Page 2 of The Minotaur's Motivation

"Oh, you got a hybrid, that's rare!"

Serena was practically on my lap out of nowhere, trying to lean in and look at my folder. Apparently, whoever had been in hers hadn't interested her that much and she had already discarded it on a table.

"A hybrid? Isn't crossbreeding forbidden by most species of monster?"

"Yes, that's why they are so rare. Looks like a cross between a minotaur and a camazotz, maybe."

"A what now?"

"Like a type of bat creature. They hear through vibrations like bats do. When their ears are flopped down, it separates bones in the ear canal to muffle sounds so noise doesn’t overwhelm them. Apparently even people have vibrations, and camazotz can hear them!"

Serena bounced in her chair.

"Well, that would explain the big ears. How do you know all this?"

“I’m just interested in these sorts of things. Sorry, I know I can be a bit much,” she said, her enthusiasm turning to embarrassment. I reached across and squeezed her hand.

“Thanks. You seem to know everything, Serena. It’s really helpful. I feel so out of my depth here sometimes.”

A broad smile broke across Serena’s face before she finally turned to look at her own folder.

I slumped in my chair and peered at the picture trying to figure out the details on the grainy print out. He was big and covered in jet black fur, not brown like most minotaurs. Large bat-like ears stood in front of giant curved horns. A snarl covered his face. He looked terrifying, and butterflies formed in my stomach.

I scanned the details on the arrest sheet.

Murder.

Nausea swirled in my throat. I'd been given small, easy, non-threatening monsters so far. But it looked like I'd been dropped in the deep end this time. I was going to need more coffee.

Chapter 2

Cam

This prison was like all the rest. Dark and cold. Monsters get dumped and left to rot in these places. If you caught anyone's attention it was never for a good reason. It certainly hadn't been for me. The minotaurs at the last prison had decided that they didn't like half-breeds, and set out to make my life miserable. Most monsters don't like half-breeds, so this was nothing new. I've learned the hard way that you have to let people know that fucking with you isn't worth the consequences. And it wasn’t in my nature to take crap or submit to anyone. So, obviously, it ended badly. But more for them than for me. After a punishment of solitary confinement in the tiniest cells, I was moved here to avoid causing further problems and placed in a cell far too small for a beast my size. I laid down on the bed, my legs hanging off the end. Sleeping was going to be interesting.

I looked around the cell. Stone walls, check. Mattress that looks like it's been in here for a century, check. Filth everywhere, check. And apparently this cell used to belong to a werewolf, because my nose felt stuffed full of the smell of dog. Also, maybe a hint of some sort of snake creature.

As I was trying to get the fur off the mattress, a guard appeared and unlocked the cell door.

"It's time for your first therapy session. Let’s go."

"Therapy? I don't think so. I'm not here to talk about my feelings," I snarled, crossing my arms.

A hot jolt of pain ran through my body from the collar around my neck. It was a small warning shock; painful, but I’d had worse. I kept my face still and refused to react to the pain. The guard’s face screwed up slightly at my lack of reaction. I smiled at him, showing my sharp incisors.

"I take it that means therapy’s mandatory, then?"

The downside to having your crime be a violent one was the control collar and its various levels of pain. It kept the fragile human guards safer. But some of them were click happy. It was good to find out early on which ones were going to be a problem. This short round man qualified, although he shifted foot to foot uneasily now. He turned and stepped away from the cell to let me out.

"I'm not sure housekeeping has been yet. There's some dust in my cell. Can you check with them?"

The guard scowled before walking off.

Must not appreciate my sense of humor. No shock for a sarcastic attitude if you are compliant, though.

I followed him, my horns nearly scraping against the ceiling. The corridors here were taller than any of the other prisons I’d been to, but I still had to stoop through doorways. I didn't spare a glance at any of the monsters peering out of their cells at me as we left the block. The wrong look at the wrong person or at the wrong time could start a feud, and I wasn't interested in that. If I could stop getting more time added on to my sentence I'd be out of here and into a camp for hybrids in five more years. After a few years in hybrid camp, you could get moved into a family camp if you found a mate. I pushed the thought down and tried to ignore the emptiness I felt inside. I didn’t let myself think about mates anymore. I was a hybrid and a murderer. There was no one out there for monsters like me. I was sure of that.

The guard led me down a sweeping curved corridor until we turned right. Then left. Then right again and again. Left. I could feel tension building in my body. My fists balled, and the sound of my teeth grinding drowned out all other sounds except for the roaring of my blood in my ears.

---