The despised white centaur may be the key to Varan’s heart…
Born into hatred, his odd white coat a source of disgust to his centaur tribe, Tarsus is well used to mockery and contempt. But when he’s kidnapped from his high-blood family by a rival faction, he realizes his torment has only begun. Beaten and sentenced to death, he’s brought before the princess Nalain, heir to the centauran throne. But rather than order his execution, Nalain gives him to her brother, the general Varan, as a servant, a plaything to amuse him before the hideous white centaur’s eventual, inescapable death.
The huge centauran Varan is disgusted with his new servant, yet he soon begins to see the gentle soul that lies beneath the filthy, matted white hide. Even as a captive, the young centaur strives to be of service to all around him, even to those who show him nothing but contempt. Odd, given his bloodline—son to the feared and powerful Shar, whose evil has caused so much suffering for the centaurs of Varan’s tribe. It’s not long before Varan finds himself drawn to Tarsus in ways he never dreamed possible, and the passion that stirs between them becomes something that neither can live without. Until war comes to the centaurs, and with it rumors that Tarsus might not be the guileless servant he seems, and how everything Varan has ever known—his clan, his home, his love for Tarsus—is doomed…
More From Tarsus
Tarsus lay where he had been placed, head bowed.For the moment, they had forgotten him, as long as he stayed still and submissive. His body trembled every now and then as his grief overwhelmed him, but for the most part, he was simply numb.The wind had picked up and blessedly began to blow the smell of burning flesh away. He swallowed hard against the nausea that welled up, then raised tear-damp eyes to the fortress. Somewhere in there, his half-sister lay dead, a victim of revenge and hatred. The only one who had ever loved him, the gentlest soul he had ever known, and she had been killed for something she had never done.Along with the rest of his family…Those he would not mourn.Great hooves stopped before him, and he froze, breath suspended.“Up.” The command left no room for argument, not that he would have found the courage for it.He gathered his hooves beneath him and managed to get his rump up, but his forelegs were so shaky he almost collapsed again. A hard hand took his arm and dragged him to standing, leaving bruises in its wake.He looked up into the cold eyes of the other centaur, shivering at the unyielding hatred that shone there. There was no mercy at all, no hope…The only reason he yet lived was the very coloring that had made him such an object of scorn in his own tribe.The attacking force had been so taken aback by him that they had spared him out of curiosity. Once that waned, he doubted he would be long for this world.Covered in dirt and grime from working, his white coat matted and dull, tail tangled and knotted, he knew he was ugly in the extreme. The looks he received alternated between disgust and curiosity, but he was well used to that.“Open your mouth.”Tarsus hesitated in surprise, and that earned him a cuff to the head that almost sent him back to the ground. He obeyed then, cringing back as he hesitantly opened his mouth.Something hard was jammed between his lips, and he jerked back as leather slipped over his head to hold it tightly in place.Those around him laughed at his shock. They had bridled him, an insult of high order, as though he were no more intelligent than a horse. The bit did not allow him to close his mouth, and when the huge centaur that held the reins jerked him forward, he whimpered from the pain.He stumbled in the large one’s wake, unable to balance properly with his arms tied brutally behind him, long since numb.He did not try to look back as they led him from the only home he had ever known. There had been no happiness there, and he had no expectation of any in the future.
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