Page 23 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
A succubus’s deepest desire is to fill and be filled, but contrary to what many seem to believe, it’s not solely from a sexual standpoint. It’s true that I can tweak my pheromones and easily read others’. But it’s also true that I have an innate need and ability to read monsters ingeneraland to ascertain what they need emotionally and mentally. Making monsters happy is my thing.
It’s why I’m the unofficial mother of Ever. I welcome guests and new citizens alike. I give the welcome tours. Now I’m the one handing out the stunning new welcome books, designed by my friend Betmal and his mate, Ama. And filling those roles brings me joy. I’ve focused almost entirely on that, casting aside the more physical aspects of my power.
But Manorin bringsallof it to the forefront.
My belly flutters with anticipation as I return to the kitchen. He stands with his back to me, the cabinet doors in front of him flung wide. The kitty cat timer sits on top of his head, nestled in his short waves as he screws the cabinet hinge.
I clear my throat, but he moves slowly, I assume not to dislodge the timer. She spins too, her kitty face splitting into a grin as a tiny meow echoes from her.
“What are you two doing?” I round the island and join him just as he sets a multitool down on the stove.
He swings the cabinet door open and shut a few times, and the timer meows happily. She leaps off his head and onto the countertop, then hops up and down excitedly.
“All done, sweet Annabelle,” he practically croons.
My mouth drops open as he reaches out and brushes a big knuckle along the timer’s round head. “Are you flirting with my house?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the island, smirking at me as the timer rolls away to her resting spot near the back windows. “She indicated she wanted my help.”
I scoff. “Is that so?”
He shrugs and grabs the belt of my wrap dress, pulling me between his big thighs. He’s hot, even with all that fur and clothing between us. But his body’s still hard as a rock, his gaze reverent as he stares down at me. Big fingers come to my curls and twist the ends.
“She did. Cabinet door was a little loose, and you know I always carry a multitool, Cath.” He winks at the word “multitool,” and I resist a groan. Manorin doesn’t make many dad jokes, but I swear he can turn anything sexual.
He grins now. “Haven’t lost my touch, I see. You smell as good as your pies, Sunshine.”
“You shouldn’t call me that.”
His dark brows bunch together. “And why not?”
I wave my hands around, getting flustered at how easily he can get under my skin, all these hundreds of years later. “You called me that when we dated.”
He laughs. “Ain’t that kinda the point, Cath? Because now that Gilbert has his fucking towels, I’m taking you to Herschel’s, and we’re gonna discuss an arrangement for the duration of my stay. You’ve got needs, woman, and I can take care of those, even if it’s only for a little while.” He leans down and nuzzles his way along my neck, his nose ring slightly less warm than his skin. “Long as I’m here, Sunshine’s your new name.”
He straightens. “Unless you want me to be your big, filthy secret. In which case, I’ll agree to call you by your given name in public.”
“Please do.” I step backward as my stomach rumbles. Am Ireally doing this? Considering taking him up on this friends-with-sexy-benefits situation?
As he holds his elbow out for my hand, I decide, yes, I definitely am.
I deserve a little fun.
Herschel’s is jam-packed by the time we get there, Herschel himself scrambling around to seat groups of monsters. Every table’s full, but when we arrive, Herschel seems unsurprised to see Manorin.
“Ah, good, you are here. Follow, follow!” He grabs two menus and waves us toward the back of the restaurant.
I glance up at Manorin, but he only grins down at me as he pulls me in front of him, guiding me through the busy restaurant.
And this is one of the things I loved about him when we dated. Manorin’s always been a planner—romance was his forte in a way Wesley never bothered with.
By the time Herschel leads us through the kitchen and up a tiny, twisty flight of stairs, I’m literally gobsmacked. On the restaurant’s roof sits a tiny gazebo crawling with rose vines. The red and white awning on the front of the building is tall enough that no one could see the gazebo except from above.
“I had no idea this was here,” I muse, shooting Herschel a look.
He blushes and waves his hands frantically around. “Ah, a secret, sweet Catherine. I reveal the gazebo only to those who take the time to plan something special.” He looks at Manorin. “Which he did. So…enjoy yourselves!”
But the surprises don’t stop there. A beautiful arrangement of pink roses sits in the center of the table, a card poking out thetop. I recognize Ohken’s work, not to mention he’s the only florist in Ever.
