Troll-y Yours (22 page)

Twenty-Nine

A
bitter cold wind blew in from the north, raking icy fingernails across his scalp. Eli hunkered deep into his fleece-lined jacket and fisted his hands in the pockets. Inside the palace, the temperature was always balmy. Never too hot or cold.

Unlike the sweeping cliff point atop which he stood.

And waited.

Why am I’m constantly waiting for someone, or something?

While he stared out over the lookout point, dawn broke over the valley. Behind him, the sun struggled to rise, spilling brilliant shades of orange to paint the western mountain range.

Trees on the distant ridge stood like soldiers at attention, lighting up as if they were on fire, spearing streaks of bursting yellow between slots of early morning mist. Beyond the serene stream that zigzagged through the valley below was the flat granite face of the Centaur palace. The tips of the boulders would grow warmer as the daystar climbed higher.

When the older Centaur stepped off the trail into view, Eli checked his watch. The male’s stroll was casual and unhurried, his face expressionless. His devil-may-care fashion was khaki trousers, brown shirt, and leather jacket.

Over the cliff’s edge, wisps of cotton-candy haze broke apart. The ghostly pieces floated upward, then disintegrated in the sun’s powerful rays. To keep warm, Eli stuck his hand back in his pocket.

Nubbs stopped beside him on the flat ground and glanced out at the wide-spread scenery. “Been waiting long?”

“Would you care if I was?”

Nubbs swung his gaze toward him, then chuffed a soft laugh. “Hell, no.” He tilted his head toward the tree line behind them. “Let’s get out of this fucking wind.”

Once they stood protected by the pines, Eli waited while the commander gathered his thoughts.

Stress had taken a toll on the intelligence officer and added age since Eli had met him. Lines of worry and weariness creased the Centaur’s face in downward racing streaks.

Always on guard, always planning moves, always keeping three steps ahead of the enemy.

“How close are you to uncovering their leader?” Nubbs asked. It was, after all, why they were meeting.

“My contact feels she can promote me through the enemy’s ranks, since I gave them the outdated layout plans. Proves to them I’m loyal or some shit. Enough of them saw me dodging the guards if I need my story to stick.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “You work in the palace, why didn’t you just give me the info instead of having me breaking into the Kempor’s room?”

Nubbs raised a single brow and looked him up and down. Patience was clearly not his forte. “I’m in intelligence. Aleksander is in charge of the palace. If I were to start poking around, asking about old details, it would raise more questions than I’d care to answer.”

Eli turned his face into a frosty breeze that blew between the trees and let the cold keep heat from coloring his cheeks.

Being the greenhorn of the team, he had a lot to learn. Knowing how to take thinly disguised criticism from the top dog was only part of his education.

“The schematics I poached were over fifty years old.” Eli took his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his head where the breeze tickled. “My contact hasn’t scheduled another meeting, so I’m assuming she’s satisfied with the results.”

Nubbs grunted, nodding his head in agreement. “A lot has changed over the years, assigned rooms, for one.”

The older Centaur crossed his arms and appeared to want to say more, but didn’t. Instead, he gazed at the toe of his boot and shook his head as if clearing old memories.

It was frightening to think what this male must know. Two hundred years of war, battle plans, and escape routes. More recently, espionage in the black market kept the man deep undercover.

Nubbs tipped his head to gaze sideways at Eli. “You ever catch her name?”

It took him a second to figure out whom the CO was asking about. “Yes, sir. It’s Pennelope.”

The commander drew himself up and stared hard into Eli’s eyes. “You’re certain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Describe her to me.”

Eli swallowed.
Fuck, did he screw up somehow

Intent grey eyes narrowed on him and waited, all expression lost.

“Female Troll, approximately five feet six inches, medium build, red hair—I think it’s called auburn—to about here.” Eli touched the top of his shoulder.

Since the start of his description, Nubbs hadn’t moved. The man’s face was hard as the granite rocks of Boronda. The muscles in his cheeks clenched. Slowly, Nubbs turned away to gaze at the view beyond the ledge. Eastern sunlight painted all in its path, leaving only the valley below in shadow. Distant mountaintops came alive with color as the warm rays rose higher in the sky.

Nubbs popped the top button of his jacket to reach inside and removed a leather pouch. With meticulous precision, he unwound a string keeping the top flap closed and pulled out a hand-rolled blunt.

Once a long time ago, Eli tried smoking the strong Centaur weed, and it knocked him on his Troll ass. He waited while the smoke was lit and his CO had taken a few deep drags before clearing his throat.

