The Minotaur's Kiss

by Erin St. Charles

  The metallic sound of a lock opening brought her motions to an abrupt stop. She froze, straining to hear. Her blood pounded in her veins, crazed and panicky. She struggled to shake off the pinpricks of angry sensation. Her tears flowed freely. What if she needed to defend herself?

  The door opened, hinges creaked, and metal clanged against metal. Someone or something was there. The memory of the face she had seen on the steps leading from the Glide platform came rushing back. Eyes that gleamed yellow from the depths of the dark hoodie. Was her kidnapper now in the room with her? A scent similar to that of a wet dog drifted to her nostrils.

  Street smart Julie refused to let the fear gathering in her gut to get the best of her. If the creature got close enough, her jaw, while stiff and creaky, would make a decent weapon if she bit her attacker as if her life depended on it.

  She heard breathing, shallow and fast. A subtle displacement of air announced the presence moving closer to her. She could feel it moving closer still until it was standing over her then in a flash she detected its eyes looking down at her. They seemed to gleam in the darkness, the color between yellow and orange, that turned to slits as the creature changed expressions. All of a sudden, it started laughing. It was the sound without a trace of empathy emanating from a soulless cavern.

  "Marjorie Banks." The voice slithered up her spine and made the hairs on her arms stand up. She peered into the dark puzzled, confused. She was right--the creature had been looking for Marjorie. "Time for dinner, Marjorie Banks."

  She was certain these words meant she was on the menu. But then the creature dropped something between her legs. She heard retreating footsteps, quick and light, the creaking of hinges, the metallic clang of the slamming door. Adrenaline purged the lingering paralysis and Julie scrambled away from whatever had been dropped on her legs, hitting her head against a metal wall before falling off the side of the mattress and landing painfully on her palms and knees.

  Julie was suddenly surrounded by blinding white light. Her eyes burned against the bright, cold lights that flickered and settled into an institutional hum. She covered her eyes reflexively, causing pain to sizzle like electricity through her shoulders. Her eyes adjusted to the sudden bright light, and she was finally able to look around her cell.

  Smooth walls, curved, and no more than eight feet tall. At one end of the cell was a metal toilet and sink. She found herself on her hands and knees next to a bare mattress on top of a metal cot. Empty shelves ran along one side of the cell. At the other end sat a small metal table and two bench seats. The table and benches were all bolted to the wall. The walls and shelves were white. The floor she had landed so hard on was gray concrete.

  She sat on her butt, still dizzy from the effects of the drug. She reached for the mattress, grabbed the packets, and saw they were meals ready to eat. Beef stew, tofu stir-fry, and cheese tortellini. Like most ruminant shifters, Julie was a vegan. Only the tofu was something she cared to eat. But she would hold onto the other packets...just in case.

  She ripped open the tofu and squeezed it into her mouth, inhaling the contents in a few long gulps. She sighed, trying to remember the last time she had something to eat. Her stomach cramped as it seized on the food.

  She closed her eyes, leaned against the cot, and let the food settle in her stomach. The lights went out again, just as a fine, drugging mist puffed through the air vents.

  Chapter 12

  Through the viewscreen of her Omni, Helen Castellano watched the changeling crouch at the foot of his captive’s cot. The woman was small and blonde, with an attractive face and a body young enough to bear children. The buyer wanted brides who had been thoroughly vetted, checked for disease and genetic abnormalities, educated, and trained in the pleasures of the flesh. Her buyer had been pleased with the other females she had delivered.

  She had been tracking Marjorie Banks for weeks now. As Executive Vice President of Human Resources for Pantheon, she worked on the concubine program team. This gave her access to every rejected concubine. These rejects fit the buyer’s specifications to a tee, and all Helen had to do was find out which ones had no family ties, no friends to miss them when they disappeared. Her buyer would be pleased with Marjorie Banks.

  The only problem was, the tiny blonde woman on the cot was not Marjorie Banks.

