Page 17 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs (Haven Ever After #8)

CHAPTER NINE

CATHERINE

“ W e’d love to redesign the logo!” Amatheia claps her hands excitedly as she and Betmal smile at me across the booth at the Green Bean later that evening.

Betmal stares at his beautiful young mate, love obvious in the way his dark eyes eat her up. I’ve known him for centuries, been friends that entire time, and I’ve never seen him like this.

I want a stare like that for myself, a perusal that makes me feel beautiful.

She glances at him, nips her lip, then looks back at me. “Catherine, do you suppose the Evertons would consider a name change while they’re at it?”

I cock my head to the side. “For the team, you mean?”

She shrugs, aqua darkening her cheeks. “Well, Betmal has taken me to games in six or seven havens at this point, and all the names are pretty strong, but ours is, well…it sounds more childlike to me?” She lifts both hands quickly, as if to apologize.

“I don’t know who came up with it, and I don’t mean to offend.

But most of the other names are alliterative, as well.

Hearth HQ He llions, Pine Gulch Punishers.

But we’re the Ever Misfits. Sounds like a ragtag band of preteens. ”

I don’t mean to gawk, but I’m sure I must. She’s absolutely right.

I tug at one of my waves before flipping it over my shoulder as I stare at my half-eaten burger.

Eventually, I nod as I return my focus to the stunning young mermaid.

“Alright, why don’t you two take a stab at a new logo and new name?

Surprise us. You’re our resident creatives.

Arkan and town leadership would have to approve it, but see what you can do. ”

Betmal strokes a thick lock of Amatheia’s dark hair back behind her frilled ear. “What about the Enforcers, ma sirène? Epics? Eternals? Hmm.” He glances up in thought, then over to me. “Amatheia’s right, of course. We’ll come up with something for you, sweet friend. When do you need it?”

“Welll…” I draw the word out long. “It would be great to share it ASAP if we want to include it in the exhibition game. But maybe, now that I’m thinking about it, it would be better to keep the Misfits for now and unveil a new name later?”

By the end of lunch, Betmal and Ama agree to design not only a new logo and merch, but signs for the competing teams. Now I just need to talk to Manorin about this, because I sprang it on him at the meeting as well. It just came to me, and I couldn’t wait to share it.

“How are things going with Manorin in town?” Betmal eyes me carefully as he takes an elegant sip of his drink.

Rascal. He knows I dated Manorin for many years. Betmal was front and center to the way that turned out…he’s been my friend for a very, very long time.

“Just fine,” I hedge. “He’s absolutely lovely and it’s been nice to catch up.”

Betmal grins at me, revealing twin white fangs. “Oh I just bet it has, darling. How much catching up are you doing? ”

Ama nudges him in the side with a little laugh. “Stop needling her, mate.”

Betmal slings an arm around Ama but continues grinning at me. “And yet I sense a moment of rekindling, and I’m nosy, so tell me, Catherine, how much catching up is happening?”

I roll my eyes as I take another sip of my cocktail. “None of your business,” I manage finally.

We share a laugh, but it does occur to me that keeping this arrangement with Nor under wraps might be harder than it initially seemed.

Especially if Betmal is going to insert himself up into my business.

Nosy vampire.

“ Y ou’re absolutely sure?” I stare at my comm watch where Wren’s name hovers.

“Absolutely,” she says with confidence. “Annabelle loves us. We’ll come hang out so she’s not lonely, and, honestly, I’m an excellent cook.

I can keep the buffet going while you’re gone, do the sheets, all the things.

Oh,” her voice goes thoughtful, “I can spend some time in the rose garden too. I’d love that. ”

“So would the rose garden, so long as you work your magic on her.”

Wren laughs. “Well, I don’t know. How enormous do you want the roses to be when you return?”

I join her in laughter, considering how her green magic could be used to do incredible things to my flowers.

After we hang up, I clean the kitchen and prep breakfast, but my thoughts don’t stray far from Manorin. He was with Arkan most of the morning after our meeting, then he came back and went to his room to make calls.

The Annabelle’s quiet. It’s late. I should probably let him know the Hectors agreed to watch Annabelle for our trip to Pine Gulch.

Am I really leaving Ever for the first time in centuries? I didn’t realize how hermit-y I’d gotten over the years, but the prospect of seeing another haven excites me after all this time.

