Page 23 of Minding the Minotaur (Monsters of the Labyrinth #1)

A RLO

“Fuckkkkkkk. Oh yeah baby… Oh yeah.”

I tongue fuck Sammy harder as I come. Her spread thighs quiver as she joins me with her own release, and I hear the splat of my sperm hitting the walls of the glass receptacle I’m grasping in my fist. Somehow, in all this, I have the presence of mind to swap to the second vial, and that gets heavy too as I twitch out the final ribbons of cum.

Sammy is moaning softly, and my face is soaked with her juices, but eventually she slides off me, takes the bottles and puts them on the table.

Then she comes back, straddles me on the plinth, and lies her head on my chest. She spreads her legs over my spent groin, and we lie there all musky, sweat-sheened and limp as I stroke her golden hair.

“How was that?”

“Soooo good,” she sighs.

“It’s not exactly romantic, though,” I sigh, after a moment .

She raises her head off my chest and glances up at me, her eyes lazy from her release. “It’s amazing, whatever it is.” But I detect a wistful note in her voice. I know she wants more than this, as much as I do.

“It doesn’t feel right anymore Sammy,” I suddenly burst out.

She shoots up so fast, I’m left with nothing but a cold whoosh of air. I blink to see her standing naked and resplendent, hands splayed on her hips and a definite scowl on her pretty face. “Are you saying we have to stop?”

“No, gods no, babe.” I sit up, swing my legs off the plinth and grope for her hand. “I’m saying I want so much more. ”

She relaxes a little, her small hand gloving into mine.

I like that it matters to her so much that she got all huffy, but I really don’t want to upset her. I stroke her fingers.

“I need to stop doing this real soon.” I grimace toward the bottles of milky liquid. “So we can… make love properly.”

He face softens. “You know I want that too, but your family need the money.” She sits down next to me on the plinth and plays with my fingers. “I guess I’m getting anxious about—after this job finishes next week—what that means for us.”

There’s so little of my house arrest left. Whoever could have predicted that I’d dread it coming to an end. But her reaction also gives me courage to open up more.

“So you really would be prepared to stay longer?”

I glance at her to see her chewing on her lip. It’s agony waiting. Finally, she says quietly, “Yes, I would, Arlo.”

I can feel my face breaking into a shit-eating grin. “Babe, you’ve just made me the happiest guy.”

I turn and kiss her, and we cling to each other.

Already I’m doing equations in my head. I’ve got some savings, and once the next lot of school fees are paid for, I’ll still have enough to live on for a while.

I could maybe slow down my clinic visits, only shoot my load once a fortnight, to begin with.

That would leave us a whole week to make love unfettered by the gods damn need to hold in my seed.

I’ll tell Clarisse she’ll need to pull her belt in from now on.

Maybe get a job even.

I’m still riding the wave of happiness, holding Sammy’s hand as we arrive home twenty minutes later. Tippy pulls back the glass partition and calls over her shoulder, “Okay guys. Out. I’ll go park the jeep in the garage.”

We break our handhold as we get out. We still make a small pretense of Sammy being in charge, but with all the noise we make and then Tippy catching us in the bathroom the other day, there’s no doubt in my mind that she knows.

Since then, she’s left bottles of massage oil around, in the bedroom and the bathroom, and keeps mentioning the aphrodisiac quality of certain foods with a twinkle in her eyes.

As for Otis, I’m still not sure whether he’s guessed. He visits every few days, but he always seems preoccupied. He’s got the same look he had when he was studying science at university, his red eyes focused on some distant point, brows drawn down as if he’s working out a complex equation.

He did say the other day he was pleased at how docile I seem right now. Docile. Yeah, I guess I’m happy. Content to just be with my human. I’m going to have to tell him the truth soon: that I no longer have any desire to go up to Sparkle. That what I want— who I want, is right here with me.

As we reach the front door, I see a figure moving toward us from the garden. The next second she’s bowled into me, one of her horns scratching my cheek.

“Hey gorgeous.” She hugs me in a vice-like grip, her long shaggy blonde hair flying into my mouth, the smell of cheap perfume overwhelming my nostrils.

It’s my sister, Clarisse.

“What are you doing here?” I say when I’ve finally extricated myself from all that hair .

Clarisse pouts. “I couldn’t get hold of you any other way. No-one’s seen you around, and you don’t answer your phone.”

I don’t tell her that’s because Otis has redirected it to the sheriff’s office, and if he saw her number flash up on the screen, he wouldn’t pick up in a fit.

Otis doesn’t like Clarisse. I guess I don’t blame him, she is a user.

I brace myself for the conversation I was planning to have with her. There’s no time like the present, I guess.

And then, in typical Clarisse style, she drops the bombshell. “Guess what? I’m pregnant again.”

I stare at her, my brain flicking the number from eight to nine younglings behind my eyeballs.

“What the fuck?” is all that comes out of my mouth.

“Oh, that’s nice, what about congratulations?”

“I’ll, um… maybe leave you two to chat,” I hear Sammy say, and I turn to see her giving me a WTF look.