“Tell me,” Nubbs said, blowing a lungful of grey smoke. “Does she wear a shit-load of bracelets on her arm?”

Crap.
He wished the old man would just spit it out and tell him how he’d fucked up. “Yes, sir. Bracelets on both arms.”

Nubbs pulled another hard drag and held it, before exhaling with force. “Back off the investigation for now. When I’m ready, I’ll relay further orders.”

Bacchas, Pan, and whoever else he could name!
What the hell is going on?
Eli ran a frustrated hand through his hair. This was every bit his investigation, too, and he had the right to know. “Sir? May I ask why?”

The question was ignored, or at least he felt it was, because the answer he received wasn’t what he expected.

“I need to confer with Kempor Aleksander about this latest fucking development,” said Nubbs.

Uneasiness slipped in and tried to play havoc with his nerves. Too many of his paths crossed with the Kempor’s as of late. Such as Ella’s personal involvement with the male, stealing the meaningless documents from his room, and now his overt operations waited on the outcome of his CO’s meeting with the man.

All roads led to Kempor Aleksander, and Eli couldn’t stand the guy. Did Nubbs know the male was six feet under at the moment? Eli opened his mouth, intending to ask what he should do in the meantime.

Steel fury-filled eyes gazed back at him.

Not a stupid Troll, he shut his trap.

Nubbs’ face wore a mask of vehemence. Veins popped-out in his forehead. “Until further notice, you’re on a need to know basis. What a damn clusterfuck.”

The Centaur took a last hit off his smoke and threw the glowing roach to the ground. He nodded once, then walked down the dirt trail, jacket flaring out behind him.

Eli watched his retreating back until he disappeared around the bend.

The blunt’s sweet smoky fragrance washed away with the wind, leaving red embers to smolder in the dry pine needles.

Eli ground the stub beneath the heel of his shoe. Irritation rankled with Nubbs’ lack of trust. For nearly a decade, he’d served his commanding officer in an undercover position, learning every skill and tactic the male imparted. He’d never had a dressing down, never a complaint.

Still, he was left in the dark
on his own op
.

Hell, Pennelope treated him with more respect and confidence.

Eli turned toward the cliff’s edge and a magnificent view of the Boronda Forest. The last of the haze had all but disappeared. Broken into pieces and dissolved by the sun, the more powerful energy source easily overcame the fragile mist.

Not much he could have said and gotten away with, because Nubbs wasn’t someone you’d want to fuck with. When it came to that breed of Centaur, a smart Troll did as he was told.

*~*~*

Panic swept through Aleksander as he lay on the chilly floor, unable to help Ella while her body convulsed in the airless room. The way her muscles contorted, stiff and uncontrolled, reminded him of Damos, a childhood friend with epilepsy.

Filled with concern for the precious Troll who’d risked her life for him, he’d neglected to inflate his lungs to capacity prior to their shimmer. Even so, he carried more air with him, than the unconscious state allowed for her.

Terror rose and he fought the fear down. Suffocation in the cold, airless room was much like drowning in the Boronda Falls, according to the war stories from Water Nymph survivors.

The burn from lack of air started in his throat about the time his gaze flew up to Patience. Standing, she was of equal size and proportionate to them, now that they were inside the solid core pole. Alek read the alarm reflected in her eyes.

Patience looked down at their prone positions and acted fast, having read their vulnerability correct. She threw herself down next to him, spooning her body flush to his, and wound an arm around his waist. The other arm, she shoved under his neck to wrap across his chest.

Aleksander prayed to the mythic gods that she held on because his arms were full of Ella, and no way in
kolasi
would he ever let go of her.

As before, the shimmer began inside Patience. Her Wood Nymph abilities fired on all botanical cylinders. This time, the process was a blur in warp-speed. The pink spark initiating her shimmer turned brilliant white in an instant. Her warm energy-force burst out, entered his back, and passed through to engulf Ella, who thrashed uncontrollably in his arms.

Inside his skull, his brain grew hot. Whether from the depleted oxygen or brain cells dying out, he didn’t know. Opening his mouth, he tried in vain to gasp air into his starved lungs, but the pole was dead wood.

A dead entity.

The tips of his fingers were numb, his body routing the last of his air supply to vital organs to keep him alive. He felt his tight grip on Ella slip when her shoulders thrashed, and then her shaking body turned sluggish. Her movements slowed.

Is this it? Is this how I’m to die?
Ella’s foot jerked and kicked him sharply in the shin. She was dying. And it was all his fault.

No! Please…gods, save her
, he begged.