Smiling, I ascend the stairs. When I get to the rose room, I rap lightly on the door.

“Come on in, Sunshine.”

Manorin’s greeting makes me smile, and I swing the door open to find him huddled over a stack of papers, his comm disk on the table in front of him. When I enter and close the door, he sits back in the chair, focus drifting lazily down my body and back up.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

His praise lights something inside me, something that was dead for a long time, then kindled slowly back to life. It turns into a roaring bonfire in Manorin’s presence, though.

I sashay into the room and sit in the chair across from him, looking down at the papers. “What are you working on?”

He grumbles, “Did you really come here to ask me about work?”

I laugh when he grins. “You’ve got me. I came to tell you the Hectors agreed to watch Annabelle next weekend, so I can go home with you. It might not be the best timing, though, if we want to get a grassroots support system going for the exhibition game.”

The corners of his mouth turn up into a wicked smirk. “Nah, we’ll only be gone two nights. It’s the running of the steers, and there’s a huge barn dance, and I promise you don’t want to miss that.” His eyes drift down my body and back up. “I definitely need to take you to that. It’ll be fun.”

Without even meaning to, I tweak my pheromones, sending him signals about what I need.

He’s right, I didn’t come up here to talk about work, but I don’t think I fully realized that until right this second.

But looking at that gold ring in his nose and the appreciative look on his face, what I came for has changed.

Across from me, he stiffens, then grabs the entire table and shoves it aside. The yawning space between us seems too big, so I cross to him.

“Your need is obvious, Catherine,” he growls. “Let’s do something about that.”

Reaching down, he pulls me into his arms and turns, depositing me on top of the table.

He grabs the belt of my dress and yanks, the fabric falling down on either side of me.

With an expectant smile, he grabs the halves of the dress and fully opens them, revealing a scarlet matching number that’s my favorite.

Crimson eyes flick to mine. “Your taste in lace has gotten decidedly more expensive, woman.”

I grin and shift onto my elbows. “Belleza makes the absolute best lingerie.”

He nods as he brings both hands to my belly and strokes the dips and creases admiringly. When he brings both hands down over my pussy, rubbing at my clit with the pads of his thumbs, I let one thigh fall open.

He leans down, burying his snout between my thighs to suck in great, greedy-sounding breaths.

He’s slow in his perusal, dragging his muzzle down my inner thigh to my knee, the tiny whiskers on his snout tickling me.

Working his way back up, he nuzzles at my pussy before moving higher, nipping at the soft rolls of my belly.

His attention feels like worship, the way his nostrils flare and his eyes never leave my body.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Sliding two fingers between the silk and my pussy, he pulls the fabric to the side.

I’m still not ready for the first swipe of his enormous, hot tongue.

Scrambling, I grip onto one of his horns to hold him where I need him as I gasp and watch.

His tongue is even softer than I remember, and I arch as he licks a broad, flat path up my slit.

Crimson eyes narrow on his work as he shifts the tip of his muzzle over my clit, then licks again.

I clap my hand over my mouth as a groan tumbles from me. Falling onto my back, I lose myself to sensations I haven’t felt in so long.

So long.

Manorin’s fingers dig into my hips as he holds me in place, despite my squirming. I need more. I need that tongue deeper. I’m equally desperate to come and to start this whole thing all over again.

Crying out, I pull at his horn, trying to get more of him, harder, hotter.

Manorin chuckles, a low, satisfied sound that has me clenching on nothing.

But that nothing shatters as he slides two thick fingers into my pussy and curls them, rubbing at my G-spot.

Blissful heat overtakes me, back arching as my nipples pebble.

Everything blurs except for my focus on that tongue, those fingers and the masterful way he remembers what I like.

The steady thrust and curl of his fingers has me rocking my hips to meet him. But I need more of that tongue too. Mewling, I try to shift lower, to get closer, to open my legs wide enough to take everything he’s giving me. Instead, he throws one of my legs over his left horn, opening me wide.

His scent strengthens, wrapping me up in a wash of pheromones so masculine and strong, I clench around his fingers. He grunts and laves harder along my slit, the long path teasing because it’s not enough to get me off, not without focusing fully on my clit.

“Nor,” I gasp. “I’m begging, please…” But words fail me as he surges forward and pulls my clit between those big, flat lips. The sudden roughness sends a jolt of pleasure that snaps up my core and radiates outward.