Clarisse stares at Sammy out of curious eyes. “Heck, a paper skin. What’s she doing here?” She lets out a low whistle between her teeth. “She smells like she’s pretty close to heat, too.”

Before things can get any worse, I growl out, “This is Samantha Buggins. Sammy, this is my sister, Clarisse.”

I literally see Sammy’s shoulders drop with relief.

“So what are you up to with my bro?” Clarisse’s tone is almost accusing.

I really don’t want Clarisse to know I’m on house arrest, but luckily Sammy thinks fast.

“I’m Arlo’s—personal trainer.”

“Bad uniform.” Clarisse sniffs.

Then Tippy walks up the garden path.

“Oh hi, Clarisse,” she says, clearly appraising the situation. “Me and Sammy will go get lunch ready. Give you two a chance to talk. ”

I nod, rolling my eyes dramatically at Sammy, who gives a little grimace before following Tippy down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Come in here.” I drag Clarisse into the snug, where she promptly flops down onto the sofa. “I’m buggered,” she says. “This one’s really taking it out of me. Must be getting old.”

“Whose is it?” I demand through gritted teeth. “Fred’s?”

Three of her kids are his, so it was a good guess, but she shakes her head.

“Nah. Met this guy at the Tunnel Ramble Festival. Followed him to level eight, had a fantastic weekend, but forgot my contraceptive device, didn’t I?”

I pull hard on a horn in sheer frustration. “Gods, Clarisse, how many times have you done that now?”

She flashes me a toothy grin. “Well, at least eight times before this, right?” She must read my thunderous glare because she huffs, “Thought I’d be okay, ’cos it isn’t my fertile season. But he’s a fucking breeder bull, that guy. I guess all the shenanigans must’ve triggered heat.”

“What’s he do for work?” Please, please let this one be a decent guy.

She shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

“What the fuck, Clarisse.”

“Let’s just say conversation wasn’t high on the agenda, hon.” She gives me a doe-eyed look, and I know what’s coming next. “So, anyways…” she wheedles. “Gotta get a bit more coin off you with another mouth to feed soon.”

I curl my hands into fists. “You’re intending to keep it, are you?”

“I can’t get rid of my baby.” She starts to cry, but this time I’m not buying it. This time, I have a higher goal. I can’t just keep supporting Clarisse’s kids.

“Not my problem,” I grit out.

Clarisse’s jaw slackens. “W-what?”

“I’m saying no, Clarisse. I can’t give you any more money. You can go back to the father and maybe have a conversation with him this time. Ask him to pay for his kid’s upbringing.”

Clarisse stares at me out of hurt brown eyes.

Then her face crumples and she starts to low, bowing her horns and rocking on her strong haunches.

The sound gets more and more melancholic, a low, pitiful moan that literally makes the walls vibrate.

I harden my heart. We’ve been through this before.

She does it every time she doesn’t get her own way.

When I can finally get a word in, I say firmly, “I’ll continue to fund this year’s school fees for Gemma, Tony, Baden, Luke and…” My memory fails me.

“Fallon, Suzie, Shelley, and Trixie,” she bellows angrily. “You’re their uncle—you could at least remember their names.”

I snap my mouth shut. Nothing good will come from talking back. Clarisse will fight dirty, and it will end up with us both in the mud.

But I’m not going to back down. For once in my life, I’m going to put my needs before anything else.

I dig my hooves into the ground. “I mean it, Clarisse. This time you can work it out with the father of your kid.”

“Fine. I’ll tell Fred it’s his.”

“Hell, he’ll know it isn’t.”

“Nah, he won’t. Hasn’t got a clue about the female cycle. Besides, he’s getting good money at the munitions factory. Says they’re upping production tenfold.”

A chill spreads down my spine. I knew we made guns and the like for the human guards. Ironic—we make them arms to guard the portals to keep us out. But increased manufacturing of munitions? That’s a real worry. I shake my head, frowning. “That’s not good.”

“It is good, ’cos Fred’s getting rich working in the factory. He reckons the humans are going to attack one of the other domes and kill each other off. Good riddance, I say. ”

I worry at my lip with my teeth. I wonder if Otis knows about this.

I wonder if that’s why he’s been so preoccupied of late.

I want to ask more questions, but there’s no point.

I know Clarisse, and I know she only cares about the tiny sphere of her life.

Her wants. Her needs. She’s self-centered to the core.

“So that’s it, then.” She tosses her blonde mane. “You’re not going to help your own family.”

“Nope. Not this time.”

When I cross my arms and jut my jaw, she flounces to the door and yanks it open.

“As for you and that paper skin. Personal trainer my ass. I smelled the pheromones between you. Saw the moony looks you were exchanging. Don’t think you’ve got a future with her.

Minotaurs can’t breed with humans, and you’ve got rocks in your head if you think otherwise. ”

After the door has slammed behind her, I rake a shaking hand through my scruff.

For once, I’ve stood my ground with Clarisse.

Stood up for what I want. For Sammy and me to have a life together. Maybe even a youngling of our own. And I’m not going to listen to Clarisse’s mean-spirited parting shot.

I straighten my spine and head for the door. It’s time to let Sammy know exactly how I feel about her.