Page 4 of Bound to the Minotaur
“So your name is Avis, is it?” I said with a dry mouth, as I took down the pretty bowl and scooped a small amount of kibble into it. I was certain he wasn’t supposed to eat on the counter, but the cat stuck his head into the bowl before I could move it. He was strong, too, hunching over the food so I couldn’t just snatch up the bowl and take it away. It didn’t feel quite right to manhandle a cat that wasn’t mine, so I gave up and just watched him eat.
Avis suited him, and it was comforting to listen to his purrs as he ate. When he was done, he was all hugs and cuddles against my elbow while I rinsed and dried his bowl. Guiltily, I put it back exactly where I’d found it, in the hopes that my host would be none the wiser.
I retreated to the couch, using the offered blankets to make a bed. Then I dared to hook up my phone for a charge before lying down in my clothing. It wasn’t quite comfortable, but I wastired enough that it didn’t matter. Still, my brain wouldn’t shut off, spinning wildly in worry and fear. What if the brakes failing wasn’t just bad luck? What if that was my father’s doing? And how was I going to get to that appointment tomorrow?
My mind was still going a hundred miles a minute when the back door opened a few hours later. My mystery host clomped inside as if he had strapped iron to his feet. Then he abruptly froze, before a rustling and a thud indicated he’d taken off his boots. I didn’t look, remaining on the couch with my eyes firmly scrunched shut. There was only silence now, and I itched to open my eyes and look. Lights were turning off left and right, and then—the faintest creak of a door—and nothing.
I finally sank into a restless sleep a short while later, as if my mind had been waiting for him to come back. Waiting to feel safe in his presence, which was ridiculous. Istilldidn’t know his name or what it was going to cost me to get my car fixed. This was the weirdest situation I’d ever been in, and yet… I liked his house. Liked his home.
When I dreamed, it was a convoluted mess of confusing images at first: snapshots of my journey across the country in an effort to escape my father’s controlling clutches. Dark trees, moonlit roads, traffic jams, and pile-ups. Then him: all dark and grumpy, with tousled hair as if he’d just gotten out of bed. No shirt, just sexy muscles and sinful abs. He was talking to me, smiling, holding open his arms as if I were more than welcome to take shelter there.
I reached for that safety eagerly and found myself tumbling into another nightmare instead. A maze of dark shapes, thick vines, crooked walls, and misshapen, broken cars. They loomed overme, threatening, imposing. And no matter where I ran or how I turned, there was no way out. I was trapped. Then I saw the beast. It was chasing me, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to catch me or not.
Chapter 4
Gregory
She was dreaming when I walked out of my room early that morning. Her body was curled into a tight ball beneath the blankets, and her eyelids twitched rapidly as they followed the ghostly images in her mind. Dreams had power, and it left an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach to see her traveling that world alone. No, not alone. Avis was with her, I noticed. He lay sprawled at her feet, taking up almost as much space on my couch as she was. He’d take care of her in there.
I turned to the kitchen on quiet feet, not used to all this sneaking around. My forehead still itched, and my rest had been short and rather pointless. Every moment had been filled with her need for protection. Tired, I turned on my coffeemaker and stared listlessly at my overflowing fruit bowl—courtesy of our resident nymph, Rosy. I was never without fresh produce, which she grew herself and had her mate, Chardum, drop off for me regularly. I wasn’t quite sure why they did that; it wasn’t like we were friends.
I remembered Char from before, though, back when Rosy’s father had been the town’s resident nymph and provided protection and prosperity to our lands. Maybe that’s all this was: loyalty to an acquaintanceship from long ago.
The coffee was done percolating by the time I’d finished pondering that. I poured a cup for myself out of habit, then took a second cup down with a glance at my fitfully sleeping guest. She probably wanted cream in that—and something girly likepumpkin spice. Well, I was fresh out of both, so she’d have to drink it black.
What was I going to do with her now? That car was busted until the parts arrived, but more importantly, it had definitely been sabotaged. There was a disconcerting array of boxes and things piled inside it, too; her whole life condensed to just a few items.
No matter how badly I wanted to return to my life of quiet solitude, I couldn’t bring myself to kick her out into the wild unknown with such a threat looming over her pretty head. I jerked back against the counter in surprise at the thought. Pretty? Since when had I begun to notice how beautiful my sleeping guest was? That was the last thing I needed to be paying attention to.
The cat was out of the bag now, and Avis knew it. He was giving me the most piercing stare from where he lay at Kess’s feet. Shit, and now I was thinking of her by name, too. Which could only mean I’d gotten invested a little too much, such was the nature of my beast. Rubbing at my itchy forehead, I focused hard on keeping the pull of my other nature restrained. I couldn’t sprout a set of horns where the human could see.
