Sired by steel a monster.., p.1
Sired by Steel: A Monster Mate Fantasy Romance, page 1
Sired by Steel
A MONSTER MATE FANTASY ROMANCE
BOOK ONE
OLIVIA FOX
Copyright © 2023 by Olivia Fox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is all fiction. All sexual acts are between consenting adults and if there is no talk of condoms, birth control, etc. it’s only because it’s fiction and fantasy. If you are having sex, here are some essential resources:
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To all you readers who fantasize about amazing appendages.
Contents
1. Violet
2. Violet
3. Violet
4. Violet
5. Violet
6. Zerion
7. Zerion
8. Zerion
9. Zerion
10. Violet
11. Violet
12. Violet
13. Zerion
14. Violet
15. Violet
16. Violet
17. Zerion
18. Zerion
19. Violet
20. Violet
21. Zerion
22. Zerion
23. Violet
24. Violet
25. Violet
26. Violet
27. Zerion
28. Violet
29. Zerion
30. Violet
31. Violet
32. Violet
33. Violet
34. Zerion
35. Excerpt, Bred by Bone
Also by Olivia Fox
About the Author
ONE
Violet
“This shit is trying my patience,” I muttered to my traveling companion, whose jaw clenched at the sound of my voice, her eyes slightly pinched.
For the two thousandth time, I looked out the window and took no pleasure in watching the centaur guards as they slogged through deep piles of snow on the road, attempting to lead the way back to Stillwater Cove.
It was impossible to run when your carriage was stuck. Trust me, I’d come up with a bushel full of ideas on how to escape and get back to The City of the Lost Tower, but they’d all fallen through after swirling over my head like bees, leading to one conclusion, and a foregone one, at that.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Our caravan had come to a grinding halt, and I wasn’t good at standing still, much to the chagrin of my temporary traveling companion, a stinky, silent-farting dwarf. If I jiggled my knee one more time, her dagger eyes might succeed in running me through.
Outside the stained glass window of the carriage, the scenery was serene enough. The newly clothed trees rose as white fairy-tale castle spires in the wintry landscape bestowed by a bounty of snow. It would have been plenty peaceful if it weren’t for the fact that someone was definitely going to pay the piper for this sick little sport. The caravan trapped me and took me back to the place I didn’t belong, a place which I’d not exactly fled, but was certainly glad to escape.
One centaur was bigger than the rest, a dappled chestnut with its mane and tail the color of old parchment like the pages of the books I enjoyed back in the place they’d snatched me from. He hurled and shoved his upper body against a bank of the frigid white stuff to bust a carriage-sized opening through the drifts, one chest heave at time.
The guards pummeled down the snow, allowing easier passage for the other members of the caravan. We followed a centaur-controlled trade route which wound its way between the realms of the Empire of Mercuria. The only problem was, they had to stop constantly to remove snow from their winter shoes.
We’d been sitting in this white, frosted open meadow for more than a minute. In times like this, the only thing that calmed my racing mind was daydreaming, and my attention drifted while I waited for the procession to make forward progress.
I thought back to the day when all this began…
I sniffled and smiled, rubbing my hands together against the cold. Camillia would be ecstatic when I brought back the saffron I’d come here to gather for her. The snow crocus had bloomed, and the rare delicacy would be worth it, I thought, my snow-bitten fingers reaching for the bright orange stamens, which I tucked carefully into a small glass jar. It was becoming difficult to grasp the delicate flower part as my fingers were frigid from the freezing air.
For a moment the glare of the sun on the snow made me blind. I blinked hard and opened my eyes against the dazzling light, my vision filled by none other than a solitary centaur guard. His silhouette glowed around the edges, backlit by the halo created by the sun behind him, and I gasped, trembling with panic.
I made myself as tall as I could, shoulders back, chin up, emulating a bravery I didn’t feel at all. “You realize you’re in the minotaur realm, don’t you?”
The centaur snorted, “Are you serious? How ever did I manage that? Are you telling me this isn’t Stillwater Cove? I thought all this white stuff was sea foam.” He pounded the frosty powder with his front hooves in a way that managed to look sarcastic.
“Funny,” I said, folding my hands defiantly across my chest, determined not to let this half man, half jackass see me sweat.
He chuckled with a dry and cynical sound. “I’m glad you think so. For some reason, the other guards in our party thought you might put up a fight.”
I backed away slowly, avoiding direct eye contact with the bulky figure looming in front of me. He seemed to be searching for a fight.
“Not so fast. I have orders not to return without you,” he spat out, looking at me with a sardonic expression that sent my temper soaring.
