became all seriousness, because after all, taking a uniquely handsome Centaur for a husband was serious business.

“Yes. You’re everything I ever dreamed of in a male. I think I loved you from the moment you bumped into me. Yes. I will marry you, Kempor Aleksander. I will be proud to be your mated. To carry your children. To be your wife.”

And Ella prayed she could be everything and all to him.

Thirty-Five

A
lek stood in a meadow of flowers and shifted his weight around on four stamping hooves while his tail swung idly at gnats. He’d opted for non-military attire and dressed carefully in a formal white button-down and close-fit black coat. The bow-tie he borrowed from Nubbs.

For their ceremony, Ella had chosen a warm, sunny spot near the top of Boronda Falls, banked by sparkling clear water on one side. On the other side, thanks to Serenity, Wood Nymphs interlocked their tree branches to form a protective wall. Around the perimeter, friends and family had set out a feast.

In only a few days, everything had been arranged. Rhycious and Nubbs stood next to him and grinned like idiots. Across from them, Hippy and Serenity held sprays of late blooming flowers. Amid the guests, Eli stood with Bomani and Roxy on one side. On the other, Patience and Queen Savella whispered back and forth. Near the banquet tables, Ella’s parents busied themselves by sampling the variety of food, and the rest of the guests milled about.

While Alek surveyed the sweet-scented grassland, he turned an eye to the tall, stately trees and distant snowcapped mountains. So many times, he’d wanted what others had, when in reality he just needed to open his eyes and enjoy the view around him.

On a purple bloom near his hoof, Aleksander became mesmerized by a bumblebee. In no way should the creature be able to fly, yet the small wings lifted its giant body into the air…defying science and gravity every time, shoving a middle finger in everyone’s face.

He loved Boronda and couldn’t imagine—

The sound of females gasping, followed by a cumulative murmur, caused him to snap his head up.

Sweet mythic gods…

If he didn’t know terra firma was planted firmly under his hooves, he would have thought he’d died and gone to
Elysium
. But his tail swished and his heart pounded, and he remained perpendicular to the ground.

Through the parted branches of a sky-high weeping willow, Ella emerged in breathtaking beauty that short-circuited his brain.

Wrapped in a creamy strapless gown, hugging from her breasts to her hips, the sequence and freshwater pearls sparkled brighter than the slow moving river. Yards of silk skirting floated from her body to trail behind in waves. Designed by Rhy’s wife, Patience, it suited her perfectly. Piled atop her head, a messy cascade of intricate red curls remained in place by a flowered wreath and long dawdling ribbons.

Ella met his eyes and then fussed at her waist, tugging the material smooth. She glanced toward her parents, but their backs were turned as they perused the various dishes.

Aleksander held a hand out and smiled his reassurance.

In the stream eddy, Water Nymphs began to sing. They availed their melodic voices in traditional mythological style, which started with a hypnotic, wordless melody.

Gods, no wonder humans had gone willingly to their deaths.
Even Odysseus in Homer’s epic poem nearly met his fate. Their voices cast over the crowd, haunting and lovely.

Ella shyly came forth from the shade of the willow to cross a field vibrant with color. A few times, she teetered in her shoes while managing the uneven terrain, but determination kept her moving steadily forward, minus a few glances left and right.

Sniffles from the sidelines started and more joined in with her every step. Even the hardcore Hippolyte ran a finger under her eye.

With every footfall his little Troll took, Aleksander’s chest swelled and continued to fill until he thought he’d burst his shirt buttons. Euphoria had nothing on him.

Then finally, Ella stood at his side.

In front of them, stood Templar Khristos in true form, the Centaur priest’s black hide contrasted with the white robes he wore for the mating ceremony.

Serenity darted forward to bring order to Ella’s long, heavy skirt.

“I love you,” Alek mouthed, then followed up with a wink.

“I love you more,” she mouthed back.

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she gifted him with a nervous smile. Then…Pan’s flute—it grew, spreading from corner to corner, until she beamed so brightly that his soul reached out and touched hers.

