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Most of the girls had just blossomed into womanhood, she saw. Only two of them seemed older, but not by much. She sensed right away that none of them had much “experience” with men.
“The one with the long black hair. He’s so beautiful he seems unreal!”
“Pretty enough to make a girl jealous, am I right?” Divina teased. “Is it any wonder his Mate can’t take his eyes off him? By the way, the one you’re referring to is Ere. The golden warrior who is never more than two feet from his side is Sorin.”
“The big blond one is more my type,” another woman put in.
“Just looking at his thick thighs and boulder-like chest muscles makes me want to climb him like a tree.”
They all giggled helplessly at that, until a fourth woman said, “This Sorin friend of yours reminds me of the wild horsemen in the mountains beyond. There’s something so untamed and raw about him. As if he hails from a bygone time.”
“You mean the Archippos?” Divina asked, recalling what the merchant had mentioned earlier.
“No, the centaurs,” Leila whispered with rounded eyes, as if she was saying something she wasn’t supposed to.
As if “centaurs” was a dirty word.
“I thought centaurs are merely legend,” Divina said.
All of the women shook their heads in unison.
“They are very real,” Daphne said. “Their un-mated stallions come down from the mountains every four years to collect their sacrifice in the Rite of Hippodameia on the August full moon.”
“Un-mated stallions, eh?”
Divina waggled her brows suggestively.
A rash of blushes decorated the women’s naked, dewy skin.
“None of us have seen any centaurs in person,” a lovely, blue-eyed girl shared in a breathless voice.
“We have only paintings and sculptures to go by.”
“They are verytall,” Daphne emphasized.
The woman apparently had a thing for height, Divina deduced. Unless height was a euphemism for something else.
“Well, they must be, in any case,” Leila said. “The average horse in these parts is sixteen hands or more from hoof to shoulder. Add on th-the chest…”
She trailed off breathlessly, a hand splayed over her throat. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes glazed over at the mere mention ofchest.
These poor girls, Divina thought.
They needed a long, hard loving by some good men who ideally knew what they were doing. Nothing like virgins fumbling with other virgins. That was an uncomfortable, awkward disaster in the making.
Sexual delights were one of the greatest joys in life, was Divina’s firm belief. It was especially passionate when one first fell in love. Deliciously desperate. Raw and needy.
Which was why she loved falling in love. The romp alone was to die for. One should indulge often and well.
But only with the right partner.
“Add on the chest, shoulders, neck and head of a man, the centaurs are at least twice our height if not taller,” Ariana finished, since Leila didn’t seem able to.
The auburn, be-freckled Ariana was the most mature of the women, though she didn’t look much older physically. A no-nonsense practicality all but oozed from her pores.
Divina liked her right away.
She liked all of the girls. They were well-intentioned, innocent and kind. And they were obviously both nervous about, and fascinated with, the mythical centaurs.
