Page 5 of Bound to the Minotaur
That pulled my eyes to her. Her spine was straight, chin lifted. But her knuckles were white around the coffee mug, and her shoulders had that caved-in look, like the weight of being unwanted somewhere else had found a home on her back. Ihated it. “There aren’t any,” I said, sharper than I intended. More a growl than an answer.
She blinked at me, startled. “Oh. I—I thought there might be—” She was like a deer caught in the headlights, all startled, graceful poise. Her eyes were shiny and big behind her glasses, her nose a dainty, upturned point that was a little too elfin, too pixie-like for a human. Unless, apparently, they were called Kess and dropped into my home uninvited in the middle of the night.
“There’s not.” A lie. Mr. Halvers ran a whole damn B&B with doilies, scones, and lavender sheets. But the thought of her sleeping in someone else’s bed, behind someone else’s locked door—it soured my stomach. Avis meowed again, louder this time. I swear the damn cat narrowed his eyes at me, calling me out on that fib with smug satisfaction that, thankfully, my pretty guest couldn’t read.
Kess opened her mouth, probably to apologize again, and I couldn’t take it. Not after I’d lied to keep her here, despite thinking I desperately needed to get herout. I was an idiot, a glutton for punishment, and far too tempted by her damsel-in-distress act. Not that it was an act; I had a feeling Kess was far too genuine for that kind of thing.
“You can come with me,” I blurted. Her mouth shut. “While I run errands.” I wasn’t even planning on errands, but now I was. Hell, I’d invent some if I had to. It wasn’t like I could do more for her car right now without the parts I’d ordered. And the last thing I should do was work on my maze or my artwork with her around;thatwould be a disaster.
“I…” she started, caught off guard. She made me thump my chest with a fist, because it felt like I’d just swallowed a bug. Why did that sudden smile of pleasure hit me like that? Like a punch in the freaking gut?
“Don’t argue,” I muttered, already grabbing my coat from the hook. “Just get your shoes.” Then I was out the door, the frame rattling behind me harder than I had meant. Cool morning air slapped me in the face, but it didn’t settle the burn crawling up my spine.
Soft. I was getting soft. She hadblueeyes, for crying out loud. Like that meant anything. Like it justified the ache I felt watching her brave her way through rejection with her head still held high.
This wasn’t safe. Not for me. Not for her. I scowled at the gravel, then kicked it like it had insulted me personally. I was thinking with the wrong head. This was going to end with me hurt if I wasn’t careful. I was out of the protecting job, that’s why I’d moved here. No more rescuing damsels like the rest of my kind were naturally drawn to do. This was why we build mazes: to hide, to protectourselveswhen we burned out.
Not so helpfully, my mind supplied me with another reason why Minotaurs liked their labyrinths: mating.
I was painfully aware of the door opening and closing behind me as Kess followed me out into the crisp morning air. I could hear her shiver against the cold, brisk breeze, but also gasp in awe when she caught sight of the trees and the hill leading down toward town. It was a beautiful view, one that enamored me even after all these years.
The town wasn’t even close to what it had looked like in its glory days. Buildings were abandoned and had fallen into disrepair. With autumn bereaving the trees of their leaves, it looked barren and cold. None of the life and prosperity that our new resident nymph had been bringing back was visible, with everything starting its dormant phase. But it was still breathtaking to look into the valley and see the quaint little place.
Chapter 5
Kess
I stood in Gregory’s kitchen, still holding the empty mug as if it might refill itself if I wished hard enough. My palm was cold against the ceramic, but I couldn’t move. The phone call echoed in my head as though it had been shouted into a canyon.
No job, no new life, no escape.
The finality of it hadn’t settled yet. It hovered over me like the moment before a wave crashed, a heavy wall of inevitability. My chest ached in that hollow way grief does when it’s fresh—raw, not yet shaped into understanding. And then Gregory, hulking and broody, stomped out the front door with all the subtlety of an earthquake. His declaration—blunt and gruff as it was—had surprised me more than the call.
You can come with me.
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but something about the way he’d avoided looking at me, the way his voice had cracked under the weight of his own discomfort, made something in my chest unfurl. Something soft. How much had he overheard? And was he looking out for me beneath all that grumpiness? It caught me by surprise how desperately I wanted that. There hadn’t been anyone to watch my back in so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like when someone cared. Maybe Gregory was the same way, maybe that’s why it had taken him so long to even trust me with his name.
Avis meowed and brushed against my legs. “Yeah, yeah,” I murmured to him, setting the mug down. “We’d better follow your owner before he broods himself into a ditch.” I couldn’t risk that he’d drive off without me, either; I wouldn’t put it past him if I took too long.
I slipped on my boots by the door, shouldering my bag as Avis twined around my ankles in excitement. The cat, at least, was uncomplicated in his affection for me. It felt as if I had him as my ally, though that was rather fanciful to think.
Outside, the chill slapped me full in the face. My breath came out in a white puff. I tugged my coat tighter and stepped onto the porch, then stopped cold—not from the weather this time, but from the view.
The world spread out before me, quiet and crisp in the morning light. The dirt road that wound from Gregory’s cabin and shop led gently down a sloping hill into the heart of Hillcrest Hollow. Everything looked like a postcard come to life. A white town hall stood proudly at the center, its fresh coat of paint practically glowing against the backdrop of evergreens. A bell perched atop it like a crown. Beside it stood a scattering of homes—some cabins like Gregory’s, others cottages with ivy crawling up their sides, wreaths already hanging on the doors.
It was the kind of town you imagined when you were young and dreaming of safety. I didn’t realize I was smiling until Avis gave an approving trill. The spell broke only when the wind picked up and bit at my ears. I hurried down the porch steps and toward Gregory’s battered old tow truck. The cab sat high off the ground, and for a second, I hesitated. He was watching me. I couldfeelhim watching me from the other side of the vehicle.
Maybe he was debating whether he should help. Maybe he didn’t know how. I didn’t give him time to decide. I hiked up my leg, grabbed the side handle, and hauled myself in—less gracefully than I would have liked, but I made it. Avis leapt up behind me, a fuzzy gray missile of judgment and smugness, and settled on the seat between us as if he owned it.
The cab smelled of motor oil, leather, and something darker and more animal underneath. Gregory didn’t say a word. He just started the engine and pulled us onto the road, gravel crunching under the tires like a warning.
The silence between us was loud. I tried not to fidget, but my thoughts refused to settle. The phone call gnawed at me. IknewI hadn’t misunderstood the tone in the recruiter’s voice last week. They’d all but told me the position was mine. And then this morning? Cold. Short. Final.
Only one person had that kind of reach: one man whose money and name turned people to dust if they crossed him.
Daddy dearest.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found a way to pull the rug out from under me. His methods were rarely direct but always effective. Whispered threats to employers. Anonymous donations followed by careful retractions. He didn’t just want me to come back. He wanted me to fail. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. Don’t cry. Don’t give him that.