Holding my mug of steaming black brew in both hands, I circled the counter and moved to stand at the foot of the couch. It was too much of a temptation to stand there and stare my fill while she was still unaware. What was she dreaming about? It was making her shift restlessly beneath the blankets. Being chased? That made my blood pound in my veins with an excitement that was hard to temper. I tried to firmly tell myself that she wasn’t dreaming of my maze and me, of the great hunt, but of those who had sought to kill her on that dark road last night. It didn’t help.
A wave of possessiveness washed over me that was as strong as the desire to protect her. I didn’t like either feeling; they would shake up the careful order in my world, and I didn’t want that. I wasn’t ready for that, or for the moment when she abruptly opened her eyes.
Caught red-handed, I didn’t back away like I should. I just stood there and kept on staring, taking in the dark circles under her pretty blue eyes, the wispy way her blonde hair framed her dainty face. She blinked at me sleepily, her mouth soft and pink, her expression confused. Then, she reached blindly for the coffee table to snatch up her glasses and push them onto her nose. Her eyes were larger now, and much sharper as they focused on me.
“Gregory,” I said, my eyes slipping from her face to focus on something else oddly shaped that she’d left on my coffee table: a pile of fine chain links that glimmered silver, and pretty, colorful shapes in delicate arches and flowery designs. A necklace, but one carefully shaped out of polished scrap metal, some of it painted. If not for the very feminine design, it could have been my own work.
“Is that your name?” she said huskily, her voice still rusty from sleep—a bedroom voice that shot heat straight to my cock, which responded far too eagerly. I gave her a glare, as if it were her fault, then nodded once before stalking away, unwilling to deal with the floodgates opening on my dormant desires. No, done with that. No women, no trouble—remember?
The rustling sounds behind me indicated that she was getting up, maybe even following me. I didn’t look back. “Thank you for the coffee,” she said from somewhere to my left, while I pretended to be fully absorbed with the contents of my fridge.She made a delicate sipping noise, followed by a moan. My head bonked into the top of the fridge when I abruptly straightened and winced as my pants grew painfully tight. Damn it. I had to get rid of her now.
“I need to make a call. Excuse me a moment,” she said, oblivious to what she’d done to me with that single moan of pleasure. Pleasure from the ultra-black coffee I’d brewed. Apparently, she was not a frivolous coffee drinker after all. Not that there was anything wrong with that, per se, but I liked it too much that she appreciated the strong brew I’d made from the specialty beans I’d freshly ground yesterday.
“Hm.” That was all I gave her. She took it to mean that the conversation was over, which I appreciated. She lingered only a moment longer before slipping down the hallway, phone clutched in one hand. No explanation. I didn’t want one, this was none of my business. But I couldn’t help but wonder who it was she needed to speak to, anyway.
I didn’tmeanto listen. Honestly. But sound carried too well in the cabin, and I wasn’t about to walk outside and leave her alone again, not after last night. My hearing—it had saved more lives than I cared to count. Right now, it meant there wasn’t any escaping this, but there was no pretending I didn’t want to hear what she was saying anyway, either. I turned to the sink to wash dishes I hadn’t used, anything to stay busy.
“I’m so sorry I won’t make it this morning,” she said softly into the phone. Her voice was gentle, polite. A touch too eager. I had no trouble picking out the rapid beating of her heart, the soft whisper of her hand on her sweater as she rubbed it nervously. “There’s been some car trouble, but—” A pause, in it, the rapidpatter of a sharp voice on the other end, too fast for me to quite make out.
My shoulders tensed. That didn’t sound good. “No, I… But I thought we—” Her voice cracked a little as she began spluttering objections. “You told me last week it was practically certain—” Long silence. Even I could hear the clipped tone of the voice on the other end. Sharp. Dismissive, as if Kess’s rejection wasn’t even worth raising a voice over. My grip on the sink tightened until the ceramic bowl I’d been holding cracked straight through.
“I understand,” she whispered. Click. I turned the faucet on full blast to drown out the quiet sound of her heartbreak. Footsteps shuffled back into the living room. Avis was ahead of her, tail high and swishing like he had something to prove. He jumped onto the counter beside me and meowed—a sharp, pointed sound.
I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t stand the picture that had already formed in my mind, and I didn’t want to know if it was true or not. She didn’t make a sound, but the air felt too tight. Like grief had turned physical.
“Do you know of a hotel or B&B nearby?” she asked suddenly, carefully, the voice of someone who’d practiced sounding casual under pressure. “I don’t want to be in the way while you work on the car.”
