Page 48 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
“See you there, friend.” Manorin slides a hand up my back, resting it at the base of my neck. “Gotta get my woman settled in first.”
Furyon grins, black brows sliding into two wicked curves. “Bet you do, you rascal.” He dips his head at me. “Ma’am.” With an easy spin on his heel, he heads toward the Whiskey Business and disappears inside.
“Well, shit,” Manorin grumbles, starting us toward The Welcome Inn. “I wasn’t planning to deal with Alarion until tomorrow, but I guess I oughta have a little chat with him today.”
“Whatever you need,” I confirm. “Family first, okay?”
He halts me in place, spinning and crushing me to his body. A finger beneath my chin tilts my focus up to glittering crimson eyes. “You first. Extended family second. Everything else third, including my job, Catherine. We clear on that?”
Something inside me unfurls and warms at his words.
“I’ve never been anyone’s first,” I admit, staring at twin pools of intensity.
“You were first for me, all those years ago,” he says gruffly. “You’re first now as well, and if that ain’t obvious in the way I’ve treated you, then I’m doin’ a shitty job.” He gives me a wry look. “Even with ourarrangement.”
“I love how you’ve developed a country accent here,” I say with a wink, trying to defuse a situation that’s getting dangerously close to Real Feelings, trademark pending.
“Don’t deflect.” He slides his fingers down the front of my throat. “Wesley hurt you, and if he wasn’t already dead, I’d put him under for that, Sunshine.”
I place both hands on his big chest, grounding myself on the way it rises steadily with huge, deep breaths. Curling my fingers against him, I force myself to confront what I’m feeling and thinking, not to run from it.
Calling Manorin a hookup doesn’t feel right. Nothing about the way he treats me is a no-strings-attached vibe. I can’t seem to find my footing with that, because I cravemore.
“He crushed my soul,” I admit, looking up into crimson, sparkling eyes. “I didn’t see what was wrong with him, but Annabelle did. She hated him from day one.”
Nor says nothing but pulls me closer. “I’m sorry, Cath. I’m?—”
I press my fingertips to his muzzle to quiet him. “It was a while ago, although his death was more recent, of course. I’ve put him behind me, but my point in sharing that was he never put me first, either. Not like you do. Even though this is just a short-term arrangement.”
The words feel simultaneously important and hollow. The word “arrangement” barely encompasses what’s happening between us. Does he feel that too?
“Need to feed you,” Manorin says quietly. “Get you settled in our room. Maybe give you a nice little massage. And if youwanna keep talkin’ about this, we can. Shit, maybe we’ll head over to the tattoo studio, and I’ll get my first one. A nice little typography tat over my heart that says ‘Alwaysherfirst.’ Whaddya think?”
I smile up at his handsome face. “I think I’ll need a box of tissues if you do that, because it might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He grins, the edges of his mouth curling up. It makes him all that much more handsome to me. “Consider it a date.” He waves between us. “We talk about this arrangement a lot, Cath, but let me make this clear—even if this job doesn’t work out, and we part as friends, I will always be there if you need me. One call, and I’m running to you. Are we clear?”
I push hard to keep tears from filling my eyes. The idea of having Nor in my corner warms me in a way nothing has since I first met and fell in love with Wesley. I thought he was in my corner, but, looking back, there were signs he wasn’t.
Nor hauls my bag higher over his shoulder and takes my hand, walking us toward the front door. “C’mon, Sunshine.”
The Welcome Inn soars up four stories of rustic dark wood, chunky red support beams punctuating the building's front. It’s by turns rustic and elegant as the inn’s emerald-green front doors swing wide for us.
“Thank you, beautiful girl,” I whisper as we step through. The inside of the inn’s as gorgeous as the outside. Everything has a lodge feel, all rustic wood and exposed beams. The two-story foyer is somehow cozy despite that. Huge antler chandeliers punctuate the ceiling and cast light down on us.
“Welcome in to the Welcome Inn!” a chirpy voice greets us from the right.
Turning toward the voice, I find a lanky black-haired woman standing behind a long check-in desk, wearing a big smile. She appears human, although with some monsters, it’s hard to tell.
She beams at me. “Catherine, I take it? I’ve got you on a reservation with our resident celebrity.” She winks up at Manorin.
I laugh at how people recognize him everywhere. That’s new for me. That didn’t happen quite so much when we were younger.
“That’s me.”
The woman pushes a small basket across the check-in table. “He pre-checked in, but please take this welcome basket as a thank you from us for picking The Welcome Inn. If you need anything at all during your stay, there’s an attendant on call twenty-four hours a day. To my right, there’s a great little bar.” She points behind us. “Back there, we’ve got a coffee shop that’s perfect for grabbing something quick.” She leans in as if to tell a secret. “Although, if you want a really stellar latte, I recommend Brewhaha Beans across the street.”
The inn creaks around us, expressing her dislike of the woman’s suggestion.
