Page 26 of Bound to the Minotaur (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #2)

Kess

Three months had passed, and the chaos had begun to settle, the way I’d begun to settle in this place.

Hillcrest Hollow was still a quiet little town, still wrapped in its odd little stillness, but it was the kind that whispered peace now, not threat.

The trees outside the window were brushed in early spring green, pale shoots catching the morning light, and the breeze that drifted in smelled faintly of pine sap, warmed stone, and the fire pit Gregory had stoked the night before.

I stood barefoot at the front window of the A-frame cottage, one hand resting on the frame, the other wrapped around a mug of that extra-black coffee Gregory liked to brew.

It had long ago gone lukewarm. I didn’t drink it for the temperature.

I just liked the feel of the cup in my hand.

Solid. Comforting. Like the man who lived here.

The man who loved me.

My gaze drifted from the edge of the forest to the great green-and-silver snarl of his maze, just beyond the repair shop.

It was growing again, shifting. Changing.

Gregory had been working on it almost every day since the fighting ended, and my father had been banished from my life for good.

Sometimes he worked on it for a few hours before he was drawn back to me; sometimes he lasted longer.

He needed his space and his quiet, but he needed me more.

I missed him when he worked, even if he was only a few dozen yards away, but I had enough to keep myself occupied too.

Avis lay curled on the back of the couch behind me, his gray fur gleaming in the sunlight.

He purred softly, as if he were trying to lull me into sitting down and relaxing.

As if. He shifted just enough to reveal the small patch of missing fur on his shoulder; a scar from the scuffle.

Gregory said the fur would eventually grow back in, but the graze of the bullet had left a permanent mark, at least for now.

He was fully healed now—no pain, according to our resident troll doctor—but you’d think he was dying from the way he angled himself so everyone could see it. “Drama queen,” I murmured.

His tail twitched in haughty agreement. I’d caught Gregory rubbing his ears and feeding him strips of venison more than once, when he thought I wasn’t watching. The big beast might be grumpy and gruff, but he was as wrapped around Avis's paw as I was.

I took a breath and let it out slowly, eyes sweeping over the winding paths that cut through the scrap metal and cars, overgrown with evergreens and brambles, blooming with early spring flowers.

Some of those twisted remains had once belonged to my father’s men.

Now they were part of the maze, absorbed into its living, breathing bones.

A fitting tribute. Payment. A warning, maybe.

They’d tried to harm that ancient, not-quite-living thing—the maze—with their fire and their guns; now their cars were part of restoring it.

I tried not to think about the bodies, though, the ones left behind after that bloody, terrifying day. I hadn’t asked, but I knew. Knew that Chardum, in his great golden dragon form, had carried them deep into the woods and made them disappear. Some questions didn’t need answers.

I didn’t miss my life in New York, and I certainly didn’t miss the revolving door of shady men in my home. I didn’t miss the man who raised me, either. He was still alive. That truth settled in my gut like cold iron. But I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

He was behind bars in New York, hand-delivered by Sheriff Jackson and a small convoy of shifters who had no intention of letting him slip away.

Jackson had promised he’d make sure my father testified, admitting every single one of his crimes.

My father wouldn’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of his life.

I was free.

The word still felt foreign: free . It tasted like spring air, motor oil, excellent vegetarian food, and a grumpy Minotaur who made me coffee every morning and kissed me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

The coffee was strong enough to put hair on my chest, the kisses hot enough to burn me alive.

I loved nothing more than early mornings in his kitchen, staring at the view of the valley and the sleepy, quiet town.

To curl in the arms of my beastly Minotaur and his surly glare, for anyone but me that is.

Gregory’s home had become mine. Cozy, cluttered, full of odd warmth, stone, and thick old wood. Everything here was honest and real.

At night, I dreamed of the maze. I dreamed of running barefoot under moonlight, chased by horns and breath and heat, until strong arms caught me and I was claimed.

Claimed in a way I knew I needed, something that had been missing, though the sex was absolutely mind-blowing.

After one of those dreams, I’d wake tangled in his arms, sweaty and shivering, and he would growl softly, pull me closer, and murmur in his deep voice until I drifted back to sleep.

Sometimes he’d be as hot as I was, and he’d fuck me until I was senseless with it, but it wasn’t enough.

I knew what I wanted—what we needed—but until the maze was fixed…

my mouth went dry as I contemplated the wrought iron gate, the hedges beyond, and the shapes of cars and other discarded things that had wound up on Gregory’s stoop.

Much like me, actually. It looked whole, but it had looked whole to me all week.

I shoved away the heat and need for my mate—for the beast and the chase—that curled in my gut. I focused on the things I had right now that I’d never had before: home, stability, love. I was safe for the first time in my life and cherished every minute of the day.

My fingers itched to make things again. To twist copper wire and glass and old gears into something beautiful.

Ideas came to me in waves now, thick and fast. I worked with the bits and bobs Gregory brought me, trinkets that felt like gemstones—gifts from the heart.

Because he understood my desire to craft things from the old—and he had the eye of an artist too, my grumpy mechanic.

Freya, a lynx shifter from the town, had promised to help me build a webshop, and the thought of actually sharing my work with the world lit something inside me.

