Page 32 of Bound to the Minotaur

“It’s pretty,” Kess murmured sleepily, and my heart felt like it had grown too big for my chest. Dipping my head, I gazed into her earnest face and made a sound of agreement. Prettiest sight of all. Then my eyes slipped lower along her naked flesh—tempting and sweet—to where her breasts were bunched against my chest.

There, just above the pale, mouthwateringly sexy globes, faint lines were beginning to glow. I knew them for what they were instantly, had expected them to show after we’d done this, finally chased through the maze, mated, rutted like wild beasts. Mating marks: the true hallmark of a soulmated pair. Rosemary and Chardum had them, and so did Kai and Freya. Now, there was us.

Something eased inside my chest, unraveled. Despite knowing they should come—that we were true mates—it was still a relief to see the confirmation. These lines were small and delicate. It wasn’t as extravagant a mark as Kai and Freya’s, or even the Dragon and his Nymph’s: a set of horns symbolizing me, and a beautiful, delicate bird in flight—a kestrel—her.

Now the question remained: how was it possible that three mated pairs had suddenly come to be in a failing, nearly abandoned little town? When soulmates had become so rare they might as well be myth? Never in my life—my long, long life—had I come across a mated pair like that. Shifter mates, yes; soulmates, no.

“Look,” I said, because I couldn’t let the question bother me for long. Not when this miracle of miracles had happened to me and made me the luckiest man alive. Tracing a finger over the mark on her chest, I drew her attention to it, then to my own chest, where the same mark was an exact replica. “It’s us. We’re bound now.”

She sat up slowly, gaze wide with wonder as she traced the mark with a gentle finger on my skin, then dropped her eyes to the mark on her own flesh. Behind her pale hair, silhouetted against the sky, I saw a dragon soar, blocking out a section of stars with his massive wings and size. Smaller shapes darted around him—one a gargoyle, and the other, without a doubt, the griffin—our sheriff.

The wall behind her pulsed with life, flowers blooming and curling into delicate shapes around the form of one of my first cars. Its frame still gleamed with chrome and silver, protected from weathering by the maze. It was thanks to Rosy’s influence as a nymph that the first blush of spring was coming on stronger than ever; my maze vivid with life.

“I love you, Gregory,” Kess said, with a smile as luminous as the maze and the starlit sky. She touched her hand to my face, fingers catching against the fresh stubble on my chin. “I’m so glad you’re the one I called that night.” Her eyes twinkled. “You think our sheriff beat us to this?” She touched the mark. “He has a thing for the new owner of the B&B, doesn’t he?”

I had wondered that myself, but Kess and I had been so cocooned on our hilltop—sheltered by my maze and cabin—that we weren’t quite up to speed with the latest gossip. Though Lizzie couldn’t refrain from dropping by from time to timeto share tidbits or order us to show up for town festivities. That’s how I knew the tiger had made it, but he was holed up somewhere, licking his wounds. And of his warning, nothing had come true… yet. Still, I felt that threat hanging over our heads, prickling faintly at the back of my mind.

Not real enough to worry about, so I didn’t. I had other things to occupy myself with, especially now that the maze was finished. Tumbling Kess back into the grass, I covered her small body with my own, straightening her crooked glasses with a finger. “And I love you, Kess. I would have come, even if you hadn’t called. You know that, right?” I would go to the ends of the world for her, that was a fact. But I didn’t have to, because she was right here, in my home, my maze, my arms. Right where she belonged.

THE END