Page 48 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

The words hang between us, impossible and enormous. My pestle clatters to the counter.

"I don't know when it happened," he continues, moving closer, careful steps for such a large being. "But it's real. I need you." His voice breaks slightly. "I want you to be a part of our family."

The scent of herbs surrounds us—dried fortisia leaves, burgona powder, the sharp tang of bluefrost. I've built this shop from nothing, crafted this life with my own scarred hands after my family cast me out. Independence has been my shield, my comfort.

And now this minotaur stands before me, offering something that terrifies me more than being disowned ever did.

"What about Ellis?" I manage to ask, my practical nature asserting itself even as my heart pounds painfully against my ribs. My fingers press against the counter edge, seeking stability.

Dex's serious expression breaks into a grin so wide I can see the points of his teeth. "I pulled my head out of my ass and brought our son home."

Our son.

Two small words that send a flutter through my chest, warming me from the inside out. I've held that boy, rocked him to sleep, been there for his first laugh. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of him as a temporary charge and started thinking of him as?—

"Ellis was miserable. Varina wasn't happy," Dex adds, rubbing the bronze rings on his left horn—a nervous habit I've come to recognize. "I told her she could visit but Ellis stays with me." He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him. "With us. If you want."

I look away, focusing on the scattered herbs on my counter. "You told me I was just the nanny." The words taste bitter. "You pushed me away and gave Ellis up."

"I never should have pushed you away," he says, the rumble of his voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "I was scared. Everyone I've ever—" He stops, squares his massive shoulders. "I didn't think you'd want to stay. With me. For real. But I should have given you the option to decide for yourself. And I want to."

My head snaps up. "What?"

"Can you give me the chance to earn your forgiveness?" His eyes—those green eyes I've thought about every night since I left—search mine. "I know I messed up. But Ellis misses you. And I..." He swallows hard. "I can't sleep without listening for you moving around the house. I keep making your damn rirzed tea in the mornings before I remember you're not there to drink it."

I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of my shop—my sanctuary, my independence. Then I look at Dex, really look at him. Behind the imposing frame and merchant's confidence, I see uncertainty. Hope. And something that looks a lot like love.

Without thinking, I close the distance between us. My hands reach up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down to my level. Our lips meet in a desperate kiss, one that carries every unspoken word, every lonely night, every moment I've spent missing him and Ellis. His mouth is warm against mine, his lips surprisingly soft beneath the roughness of his stubbled chin.

Dex responds instantly, a rumbling sound vibrating through his chest where my hands press against him. His massive hands come up to cup my face, so large they cradle my jaw completely, yet so gentle I could cry. The contrast of his strength and tenderness undoes me. I rise onto my toes, pressing myself closer, letting my body say what words couldn't—that I've missed him too, that I've been just as incomplete.

The scent of him—leather and spice and something uniquely Dex—surrounds me, replacing the herbal smell of my shop. His horns brush against my hair as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. I run my fingers through the copper-highlighted fur at the nape of his neck, feeling the surprising softness there.

This kiss is raw, untamed—everything we've both been too afraid to say out loud. The longing, the wanting, the fear of rejection. I pour it all into him, and he answers in kind, his arms wrapping around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. My practical nature disappears, replaced by nothing but feeling.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathless. Dex still holds me close, resting his forehead gently against mine. His eyes remain closed, his breathing ragged. I study his face—the proud line of his nose, the curve of his mouth now softened into something vulnerable.

"I'm not letting you go again, Maya," he whispers, his breath warm against my lips. "Not this time. I love you.""

His declaration settles in my chest, filling empty spaces I hadn't realized were there. My fingers trace the curved path of his horn, feeling the smooth bronze rings decorating it. How strange that this is where I feel most at home now—not in my carefully cultivated independence, but here, in the arms of someone who sees me completely.

"I'm not going anywhere," I reply, my voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. A smile breaks across my face, my heart soaring with a lightness I haven't felt in weeks. Maybe ever. "Because I love you, Dex."

My practical side tries to remind me of all the reasons this could fail—we're different species, I have my shop to run, I've built my life around needing no one. But for once, I silence that voice. Some herbs can't be categorized neatly on a shelf, some remedies can't be measured in precise doses. Some things just work, despite all logic.

28

DEX

Ifollow Maya up the narrow staircase that leads above her shop after she locks up, my hooves clopping against the wooden steps. The space feels different now—more intimate, more purposeful than when I've been here before. Her scent surrounds me here. Clean herbs, sun-warmed skin, and something uniquely Maya.

Maya turns to face me as soon as we are in her small apartment, gray eyes studying mine with that direct gaze that always sees right through me. No more walls between us. No more holding back. When she steps forward and pulls me into a kiss, I surrender completely.

Her lips are soft but insistent against mine. No hesitation now, no uncertainty. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers working at the clasps of my vest.

"I want to see you," she whispers against my mouth.

I run my hands down her sides, relishing how small she feels beneath my touch. So fragile and precious, yet stronger than anyone I know. She steps backward, pulling me with her until her legs hit the edge of the bed.

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