“You know I’m best friends with Lord Dhareus’s wife, right? I recommend you don’t try to take me anywhere by force.” My heart thumped madly as I wrapped the bottle of saffron in a cloth and tucked it into my satchel, ready to run. “Besides, what do you need me for? I’m just a puny human.”
“Now I would tell you my evil scheme, but that would be dumb.” He leaned down and his hot, hay-smelling horse breath landed right on my cheek. “It’s so rare to get one of you alive,” he murmured softly in my ear. “And in such good condition, too.”
His fingers brushed against my lower lip, causing me to flinch, and I swatted his hand away.
“Who—who are you?” I stumble over my own words. “Why have you come here?”
“So many questions. It’s not for me to reveal why you’ve been chosen to return to Stillwater, but fear not. I’m no human lover.” He used the contemptuous term which centaurs reserved for those of their kind who didn’t consider us weaker mortals to be inferior and even chose to couple with them. They were few and far between, but they existed.
“Look, you roguish, clapper-hooved lout. It’s been wonderful chatting with you. Appreciate you’re stopping by. But it’s time I headed out.”
His fingers wrapped around my wrist as I made to depart, and his eyes were hooded like those of a hawk. “It’s alright to be angry; Pegasus knows I would be in your shoes. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re coming with me.”
In one deft move that proved he was five times as big as me and four times as strong, he used a single arm to swing me up onto his back, and I clutched at the neck grab strap which he’d donned in anticipation of capturing me for what, I still didn’t know. I swallowed hard, trying to come up with a feasible explanation for all of this.
One day, I was living my best life in The City of The Lost Tower, and the next, I’m surrendering to some random, roving centaur guard for a crime I didn’t commit.
Unless that offense was being human, I wondered, digging my heels into the centaur’s sides, trying not to fall off. I leaned against his back and shouted in his ear, loud enough that his gallop slowed, and he swung his head away from my mouth. “Will you at least tell me why you’re kidnapping me? Can you please send someone back to let my friend, Lady Camillia, know I’m okay?”
He Ignored me and kept cantering through the field. At least his body heat kept me warm, even if he was a total pain in the ass.
Once we joined the caravan, it became clear the centaur soldiers had orders to return me to Stillwater by any means necessary, and the fact that they did so against my wishes was of no concern of theirs. I’d asked why a thousand times since that day and was met with stony obstinance and a tight mouth every single time. They obeyed only one master, and it certainly wasn't me, a low-bred human.
Which again begged the question, what value could I possibly have to them?
My impotent anger and theorizing was interrupted by a sharp yelp of pain outside, jerking me back to the present.
I slid the stained glass pane open and crooked my neck to peer out the window, seeking the source of the sound. There was a cluster of guards surrounding one of their own kind who’d stumbled and fallen, and I opened the door to discover what was going on. My dwarf friend twisted the corner of her mouth with exasperation. “Just going to see if I can help get us out of here a little faster,” I apologized.
The bay war horse, which had certainly galloped past danger, fought enemies with four hooves smashing the earth in full valor, stood on three legs, tenderly holding the fou
There were no bees or waving stalks in the meadow adjacent to the road this time of year, only piles and piles of white stuff, which managed to glitter under the somber winter light. Still, it was good to be outside, breathing fresh air instead of the stink inside the cabin. My traveling companion must have had too much stewed cabbage last night and kept emitting foul-smelling farts in our shared small space. Stretching my legs and breathing clean air felt great.
“He needs a farrier,” one of the sentries said matter-of-factly. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one in sight. We were a small traveling band, and even though I was none too happy with the fighters who captured me, I couldn’t let a living creature suffer.
“Guard!” I called out. “I’m no farrier, but I do have some healing capabilities.”
The tall, dappled-grey centaur led me over to his injured companion, and I set my medicine bag full of herbs on the ground beside him. I didn't go anywhere without it. Not even on a solo trek to gather the coveted saffron for my best friend, Camillia.
The guard had a shoe which snowballed. When out in the field like this, the snow buildup became an ice ball on the bottom of the foot. Before long, it could render even the fiercest war horse helpless as they tottered along like a little girl in her mother’s high heels.
“I’ll use my hands to see where the injury is located,” I told the guard and gently ran my palm up and down his foreleg, discovering that the tenderness was located on his fetlock joint. I reached inside my bag, finding chamomile and comfrey, which I always had on hand. Unfortunately, I didn't have any arnica, but it was difficult to obtain. I squatted over the cold ground, the freezing temperatures rising up and filling my skirts so much that my hands started to shake. I mixed the herbs into a salve and told the guard it was only a temporary solution. “You definitely need to come see me once we arrive in Stillwater, or go see your farrier immediately.” My heart sank at realizing the statement meant I’d accepted my return to that wretched place. “You’ll have to stay off your leg for now.” I directed the other guards to help me find a sling for his leg. “We need to apply the lotion to his wound repeatedly.”
