Well, wasn’t he just a breath of fresh air.
“If you’d just step back and allow me to, uhm, get down from here, I’ll show you just how threatening I can be, sir.” It was the wrong thing to say, I knew, but males were so maddening! They were all the same, I thought with a huff—dolts! This bull headed mook was no different.
Let it be known, a truth universally acknowledged, males, no matter the species, were all dimwitted, stubborn arsed, rump-staring pigs!
“Oh, is that so?” He was laughing now. “Going to fashion yourself a better dress first afore you kick my arse, hmm?”
“Says the male in nothing but his skin, trapped in a labyrinth by- by human gnats,” I quipped.
Heavy boots stomped closer, kicking up sparkling dust, until he was right beneath me. Glaring up at me, he rammed his fist into the wall, then his left horn, sending a cascade of sparkles raining down on us. Ye gods, I thought, at the sight of all that gold, green, and even purple beginning to coat him. Would it affect him, too? And if so, how?
And why didn’t I think to try it on him earlier?! And yet... “Probably not a good idea,” I found myself mumbling, my only words of caution offered.
The Minotaur sneezed as huge globs smacked his face, sending that dazzling, sparkling display clouding around us flying everywhere. Dust coated my clothes and the majority of my lower half, exposed and now sparkling marvelously, but I was otherwise untouched by the stuff.
My new bull friend gave a sniff, scowling up at me, then another, and another, his eyes straying to the globes of my ass.
Mortified, I clenched the muscles, but that just served to draw his attention back to the spot, right when it started to shift away.
“You humans are... not what I expected,” he admitted, shaking his head, starting to look a little confused.
“Maybe you should go sit down,” I found myself saying, eyeing him worriedly, “let the dust wear off, not hit anymore walls, hmm?” Yes, move far, far away from me, and take your giant manhood with you.
“What?” he muttered. Those large eyes, a set of Bessie eyeballs if I ever saw them (Bessie was Pa’s best milking cow—a heifer with the biggest pleading eyes you ever saw) the black dots at the center of maroon swirling gems were growing rather large.
Bessie eyes down there was getting that pleading look, making a small, barely muffled plaintiff noise in his throat as he stared up at me almost adoringly, but he wasn’t wanting a sugar cube or salt lick. He was looking at me as if I, or my bum in particular, were on the menu and looking rather scrumptious.
As if to protest, my ass clenched reflexively, like it was desperate to suck inward to get away from those overdone doe eyes, starting to cramp.
The noise he made in response to that had me gulping audibly.
“You don’t have a tail,” he muttered, cocking his head. “I think I actually rather like that.”
“Good to know,” I mumbled back. I should use this to my advantage. The deed would be done...
Ah, but would he take me with him then, afterwards, I had to argue with myself. Would I be able to live with myself, doing such a thing?
It felt wrong on the deepest level to attempt anything with the male. I couldn’t take advantage of him in that state. He wouldn’t know what he was doing, and I’d be no better a being than nasty Barron for allowing it to go on.
“You should have a lie down, rest for a bit.” I motioned somewhere off behind me with my head, much farther away. “A drink of water? A wash, perhaps? Cool yourself off? Surely there’s, ah, water around here somewhere? I’ll, uh, I’ll just stay right here until you’re feeling better.”
His hands braced the wall and his head tilted. My pubic hair hid my secrets from him, but it didn’t stop him peering at the cleft between my legs like he hoped to stare the hair off. “You’ll join me.” Tearing his gaze away, darkening maroons met wild, wide-eyed greens. “Come.” His arms spread out and he made a cradle. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”
The fat erection tenting his groin, the oddly shaped, tipped bulbous knob straining, upward angling, arching, poking straight up at me as if to beg some lady attention, promised things too.
Not quite human nor bovine, with the dark, pointed, curving tip of the end, the thick purplish ring of skin bulging around it pulled back to form a fat crown, the lighter shade of his rod, darkening again towards his base. The absence of pubic hair, the skin around it bunched and gathered, rings of skin that dropped down, then lower, emphasizing a generous sac that swung pendulously as he moved, merely assisted his cock in standing out all the more.
