Page 5

An attendant escorts us to the grand hall. The stallions are already gathered. When we appear in the wide doorway, the buzz of conversation fades as all eyes turn to us.

We strut our entrance, heads held high. I'm wearing only a sheer scrap of green fabric around my hips and the silver necklace connecting to my nipple rings. We walk like we expect the herd to part for us, and they do, hooves scraping over the floor as huge centaurs hurriedly back out of our way. Low murmurs of appreciation rumble overhead. They're all so fucking big. It's like walking through a forest, except the trees stare down with hungry eyes. My heart pounds harder with every step.

None of the centaurs touch us or infringe on our space, but they vibrate with impatience. They exchange hopeful grins, nudge each other, and mutter under their breath. My coy smile lingers on each just long enough to make their nostrils flare and their front hooves shift restlessly. Little shivers of eagerness ripple over their skin.

The centaurs are all naked now, beautiful and wild. Their bare torsos represent many shades and builds: dark and light, thick and lithe, hairy and smooth, freckled and inked. Their gleaming coats are similarly diverse. Blacks and bays; dapples and grays. All the pretty little ponies.

But these aren't pretty little ponies. These are proud centaur stallions, masculine and red-blooded — and visibly excited for the party to start. As we cross the room, I sneak peeks at what they're packing.

Holy shit. The erections pushing out from the stallions' sheaths hang heavily beneath their stomachs. Half chubbed, they're already contenders for the biggest cocks I've ever seen, and I know they'll grow longer and girthier as the night unfolds. Elle's words echo. My galloping heart skips a beat.

We continue our confident progression through the parting herd until we reach the center of the room. Thick maroon curtains cover the grand hall's arching windows. Lit candles on the candelabra, sconces, and enormous chandelier cast a soft glow over tapestry-covered walls, wrapping us in an intimate, sultry atmosphere.

Long tables draped with lush blue tablecloths are stocked with water pitchers and bowls filled with fruit, nuts, and other high-energy grazing foods. Cozy piles of cushions and blankets dotted around the edges of the room offer safe places to rest throughout the orgy. Attendants add pillows to the nests and swiftly finish other last-minute touches.

Several tables offer stacks of fluffy towels and jars upon jars of enchanted lube. The sheer amount of the substance is staggering. Sir constantly grumbles about the high cost of even a small vial of enchanted lube; King Idris must spend obscene amounts of coin on these events.

The breeding benches take pride of place at the center of the room. They're on slightly raised platforms, appearing almost innocent — empty and waiting to be used. The leather padding covering the heavy wooden frames is thick, so at least they should be comfortable…I assume. Each bench has a tall prepping table nearby.

I don't see the Centaur King or Alaric, but the other Studs approach us when we reach the center of the room. They greet their respective mares flirtatiously. Elle is on my left, and she smiles at me encouragingly before flouncing over to her Stud. He sweeps her into his heavily tattooed arms. She shrieks and giggles, flinging her arms around his neck as he carries her away bridal-style.

My colleagues disperse with their Studs, leaving me alone near the benches. My gaze drifts over the room. Huge, horny, muscular centaurs are still filing in. How many randy stallions will be at the party? Two dozen? More? As many of them as possible will breed my small body tonight. They'll leave my poor hole loose and dripping.

Or they'll just split me in half.

"You're looking pretty hungry, kitty-cat. See something you like?"

The tense set of my shoulders eases when I recognize the playful voice. Turning, I find myself face-to-face with a brown, bare set of abs.

I squint up at him and shrug. "Beggars, choosers."

Alaric laughs. It's a warm, genuine sound. "You're a sassy kitty, aren't you?"

"Sometimes," I purr. "Sometimes I'm a sweet kitty."

"I believe it." Alaric's tenor voice deepens. He gazes at me with confident heat in his eyes. "The moment I saw you, I knew I would win. It was the only way to guarantee you would be mine."

A soft, bright sensation glows in my chest. I return my Stud's warm smile. "And now I am."

Alaric is lithe, toned, and good enough to eat. My eyes trace his bare chest, noting the dark tattoo on his left pec. It's shaped like claw marks, as if a lion mauled him and left tattered cuts in his rich brown skin. Another tattoo on his left shoulder forms a scaly, snake-like pattern. His freshly brushed coat looks soft and his flowing black tail shines in the low candlelight. Gods, how is he hotter than before?

I can't resist peeking between Alaric's dark hind legs. His long, heavy cock is pushed from his sheath. It's solid black, ending in an equine saucer shape. I think he's beautiful — and I note that Thea was right. Even compared to the other stallions, Alaric is not small. His cock twitches as I stare. Heat thrums through me, pooling low.

I snap my eyes back up. Alaric's gaze is amused. When I lick my lips, his smirk deepens. He holds out a hand.

"May I?" he asks politely, not commenting on my shameless appraisal of his equipment.

"Sure!"

I don't know what he's asking until Alaric sweeps me into his arms. Then I grin and sling my arms around his neck.

Held against his bare chest, this is the closest I've been to Alaric's proud, gorgeous features. He swapped his turquoise earrings for long bronze bars that dangle, framing his high cheekbones and highlighting the golden undertones in his rich skin. His long hair is down and neatly brushed. I ache to drag my fingers through those black, silky tresses. He smells like pine and wildflowers, crisp and alluring.

Alaric carries me a few steps and sets me on one of the prepping tables. It's covered with a soft blanket and tall enough that I wouldn't want to jump down on my own. The mildly trapped feeling spikes my excitement.

My Stud slots between my dangling legs. We're at eye level now. His bare torso looks so human, yet all I see below his defined abs is the smooth transition from brown skin to golden coat.

Alaric's warm hand cups my cheek. His thumb sweeps over my skin as he leans closer. When his eyes search mine questioningly, I smile in affirmation.