Page 34 of The Alien Minotaur's Bride

I wasn't sure I wanted to be found.

I'd been settling in. I'd been comfortable. Comfortable in my nest, comfortable with his hands on my body, comfortable being tended and provided for and kept. I'd been dreaming in his language and reading his moods through his scent and building a life here without ever consciously deciding to.

And now I was crying on the floor of a storage room because the choice had been taken from me before I'd realised I might have made it willingly.

The door creaked.

Keth crouched beside me. He didn't touch – just settled his bulk down, bringing himself to my level, his dark eyes steady on my face.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" The words came out ragged. "You didn't trap me here. The universe did that. Physics did that. You just – took advantage."

"I took advantage." He didn't flinch from it. "Yes. I took you from your life and brought you to mine. The reasons matter less than the action. You are here because I put you here."

"I know." I wiped my face with the back of my hand. "I know that. I'm not… I'm not crying because of you."

"Then why?"

I laughed. It sounded terrible.

"Because I think I might have chosen this anyway. Eventually. If you'd given me time. If you'd asked instead of taken." Another sob broke free. "And I've no idea how to live with that."

His scent shifted. Warmed. Underneath the concern, something else bloomed – comfort, I thought. Reassurance. His body producing pheromones meant to soothe mine.

Part of me wanted to resent it – the biological manipulation, the chemistry I couldn't control. But I was so tired, and I'd been crying so hard, and the warmth of his scent was settling over me, unasked-for but desperately needed.

"You can grieve what you lost," he said quietly. "I won't rush you."

I looked at him. At those dark eyes, patient and steady. At the careful distance he kept, close enough to be present but not so close as to crowd.

"I don't know what I lost," I said. "That's the problem. I thought I had a life, but – did I? I was alone. I was always cold. I was always hungry. I was running on fumes and stubbornness and the conviction that needing anyone was weakness."

"That sounds like loss."

"It was survival." My voice cracked. "It was all I had, and it was mine, and I was… I was good at it. I knew who I was. Now I don't know anything."

He reached out. His hand hovered near my shoulder, asking.

I nodded.

His arm wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest. The fur was soft against my cheek, warm and dense, and underneath it his heartbeat was slow and steady. His scent enveloped me completely – that comfort-note, rich and deep, smoothing out the ragged edges of my crying.

I should have fought it. Should have pulled away, insisted on feeling the grief without chemical assistance.

I didn't.

I pressed my face into his fur and let the pheromones do their work and stopped fighting for the first time in years.

"I don't know who I am here," I said, muffled against his chest.

"You will." His hand stroked down my back, warm and gentle. "There is time. There is no rush."

"What if I never figure it out?"

"Then you will be figuring it out. That is enough." His tail wrapped around my hip, anchoring me against him. "For now, you are safe. You are warm. You are held. The rest can wait."

I closed my eyes.