Deep and gravely, the priest’s voice broke the relative silence of the hilltop meadow. “Courage in a true Centaur is measured in degrees.”

The golden noose of matrimony was slid over Aleksander’s bowed head.  From around his neck, the twists of soft cotton rope looked only slightly frayed from a century of use.

Khristos caught his eye and slowly nodded. “Fate, whether destined or preempt, requires faith.”

The Templar took up a length of rope and gently hung a slack loop around Ella’s neck, taking care to avoid her woven crown of flowers.

With his greater height, she had no need to dip to accommodate him.

“Trust stands with honor and both shall endeavor to provide for the other’s safekeeping.”

Another golden loop was formed and draped around Ella’s neck to stack atop the first.

“To promise the remainder of your days to your desired one…is love.” The dark priest held the remaining tail of rope and paused for piety’s sake, a showman to the bitter end.

Aleksander slid a glance to Ella and found her smiling back. This time, she winked at him.

Between their necks hung a swag of golden rope that connected them together.

Templar Khristos indicated the excess segment with his hand and followed the marital line to Ella. “Troll Ella of the Boronda Forest lineage, servant of Bacchus and Pan. Are you here of your own free will?”

In a clear voice, she answered, “I am.”

Alek fought to not turn and grin his happiness in her direction. Stoic self-control was expected of him, but the corner of his lip quirked up anyway.

In the Centaur custom, the mating question would not be posed to him. In the ancient way of a male dominated society, there wasn’t a need. Simply put, if he didn’t want her, he wouldn’t have asked to be mated.

Khristos lifted a single black brow, his expression carved from stone.

Since this glacial trait was the grumpy priest’s normal visage, Alek blew him off and kept his eyes focused forward.

The ceremony continued as Khristos removed one corded loop from around Ella’s neck and held it out for her to accept. “This coil represents the dedication you have for Kempor Aleksander of Aegean. It denotes the loyalty he holds and the pursuit of his status of Head Centaur Guard of Her Majesty, Queen Savella.”

Rather than roll his eyes, Aleksander swished his tail when Khristos spread his arms wide in theatrical drama. The motion lifted the white robe sleeves and revealed his jeweled dagger of office.

“From this moment on and forever, until the mythic gods call from the green valleys of Elysium, it shall be known that you are mated.”

Beside him, Ella sniffled.

Inside of him, his heart pounded.

“Aleksander of Aegean, you now belong to Ella of the Troll genus for all eternity. May the gods bless your union.”

Khristos lifted the last marital loop from Ella’s shoulders. He handed it to her, along with the excess in his hand, leaving Alek’s neck lassoed.

From the corner of his eye, Alek could see Ella’s baffled expression of what to do next. He whispered from the side of his mouth. “Tug the rope.”

“Oh!” Ella’s hands remained full of soft golden rope as she turned to face him.

Templar Khristos rolled his eyes.

Just then, she must have stepped on the long hem of her dragging skirt, because she let out a squeak and flailed her arms, the wobbly shoes her culprit.

Alek shot out a steadying hand.

Before he could do more than lift his arm, Ella pulled on the tether to right her balance…the slipknot shot up—and the marital bond nearly strangled the crap out of him.

At least she’d achieved her footing. Nice to know his scruff was good for something.

Eighteen hands high at the withers, the enormous dark priest, Khristos’ topped Alek by a good four inches in height. Deep chuckles resonated from his wide chest. “Get used to it, Kempor Aleksander,” he choked out between guffaws. “Because it’s only the beginning!” His black and grey beard shook as his chortle gathered strength, and ended in a booming laugh.

His laughter was infectious while the crowd guffawed, snorted and chuckled, as a growing laughter echoed along the forest.

*~*~*

Mortified didn’t begin to cover Ella’s embarrassment. People were laughing—at her. Then, she thought of each gruesome freckle, how the spots would stand out like a fluorescent display and draw more attention to her clumsy, oversized, pure hideous Troll self.