  The changeling had reported success in capturing Marjorie. However, Helen knew shortly thereafter that Marjorie’s Omni signal wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

  The changeling held the captive’s face up for Helen to see. The unconscious woman’s head lolled to one side. She looked like Marjorie Banks, but it wasn’t her. Perhaps an honest mistake on the changeling’s part, but this woman wasn’t what the buyer wanted.

  Who was she? More importantly...what to do with her?

  Chapter 13

  Thursday, September 14, 2079. After dark.

  Mac leaned back against the brick wall, watching Bubba Cermak line up a shot on the green felt of the pool table. Or rather, he was looking in Bubba's direction, vaguely aware of the wolf shifter's motions. Mac had been looking forward to his regular pool night with his co-workers at the shifter agency he worked for all week long. He had been looking forward to feeling normal again, something he hadn't felt since he'd met Diana. But when the evening arrived, he found he couldn't enjoy it, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Diana.

  When he was with her, the rest of the world tended to fall away. It had now gotten so bad that all he had to do was think about her to achieve the same effect.

  Diana conducted her inspections efficiently, but with workmanlike detachment, so Mac was surprised to learn how close she seemed to be to her clients. She kept an emotional distance from him but was invested in Julie Wheeler's wellbeing. Could he ever get that close to her?

  "Mac!"

  He snapped out of his daydream, gave himself a mental shake, and focused on Bubba, who was glaring at him.

  "What's with you?"

  "Nothing."

  Mac looked at the pool table, leaned over to take a shot, then realized he had no idea if he was solids or stripes.

  "Have you fucked her yet?" asked Bubba. He stood up straight to his full 6' 5" and cast Mac a knowing look. "She was fucking hot. Those legs!"

  Bubba could be a rude asshole. A disrespectful, rude asshole.

  "When did you look at her legs?" Mac thundered. There was no sense in pretending he didn't know who they were talking about.

  "If you haven't already, you need to fuck her." He casually chalked the end of his pool cue and bent over to line up his next shot. "Put her out of your head before you move onto the next thing. Or maybe find someone else to fuck. Or several someones. Otherwise, you're going to be in trouble."

  Mac bristled at the wolf's crude language while recognizing to himself that he was already "in trouble" when it came to Diana.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Mac grumbled.

  Palate-cleansing sex would probably be a good idea if he could actually muster the desire. He had felt nothing close to attraction for anyone else since he'd met Diana. He didn't react to the women at Woodland Creatures, who had practically climbed him like Everest while Diana looked on and stewed with a look of barely contained jealousy. He had tried masturbating to porn, but his body rejected the notion and refused to get aroused, his penis laying on his thigh like an overcooked zucchini. He was able to get himself off when thinking of Diana, which was frightening and did not seem like progress.

  "If you can't get over her, that probably means you won't."

  And that was all Bubba had to say since the implication was clear. All indications pointed to Mac's beast and man deciding that Diana was their mate. Mac knew little of shifter lore, but he did know about mating. Bubba said nothing further, while Mac let the conclusion sink in. His mate? Diana, his mate. How was he going to get out of this situation?

  "She doesn't like shifters."

  Bubba had taken another shot, apparently concluding Mac wasn't going to actua
lly play pool. He stood up again, chalked his cue, then took another shot.

  "Did she say that?" Bubba asked.

  "She doesn't want anything to do with me. She said she doesn't get involved with co-workers."

  "How long are you going to be working together?"

  Mac ignored Bubba. In his opinion, a true friend would be reinforcing Mac's reasons why things would never work with Diana, not talking him into a relationship.

  A mating. Not a relationship.

  Mac had rules to keep him safe from emotional entanglements. Commitment didn't happen if you 1.) didn't date, and you 2.) didn't have sex with a woman more than once, and especially if you 3.) didn't sleep over. He had never before considered creating more than three rules, as they had served him well over the years. He had broken all three rules within days of meeting Diana and had no backup plan for this contingency.

