Page 5 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs
I shake my head. “No. Our ancient history will have absolutely no bearing on that. You know I love skyball, so I’m fully on board with Arkan’s plan to bring it here. I want the best coach we can possibly get. If we all decide that’s Manorin, fab!”
“Mhm, okay.” Alo’s tone is agreeable, but I suspect it’s not the last I’ll hear on this subject. Just like he keeps promising not to insert himself into my pursuit of Vikand the centaur. Yet, even so, Alo’s regular and loud with his opinions on the topic.
It’s like he read my mind, because he smirks. “Speaking of males, I heard you ask Vikand out.”
I blush despite myself, looking up to smile at my friend. “I’m ready, Alo. Ready to begin dating. I don’t want to rush anything, so I’m taking this slowly, but…I want to.”
He grins. “And that’s the guy, huh?”
I swat his arm again.
He shuffles his big, leathery wings behind us, the curved points hanging above our heads. “What?! I’m just surprised at your choice, that’s all…”
“Well,” I say, “don’t trouble yourself over it another minute, old friend. It’s all working out perfectly.”
“If you say so,” he murmurs, moving my hand from his arm and jogging ahead to open the front door. As I sail through, it’s obvious he’s barely holding back an opinion on the topic—again.
Not that the opinion matters. I will do whatever, and whoever, the hells I want.
CHAPTER TWO
MANORIN
Iglance out of the window in my first-floor office, admiring how peaceful and quiet the skyball field looks this early in the morning. In a half hour, the perfectly manicured field will be bustling with the Protector Academyandpro skyball teams—finals practice starts today.
A reminder pings from the blue leather watch strapped around my wrist. I’ve got an important call starting in two minutes. I’ve been working at my computer for hours, planning the primary and secondary lineups for the upcoming season, and my back hurts from hunching so far over the desk. Standing, I roll my broad shoulders, grimacing at how my long horns scrape the ceiling if I stand up too straight.
This office wasn’t made for a minotaur of my size, much less a longhorn minotaur. I’ve been the head coach of the Hearth HQ Hellions for a very long time. The coach before me was a gargoyle.
A lot shorter.
And a lot less strict with his players, if the old stories are to be believed.
I probably should’ve had the office renovated, but it never seemed to be top of mind.
The Hearth HQ skyball team was a damn mess when I came on, but I’ve whipped them into shape over the last two centuries. Many seasons’ worth of players have come and gone during that time, but I’ve turned out a solid string of superstars, many of whom have gone on to have long, illustrious pro careers. Glancing out the door of my office, I smile at the paintings of famous skyball players lining the hallway. Ninety percent of those were cultivated during my tenure here.
I smile bigger as I consider that. A ping breaks through the thought, the communication disk on my wall flashing blue. A name hologram rises above the tech’s circular surface.
Ever Keeper.
Of course, I always knew him as Arkan Canterbury, a centaur who was a star player while studying at the academy. Now he goes by his title—Keeper of the hidden monster haven of Ever, in America.
Massachusetts state, as I recall.
I grab the comm disk and set it carefully on my desk, directing it to answer Arkan’s call. A life-sized hologram figure rises up from the disk, and my former player smiles, the grin splitting his handsome dark features.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t look a day older, Arkan. Or should I say Keeper?”
He waves away the comment. “The Evertons call me both. It was hard for me to give up my name for the title, even though that’s traditional for the role.”
I consider that for a moment. I could no sooner give up the Longhorn name than chop off an arm. It’s a point of pride for other longhorn minotaurs to cherish our shared last name.
“So,” Arkan says, “I’ll get straight to the point. I wanted to recruit you in my last haven, but it wasn’t the right time for thatcommunity or you. I’m pretty sure you know why I’m calling this time, and you took the call, so what’s changed?”
I suck at my front fangs as I think about his question. Whathaschanged in the decades since Arkan last tried to steal me from my position as head coach?
“To be honest,” I say, “I’ve accomplished a lot for the Hellions. I’ve run this program for almost two hundred years. My brain keeps going into build mode, but the Hellions are a well-oiled machine at this point.” I shrug and glance out the window at the skyball pitch again. After a moment, I return my focus to the black-coated centaur male. “I’m looking for something messy that I can fix up and make shine.”