Glancing to her right, she saw her parents shake their heads, their expressions of disgust obvious in the downward pull of their mouths. Her mother’s low-heeled brown shoes flattening the late season grass, back held with starch, she turned away and stalked to the food tables. Her father lumbered behind, fingers linked behind his back.

Aleksander—the last person she wanted to look at, would he be as disgusted as her parents, or embarrassed he mated a Troll? Trembling, she dropped her mortified gaze to stare at the rope.

Inside the weave of the golden rope in her hands, twists of black and orange stands shot through with the faintest contrast. The colors enhanced the depth, deepened the clarity of the gold, and brought the natural beauty of the fibers to light.

“Sweet-thing, look at me.”

How could she? It would kill her to see the remorse in his eyes.

Fingers gently cupped her chin and lifted. Large black hooves with thick fetlocks stood planted near her wobbly white shoes.

I should never have worn heels.
Up, up, and up her gaze traveled over the long dark forelegs of her husband. She skimmed his muscular equine chest, gleaming reddish in the bright sunlight. Her eyes floated upward, over his raven-black jacket cut to masculine perfection, and she noted the way it hugged his wide shoulders and stressed the seams.

Above his groomed goatee, sensual lips stretched in a cock-eyed smile, pulled back to one side, showing even white teeth beneath.

Raising her eyes the final measure to meet his gaze, Ella steeled herself for his ridicule.

“I love you so much.” Al tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You have no idea how beautiful you are to me. How everything about you drives me wild.”

His tender words of love relieved the weight of disapproval from her shoulders. Those handsome eyes of his held a moistness that matched her own.

Rhycious groaned louder than necessary. “Are you ever going to kiss the bride, meathead?”

While those assembled gave a rousing cheer and broke into applause, Ella pulled the loop from around Al’s neck and handed the rope to Templar Khristos.

Her sexy Centaur closed the space between them and swept her off her big, flat feet, gathering the yards and yards of white dress right up into his arms with her.

Then, in front of Queen Savella, Eli, Kempor Hippolyte, and all their mythological friends, Aleksander kissed her good and hard.

Ella wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, uncaring what anyone thought. Safe in his arms, the self-consciousness that always plagued her shed away. Lifted high against his chest, her mate carried her away from the raucous catcalls and whistles. He broke into a rocking horse gallop that took them through an open passage, created by the Wood Nymphs.

Breathless, she giggled. “What about our guests and all the food?”

The feast laid out on the banquet tables disappeared from view behind interlocking branches, not that she felt in the least bit hungry. How could she, with the warm wind in her face and unlimited happiness in her heart?

“They can entertain themselves and eat whatever your parents passed up.”

They stopped once so Al could remove his jacket and loosen his tie…which lead to the divestiture of his shirt as well. Since her dress encumbered their progression, Al thought it best she remove that as well.

When the white corset, thong, and garters revealed themselves, his molten eyes glazed with heat. Undeterred fingers plucked the hooks down the front of the tight bodice and spilled her breasts to his waiting lips. His big palms gathered their weight and plumped them, allowing his tongue to lick each peak…his lips to suck each nipple.

The suction drew her deeply into his warm mouth and ignited her fire below. “Aleksander—I want you.”

In answer, he slid a hand down her along ribs, past the indention of her waist, over the jut of her hips, and glided his fingers with aching slowness to where she wanted—no, needed—them most. At her sensitive center, he cupped his palm over the scrap of ivory lace, moving the exacted pressure in circles that grew faster in gradual change.

Hungry for his mouth, she fastened her lips to his; skimming her tongue past his teeth to satisfy a taste for her Centaur. She gripped his arms for balance, feeling the bands of muscles beneath.

Deep in his throat, he growled his approval and slipped his naughty fingers past the edge of the lace. One, two, three strokes against her tender skin and her legs parted, hungry for his expert touch. The only male she ever wanted to touch her again…and again.