Page 9 of The Minotaur's Nanny Bride

"He needs you," I add quietly. "And you're already learning."

I'm not sure when I became this coach, but I want to help him. I've never felt like my life was empty before, but with Dex, I find myself wanting to help shoulder his burden. Like I was meant to be there for him, knowing he would do the same for me.

Gods, when did I get so soft?

6

DEX

Isit stiffly on the nursery floor, my legs crossed in a way that feels unnatural for my massive frame. Ellis squirms in the crook of my arm, his tawny fur damp with sweat from all his fussing. The small weight of him—barely anything compared to a sack of grain—feels heavier than all my merchandise combined. His little hooves kick against my forearm as if trying to escape.

"Hey now, little one," I murmur, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "You need to eat."

Ellis turns his face away from the bottle I'm trying to position at his mouth. His golden eyes, so like mine, are puffy from crying. Gods, I never thought it would be this hard.

My grip tightens reflexively as he twists—a jolt of panic shooting through me. What if I drop him? What if my massive minotaur hands crush something important? Every movement I make feels wrong, every position awkward.

"Come on, Ellis," I plead, hearing the desperation in my own voice. "Just take the damn bottle."

The baby's face scrunches up—that familiar precursor to another crying fit that'll probably wake half the neighborhood. I've gotten better at the feeding part, at least compared to that first disastrous week, but everything else? Complete taura shit.

I feel her presence before I see her. Maya stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, silver-blonde hair catching the late afternoon light streaming through the nursery windows. I didn't even realize she was back from her shop.

Her gray eyes take in the scene—me, defeated on the floor, and Ellis working himself into another fit. She doesn't rush in to help. Just watches. I like that about her—most of the time. She wants to help, not just tell me what I'm doing wrong. She makes me feel like maybe I could learn.

And then there are moments like this where I think I'm hopeless.

"Don't just stand there," I grunt, trying to adjust Ellis's position for what feels like the hundredth time. "Either help or leave me to my misery."

Maya's lips quirk up at one corner—that almost-smile that somehow makes me feel both chastised and encouraged. "You're doing fine," she lies smoothly.

"Fine? Look at him! He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you." Maya pushes off from the doorframe and approaches, her movements graceful and confident. "He's a baby. They don't hate, they communicate."

"Well, he's communicating that I'm terrible at this."

She kneels beside me on the floor, close enough that I catch the scent of herbs that follows her everywhere—zabilla and rirzed, sweet yet medicinal. Without a word, she reaches out, her hands moving to guide mine.

"You're holding him like he might shatter," she murmurs, repositioning my fingers with her smaller ones. The scar on her right hand stands out against her skin as she demonstrates. "Loosen up. Babies feel tension. He's not a weapon, Dex."

Her touch is firm but gentle as she adjusts my grip on the bottle next, tilting it slightly. "There. Let him control the pace a bit."

To my utter amazement, Ellis latches onto the bottle properly—just like when she showed me yesterday—his tiny hands coming up to press against the glass as he starts to drink. No resistance. No crying. Just the soft sounds of contented feeding.

The relief that floods through me is almost dizzying. My shoulders drop several inches, and I exhale a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The tight coil of frustration in my gut begins to unravel.

"I was doing it wrong." The admission comes out heavier than I intend, weighted with a week's worth of failure.

Maya's eyes meet mine, steady and without judgment. "You were trying," she corrects, her voice soft but firm. "That's what matters."

Her fingers linger on my wrist for a moment longer than necessary before she withdraws them, settling back on her heels to watch Ellis drink.

"I'm a merchant," I mutter, staring down at the small miracle happening in my arms. "I can haggle with the stingiest traders in all of Milthar. I can lift cargo that takes two humans to move. But this?" I shake my head, the bronze rings in my horns clinking softly. "This scares the shit out of me."

"Good thing you are a big, strong minotaur." She winks and I find myself grinning. "I know you can handle this."

Maya leaves with a soft "I'll be back after my bath," her footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving me alone with Ellis for the first time since she arrived this morning. The house settles into the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath—waiting for something to go wrong.

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