Page 83 of Dancing for the Minotaur

“I do.”

Taurex sighed with exaggerated resignation and touched his palm to the bark of the door.

Immediately, a pattern of tiny golden lights spread beneath his hand like glowing veins. There was a low rustling sound, and the thick bark door curled inward upon itself, opening like an enormous leaf.

Terra stared in surprise.

“Okay, that is seriously cool.”

“It recognizes my biological signature,” Taurex explained as he gestured for her to enter. “Once you have been added to the domicile’s memory, it will open for you as well.”

Terra stepped over the threshold and the first thing she noticed was the smell.

It wasn’t the closed-up scent of an apartment or house on Earth. There was no trace of paint or carpet cleaner or artificial air freshener. Instead, the interior smelled like a forest after rain—fresh leaves and damp earth mixed with something lightly floral and sweet. The air itself seemed cleaner somehow, cool and soft against her skin, and she could hear faint rustling sounds all around her as the living walls shifted almost imperceptibly.

The second thing she noticed was how beautiful it was.

The main room was huge, with a vaulted ceiling formed by interwoven branches overhead. Glowing flowers grew in clusters along the walls, providing pools of golden and pale blue illumination, and the floor beneath her feet appeared to be made of tightly braided roots covered in a layer of soft green moss. The moss compressed beneath her shoes but sprang back the moment she moved, leaving no footprints behind.

There was also furniture, of course, though Terra had to look twice before she realized what she was seeing.

An enormous couch occupied one side of the front room, but instead of leather or fabric, it was made of densely packed vegetation. Thick branches had grown up from the floor to form a broad curved base, and the cushions seemed to be composed of layers upon layers of velvety green leaves and soft moss. Several armchairs had been grown in the same fashion, each one shaped from living vines intertwined so tightly that they looked almost woven.

Terra eyed the couch suspiciously.

“Am I actually supposed to sit on that?”

Taurex followed her gaze.

“On the couch? of course.”

“It looks like a hedge,” Terra said. “Like something someone grew around the perimeter of their property.”

He smiled.

“It is not a hedge—I assure you.”

“It looks like one.”

He made an amused rumbling sound deep in his chest.

“It’s actually quite comfortable. Sit on it and see for yourself.”

Terra approached cautiously. She could see branches beneath the thick mat of vegetation and the last thing she wanted was to sit down only to have some twig jab her in the ass—or someplace worse.

“If I fall through this thing, I’m blaming you,” she warned the big Monstrum.

“You will not fall through,” Taurex assured her.

She raised her eyebrows.

“And if I get stabbed by a branch?”

“You will not be stabbed by a branch, either. I promise you that.”

“You sound awfully confident,” Terra grumbled.

“I have lived here for years,” he said patiently. “And I have never yet been stabbed by a branch when I sat on my couch.”