Page 17 of Fae Mates

A shudder of revulsion skittered down my spine. There was no way that ice queen would get down and dirty with my princes. I turned away from the empty pool and hurried after the cat toward the trees.

Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of the birch trees as McVittie rode on my shoulders. The cat’s paws rested on my collarbone while his soft, warm body dangled down one side of my back.

The birch trees blended into a thicket of eucalyptus, whose sharp, menthol scent filled my nostrils. We continued along a trodden path toward a boulder covered in huge splashes of what appeared to be glue.

McVittie sneezed, his tail swishing from side to side. “Keep going.”

“To that big stone?” I asked.

“This is a popular centaur post,” he replied.

I tilted my head to the side. From an angle, I could discern a horse-shaped protrusion, but with no head or front quarters. “What does that mean?

“A rutting post,” he said with a sniff. “Whatever you do, don’t touch that rock. It’s covered with the seed of over a hundred different centaurs.”

My nose wrinkled, and my steps faltered. Of all the people I had expected to take me to a place where centaurs relieved their desires, I hadn’t expected McVittie.

Hoofbeats approached from the distance, and I skittered behind a eucalyptus tree with peeling, white bark.

“What are you doing?” Mcvittie’s claws dug into my borrowed shirt.

“Hiding,” I whispered.

“We’re here to meet Centaurs, not run away from them,” he hissed into my ear.

“If this is the next stage of the plan, you need to explain yourself before I take a step further,” I hissed back.

“We’re going to see Mistress Catha.”

“Oh.” I stepped out from behind the tree and leaned against its side. “Do you have any money?”

“On my collar,” he said.

A centaur trotted toward the rutting post, whistling a merry tune. I placed a hand on my chest and grimaced. Was he really going to wank himself against that nasty, encrusted stone? The rubbing of his hands and the golden ponytail swishing from side to side said yes.

I tilted my head and squinted. Maybe it was the jaunty hop in his step, but something about him was familiar.

“Coltrane?” I asked.

The centaur froze. “How do you know that name?”

“A lucky guess?”

“Well, my name is none of your business.” He turned around and leveled me with hard eyes. A breeze blew his golden hair off his face, making his features more severe. “What do you want?”

“We need a ride to Spindlewinder village,” said the cat. “It’s in the Courage District.”

The centaur folded his arms across his broad, hairy chest. “It will cost you.”

“We have money beads,” I said.

“Fine.” Coltrane flicked his head toward the saddle on his back. “Hop on board.”

As I stepped out from the tree’s canopy, McVittie dug his claws into my shoulder. “Not so fast.”

Coltrane placed his hands on his waist and stamped his foreleg on the leaf litter, bringing up clouds of dust. “Do you want a ride or not?”

I also glanced at McVittie for an explanation. This was his idea.