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It makes me dizzy to walk between the studio set buildings, with carts and trucks zipping by, after living so long in the labyrinth, where things move much slower than these production assistants, props managers, and busy bees. Leaving the movie set where Hollywood actors film my Mutter Udder Maniacs makes me giddy, like I’m flying upside-down—as Oggie does when he’s excited.
The smell of cinnamon and sugar tickles my nose.
“Churro?” Leander asks. “Bess will be excited to have a new favorite food for you. She’ll have this recreated and improved upon within days.”
“You can’t make a perfect food better.” I bite into the warm dough, crispy on the outside and gooey softness on the inside. The flavor explodes in tiny sparks of joy and comfort. “Mmm. I’m glad we visited the set today. Seeing my games come to life? Still surreal.” Despite the millions of dollars that my designs have made me. “Thanks for helping me make all this happen.” I tuck my arm around his glamoured one.
“You’re the creator. I simply support.” Leander wears his human glamour like armor, and while he’s so handsome that he’s been approached as a possible actor several times today, I can’t wait to get home to the labyrinth and have my minotaur back.
“You have an epic-level definition of support. I have dozens of art studios and workshops devoted to my games, thanks to you.”
He shrugs, the movement awkward in this body. “You created an entirely new maze to protect our people. Plus, you give back from your art’s profits to make our realm a better, more welcoming sanctuary.” Lifting my hand, he kisses the knuckles, more of a lip-plant than an actual kiss since his mouth in this form is so narrow. He scowls. “I’ll be happy when I can shed this glamour and love you properly.”
“You could probably get away with your true self here, with warrior bulls and cows all around you.”
“I thought you enjoyed what you called ‘the makeover.’”
That has me laughing. “My makeover.” I smooth my hand over the designer dress I picked from racks of possible choices this morning, when the producers insisted on a photo shoot and press interviews with the reclusive creator. It wasn’t as if I could tell the movie execs that I live in another realm, not some shady cabin in the woods far from cell reception. “The hair styling, makeup, and this dress? It makes me feel like a goddess.”
“You are my goddess,” Leander rumbles.
The only parts of my monster that I can recognize in this form are his deep voice and those mesmerizing eyes. While those should be enough, they aren’t. “Let’s blow off the rest of the interviews,” I tell him.
He curls me into his body. “Now you’re talking.”
I snuggle into his warmth and strength, blocking out the rest of the world until a voice from the past invades my present like an ear worm. Slowing us to a grinding stop, I search for him. Dirk the Jerk. Ugh.
“What is it?” Leander asks, bracing like he’s ready to shed the glamour and go into full battle mode.
“My ex.” My stomach grinds the lovely churro into a sour mess.
“The jerk?” He repeats what I’ve called Dirk as though it’s blasphemy. My mate settles into a deadly calm. “Point him out to me. I’ll enjoy destroying that one.”
“You can’t—” I cut off the list of reasons I’ve given my man a million times—why he shouldn’t rush to eviscerate anyone who hurts me—because Dirk isn’t physically here. He’s talking on a television screen above. I catch the attention of one of the many production assistants who have been assigned to escort me today. Queen for the day, they called me. If only they knew I’m a queen for all time. “Hey, who’s that and why’s he on the TV?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“That guy?” She makes guy sound like worm, snake, or hydra. “He got busted for stealing trade secrets and intellectual property.”
Like he did when he stole my games. The realization zips through me faster than Oggie flies when caffeinated. “What will they do to him?”
“He’ll never work in the creative industry again. Not even after he finishes his fifteen-year sentence in a federal prison.”
I smile, the scary sovereign smile that I’ve perfected after ruling my realm and visiting my demigod daddy a few times. “Wonderful. Serves him right.” The insults he hurled at me fade in the distance, and when Leander takes my hand, those lies sweep into a hell dimension to burn. Dirk doesn’t matter. He never did. I matter. As does my minotaur. “What a jerk.”
“You said it.” The production assistant rushes to direct life-size versions of my Maniacs' swords and battle axes to a studio in the distance. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She runs after the actors dressed as Bess and Tauren, clacking heels and heavy breathing. “Wait, not that way! They need all main characters in Set 13 first.”
Leander stares after them, then looks at me. “I will always be in awe of your ability.”
My minotaur. My king. My monster. Who would’ve believed when a sex contract ripped me out of my ordinary can’t-make-the-rent life that I would become a magic-wielding queen with my own millions from game designing? Next month, I’ll have a reunion with my friends who all matched to monsters. Then, I’ll visit my parents in the god’s realm. But for now?
“Leander, let’s go home.”
“Whatever my queen desires.”
We portal into the castle. My demon kitty zips in on quick wings to be scooped up for a cuddle, and my minotaur’s at my side. “Race you to the sex temple?” I say.
“I’ll win. Monster speed and strength.”
Yeah, right. “Labyrinth designer. I built secret tunnels that even you don’t know.”
He picks me up, nuzzling my neck with a growl that sends Oggie scurrying. “Gods, I love you, Meg the Magnificent, Mother of the Mutter Udders, Terror of the Topside World, Queen of Mine.”
“And I love you—my match, my mate, my minotaur.”
* * *
