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For some reason, the vision of a porcupine appeared in his mind’s eye. Small but sturdy. Moving through the world at their own pace. Stubborn and fierce when threatened. Capable of holding their ground against foes that were many times larger.
And very, very prickly.
At least she smelled better. She smelled quite delicious, in fact.
It was a strange sensation to be calmed by her voice, scent and touch, while at the same time beagitatedas well.
“I hate to break up the love fest,” the human male with long black hair said, sounding both bored and impatient.
“But we really ought to get going. Unfortunately, we don’t have a map. I don’t know what civilization, if any, we’ll come across between here and the mountains. We haven’t exactly planned things ahead, and we’re not prepared for an extended journey. At the very least, we need to find fresh water. And then, by nightfall, some place to make camp and scrounge together some victuals.”
“There is a saddle cloth, fabric ties, a bridle, reins, and two wineskins filled with water,” the golden man noted from his search of the area surrounding Andros’ prison.
At first sight, he would appear to be Andros’ most formidable threat, given his height and size. The raw power he radiated, and his deftness with human weapons.
But Andros sensed no menace in him, no simmering violence beneath the surface. Unlike the humans who captured, imprisoned and tried to beat him into submission.
Instead, he sensed a kindred spirit. Though the golden warrior fought fiercely against his tormentors, he now exuded a steadying calmness. The opposite of the other male’s nervous energy and the female’s vivaciousness.
“The men appear to have spent several days here,” the golden man was saying. “This is all that remains.”
“No saddle?” the other man asked.
“Oh, I know!” his female contributed eagerly.
“People around here don’t use saddles. They ride bareback mostly. At most with the saddle cloth Sorin mentioned.”
As the three humans debated back and forth as to the best course of action, Andros only half listened. He was still stuck on the errant thought—
His female.
How quickly he’d claimed ownership of this tiny human with strange proportions.
And yet it was undeniable: She was his.
“All right,” the black-haired man finally put his foot down.
“This is what we’ll do. Head east using the most direct path to the mountains where the centaurs supposedly dwell. We’d make better time if this four-legged friend we fortuitously rescued could carry all of us on his back—”
“Absolutely not,” his female—Divina—countered immediately.
“My baby is wounded and weak from starvation. He’s not carrying additional burdens until we fix him up.”
“He looks like a sturdy steed. I’m sure he can handle a little bit of weight. I was going to say before you jumped to conclusions thatyoushould ride on his back.”
She opened her mouth to object, but before she could, the man hurriedly continued.
“You’re slowing us down, Div. It’s as simple as that. You have short legs—”
“Beg your pardon,” she huffed. “I have short-erlegs. They’re perfectly proportioned for my body.”
“Short-erlegs,” he echoed dutifully, “and you can’t hike far in platform heels over these rocky hills. Barefoot is obviously not an option either.”
She collected the “heels” she’d hurled at Andros’ captors and frowned, digesting the unassailable logic. She shot a quick glance at him beneath her lashes.
Andros realized then that her hesitation came from concern over his wellbeing.
It was true that he hurt all over, and his muscles trembled from stress and enervation. Having had to remain vigilant and still, with no room to stretch and move, even to raise his legs or bend his neck, given his shackles had locked his muscles in tight, painful knots. But he could withstand the negligible weight of the tiny female, he was certain.
