Monster Sex Stories (2 page)

***

The
rain kept up for two days. Lindsey spent those days in her tent,
trying to read and eating cold food. There was no way to light a fire
and while the small lantern she had gave off decent light it didn’t
give off heat so she mostly bundled up and let her body heat keep
whatever she was wearing reasonable dry.

She
had run out of peanut butter and patience by the morning of the third
day and was extremely grateful to wake up to a bright blue sky and
birds singing in the trees overhead. Crawling out of the tent she was
met by the fact that some of the other travelers, more intrepid than
she and desirous of a better location, had moved in. She had heard
them leaving but being alone was still a bit daunting.

The
village lay above her. Looking up toward it she could see
gaily-painted houses with tiled roofs and long green grass blowing in
the gentle wind. The story she had come to investigate went thousands
of years before, when there were still such creatures on the earth a
pack of centaurs had been taken away by an evil magician with the
help of the villagers.

Some
stories said the villagers were innocent, others said they were in on
the plan from the start but in all accounts all they got for their
trouble was turned into statues, which still stood centuries later
when a tribe of refugees came across the village and decided to claim
it as their home. Later stories added that a young girl had survived
and that she had been cursed to look after her fallen friends and
family forever, or until there appeared one who could bring the
centaurs back.

Lindsey
had been fascinated by that myth. That the statues existed was not in
doubt, there had been too many tales and paintings and other sketches
of the statues of that village throughout history. It seemed many
sculptors were fascinated by the detail, the fact that the weather
could not erase the features carved into the stone. Then, one day,
they all disappeared, nobody knew where. One hundred and nineteen
statues; simply vanished. That had been in the late fourteen hundreds
and it had become a mystery that became a legend all of its own. The
original story, the centaur myth, was almost forgotten but the
mystery of the disappearance of the statues remained.

Lindsey
didn’t believe in curses or that the myths were true. She
believed that civilization had been built on laws and that the
original myths had been used as a form of laws, as a set of
action/consequence moral plays. When she thought of centaurs she
often found herself questioning how such a thing could have been
physically possible, and what would it have eaten? For some reason
it were those types of questions that always niggled at the back of
her mind.

The
only reason she had come to do the research on that myth was because
she needed something incredible and interesting to wow her board and
she was hoping they find the missing statues/centaur myth of
sufficient interest to finally let her through. Her only other option
was to outlive them all.

Hanging
her tent over a low branch so its bottom could dry earned her a
mouthful of mud- laden water. Grimacing she put the rest of her
belongings into her backpack, with the exception of the empty cooler,
and headed for the village.

Entering
the place she quickly found out just what the guidebooks meant by the
people were not willing to discuss the legend. Every storekeeper gave
her a blank stare, the tiny library boasted no books on the subject
and when she wandered down to the site where the statues had once
been she was met by the sight of soccer teams playing on a stretch of
green grass.

Giving
up on the villagers being helpful she retraced her steps to a small
store and bought a loaf of fresh crusty bread and a small chunk of
cheese, a container of a rich tomato based soup that was still piping
hot and a large cup of strong coffee.

Going
back to the campsite she had lunch then went to the showers located
at the end of the campgrounds. After a quick trip to the laundry she
was freshly clothed and bathed, filled with warm food and very much
bored so she decided to simply walk along the trail that led to the
woods above the village.

The
birds sang in the trees and her steps were light. The woods lay
deeply hushed around her, the leaves below her feet were thick and
very old, some of them crumbled to dust below her feet, she veered
off the path, heading for a small outcropping of stone protruding
out.

She
was pleased to note that the outcropping looked over the river. From
her perch it looked small, a harmless silver ribbon winding its way
through the trees and the toy sized village but she knew it was large
and very dangerous, the currents were unpredictable and the rains had
bloated it so that it was about to overflow its banks.

The
sunlight felt good and she laid her back, drowsing a bit in the
warmth.

***

She
was standing near the statues, the entombed souls of the people she
loved the most. She was always saddened and angry when she looked at
them and often that anger was directed at herself. She hadn’t
tried to stop them, hadn’t tried to stop the evil magician and
the result was that everyone from her village stood or lay where they
had fallen that day. So many centuries had passed; she tried not to
think about that. What she did know was the she could no longer allow
them to remain where they were, the people who flocked to see them
had begun to chip away at them, to try to carve pieces away and while
they resisted the chisels and the stone hammers she wasn’t sure
how much longer that would last.

The
sound of hooves made her life her head from the moonlit ground. The
shadows filtered through the treetops, raced across the village
green. She knew they risked much just by being here and that he would
be angry with her for coming through to this side on such a bright
night instead of watching from above as she usually did but she had
no fear of his wrath since she knew his gentleness so well.

“
They
can’t remain here.” Her eyes traced her mother’s
features, “Surely you can see that. Have a little mercy I beg
you. I know you have no love for them, given what they cost you but
have mercy for my sake if not for theirs.”

A
hand touched her hair, softly and she drew breath, a ragged inhale.
All these centuries and she still lost her breath at the sight of
him. Turning she looked up at him, her handsome husband and
whispered, “We must take them to the cave before it is too
late.”

