AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let me go, and I’ll be one less responsibility for you.”
I can’t lose her. I won’t.
The sting in my hand doesn’t compare to the burning in my chest when I think of her leaving. While I could tell myself that I will bind her to me for the sake of others, it’s a lie. She’s mine, and I won’t give her up.
Truth comes rushing out of me like a balm to soothe my hurts, no matter what pain it causes her. “I will never let you go.”
6
MEG
He’ll never let me go? What kind of alpha male bullshit is that? Leander’s royal decree makes me furious. If only my traitorous body would get on board the mad at the minotaur train, instead of this aching heaviness that has me crossing my legs to stop the throbbing between them. The fire crackles, and I want to blame the heat of the blaze for my sudden flush.
Nine days alone in a world that shouldn’t exist, and I’m fantasizing about a man with the body of a god and the head of a beast. Maybe I shouldn’t have spent this time reading each wicked detail of the sex contract I signed, or listening to everyone here who pretty much worships their king. He’s a freaking king, a real life gazillionaire with muscles galore from one of my romance novels, with the magic and monster vibes of my role-playing games.
Who’d have imagined that a bull’s face could be so damn expressive? From the scruff on top of his head, where a crown might be, to the horns and furred ears, to the silver ring in his nose that moves when he speaks, watching him talking to Darnell had been a study in annoyance, rage, and dismissal. I’d wished for a sturdy sketch pad to draw each nuance before I forgot the details. Now, I want the thing so I can bash it over his horned head. Him staring at me like I’m a sex goddess come to life isn’t helping me hold on to my temper, and I need the anger to keep my edge. The last time I lost my fighting spirit, I let a guy take my self-esteem with it. Not today.
Rising to my feet, I use my height to intimidate. It has worked in the past, and I won’t let a little thing like him being a foot or so taller steal my confidence when this dress has me looking as hot as a fantasy game avatar. “I’m not allowed to leave?” I load the question with insolence. His gaze drops to my breasts, then my hips, before snapping back to my mouth. “But you clearly don’t want this match between us, or you wouldn’t have taken off to leave me here alone.”
“You weren’t alone. You had servants and Darnell. Seemed the two of you were cozy enough when I walked in a few moments ago.”
Oh no he didn’t. I’m so mad that I would rip the translator that lets me understand everyone here off my magic bracelet, if I could figure out which sigil it is. On second thought, I want him to understand every mean thing I’m about to say. “You walk in after days away and sling accusations about what you think you saw?”
“I heard you laugh at his nonsense, bat your big green eyes at him—”
“You don’t know me.” I shouldn’t poke the bull, but I can’t help myself. Tucking my guardian demon cat—yeah, I’m not going to analyze that weirdness right now—against my side, I advance on my match, who couldn’t bother to let me recover from trans-dimensional travel before deserting me.
“Anyone could’ve figured out what was happening between you two,” he says. “You flirt with a warlock but not—”
“You know nothing about me.” Which makes him leaving sting all the more, because he obviously made a lot of assumptions based on a ten-minute conversation and my looks. Assumptions that made him abandon me.
“I know you screamed when you saw me.” Something pulses beneath his high-handed assholery. Something more exposed and enticing than the anger. Hurt?
Please, don’t let it be hurt. I’m a sucker for broken bad boys, and I don’t want to excuse him for his disappearing act. “I screamed when you snuck out of the shadows and shocked the hell out of me. It’s called a natural reaction to being startled. Leaving me unconscious and without any explanation in a world full of strangers? That’s just being a jackass.”
He huffs a snort that I would’ve struggled to identify before spending the last week around cow shifters. It’s a laugh. He’s laughing at me. I storm closer, ready to stalk from the room when he says, “I’m part bull. Not donkey.”
Despite my best effort to hang on to my mad, my lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. He wasn’t mocking me. No, he’d made himself the target of his teasing. But still. “You left me to wake up and find a cow shifter watching over me.” I leave out the part about Bess letting me squeal in nerd delight at meeting a real-life double for Lady Snarl from my Mutter Udder Maniacs game design. “A shifter who can talk.”
“All shifters can talk,” he says. “It’s getting them to shut up that’s the problem.”
Thankfully, the rest of the ones I’ve met can’t compete with his rough-and-grumble voice. I’d almost convinced myself that I had imagined how comforting it had been, the mere cadence and calm of him talking to me for those first few minutes I remember in this realm. His tone pulls at me, drawing me closer, as though he weaves a hypnosis spell. If such a thing exists. I would have to ask Bess. “You have cows, pigs, chickens—”
“Jackasses too.” He glances toward Oggie. “Even a demon cat, though he’s not mine. It appears he’s yours, for now.”
“He stayed.” I don’t know why the sentinel hasn’t left my side, but the kitten has remained with me every moment of the day, except when I shut him out of the bathroom. He’d purred and kneaded his paws at my delight when I’d discovered the castle had indoor plumbing. The place runs on a strange mix of ancient, modern, and magic.
“I would’ve explained—”
“If you hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave?” Seems I haven’t misplaced by anger entirely after all.
“I had a kingdom to save.” As if his explanation should end all discussion of why he left. Maybe it would if the memory of what Bess told me didn’t prick at my temper like re-opening a barely healed wound. A coward. He called me a weakling and then took off like a wimp, which makes him no better than my ex.
I don’t know why his insult hurts so much. His opinion shouldn’t matter, but it does, for the same mysterious reason that his voice pulls me in, his attention heats my skin, and his dark eyes make me wonder what he’s thinking. Well, let him think on this.
“Everyone has told me what a great guy you are—the savior of all who need sanctuary, from shifters, to whatever blue-skinned Belaya is, and even a warlock.” I leave the mention of the man who he’d accused me of being “cozy” with until last, out of spite. “Yet one human shows up in your realm and you can’t wait to call her a coward and run away.”
“I shouldn’t have said that about you.” His apology takes me by surprise. Or as close to an I’m sorry as I could hope to receive from someone called the bull god by his subjects. “As you said, I don’t know you.” There’s a firmness to his words, a sadness to the tone that has me stepping closer. Damn me and my love for broken things. His gaze goes dark, and what I would call hungry, in very human-looking eyes. “But I would like to.”
