I’d barely had time to process the sight when a dozen of them converged on either side of us, carrying crudely made weapons.
I let out a little squeak. I’d assumed the forest folk would be pixies or ethereal elves. Not these scary-ass beasts that seemed intent on taking us out.
Andre turned his head slightly. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard him say, “You good?”
No. Absolutely not. Four-legged men were chasing us. Even over the roar of the engine I could hear their pounding hooves.
I squeezed Andre tighter as he gunned the vehicle, and I swear I heard him chuckle, like this was his idea of fun.
They couldn’t keep up, not really, but they seemed to be herding us towards more of their comrades who were waiting for us farther in.
A spear—no joke, a spear—whizzed by, narrowly missing us. Then another. Had these people never heard of gunpowder?
With alarm I realized that while these centaurs might not be able to keep up with us, they could throw these javelins faster than the speed of out motorcycle. So far, all of them had clattered innocently enough to the ground, but I could see the barbed tips of each. If one of those spears embedded itself into flesh, it would hurt like a mo-fo to get out.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I heard the sickening thump of one lodging itself snugly between my ribs. My grip loosened and my lips parted as the pain hit me. I gasped.
Sweet baby Jesus, that burned.
Andre cut the bike sharply to the right and slammed on the brakes. I moaned as my body jerked and the spear cut deeper into flesh. He threw a hand out to help cushion me—big thanks there—and cut the engine.
I would not glance over my shoulder at my wound. I would not.
I peeked, and oh God, I had a pole sticking out of my side. I could feel the skin beginning to seal over it.
Just when I assumed the worst thing would be pulling out a barbed spear from one’s skin, my body had to up the ante and reseal the wound with the weapon still embedded in it.
Joy.
Dozens of centaurs circled us, rallying war cries. Some held up their spears and fist pumped the air with them. Not all of those that encircled us were men. A few were women, their breasts bound with linen wrappings. They looked just as fierce as their male counterparts.
Amidst all this, Andre swung a leg off the bike and casually pulled off his shades. He nodded to our opponents, assessing them as they surrounded us.
I slid off the bike, biting back a cry when the spear handle banged against the vehicle, jostling the injury.
“Give us the girl,” one of the centaurs demanded. His voice rumbled much deeper than a human voice, despite the fact that the upper half of the centaur looked identical to a man.
Andre flicked a lazy glance over his shoulder at me, his face hardening at the sight of a giant freaking weapon protruding from my body. A low growl emanated from somewhere deep in his chest.
His hair shifted and rippled. It was his calling card. The vampire king’s equivalent to the flick of a cat’s tail, a signal that he was getting pissed.
He swiveled back to face the centaurs. “I don’t think so.” His hair began to whip about him.
I had no idea what Andre was planning, but chances were, a lot of centaurs were about to die. I wasn’t just going to sit here and watch.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the base of the spear. Using one hand, I braced the head of the thing. I wrapped the other around the shaft and yanked sharply down. Wood splintered, and I twisted it the rest of the way off.
When I glanced back up, I noticed several of the centaurs had crept unsettlingly close. Near enough to make a lunge for me while Andre was distracted.
But the ones who crept up on me were all male, and their leers did nothing to settle me.
“Whoa, back the hell up.” The helmet muffled my words, earning me a few chuckles from the centaurs nearest me.
My skin flared up in irritation, and I whipped off the helmet.
Go screw yourself. The words were on the tip of my tongue before I realized that I had no idea what would result from that command when the siren was riding my voice. Curious though I was, I did not want the visual.
I glanced at Andre, who’d pulled out two daggers, leaving the sword sheathed. He casually flipped them in his hands, like he’d handled them thousands of times before. He probably had, and hot damn if that was not sexy.
His hair was still rippling, his unearthly anger only just kept in check.
One of the centaurs goaded him. “Getting a taste of that piece of ass before the devil does?”
Andre lunged, his body a blur. He drove the blade of one of his weapons into the centaur’s heart. His victim didn’t even have time to scream before Andre was finished with him. And then he was moving onto his next victim, a blur of anger and action.
And, cue the mayhem.
The centaurs at my back descended on me all at once. Strong hands grabbed me and dragged me with them. I was pressed against the bristly fur of one centaur’s chest, the action grinding the spear deeper into me. I hissed at the sensation, the pain making me woozy.
My nostrils flared and I breathed in a lungful of horse as another centaur pressed in close, fingering my hair. “Pretty thing, this one. Perhaps we shouldn’t kill her right away.”
I glanced over at him, his human torso tapering away to his equine body. When he caught me staring at him, he spoke again. “If you’re lucky, I’ll let you ride me first.”
One should not mess with a siren. We can get you to do things. Unnatural things.
I let the monster in me rise. The centaurs leaned towards me as my glowing skin beckoned them closer. “Why don’t you all ride each other?” I said, my voice ringing melodically. I’d let them interpret that one however they liked.