His
hooves pawed the ground and he looked at her, his black eyes kind.
When he had managed to escape the magician’s net she had found
him, broken and bleeding, and nursed him back to health. Because of
her he lived but no matter how much they loved one another the one
thing they could not do was bring back the centaur line, she was
barren.

More
hooves sounded out and she looked up as the second centaur entered.
He had not come from the forest the day of the summoning, he had been
a youngling then, he had been birthed only hours before the
summoning. His mother had died in the net, as had his father but he
had escaped that terrible fate. Her husband had told her where to go
and there she had healed them and fallen in love with them, with the
untamed natures that had led to the blending of man and horse.

But
of all the centaurs that had once roamed the earth only these two
precious creatures remained. Her heart ached at her inability to save
them and her husband put a hand out, easing her anguish by touching
the ball of his thumb to her cheek.

“
We
will take them to the cave…”

***

Lindsey
awoke with a start that nearly sent her toppling off the edge. Her
heart slammed into her chest as she stared down, small spouts of
gravel poured from the ledge and landed with a loud rattling whisper
below.

Getting
to her feet she wiped her sweaty hands on her long sleeved shirt and
headed back to the trail. She meant to head back to her camp but,
instead, she headed further up into the forest.

The
trees grew thicker, the birds stopped singing. There was an almost
funeral hush around the forest. Her heart began to beat faster as she
saw a dark opening in the high jumble of rocks ahead.

A
sense of déjà vu filled her even as she scrambled up
the hillside. Her palms scraped the rock but she ignored the stinging
pain, something was pulling her forward. She could feel that
inexorable tug all the way down into her vitals.

It
was a cave, the entrance was dark and wide, and she walked easily
under the high arch and into a large room. There was an indefinable
smell there, of warmth and food, looking around she saw an
astonishing sight—the cave was furnished.

A
table sat along one wall though only one chair sat at it. Tall
sconces made of beautifully worked metal held tall and fragrant
candles, books lined a shelf built into one wall and when she drew
closer she was astonished to see works by classical masters as well
as scrolls and ancient texts in languages she recognized only through
their scholarly contexts.

Two
rude beds, both incredibly large, had been created out of sweet
grasses and roughly woven blankets. Drawing closer she could tell
that the material was wool and that the colors had come from natural
sources: berries and nuts. The whole place bespoke of another time
and place.

A
pot dangled over the small fire that burned softly in the dug in pit
in the center of the cave. The entrance was close enough to ensure
that the smoke went out even in the harshest of winters and she found
herself marveling at the wheels of what looked like goat cheese and
hard breads stacked neatly on high shelves where it would be safe
from mice and other rodents.

There
was a stronger smell too, one that reminded her of the barns and
liveries of the equestrian center she had once attempted to take
lessons in. She hadn’t been very good and had given up after a
short time but she had not forgotten that smell and it lingered here:
warm animal-flesh and the faintest tang of wild clover.

A
second room lay at the end of the cave and she walked toward it, her
heart beating so hard she was sure she was going to pass out. The
cave was in use, there was no doubt of that. This was no abandoned
place, it was a home. But whose?

She
gasped; her eyes going wide as she saw them, the missing statues of
the legends. They were crowded into the room, some of them pressed
into the walls others stood at attention. One statue was of a woman
kneeling, her hand stretched out to a young boy at her feet. That
broke Lindsey’s heart.

“
It
is hard to bear.”

She
spun around and gasped. The woman standing there was
beautiful—red-gold hair hung to the waist of her simple gown,
her skin was smooth and pale, marred only by a small port wine
birthmark on her cheek. Her eyes were a soft hazel and they glowed
with intelligence.

“
What’s…who?”
She tried to ease backward but tripped over one of the statues and
landed hard on her ass. She closed her eyes, trying to snap things
back into place but nothing worked.

“
I’m
Keira. You’ve dreamed of me.”

“
No.”
She had but damned if she would admit it.

Keira
shrugged, her slim shoulder raising and dropping in an elegant
movement. “Denial won’t change it. We have waited so many
centuries for you.”

That
statement didn’t seem any more far -fetched than anything else
so Lindsey asked, “Why?”

“
Because
you are the offspring of Nephele.”

She
whipped her head to the right and almost passed out from shock. The
two men standing there weren’t men at all but, rather,
creatures with the upper bodies of men and the lower bodies of a
horse.

“
Centaurs…”
she breathed. “Oh holy shit. You have got to be kidding me. Is
this a joke, are there cameras hidden somewhere? Is this one of those
reality television shock specials?”

None
of them seemed to understand. The black haired centaur moved to Keira
and said, in a voice as slow and rich as the darkest honey, “I
am Lathius and this is Silenus.”

Lindsey
stared at Silenus. He was gorgeous—long brown hair that gleamed
with chestnut highlights and his dark brown eyes were flecked with
tiny golden points. His upper body was incredibly well muscled. He
looked like the brawny hero on the cover of a bad romance novel in
fact.

Except
for the horse attached to him.

The
words that Lathius had spoken sat in. “Nephele? That was the
only female centaur.”