Page 6 of Misbehaving With Minotaurs (Haven Ever After #8)

CHAPTER THREE

CATHERINE

V ikand smiles down at me as we walk up Sycamore Street toward the stadium.

Alo happened to mention there was a practice this afternoon, and I’m curious to see how that goes.

Since Vikand and I were headed past the stadium for our picnic anyhow, I thought it would be nice to pop in for a few minutes.

I’m curious. That’s all it is.

Pointing to the bend in the road, I look up at my date. “Once we round the corner, the skyball stadium will be there.”

Vikand nods, quiet as ever with both thumbs looped in the pockets of his fitted vest.

He clears his throat. “Do you think we’ll be there very long?”

I laugh, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I beam up at him. “Not a skyball fan? I thought Arkan played when he was at the academy…”

Vikand nods. “Yes, well, his dam went to all the games so I didn’t have to. Sports aren’t really my thing.” He laughs lightly, removing a hand from his vest to wave at himself. “I suppose you’ve already guessed that, though.”

I fight disappointment… It bothers me that he didn’t want to se e his son play, despite his own feelings about the sport. I’m already aware that he and Arkan’s dam split when Arkan was very young, but still.

“Oh, I don’t know. Arkan had to get his skyball skills from someone.”

Vikand clears his throat again, something I’m learning is a nervous habit.

It’s fine.

It’s definitely not annoying me.

I expect him to say something else, but he falls into an uneasy silence, despite his pheromones telling me that he’s very excited to be together.

It’s easy for me to read desire. What others say doesn’t matter as much as what their scents reveal…

and his reveals a lot. Unfortunately, he seems less inclined than some to act on a natural attraction.

We walk in silence across the parking field. By the time we enter the skyball stadium and hear faint shouts drift from the field, I’m a little surprised he hasn’t attempted to carry the conversation any further.

Encouraging myself not to be frustrated with the shy scholar, I lead him through one of the entry hallways until the field comes into view. Anticipation brews in my stomach as shouts echo from the field.

I love skyball. I’m a huge fan. Which is how Manorin and I met one another all those centuries ago.

Our time together was hot and heavy, but I eventually went on to mate a male who was absolutely not right for me.

I don’t think Manorin ever took a mate, if I recall correctly.

I’ve seen him dozens of times during televised games, but it will be nice to see my old friend in person.

Well, perhaps “friend” isn’t the right word. We didn’t exactly keep in touch after we parted.

Vikand and I walk through the final archway, the clip-clop of his hooves ringing off the beautifully etched stone. I reach out and touch the wall, looking up at him as I do.

“Ohken built this entire stadium, and Abemet designed it. They did an absolutely lovely job, don’t you think?” I trail my fingertips along the rough-hewn wall, admiring the craftsmanship.

Vikand looks down at me, then over to where I stroke the stones, dark brows furrowed as he stares at my fingers. His scent deepens. Dark lashes flutter against his cheeks, highlighting elegant, high cheekbones.

“Oh…mmm, yes, I suppose so.” He looks up and around, tucking his hands at his lower back. After a quiet moment, he returns his focus to me. “It’s…quite lovely. Yes. Do I know Ohken or Abemet?”

I bite back a sigh as I nod. “Abemet is our former Keeper, the vampire your son replaced. Ohken was in the leadership meeting last week. The troll…perhaps you remember?” I beam up at him. “Or perhaps you were distracted?” It’s the perfect opening for him to say something complimentary.

He nods and halts just beside the skyball field, the team coming into view.

“I’m afraid I have difficulty concentrating during those meetings, that one in particular. I’ve been offered a job at the protector academy teaching a course on dark magic. I’ve been mulling over their offer. They’re expecting an answer by the end of the week.”

I must have a horrified look on my face, because he sputters, “I’m not certain I’ll take it, or if I’d stay in Ever or move if I do. It’s all up in the air still. Don’t worry!”

The statement irritates me for competing reasons.

First, that he’d potentially begin dating me while considering a move, even if it’s simply a first date.

Second, that he’d assume I’m worried about what he just revealed.

It’s the age-old feminine need to be wanted and chased and pursued by a man, but only in precisely the way I want it to happen.

Frustration eats at the edges of my good mood, and I glance away to compose my thoughts. It’s not as if I expect Vikand to make a life choice based on one date with me, but this is going very poorly so far.

Figures rush across my field of vision, players chasing the skyball as someone drops it. A gargoyle bullets out of the sky and snatches the ball, bouncing off Ohken’s shoulders and leaping into the air as he swoops toward the opposite goalposts.

“Excellent, Alo. That was beautifully done!”

Time slows as I glance toward the voice—that voice—the voice I’ve only heard via televised games for the last few centuries.

A brutally handsome minotaur male walks toward the fray, even as his glittering red-and-black eyes follow Alo’s path toward the goal.

Long, thick horns stick out from his head and then curve forward and up.

Light brown fur covers most of his body, his ears sloping low beneath tan-and-chocolate mottled horns.

At his back, his tail hangs low, just the tip swishing from side to side.

He’s visibly irritated despite the compliment.

I shift from one foot to the other. Those horns used to make excellent handles, and they’re longer and thicker than before.

Absolutely beautiful.

He’s bigger everywhere else too. Manorin was always tall for a minotaur, but he must be approaching seven feet at this point, hundreds of pounds of bulky muscle.