No. No. No, my mind warned.
My sex clenched at the sight of the freakish protrusion jutting towards me eagerly, as if to beckon, but in a worrisome way that had me cringing, thighs flexing, even as my arms screamed in their sockets. My dream came to me then, but the reality of it, of him, made it hard to hold onto.
How much longer could I hold on? Hopefully until the effects of the dust wore off him.
Otherwise, I dared a look at his peter, I’d be fucked.
A noise, a cross between an angry, bovine low, and a hungry rumble, poured out of the male. “I grow impatient. Jump. Now.”
The command washed over me, a tingle working its way up my spine. He sounded so much like my dream lover and that twisted part of me bubbled up funnily inside. This just served to alarm me further.
Feeling backed into a corner, I panicked. “No.”
The beast growled and jumped, right at me, making me scream and kick out. Flailing, I jerked, slipping, and fell. My cheek smacked the wall, knees next. I was kicking, tumbling backwards, screeching my head off, two strong arms catching me right before I kissed the ground.
I was still screeching long after the male had broken my fall, wiggling in his hold. It was as if my throat was stuck on and I didn’t know how to make it stop. One long winded screech after another left me until my face was tingling and I was out of breath. One thick arm was at my back, squishing my pack, his hand secured in my armpit, the other arm beneath my knees, fingers gripping my thigh.
I was trapped, well and truly caught.
My hand automatically went to my right boot, the one not pressing into his chest, and I pulled my dagger free.
Too busy studying all the blood coating me, scowling at it, he didn’t see the blade I retrieved and gently pressed to his throat coming.
“Put. Me. Down,” I demanded.
Those maroon eyes bled red, long, curved ears flicking, nostrils flaring as steam started to escape them in panting puffs. The beastman did as I bid, going so far as to step back, but he was far from happy to oblige.
I wasn’t stupid. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed to tiny slits, nostrils puffing steam like a stove pipe.
My blade slid to his groin and I did a bit of snarling-grumbling of my own. “Touch me again without my say, beast, and you’ll join the males on the other side of that wall.” To get my point across I tapped the underside of his dick.
Hands splayed at his sides, he couldn’t nod fast enough.
I gave a short jerk of my chin and dropped my dagger then. Good. We know where we stand. A truce was born.
We couldn’t step away from one another fast enough.
When we’d each retreated to our own little corners, I retrieved my water from my pack and took a long drink. Time went by, until enough had passed and I wondered if the dust had worn off him.
Spotting water fit for cleaning but not necessarily drinking, a large bowl of green and gold that didn’t look touched but contained bits of sandy debris, then a sandy pit of water in the far right corner that was fed from the stones in the wall, I studied the male.
He was already watching me, the same scrutinizing look I gave him.
“Feeling a little better?” I asked as the minutes ticked by.
He took a long time in answering. “Is this a trap of the labyrinth, or a trick of Puck?”
“Never seen a Puck, but that,” I pointed towards the sp
arkles, “that is fae.”
“Magick,” he spat the word, shaking his head. “The Bloody Queen, no doubt.”
His erection was at half-mast, the tension riding him slowly staring to abate. Good enough a sign for me.
“Water.” I lifted my water skin towards him.
“At what cost?” he grumbled cautiously, stopping when he would have started to make his way over.
“A smile?” I blurted, wondering where that came from. The answering one on mine, part tease, part olive branch, had him shaking his head.
“You do not wish to fuck me, yet you offer things like a female with an interest in pairing? Are you in heat? Do you require...?” He left the thought to hang, unfinished. We both knew what he meant.
“Pairing? I’m offering water, not tea on Sunday. And I don’t go into heat. I’m not a bitch. Take it or leave it, makes no difference to me. That,” I pointed to the water in the sandy patch of black sand, where a steady stream trickled in from darker grey stones, forming a small pool, “is not fit for drinking.” My eyes strayed to the bowl and I shook my head at it. “Can’t say that is any better.”
He shook his head at my question but carefully accepted what I offered. Studying the mouth of the bag, he placed his lips exactly where mine had been, taking a long drink.
