Page 25 of Bound to the Minotaur (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #2)

Gregory

The snake's body writhed one last time before falling still beneath my hooves, scales torn and bloodied, the earth around us gouged with the scars of battle.

My breaths came hard and fast, steam rising from my nostrils, every muscle trembling from exertion and the high of adrenaline.

But my victory turned to ash the moment I realized she was gone.

Kess.

I turned, massive frame pivoting toward the house, heart crashing like a war drum.

She wasn’t there. Not on the porch, not near the others.

The scent trail hit me a second later: sharp with fear, spiced with her sweat, and laced with the expensive cologne of Romano, which hid sour fear, soiled sweat, and stale cigars.

He’d taken her. Dragged her into the woods while we were all too damn distracted to notice.

How had I not noticed? A roar tore from my throat. It split the air—a sound of rage and anguish—enough to startle a murder of crows from the trees. He’d taken her, and I’d been distracted by that damn snake shifter.

I charged into the woods, passing Arden just as he rolled the car and crushed the two mobsters who had been firing at him, their bullets rolling uselessly off his thick Trollkin skin.

Ted and Lizzie’s hyperactive niece had two more men pinned, tying their hands behind their backs now that they were in human form again.

Then I was across the small back road and thundering into the forest. Branches cracked, undergrowth flattened beneath me.

I tore through the woods, chasing the trail of her scent like a mad thing.

My hooves pounded the ground, the wind howled in my ears, and still, it wasn’t fast enough.

Not when every step screamed she was farther away.

Too far. Too damn far. And the danger she was in was as great as ever.

I had not done a thing to change that, not yet.

Then I saw them.

Avis was sprawled in the dirt, fur knotted and tangled, one leg twitching as he tried to rise. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, his eyes fluttering but burning with defiance. I could smell his pain—sharp and wrong. He’d fought. He’d tried to protect her.

And there stood Romano, looming above her like death incarnate, gun lifted, arm steady, and eyes colder than ice. That gun was aimed at Kess. My Kess. Her golden hair was tangled, her face streaked with blood and grime, but her eyes—wide, glassy—were fixed on the barrel of the gun.

No.

Time slowed. The breath left my lungs, a void opening in my chest as the worst possibility took hold. My blood turned to ice, my limbs to stone. I was too late. I had found her only to lose her.

The terror, the helplessness, it was worse than any pain I’d ever known. She was my soul’s other half, the tether that kept the man in me grounded. And in that moment, I saw the rest of my life without her: a barren, burning wasteland.

I wasn’t going to make it; there was still far too much ground for me to cover. Romano had seen me, and though he couldn’t possibly know how much his daughter meant to me, it seemed to me that he was satisfied. That he was looking at me and gloating as he squeezed the trigger.

Then a blur.

Orange and black streaked between the trees, muscle and motion, fluid and fast. A tiger, massive and silent, vaulted from behind a fallen trunk.

The forest barely rustled with its passing.

It moved with a grace that belied its size, every inch of it radiating deadly precision.

The stripes flickered through the light like living fire.

It was closer than I was, faster, too. It slammed itself between Romano and Kess just as the gun fired. Bullets hit fur and flesh. The gunshot cracked like lightning. Blood sprayed into the air like a grotesque flower blooming.

The tiger let out a grunt—low and pained—but didn’t cry out. It absorbed the bullets, shielding her. It staggered on thick paws, back arched, sides heaving, but did not fall immediately. It turned slightly, as if to ensure she was still alive.

Rage gave my legs wings. I covered the last dozen yards in a heartbeat, the forest a smear around me. Every pulse of my heart was a drumbeat of vengeance. Romano barely had time to register the sound of my charge before I slammed into him.

There was no grace in the impact. Only force. He hit a tree with a sickening crunch, ribs or spine; I didn’t care which. The gun skittered from his hand and vanished into the leaves. He crumpled, unconscious before he hit the ground—a heap of arrogance and failure.

I didn’t look at him again.

Kess.

She was on the forest floor, dazed, blinking up at me with wide eyes behind crooked glasses. There was dirt on her cheek, her lip was split, her shirt torn, and a scratch marred her pale cheek. But she was breathing; alive, and that was all that mattered.

