Page 18 of Bound to the Minotaur
“I’m not scared of him,” Gregory said, his voice like thunder on the edge of a storm. “You said it yourself: he’s just a man—power-hungry, dangerous, but still human. And you are not running again.”
He saidhuman, as if that was significant, as if that made all the difference. My father was a monster, but he was a human monster, not like… not like the thing I’d seen in the woods last night, not like the beast from my dreams. “Gregory—” I started to say, my mouth dry as I hovered on the edge of a truth my brain refused to accept.
“No.” He stepped in close, crowding me—not to intimidate, but to shield. “You’re not going anywhere. Not when he’s hunting you. And especially not alone.” The intensity in his eyes mademy pulse skip. I opened my mouth to protest again, but he cut me off. “Get dressed,” he said, voice low and commanding. “We need to be ready.”
And just like that, my heart dropped into my stomach because the way he said it; like a soldier preparing for war.
Like a beast defending his mate. Like a man who would burn the world down before he let anyone take me. A girl could get used to that.
I shut the bedroom door behind me and leaned against it for a beat, breathing in the quiet. The warmth from the stove pressed softly against my skin, but a chill still crept in—deep, from the inside out. Gregory’s shirt was wrinkled now, smelling like him and like sex, and it took effort to peel it off and reach for my suitcase. I pulled out the warmest, sturdiest things I had: fleece-lined leggings, a thick wool sweater, and hiking boots that had seen better days. None of it made me feel remotely ready for what was coming.
I sat on the edge of the bed to pull my boots on, my thoughts spinning as my fingers fumbled with the laces. WhatwasGregory, exactly? Because he was a man. I’d kissed that man. Had sex with that man. But then there were those moments… a growl that didn’t sound human. Thewayhe moved. And last night—out in the woods—Isawsomething. Something impossible.
No human silhouette had horns or hooves.
I pressed my palms to my thighs, grounding myself. Maybe I was losing my mind. Stress could do that. Dreams, fear, trauma—add sex and a hot guy with a hero complex into the mix, and the brain could start writing fanfiction of its own. But if I wasn’t crazy, if what I saw had been real… what was he? More importantly, if I asked, would hetellme?
I sighed and looked toward the window. Avis sat like a statue on the sill, ears forward, eyes sharp as cut glass. Not grooming himself, not napping. He wasn’t relaxed in the slightest. “You’re watching for him, aren’t you?” I asked quietly, crossing to stand behind the cat. He didn’t glance at me, but his tail flicked once in answer. “You think he’s coming today?”
Avis didn’t respond, but I knew the answer.
My father always liked to make an entrance when you thought you had time. He wasn’t just dangerous. He was calculated. He wanted control, and the longer you thought you had some, the worse it was when he yanked it away.
I should run.
But I’d tried that already—and Gregory wasn’t going to let me go. I should try harder to convince him, but I’d been alone against my father for so long that having someone in my corner for once… it was a temptation too powerful to resist.
I zipped up my coat and stepped back into the hallway. The scent of eggs and something herbal still lingered in the air, but the cabin felt colder now and quieter. I didn’t see him in the kitchen or by the fire.
Then I heard voices. Muffled, coming from just outside. Gregory’s low rumble… and someone else. Female. Cheerful.Bright. It was not a voice I expected to hear inside Gregory’s house, or even near it. The contrast between the two of them was huge, and now my curiosity was fully piqued. Who was this woman who sounded like pure sunshine?
I padded closer to the front door, careful not to make the boards creak as I tiptoed. I peeked through the curtainless front window and froze. Gregory stood on the porch, his massive frame blocking most of the light—but to his left stood a woman who looked like she’d tumbled out of a kaleidoscope.
Gray curls spilled from under a knit hat decorated with tiny bells that jingled when she turned her head. Her wrists were stacked with bracelets, every color imaginable, clinking like wind chimes. She wore a long, patterned coat over a dress that didn’t seem anywhere near warm enough for the weather, but she didn’t shiver once.
She was looking straight at me. I blinked, startled, but before I could step back, her face lit up like a sunrise. “Well, there she is!” she crowed, voice rich and warm like honey butter. “Kestrel! Oh, I knew I’d like you. I’m the Mayor, but please, sugar—call me Grandma Liz.” She beamed like we were old friends. And all I could think was: I’m standing in a strange man’s cabin in the middle of the woods, being greeted by a bracelet-laden psychic grandmother in a dress meant for spring.
Whatever happened next… I had a feeling things were about to getreallyweird.
Gregory snapped, “She prefers Kess, please. I told you that already.” When? Just now? It felt odd to discover that my so-often-silent mechanic had talked to someone else, about me, even. What else had he been saying?
Grandma Liz blinked, then offered me a crooked, apologetic smile. “Of course. Kess it is. You’ll have to forgive an old woman with too many opinions and not enough filters.” She gave Gregory a narrowed look, her lips pursing as if she might swat him with one of those clinking bracelets. “Though there are gentler ways to say it, you bull-headed brute.”
He didn’t flinch or respond, just folded his arms and stared off at the trees like he hadn’t just gotten verbally thwacked by a grandmother in rainbow bangles.
Her smile softened when she turned back to me. “I stopped by because I thought you should know—there were strange men in town this morning. Real clean-cut types. Surveying the valley, asking too many questions with those sweet little fake smiles. You know the kind.” Despite the gentle smile, there was a hard edge in her eyes that made it obvious she was the mayor of this town for a reason, and it wasn’t because of her knitted scarves and home-baked cookies.
A hard knot formed in my gut. “Suits?” I instantly saw the endless parade of hard men who had come and gone through my home—first as a child, then as a woman. Men who obeyed only one man: my father. The kind of man I’d been expected to marry, to cement who was next in line after him. They were another reason I’d run. My skin crawled just thinking about them, and how they were closing in once again, right now.
She nodded. “Expensive ones. City smooth. Gave me a bad feeling all over.” Gregory had smoothly glided closer, his armbrushing against mine, not quite offering his full support or staking a claim, but letting me know I was not alone.
Yeah. That sounded like his people. I wrapped my arms around myself, the morning’s warmth and closeness with Gregory vanishing like steam. It was tempting to lean into him, to burrow against his wide chest and beg him to make this go away—too proud to actually do it. “That’d be my father’s idea of a warning shot.” He liked to let his enemies know he was there, make them look over their shoulder, live in fear. Then he’d strike like a cobra when you least expected it.
This sleepy, tiny town didn’t know what was about to hit it. Did they even have a police station? A sheriff? I hadn’t seen one on my single trip into town yesterday. The mayor, standing in front of me, looked far too sweet to be dealing with an invasion of organized crime. Grandma Liz tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You sure your father’s... human, dear?”
I blinked, the question catching me completely offguard. “What? Of course he’s—” Gregory made a noise. Low, strangled; almost a cough, but not quite. Both of us turned to look at him. Grandma Liz’s expression pinched with realization, then deepened into something between exasperation and disbelief.
“Oh, Gregory,” she said, the name coming out in a sigh that rattled her bracelets again. “You haven’t told her?” Gregory rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze angled away. His cheeks flushed faintly red under the stubble. He said nothing. Liz gave a soft, almost pitying tsk. “Well, it might be for the best. A Minotaur’s a lot to process on your first go.”