Lips parting, I gaped in stunned astonishment. He couldn’t have meant to do so intentionally. My mouth remained open as I watched his throat work as he drank. Neck muscles strained as he tipped it back, making me wonder how long he’d gone without drink.
Did I offer nourishment, as well? Or would that lead to more sexual insinuations?
Handing it back, he held on when I pulled it towards me, bringing him close enough I could push him away or pull him close. I did neither. His thumb brushed mine.
“What are you doing?” I blurted in a rush, swallowing thickly.
He was licking his lips, as if to savor something, staring down at me with the most intense look I’d ever seen. Over me? Why? Was it the blood? My expression pinched as I glanced down my length.
Our hands were still gripping the water bag, his thumb still idly rubbing mine. The horned beast stepped closer. His leg brushed mine and a buzzing started up in my ears, the tips turning a hot to the touch reddish pink. The dream, oh, how I was remembering it now.
The room grew warm. No, I did. My fingers lost their grip as they began to shake a little. Why was I suddenly so nervous? I couldn’t understand it.
A thick finger came up, brushing loose tendrils of stray brown hair out of my face, tugging it behind my ear. His fingertips were rough, calloused, the pads boxy shaped.
Damn, maybe that dust was making me goofy, too. I was definitely feeling something. As if to confirm my theory, that single touch sent tingles down my spine and straight to my toes, my stomach flip flopping.
“Does my presence make you nervous, little wingless beast?”
“No,” I denied hotly, glaring up at him daringly. Snatching the bag roughly, I went to take a long drink of water. Our hands lifted and I pressed my lips to the rim. Hints of sweetness, honey and something else, teased my taste buds. I couldn’t explain it, I wanted more.
A deep rumble vibrated his chest as he watched. I was confused, spilling a little as I pulled the water skin away.
Securing the skin’s top, I licked my lips, catching a few drops of the spilled liquid. The faint taste of iron filled my mouth and I remembered: all that blood. My hand went to my face right as his fingers lifted. The speckles of flaking blood couldn’t be missed. I was so distracted by the male before me I hadn’t even taken it into account.
His free hand came up and his fingers swiped across my chin. My skin felt tight, prickling, but his touch was so gentle it made me feel delicate. The heat of him stayed long after it had ended.
Leaning in close, he chuffed, a soft sound that blew sweet scented breath across my face. Sweetness with a hint of smoke. He was a mallow melted on a stick over an open fire on a dark fall night. It felt affectionate, his actions, intimate somehow, but what did I know?
“I take it none of this is yours?” His voice was deep, deliciously so, rumbling my person, his close proximity sending that hint of gravel and grit rattling right through me.
“No,” I murmured, my fingers absently rubbing across the tingles his touch had left behind. My knuckles bumped the underside of his chin, he was so close, the dense prickles on his chin like porcuswine quills. The insane urge to reach out and pet them struck me. My chin dipped and my hand fell away, my fingers curling as they formed a fist at my side.
Who was I to assume he’d want me pawing at him? How was he to take it?
Pulling away from me so suddenly I wondered at his swift retreat, worried the being may just be able to read minds, he stared down at his finger, tinged red with water and the blood of my enemies. His thumb rubbed at his forefinger, smearing the ‘paint’.
“I-I-” Why was I mumbling? Chin lifting, spine straight, shoulders back, I informed him, “They got what they deserved.” My tone was hard, adamant. I’d already decided back through the secret passageway here, what was done back there was justice, plain and simple. I wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise.
“And I’m to take it whomever this belongs will no longer be bothering you?” Was that amusement alighting those wild red eyes? Maroon started to swirl with red. The heat he was putting off was more curious than sexual anymore. Was he no longer interested in tupping me?
I was both relieved and disappointed. Don’t forget your bloody deal, Riadne. You can’t just go back on your word.
“This still troubles you?” Those bright eyes narrowed and his teeth clacked. He wasn’t happy at the idea.
But for his mannerisms and mild tone, those eyes lent the Minotaur a feral air. Would he always strike me as primal?