A sob burst from my throat as I dropped to my knees beside her and dragged her into my arms. She didn’t resist. She melted against me, burying her face in my chest. Not even an ounce of hesitation to crawl against me, clutch at my fur, my other form.

She knew me, even as the beast, and she did not fear me.

“You’re here,” she whispered, heartbreak and relief in her raw voice.

“I’m here. I’m here, Kess. And you’re never leaving my side again. Do you understand me?” My voice was rough, broken. I didn’t care. “I don’t care if I have to chain you to my damn side, you are mine. And I’m never letting you go.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I felt her shuddering breaths; relief, exhaustion. Something inside me cracked, and the beast in me—the Minotaur, the man, the ancient soul—wept with gratitude.

The shift came easily, a wash of warmth that tingled through my flesh.

Light bathed my mate, her body tumbling forward as I briefly became nothing but intangible energy.

Then I was a man, holding her the way she deserved, with the arms of a human, arms that were damn well going to hold her for the rest of her life.

She sighed, her face tilting up, her expression filled with wonder. “Gregory,” she said, with a sigh that was much better than the whisper from before. Steadier, happier, awed. I lowered my head to hers, kissed her upturned mouth, and drank that sigh deep into my greedy lungs.

“I love you, Kess,” I told her. “You’re my soulmate.” There was no way I was going to keep that to myself now. She needed to know it, should have known it all along. Her pretty sapphire eyes glowed, telling me that she had known, but my words pleased her.

Her smile was soft, tremulous, still marked by the stain of blood on her cheek.

The injuries that should never have decorated her flesh.

“I knew you’d come for me, Gregory. I love you too.

I… I’m pretty sure I fell for you the moment I tumbled into your life.

” Soulmates loved each other, that was a fact of life, even if soulmates were more mythical than my existence.

We all dreamed of finding ours. And still, hearing those words?

Actually having her tell me she loved me after seeing my beast, after witnessing my violence?

It brought tears to my eyes and left me lost for words.

Thankfully, a rustle in the brush saved me from the tangle of emotions that choked my throat. Avis stumbled out, his fur puffed and ragged, one eye squinting in irritation. He hissed indignantly, shook out his coat, and limped over to us.

“You little bastard,” I muttered, full of affection, relief thrumming through me at the sight of him upright.

Silently, I vowed he’d get all the freaking treats his heart desired.

Reaching out to scratch him behind the ears, I chuckled when he swatted at me with a clawless paw—haughty as ever—and then curled up against Kess’s side, as if nothing had happened. That was exactly as it should be.

Kess was smiling softly, her hand dropping to smooth the ruffled feline’s fur. Then her eyes darted to my left, where the sound of labored breathing drew our attention.

The tiger.

He was collapsed a few feet away, massive flank rising and falling with difficulty.

Blood pooled beneath him—thick and dark—rapidly congealing in the cold air and soaking into the greedy earth.

He coughed, a gurgling, wet sound that twisted my gut.

That was not a good sound. Shifters like myself could take a lot of punishment, but clearly that bullet had struck something very vital.

Light shimmered around him. Amber and gold. Fur faded to skin, muscle reshaped, and paws became hands in that blast of light that was as familiar as the passing of time. He lay there, half-naked but still drenched in blood, wearing the ruined remnants of a pin-striped suit.

Kiran.

My mind reeled, though it shouldn’t surprise me to see the olive-skinned male beneath that fur.

Hillcrest Hollow didn’t have any other tigers.

This was the bastard who’d once threatened this town, working for his vampire mistress and a corporation called Sunworld.

Kiran, the polished snake of a man who smiled too smoothly and had been flirting around town as casually as can be for the past few days.

He was the was the last person I expected to see between Kess and a bullet.

I couldn’t reconcile the image—him: bleeding, broken, lying in the dirt like some kind of fallen guardian angel. For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel. Rage? Confusion? Gratitude?

“Why?” I demanded, crawling over to him. The heat of my anger hadn’t cooled, but it was tangled now with disbelief. This man had tried to kill my friend Chardum, had threatened Chardum’s mate, Rosemary, and her land. “Why would you do this? Why would you risk your life for my mate?”

