Page 11 of The Minotaur's Milkmaid
I’m Disgusting. She’s wonderful. This is absolutely fucking shameful.
I sag against the tree, spent and scowling. Maeve isnotsome tavern wench to be fantasized over. She’s sweet, pure, and, unfortunately for my sanity, built like a fertility goddess.
I duck back into the cave. My mane is disheveled, and I probably look as if I wrestled a bear on the way back. Which, to be fair, would be much easier for me than navigating whateverthisis.
I loudly clear my throat as I step inside, announcing myself so I don’t spook her again. Not that Maeve notices. She’s curled in the furs, hunched over a wooden bowl of stew, the sleeves of my tunic hanging past her fingertips, the whole thing still soaked through from this morning.
I swallow and glance away. Then immediately look back.
Stars above.She’s drowning in my clothes and somehow looks more scandalous than she did earlier without them.
I cough again, forcing my eyes to the fire. “You’re eating. Good. I was starting to worry you thought I’d poisoned it.”
She peeks up, cheeks already red. She swallows a spoonful too fast and winces. “N-no. It’s good. Thank you.”
Gods. She’s adorable. Every shy stammer, every glance away like she might burst into flames under my gaze, only makes it worse. Or better. Depending on how one defines self-control.
I grab a basket of clothing I left here from previous hunting trips and dump it onto a flat rock near the fire. I busy myself sorting through it. “You, uh…your tunic’s wet,” I say as if that isn’tblindinglyobvious.You’re such a turnip, Dakar.“I have a fresh one.”
She nods quickly, still not meeting my eyes, spoon clinking nervously against the bowl.
I cast a quick glance over at her again and catch her biting her bottom lip.Dangerous.That mouth could start wars.
I clear my throat for the third time. “I’ll dress, too,” I add, grabbing a kilt and what passes for a clean tunic. I turn my back to her like a gentleman, which feels a bit laughable considering I left her in a hurry to keep myself from doing veryunchivalrousthings. Veryillegal in most villagesthings. Not that I regret it. I just don’t think taking her on a cold stone floor while she mewls like a frightened kitten is the ideal start to our lifelong bond.
Behind me, she sniffles quietly. Not from crying this time, just from the stew. It’s spicy. I like it that way, but I’ll remember not to add as much for her next time.
After I dress and turn back around, she’s still in the same spot, holding the empty bowl like she doesn’t know what to do with it.
I step forward, taking it from her and handing her a clean tunic. “If you’re finished, I’ll take you to the spring nearby. You can wash. I’ll stand guard. I won’t peek.”
I pause, then crack the smallest of smirks. “Unless you ask nicely.”
She lets out a tiny gasp, her face flushed with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t…” she stammers. Without finishing her sentence, she sinks a little deeper into the furs, clutching the oversized tunic tighter around her like it might shield her from my words.
I chuckle under my breath, running a hand through my messy mane. “Don't worry, I’m not going to devour you,” I say. “If I was going to, I’d have done it earlier.”
I regret it the moment it leaves my mouth. Her face turns so scarlet, I’m almost afraid she’ll burst. I turn quickly, pretending to check the fire. “Sorry. That…was a joke. A bad one. I don’t eat…people.”
Silence.
I cringe. “I mean. I do eat. Obviously, just not—” I wave a hand vaguely and give up. “Never mind.”
When I dare a glance back, she’s watching me from under her lashes with a confused little smile. I exhale through my nose. This girl is going to break me in half.
And, stars help me, I can’t wait.
Chapter Nine
Should’ve Aimed For My Heart
Maeve
Ifollow him through the fields this time, my bare feet brushing against the tall grass. Dakar walks a few paces ahead, and I do my best to keep up, even though his stride is so much longer than mine.
I wrap my arms tightly around my middle, still a little sore and achy, but not from the walk. My breasts feel heavy again, but not unbearably so. Not after…after what he did to help me.
I shouldn’t think about it. I shouldn’t feel this way.