“N-n-no.” I had no idea why it was suddenly hard to speak, or why the sight of him sniffing at the newly wetted dried blood on his thumb gave me a sense of satisfaction, as if to give proof to a potential suitor of my worthiness as a mate.
My chest hurt, growing tight, body alive, newly reawakened. Potential suitor? I’ve gone mad.
This giant of a beastman, no more human than creature, a strange mix of the two from his bovine, horned head to human shaped, booted feet and thick, masculine fingers. The subtle and not so subtle differences mixed, a mash up of myth and man, until they blended.
He was neither. He was a Minotaur, a Tauran. I’d do well to remember that. He’s not an animal, and he’s not like me...
Yet I wanted him with a fierce suddenness that scared me. Yet another trick of the labyrinth? A mind maze? Haze from the dust. I thought not, but...
Tossing my water skin towards my pack by the wall, I stared down at my palm. My fingertips circled the bull’s head on my palm absently. Was this why? Was it a sign? Was this the Queen’s price? Why I could understand the beast’s tongue?
“What’s this?” his deep voice demanded.
His nails were so foreign, so strange, thick, with grooved lines down them, curling around the ends of his fingers, too thick and wide, to curl back towards the end of each finger. Hoof-like nails on a man’s hands, yet another prime example of man meeting animal.
There was a thin dusting of fur on the tops of his masculine hands, leaving the pale white flesh beneath exposed. Oddly, the thickened skin looked soft, silky smooth.
Would it feel that way? Reaching out without thought to find out, I hesitated at the last moment.
The Minotaur hadn’t stopped me, glancing up at my sudden move to find my hand, fingers outstretched, about to brush him. His eyes had briefly started to close, expression relaxing, the large horns on his head tilting as he canted his head to the side. The beast would have allowed- Nay, welcomed my touch, but I’d stalled at the very last possible second.
His hand reached out, gripping my wrist as my hand flexed, fingers unfurling and curling. At his harsh grip I gasped and went to jerk back. That iron-hard grip was too stro
ng.
A grunt left him as he popped up to his full, rather intimidating height. He was a beast of a beast. As if to prove the fact, he made an animalistic noise. Staring at my hand, watching, waiting, our gazes lifted to meet and he yanked me towards him.
On my tiptoes, half suspended in the air, I cried out, a sharp stab of fear jamming its way between my ribs. This wasn’t terror I was feeling, I wasn’t frightened. I couldn’t recall ever feeling this way before, my insides suddenly on fire, melting, hardening, to start the process all over again.
This instant fire, emotions circling, had me quaking, an entirely new sense of dread. We were flush, flesh to heated flesh. I was falling, tumbling fast, no sign of a savior in sight, a wild pair of red eyes beseeching, calling me.
A part of me wanted to jump, allow myself to fall right into the pit.
“No one can hear you in here,” he snarled suddenly, popping my burn, melt, reshape, repeat. I should be thankful, two minds on different tracks. I’m thinking lust and other things, his intense gaze implying the same. His mouth was the wakeup call.
My retreat seemed to anger him further, confusing me more than before.
Jerked tightly back against his heated, solid flesh, I gasped, gaping.
Words were forgotten, my tongue thick inside my skull. I’d have fought him but he’d already proven his power over me.
My mind became a chaotic blank, a riotous jumble, my thoughts wild and scrambling. I could no more think than act. The beast had stunned me mute and addled my mind.
By the time I’d finally managed to kick my legs out, grazing a shin, the wild red of his eyes was in full bloom. The fog cleared my mind and I flailed and screamed. The sound was wild and terror ridden.
Jerking, the beast jumped in shock and dropped me, his eyes going wide as he blinked and his head swiveled.
I hit the ground running, stumbling to my pack. Hooking the top flap, I snatched it up, rushing clear to the other side of the cavern before I’d dare a look at him. I was shaking, trembling like an innocent in her first blush of youth, but the fear tinting everything made me mad. I hated that adrenaline rush, the sense of the unknown. Was I ever to know anything? I was in a perpetual state of darkness, desperate for light.
By the Horns Page 10