A future, the promise of working with my passions rather than slogging through a daily grind I hated. A future filled with nothing but bright things. And then I saw him.

Gregory emerged from the maze like a god sculpted from dusk and shadows.

The sun caught the sweat that darkened his chest and soaked the collar of his gray shirt, unbuttoned to his sternum.

His broad shoulders flexed as he rolled his neck, his arms bare and streaked with dirt.

His jeans clung to his hips, torn at one knee, dusted with sawdust and moss.

I forgot to breathe.

The black strands of his hair curled damp against his temples, and when he looked up—those rich brown eyes locking with mine across the yard—I felt every inch of the heat and devotion that had pulled me into his orbit from the start.

He raised a hand, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

My chest swelled. This was home. This was love.

And I was ready to run to him every time.

He came up the back porch steps slow and sure, eyes locked on mine, and I knew. I saw it written there, in the way his jaw flexed, in the burn of his gaze, in the deliberate way his boot hit each board, like he was sealing some silent vow.

It was time. Finally, just like I’d been hoping every day for weeks. My cup slipped from my fingers. I barely noticed the clatter or the cold coffee splattering across the worn planks. My feet were already moving.

Gregory stepped forward and dipped into a low, theatrical bow, one hand extended, the other pressed to his chest. His eyes smoldered beneath dark lashes, his mouth twisted into something between a taunt and a promise. A challenge.

My breath caught. Heat surged through me, delicious and wild. I darted forward and ducked beneath his outstretched arm, a laugh escaping my lips. Barefoot, heart pounding, I sprinted toward the open wrought-iron gate that led into the maze.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle, deep and low, like thunder cracking in a summer sky.

Then silence—there was a silence as telling as the laughter before.

The sound of shifting, or not-sound, as was the case.

Magic shimmered like heat off stone. Light flared.

My heart leaped into my throat in excitement.

Gregory had told me what this meant, this ritual, unique to his species.

That the dreams had foretold all along that I’d be his, and his alone. I couldn’t wait.

The ground trembled with the first crash of hooves.

I laughed, breathless, slipping into the maze, weaving through corridors of rusted metal and blooming ivy.

Moss kissed my toes. The air smelled of earth and cedar and something older—something hungry.

I wasn’t once scared of getting lost inside this warren of strange, ever-shifting, bizarre paths, twisting and turning, with cars rising from the green, stacked together like ghost ships in a fog.

Nothing here would hurt me. Certainly not him.

Gregory thundered after me—the minotaur, my beast, my soulmate.

He chased me through the winding heart of the maze, hooves pounding a wild rhythm, his growls low and delicious.

I spun around corners, ducked under leaning car doors, and slipped over stone pathways slick with dew.

He was always just behind me, close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath, the brush of his shadow.

And he was herding me, guiding me, steering me to the center.

The moment I stepped into the clearing, I knew. Soft moss carpeted the center of the maze, ringed with wildflowers and the twisted, living metal of the labyrinth. It felt sacred, hidden from the world. Timeless.

I turned, and he was there.

Gregory caught me around the waist and lifted me from the ground, spinning us both until we tumbled to the earth. I landed on soft, green grass, his massive body curled around me, horns glinting in the sunlight.

In a flash of golden light, he shifted.

Skin replaced fur, his horns vanished, and in their place was the man I loved, kneeling over me, chest rising and falling, eyes burning. “You’re mine now,” he said, voice low, reverent. He leaned closer, breath brushing my lips. “Forever. Soulmate.”

I reached up, curled my fingers behind his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss that swallowed us both.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire meeting fire, the crashing of oceans, the surrender of night to dawn.

Our mouths met with hunger, with need, with a promise long made and finally fulfilled.

Tongues tangling, twisting, twining, much like the maze tangled and twisted around us.

His hands slid over my sides, finding the curve of my hips and the line of my thigh.

I arched into him, my body answering with instinct deeper than memory.

Clothes disappeared between touches, the maze around us humming with the power of our union.

I felt every rough callus on his fingers as he blazed paths along my skin, reverent strokes, rough with need and impatience.

His hands were on my hips, yanking me into position; rough at the nape of my neck as he pinned me. I was on my hands and knees, vulnerable, exposed. It was raw and primal. That hand pushed until my front lowered and my bare breasts, tips aching, pressed against the cool, dewy moss.

The brush of his thighs against the back of my legs, still covered with his jeans, was electrifying.

It was scintillating to know how much power he had, how strong he was.

His free hand found my folds—wet and aching for him—fingers brushing my clit until I screamed in pleasure, then testing my core with a rough stroke that only whetted my appetite.

When he entered me, it was with a gasp and a groan, our bodies finally, truly one, his cock stretching me wide, finally filling me. Making us one.

We moved together in rhythm with the earth, with the wind, with something ancient and fierce that lived in the bones of this place. His thrusts were rough, erratic, and so deep I knew he’d never leave me, I’d never get him out. They tangled us together in more ways than just physically.

Gregory. Mine.

He worshipped every inch of me, his mouth trailing fire over my skin, his hands reverent. And when I came undone beneath him, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t hiding. I was home. He followed, his roar echoing into the sky, a promise etched in every breath.

Forever.