Alek closed his eyes and felt his heart breaking. Tears leaked from the corners. He wished he could inhale her sweet night jasmine scent one last time before they left this world together. How he loved the way she smelled.

Wanting to take Ella’s sweet memory with him into the afterlife, Aleksander gently sealed his lips to hers. He gifted her with what little air was left in his lungs.

Thirty

A
leksander’s stomach lurched as a whirlpool sensation hit his body hard. A suction of antigravity pulled them upward within the shimmer Patience manifested.

The Wood Nymph’s slim arms gripped him from behind with a secure, finger-clenched hold.

“Almost there,” Patience’s soft voice drifted to him, like a light breeze whispered through spring leaves.

His lungs were divested of air, since he’d given his last breath to Ella. Fire burned in Alek’s compressed chest. Black spots danced in his vision, multiplying with horrendous speed in the shocking pink flash of Patience’s shimmer.

A small shudder coursed through Ella’s body. Her blue lips worked to take in nonexistent air. Tears leaked out from behind her closed lids.

And there was nothing he could do—but watch her die in his arms.

Nothing.

Alek slammed his eyes shut. An onslaught of despair poured in.
Gods of the mythic forest, I’m a lousy excuse for a Centaur. I beg you…take my life, but spare Ella’s.
He tightened his shaking arms around his Troll, holding her next to his heart. Even in her unconscious state, her weak fingers knew to cling to his back—to hold on.

If this was love—if this helpless need to give all you had and then find ways to give more, was love? Then, he had finally found what he’d been searching for all these years—A fulfillment of his heart, a compliment to his starving soul, and hopefully, a partner for life.

Even if that existence meant traipsing after Ella through the lush gardens of
Elysium
in an afterlife, the thought didn’t sound all that bad. Unless he wasn’t sent to the mythological version of heaven.

In that case, he was well and truly screwed.

Bright flashes spurred his closed eyelids to fly open. The palace corridor came into view through a thin curtain of veiled white. Behind him, Patience held tight, and her energy increased to heat his back. As if he ascended or descended quickly, his ears popped with atmospheric pressure, and they were through.

A warm room temperature hit his skin the same time his oxygen starved lungs forced his mouth open wide. Life giving air rushed in on his gasp. Alek coughed violently, alternating between wheezes in and choking hacks out. His watery eyes teared up further.

Patience’s arms disengaged from around his chest. Her body pressure disappeared from his back.

He blinked his eyes rapidly, clearing the moisture away.

Ella!

There was no life behind her half-closed lids, her turquoise gaze fixed and dull.

“She’s not breathing.” The alarm in his scratchy voice bounced off the soil on which they laid, and sounded foreign to his ears. “Ella!” Alek gave her limp body a good shake. “Ella, breathe.”

“Give me room, Alek.” Rhycious knelt on the other side of Ella’s prone form. He gently pried her from his panicked grip.

“Watch her back,” Aleksander warned.

Rhycious flicked his gaze at Alek for a second, compassion brimming in his best friend’s eyes. “I see it, buddy.”

Another coughing fit wracked his lungs. Of course, Rhy would see her injury. He was the premier Remedy Maker of the Centaur kingdom, so Alek knew Ella was in the best healing hands known to the gods.

The stallion need to protect his mate reared up within him, the instinct blocking all rational thought. Strengthened by his mythic nature, Alek rose to his knees but refused to give ground.

Defend. Protect. Mate.

As though Ella were a newborn cub, Rhycious carefully rolled her, placing the soft bluegrass to cushion her back. He slid one hand under her neck for an angled tilt. The fingers of his other hand pinched her nose closed. Rescue breathing, basic first-aid treatment for non-breathing victims.

Aleksander coughed over and over. He worked to gain control over his spasmodic lungs and watched Ella’s chest rise and fall while Rhy administered mouth to mouth resuscitation.

“Come on, Ella,” Patience pleaded, her feet shifting nervously. She stood behind her husband as he forced air into Ella’s lungs. “We’re all hangin’, Dudette. Just waiting for you to wake up. Alek’s here, too.”

On Rhycious’s third rescue breath, Ella began to cough.

The sound of her harsh wheeze was sweet music to Aleksander’s ears.

For a few minutes, Rhycious watched her with critical eyes, then he backed off and allowed her body to respond naturally to breathing air on her own again.

“Ahh! Ow, ow.” Ella cried out and immediately rolled to her side, facing Alek. “My back, it hurts.”

Patience let out an audible gasp, her eyes riveted to Ella’s back—a sight Alek hadn’t seen yet, only treated in their confined, underground space.