  The only thing that occurred to him was to somehow 4.) keep having sex with her. He was starting to wonder if he had missed some step after 3.) that would make 4.) possible. He didn't think dating was the answer since he had tried asking her on dates and she wasn't interested. He'd tried to persuade her to try 4.) again, but while he thought he could talk her into it...he wanted her to be completely ready for him at all levels. He needed her to want him all the way. Seducing her with his seldom-used shifter charms seemed somehow...wrong.

  "It's not just infatuation," said Bubba, crossing his arms over his chest and looking smug. "She is the only answer to the way you are feeling. Have you tried talking to her?"

  He was getting relationship advice from Bubba-fucking-Cermak, who had probably been through twice as many women as Mac had.

  "I'm not going to discuss Diana with you."

  "I'm your best friend! You should be bouncing ideas off me." And there Bubba went, "smiling" again.

  "I should be punching you in the throat. Mind your own business."

  If Bubba was insulted, he didn't let on.

  "Okay...okay." Bubba spread his arms wide in an expansive gesture. "Just know that I'm here when you need me."

  Mac was pretty sure he would never need Bubba's relationship advice.

  "Have you heard anything about sex workers disappearing?" Mac said, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. Diana truly seemed worried about Julie Wheeler, even though the woman had only missed one shift.

  "Hmm?" Bubba said, his attention back on the table.

  Mac explained what had happened during the Woodland Creatures visit. As a tracker, Bubba usually knew a little bit about everything.

  Bubba shrugged. "No, that doesn't ring a bell. Has the disappearance been reported?"

  Mac didn't know, but he'd be sure to ask Diana. The shifter community was usually loathe to talk about such things outside of their own groups, not even with the shifter enforcement agencies like the one Mac and Bubba worked for.

  "What happened to Travis and Austin?" Mac changed the subject. Travis and Austin Lopez were coyote shifter cousins who also worked for Mac and Bubba's enforcer agency.

  "They had a call. Something weird is going on in Perdition. They won't be back 'til next week."

  "Figures," Mac said. Something strange was always going on in Perdition, the shifter town a few miles outside of Waco.

  Mac was suddenly seized by a desire to leave. In his periphery, he saw barflies perched on metal stools, nursing watered-down drinks and watching college basketball. Chafing dishes near the register emitted the stomach-turning scents of overcooked Swedish meatballs, forlorn quesadillas, and soggy chicken tenders, cheap bar food designed to whet the patrons' appetite for alcohol. The mugginess produced by the body heat of so many shifters nearby pressed on him. It was strange that he hadn't ever noticed how seedy this place was. Didn't these people have better places to be?

  Mac bent over the table to line up an easy shot. He slid the cue back to take the shot, then missed.

  "Man, sit your ass down," Bubba said, disgusted. "You're being mean to the pool table."

  Mac was ready to call it a night. He just couldn't be in this place any longer, and he didn't know where he should be.

  Diana wasn't interested in him, she wasn't into shifters, and he was twelve years older than her. None of these facts seemed to have any dampening effect on his desire to see her.

  Bubba brightened as the jingling of the tavern's doorbells heralded the arrival of a pair of attractive women. A blonde and a redhead, both cute enough and dressed professionally, clearly stopping at the bar after a late work night. Bubba caught the eye of the blonde and nodded. Bubba's rough looks gave him a sort of animal magnetism layered over his native, obnoxious, wolf charm. The blonde's lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened. She nodded back at Bubba, giving him a sly smile and a subtle hair toss.

  Chicks dig wolves. Even wolves named "Bubba."

  Mac was simultaneously disgusted by Bubba's hound dog ways, and envious at how easy it was for him to flirt with strange women. Bubba flagged down a barmaid with a nod of his head. The busty brunette grinned at him seductively, looking as if she'd gladly drop to her knees and suck him off if he asked her, and hurried over to his side. Bubba placed his hand at the base of her spine, leaned over, and whispered something in her ear.

  The barmaid nodded, winked, and hustled away on swiveling hips.