He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. His eyes opened slowly, the vibrant amber of them dulled with pain. He coughed again, a tremor running through his frame, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. “I came…” he rasped, his voice frayed and paper-thin, “…to warn you…”

I leaned closer, fists clenched in the dirt, my massive body casting a shadow over his shaking form. His voice was fading, growing thinner as he began to succumb to his injuries. “Sunworld...” He grimaced, his whole face contorting in agony. “They’re not done... coming back. In force...”

His chest hitched, another breath drawn, as if it cost him the world. “Be... prepared…” Then his eyes slipped closed.

“Is he... dead?” Kess asked quietly. Her voice was small, like a child asking a question she didn’t want answered.

She’d been through so much, and now that I knew what she’d lived with all her life, I understood just how strong she was, too.

But I had her now, and she didn’t need to be strong for me.

Despite her father, she was still a compassionate soul, and seeing this man—this stranger—hurt; it tore at her.

I eyed Kiran’s pale face, the barely-there rise and fall of his chest. “No,” I said after a beat.

“Not yet. He’s unconscious. But if someone doesn’t heal him soon, he will be.

” Maybe if the bullet had gone straight through, he could still heal, but I doubted that.

More likely, that deadly projectile was lodged somewhere deep in his lungs, and that’s why he was struggling to breathe.

Kess frowned, brushing hair from her face with a shaky hand. “What did he mean? That warning about Sunworld?” She didn’t know what had happened last summer, only a few short months ago. I’d tell her later.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, teeth grinding. “But I believe him.” That was the crux of it. I couldn’t see why this man would want to warn us, but dying for it certainly gave the statement some impact. We had to take it seriously.

She looked past me then, eyes narrowing. Her father lay sprawled in the dirt where I’d left him, still breathing, still dangerous, but, for now, out cold. Kess moved stiffly, kneeling beside him. “We need to restrain him.”

I nodded. I tore a strip from his own ruined jacket and tied his wrists, tighter than necessary. Kess helped, silent but firm, her jaw set. Then she used what was left to pad the wound on the tiger’s bleeding chest. It wouldn’t stop the bleeding, but it slowed it down.

“Avis,” I said, glancing at the cat. “Go get Arden.” The cat blinked at me, then darted off into the woods without a sound. He limped a little, but he moved fast and with certainty. It was against every damn instinct I had, but the tiger had saved her life. A debt was a debt. Even to him.

We didn’t have to wait long. The ground trembled a little as Arden lumbered up through the trees—massive even by troll standards—blue-skinned and huffing like he’d jogged all the way from town. I couldn’t remember how far it was; the charge through the woods to save Kess was a blur.

High above, great wings stirred the trees.

A golden shape spiraled overhead—Chardum, in his dragon form, with Rosemary perched on his back—returning from wherever their meeting with the Taoiseach had taken place.

The sight of them filled me with the first true hope I’d felt in hours.

They’d take care of things. Chardum would know how to clean all of this up, and he’d deal with Kess’s father.

“Arden,” I called, motioning at the troll to make him hurry over. “We need your help.” I pointed at the wounded man on the ground, knew exactly what kind of response I was going to get, and hardened my expression, giving the man my most stubborn look to make sure he knew I meant it.

The troll paused, looking at Kiran’s crumpled form, then at me. “You’re out of your mind, bull,” he said in a deep rumble, generated by his massive chest. His blue body was covered only by a pair of large, stretchy shorts.

“Probably,” I muttered, agreeing. “But he saved her.” Arden grumbled under his breath but dropped to his knees beside the body.

With a gentleness that belied his size, he placed his huge hands over the worst of the wounds.

Magic shimmered faintly between his fingers.

A glow of light that would heal, restore, at cost to himself, and often also to his patient.

It was better than dying, that much was certain.

I turned to Kess and scooped her into my arms. She didn’t protest, only leaned her head against my shoulder, exhausted beyond words.

Avis reappeared and leapt up to curl in her lap, purring like an engine.

His head butted against my chin, a rough tongue lapped once in affection, and then he turned to snuggle with my mate.

“Time to take you home,” I said, and began the long, slow walk back to town.