As the Wood Nymph’s cheeks drained of color, Alek blood pressure rose. Needing to know, he asked. “Rhy, how bad is—?”

“Patience, go to the infirmary and have the staff stand by.” Rhycious’s gaze returned to Ella as she twisted and moaned on the ground. “Have them prep for surgery.”

Patience took off, her nimble feet flying over the churned bluegrass carpet, rich walnut hair streamed out behind her.

Alek reached out and grabbed Ella’s hand. “It’s going to be all right,
Kalos
. I’ll be right here by your side.”

He ignored Rhy’s questioning look at the endearment, though he expected as much.

When the tables were turned and Rhycious confided in his involvement with a Wood Nymph, Alek had all but told him he was insane. A rueful notion hit him. The equivalent of Karma sprang forth; with his not-so-divine history involving female Trolls, who was the crazy one now?

Crazy indeed.

Ella squeezed his hand as pain wracked her body.

His heart went out to her, silently praising how she was a brave little thing.

“Alek.” Rhycious broke into his thoughts. “Inside my backpack, I have a pair of pants you can wear.”

For the first time since transitioning from his true form, Alek gazed down and realized—his legs and ass were hanging free. He reached for the brown canvas remedy pack and unzipped the large main compartment.

Rhycious glanced anxiously in the direction of Patience’s departure. Lines of worry crossed his face. Without her calming presence, the big Centaur had an off chance of falling into a postwar flashback, and then all hell would break loose.

Using caution, Aleksander brought Rhy’s attention back to him, even if it meant taking the brunt of the Remedy Maker’s kingdom-famous anger. “I’m sorry for having Patience shimmer us out of there. But I sure am grateful. Ella would have died if she hadn’t.”

Rhycious rose to his full muscular height and checked the hall in both directions, satisfied only Centaur guards were visible. His hard, stony stare met Alek’s. “I never want to see you that close to my wife again. Are we clear?”

“No worries, my friend. I’m grateful to you both.” He didn’t want to be plastered against any female but Ella.

An acknowledged nod between friends, and they were back on track.

Alek stuffed his bare feet into the borrowed camo pants, noting how his muscles shook from the effort. Aftereffects of adrenaline—he hoped. The jagged pink scar on his leg, a sword wound from long ago, made him wonder if Ella would now have a battle scar of her own.

Ella coughed, the abrupt motion causing her to moan.

Alek swallowed past his own raw throat. His lungs burned as if a kerosene explosion were ignited inside them. Ignoring his discomfort, he bent to lean over his lovely Troll.

Tear tracks left streaks in the powdered dirt on her face. If she’d been able to dissolve to the surface, the supernatural travel mode would’ve cleaned her right up.

A little dirt never bothered me. I’m Kempor Aleksander
.

His big warrior hands bracketed Ella’s face, and he kissed her fevered brow. “You’re going to be fine, Sweet-thing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Ready?” Rhy bent at the knees, moving his arms into position with the intent to lift Ella off the ground.

Mine!

Unjust and irrational, overwhelming possession flared through him. Thoughts of a male, any male, touching his female sent violent spires to erupt in his stallion’s nature. It crushed his breath, caused his heart to beat out of control. Alek clenched a fist to gain control of his internalized outburst. He checked himself before reaching to clamp a firm grip on the massive shoulder of his friend.

“She’s mine.” His words came out a low vibration, a caution to back the fuck off.

Rhycious immediately pulled his arms away and held his palms up. He looked surprised at the warning.

Though not nearly as surprised as Aleksander felt.

“I understand completely.” Rhy offered a small consoling smile. “I’m the same way when it comes to Patience.”

Yes, of all people, his PTSD afflicted friend would know. Aleksander moved into the spot vacated by Rhycious and carefully slid his hands under Ella, avoiding her injured back.

She moaned softly. When he lifted her in his arms and stood, she turned her face into the crook of his neck. “Al, it hurts.”

“Everything will be okay,
Kalos
.” Alek promised her. He pledged the oath from the depth of his soul, murmuring further words of comfort and love in the old language. “Let’s go.”Alek glanced over at Rhy to convey his intent of heading toward the infirmary.

The stunned disbelief that appeared on his friend’s face would’ve been amusing any other time.

“What?” Alek asked. “Did you forget something?”

Rhycious shook his head and snapped his jaw shut. “No, it’s nothing. Never mind.”

Angry shouts echoed from the cross-corridor ahead, quickly followed by galloping hooves.

Rhycious thrust himself in front of Alek, sword drawn, ready to protect him and Ella from oncoming danger.

Alek held Ella’s shivering body close. Her life—his future—literally lay in his arms.