He’s usually dressed in impeccably tailored suits for skyball games, but today he wears thigh-hugging jeans and a collared polo shirt that does nothing to hide chunky chest muscles and steel-cut abs.

He seems to have hardly aged. If anything, Manorin’s even more handsome like this with a dash of white at his temples. The gold nose ring is new, but, gods, he looks good with it. He wore a much smaller one back when we dated. That made a good handle too.

I resist the urge to wave away the heat flushing my skin.

“Goodness,” Vikand murmurs. “That must be the minotaur Arkan’s been raving about. He told me some stat or another that I can’t recall just now. Another skyball meathead, I suppose.”

I can’t recall any stats either, or respond to his insult, because Manorin’s crimson eyes flick to the sidelines and drift down my figure as he halts on the field.

The players rush past him toward the opposite end of the pitch, but he keeps staring, the edges of his mouth curling into a barely-there smile.

Vikand says something, but I’m too busy deciding what the appropriate greeting is for an old lover to pay attention.

Manorin grins, revealing sparkling white teeth and short fangs. A shout from downfield pulls his attention, and he spins on a dime to jog away.

Vikand clears his throat. “Catherine?”

Blinking, I look up. “Hmm? Sorry, Vikand. Did you say something?”

His dark brows bunch together. “I said, would you like to sit for a few minutes? Or shall we go on to our picnic?”

Oh, that’s tempting. I probably shouldn’t subject Vikand to any more skyball than absolutely necessary since he’s already made it clear he doesn’t like it. But on the other hand, I love it, and I wouldn’t give up my skyball love for anyone, date or not.

I grab his hand, threading my fingers through it. “I’d love to sit for a few minutes, but I’m very excited to get to the picnic portion of our afternoon.”

“Me too,” he says with a soft smile, his fingers tightening around mine. “I’m pretty hungry.”

Oh. Ermmm. Normally on a date with a male, I’d take that comment in a sensual way. But I’m fairly certain Vikand did not mean it the way I’d like to take it.

Shoving dismay down, I pull him toward the front row of seats. There’s a combination of regular seats and benches meant for the larger hooved monsters like Vikand. We find a spot in the middle of the field, and to my surprise, he asks a lot of questions as we observe.

I’m feeling better about things until the comm watch around his wrist beeps, a monster’s name hologram hovering over the blue band. Vikand looks down. “Oh goodness, this is my potential boss. I’ve got to take it, alright?”

“Of course.” I squeeze his forearm, even as he rises and trots back the way we came.

I let my hand fall back into my lap as I watch him go, admiring the shift of powerful muscles beneath his dark coat. A trail of pheromones follows him, plucking at the edges of my power.

“You out of practice, Cath?”

Whipping my head toward the field, I jolt at finding Manorin standing right in front of me, both huge arms resting on top of the wall as he grins. I can’t help a quick once-over as he clasps enormous hands together, smirking at me. This close, he still smells of glycerin soap and pine musk.

I lift my chin. “He’ll be back in a moment.”

Manorin snorts, the round gold ring in his nose flopping against his upper muzzle. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think he’s the male for you.”

Irritation swirls in my stomach as I rise to tower over him. “Oh?”

He takes a step back, gripping the railing as he looks up at me. He makes a show of perusing my figure, crimson eyes appreciative when they finally return to my face.

“Yeah. I’ll be by later to check in. We’re just about done here with,” he waves dismissively at the players on the field, “whatever this is.” He grins at me. “Let me take you to dinner so we can catch up. It’s been a long time, and I’d love to hear what I’ve missed in the last few centuries. ”

“No thanks.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I’ve got plans.”

The smile never leaves his handsome face. “If they involve that male, I suspect you’ll be left wanting. Come to dinner with me; I insist.”

“I don’t like your immediate assessment of him.” That’s all I can manage as I recline into my seat, laying one arm over the back of the seat next to mine.

Manorin watches the movement, nostrils flaring. He’s scenting me, I know he is, and minotaurs have excellent senses of smell. It’s one of the things that made him a particularly skillful lover.

Back in the day.

When he returns his gaze to mine, his mouth curls into a knowing smile. “Suit yourself, Cath. You look good, by the way. Been a long time, but that gray hair’s a nice change.” He reaches over the wall and grabs a stray wave, twirling it around his finger. “Gorgeous.” His smirk grows.

I hmph and look in the direction Vikand went. Manorin takes the cue and returns to the field. I’m woman enough to admit to staring at his long tail and broad back, admiring the view as he returns to the team.

The next quarter hour passes at the speed of molasses while I wait for Vikand to rejoin me. As the players wrap up, the sound of hooves echoes from the entry hall.

Smiling, I fluff my hair and stand to find Arkan trotting toward me with a baleful expression.

“Catherine, I’m so sorry, but I just saw Dad trot off toward downtown. He was muttering something about deadlines and contracts, and I thought you two were on a date. He’s been so excited by it, but, if I’m honest, he’s disjointed on the best of days.”

I plant both hands on my hips. “Arkan, are you telling me he went home and left me here? ”

Arkan runs both hands through his braided hair, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I think so. Why don’t I call him and tell him to co?—”

I put my hand up. “That won’t be necessary, friend. I’ll catch up with him some other time.”

Arkan frowns. “He’s always been like this, honestly. Part of why he and Mom never worked out, if I had to guess.”

I sigh as I stare past him at the empty, quiet hallway.

Stood up? Me??

Maybe I have lost my touch.