Gritting his teeth in pain, the wounded guard said, “I thank you for your assistance.”
I handed him the lotion and returned to my carriage, tucking my medicine bag under my arm and rubbing my hands together for warmth. I blew hot air into my cupped hands, but they remained freezing cold.
Once I returned to the carriage, the master guardsman was waiting for me and offered a few coins for my help.
“Thank you, but I’d have done it for free,” I told him. “How long until we’re able to break through the snow and take our leave of this place?”
“It should be soon, milady. I’ve got guards up ahead breaking the snow off our path.”
We were close enough that his gentle tone reached my ears, and the respectful title coming from a centaur guard made me suck in my breath. This wasn’t some simple caravan escort; these men guarded royalty on a daily basis. When I left Stillwater months ago, humans were considered inferior as a species. I wondered if the guard’s respectful voice meant things had changed, or something else.
Several hours later, the road was cleared so that we could travel again without risking damaging the centaurs’ legs in deep ruts.
After much discussion about how fast they could go without running over any rocks or falling into potholes, the caravan began to roll forward again towards our destination.
I settled upon my seat in the carriage, pulling a warm throw across my lap, and saw the tree line begin to move as we lurched forward. I continued staring out at the countryside, trying to come up with some plan on how to get away from these ruffians. They’d set a trap for me, and I walked right into it. I had to find a way to escape between here and Stillwater.
But then I’d never discover who went to all this trouble to kidnap me and return me to the place I’d left behind.
TWO
Violet
Rubbing the back of my neck, I bounced my knee like a bunny, ignoring the dwarf’s glare.
Almost there.
My arse had fossilized on its seat by the time our carriage broke through the heavy snow and began to make good progress instead of moving at a snail’s pace.
On the day our carriage finally pulled into the city, it looked the same as when I’d last been there. All the windows sparkled. A powdery blanket covered everything in sight, muffling all sound. It was impossible to steady my erratic pulse, no matter how many long, soothing breaths I took.
Twelve thin, square towers dominated the skyline of the massive fortress and were connected by thick walls made of white stone. Their imposing size reminded me of my puny insignificance here.
A regular gate with vast wooden doors, a drawbridge, and archer holes guarded the only easy way across the river, and it was the only way in. In other words, any attempt at escape was futile.
In the spring and summer, well-kept gardens with fragrant flowers, grand trees, and blossoming bushes decorated the outside of the castle. I was allowed to peruse the medicinal plant garden, surrounded by ancient rock walls, for ideas.
At the castle gates, we were stopped by guards dressed in chain mail and leather armor. Each was fortified with a long sword and dagger hanging from their belts, along with two archers standing beside them, holding longbows.
The guards collected me from my coach, and I said sarcastically, “I thought we were friends. Let’s say you guys release me, and I’ll be on my merry way.”
Unimpressed by my plea, they each hooked an elbow through mine and brought me to the front doors of the palace. I’d only ever been inside once to bring ginger and safflower tea to a certain Lady Irene when the castle apothecary was out, because not even nobility could escape the tyranny of menstrual cramps.
This city was populated by a mixture of races, but the dominant one was centaur. There were humans here and there, too; most of them wore green uniforms with purple sashes around their waists. I didn’t feel welcome like I did back in The City of the Lost Tower, where no one gave a damn about what breed you were.
Given the fact that humans meant diddly squat to these half-horses, I had to wonder again.
What the hell was I doing here?
Great braziers lit up every part of the throne hall and covered the corridors in warm oranges and dancing shadows.
A turquoise rug ran in a circle around the room, with two paths arriving at the throne and gilded needlework covered parts of the walls—real fancy. Between each banner sat a small altar full of candles. A few of them were lit and illuminated portraits of powerful half-equine creatures above them.
At center stage, a throne of oak sat before a large window, radiating light onto the noble visage of Lord Zerion.
He hadn’t changed.
Cut-glass cheekbones and lips that made me contemplate immoral acts between his mouth and my lady garden.
But still, an arrogant prick, as evidenced this very minute by the way he gazed at me from his perch on his throne, as if he were accusing me of something.
I bit my lip and scratched my arm beneath his stare. The last time I’d had an actual bath was back in The City of the Lost Tower, so I was feeling real pretty and not exactly lickable.
The throne was covered in divine carvings of centaur gods, and he blended right in. His profile spoke of power, privilege, and my healing senses told me… an element of hidden pain.
Which again begged the question: What on earth was I, a nobody in his eyes, doing standing at his feet?