  At that moment, Mac hated Bubba. He hated that Bubba had noticed Diana and her great legs when there were plenty of other women to fawn over his dangerous good looks and stupid wolf charm. The idea that Diana... his beautiful Diana...would be ogled by a player like Bubba turned Mac's stomach. If Bubba mentioned Diana and her physical attributes again, Mac would really have to injure him.

  Bubba focused on the two new arrivals and the carnal promise of a threesome...or foursome, counting the barmaid. Mac stood up to leave.

  The gods had bred Minotaurs to assume control in dangerous situations and to be protective. If he was persistent and respectful with his intentions, would Diana come around and give him a chance?

  But until he could persuade her to his cause, Diana needed protecting, starting with an evening drive by her place...just to make sure everything was okay in her world. He wouldn't even knock on her door--he'd just cruise by her place. Maybe sit in his truck out of sight of her house and wait until her lights went out.

  Chapter 14

  Saturday, September 16, 2079. Before dawn.

  Diana was awake well before the sun came up. She voice activated her Omni to look at the time. 3:16 am. She lay on her back in the unruly tangle of her bedsheets. Mac had taken her in this bed, and although she had changed the sheets since then, his scent still lingered. She turned her head and sniffed a pillow, where she could still detect faint remnants of burning wood.

  "Tell me what you want."

  Diana didn't know why she kept turning this exchange with Mac over in her mind, why of all things that had happened between them, this is what stayed with her.

  She wanted her career to mean something. She wanted to know that Julie Wheeler was safe. She wanted to prepare for the concubine handover.

  But she also wanted Mac.

  Mac was what she really wanted, but it was the one thing she could not allow herself to have. She had to be able to take care of herself and to do that, she had to move ahead in her career. Relationships were nothing more than a distraction.

  She should be preparing for Julie Wheeler's wellness check. She should be preparing for the concubine handover that would get her career back on track. She should not be thinking of Mac.

  However... "tell me what you want" played in a constant loop in her mind, forcing out more appropriate thoughts of her missing client and career advancement. That loop included graphic, inappropriate images of being taken by him again, held down and dominated, forced to reveal herself in her ecstasy.

  If he ever asked her again, she would tell him about all the things she wanted but leave out the part about wanting him.

  Today, they would be conducting a wellness check
on Julie Wheeler. In a few hours, Mac would show up at her house as he had every day since Tuesday morning when she’d stepped out of her little bungalow to go to work and found his truck parked in front of her house. When she’d slid into the passenger seat and harnessed herself in, he’d handed her a cup of black coffee without a word.

  He said nothing about the rocky start of their professional relationship now. He just showed up every morning to pick her up for her daily rounds. An unspoken boundary kept him at a respectful distance on his side of the cab, although her body continued to react to his with ferocious longing. She felt his quiet, observant eyes on her, the vigilant tension in his body as she went about her inspections. It was like a dance of desire, a strange sort of intimacy, a secret courtship shared but unspoken, and it was sexy in a way she had never experienced before with any other man.

  She told herself it was a waste of time to refuse to ride with him in the mornings. But part of her enjoyed finding him parked in front of her house every morning. Not that she'd ever let him know that.

  Diana's Omni warbled, and after glancing at the display, she answered.

  "Did you know that every time you don't answer Mom's calls, she calls me?" said her sister Vanessa, sounding cranky.

  "Hello, sis." Diana's voice creaked with exhaustion. She sat up in bed and pulled on her kimono. "What's new?"

  "Yeah. She calls you, you don't answer. She calls me."

  Diana sidestepped the accusation. "What are you doing up so early?"

  "The twins. They don't sleep. What's your excuse?"

  "Oh, you know. No one in our family sleeps. I've got a field supervisor for the next few weeks. This morning, we have to check up on someone who has missed work," she said, referring to Julie Wheeler.

  "Well, that sounds pretty routine."

  "The inspections are pretty routine, but they make us take security with us for wellness checks. Just in case."