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Leander’s expression goes from scared relief to grim ruler. “I want to take care of you first.” The unspoken but screams in his tone.
I look around, guessing at what he almost said, what must be done. “You need to tend to your people first.”
“I promised to put you first.” He sounds torn.
This bull of a man. I traveled worlds to find someone who would prioritize me above even a catastrophe. A warmth in my chest settles as heavy as the tingle between my thighs. Later, I can act on the filthy thoughts I had when we’d been shopping and flirting. Before the disaster. Before I’d almost died. “Let’s go,” I say quietly. “They need you.”
“I need you.” He speaks the words like a vow.
“And after we take care of everyone, you’ll have me.” I can’t bite back the flirtation that slipped out, won’t think too long on the innuendo of the promise. Especially not when he nuzzles the top of my head with a sweetness that makes me sigh. Fix what we can at the market now, and we can save his world later.
As soon as he sets me on the ground, instinct and training take over. I nursed Mom through the godawful cancer, so I know how to triage wounds, bandage scrapes, and wipe away blood and tears. Giving out comforting words and hugging strange creatures I wouldn’t have believed existed only weeks ago, I make my way through wrecked stalls and ruined livelihoods alongside Leander.
Lifting large stones and carrying broken booths, he doesn’t flinch at the heaviest labor. He stripped off his fancy shirt stained with mud and oil and who knows what else. Having wondered earlier today what he looked like beneath his clothes, I ogle his massive chest covered in dark hair. It’s not springy like that of human men. No, it’s short and straight. A warm brown shade covers his back, shoulders, and the rest of his upper body. Would the strands feel silky or coarse under my fingertips?
His abs look carved from marble, and he has a sexy cut of muscle at his hips that makes me think of men’s fitness magazine covers. His broad shoulders flex under the weight of a massive rock, and I fight not to drool.
The pants that fit him so well earlier have ripped and torn in places, the slashes letting me see that his hocks down to his hooves are covered in dark brown hide, but the corded muscles of his thighs look human. My face flushes at the thought of riding that hard thigh, feeling the friction of his chest hair against my breasts, and—
“Thank you, milady.” The sheep-faced woman I’m bandaging breaks me out of my fantasies. “You’ll save us all. We’re so grateful you’re here.”
Guilt and embarrassment replace the lust. I’m no savior. I create board games and worry about paying the minimum on my credit card bill. Patting her shoulder, because I have no idea how to answer her without babbling, I’m grateful for the distraction of Bess yelling for me.
“Milady, oh my gods, I heard about the calamity and came as fast as I could get the rescue supplies sorted. Are you all right?” Bess catches her horns on a half-fallen canopy.
“I’m fine. Thanks to Oggie.” I pick up the kitten, who has been winding between my legs nonstop.
She stares at the demon cat with wings. “Then he’s earned a good dish of cream or blood or whatever he prefers.”
Ignoring the gross food reference, I suddenly remember why she sent me. “The armor. I left it one of the tables by the basket weaver.”
“Tauren?” Concern colors her tone.
“Last I checked, he was helping Leander move some of the bigger stones. Are you and he—?”
“Oh no,” she rushes to cut off my question. “He doesn’t notice me that way.” She ducks her head, and I dodge the horns.
Aww, Bess has a crush on the bull blacksmith. “You should go check on him.” I manage not to waggle my eyebrows like a meddling matchmaker. I’m no dealer demon like Theo. Just a friend who faced death, got rescued by a demon kitty, and doesn’t plan to waste any chance at happiness. “Seize that bull by the horns.”
“Same,” she tells me before bustling toward the fallen wall.
Time can be hard to track in the labyrinth, without the sun or moon. We’d arrived mid-morning and now the wall sconces that seemed to run on magic have dimmed. Some vendors have cleared out, and we finished most of the initial damage control. Anxiety still runs high, and fatigue doesn’t help. Along with a bearded gnome, I load the last of the broken flowerpots into a waiting cart when Darnell offers to help. Given the guy’s timing, I figure he planned it.
“Need an escort back to your room, Meg?” he asks.
“She doesn’t,” Leander answers from behind me. Sneaky minotaur. I hadn’t heard him coming. “And she’s milady to you and everyone else. You don’t have leave to call her by her first name.”
“She doesn’t mind.” The warlock winks at me.
Does the dude have a death wish? I know next to nothing about supernatural culture, but any idiot could pick up on the possessive vibes coming off his king.
Plus, I’ve had a shit day where I almost died. The last thing I want is Darnell mansplaining my feelings to me. While I don’t need a fancy title, I also won’t disrespect whatever rules apply here. If I go all let’s be friends to Leander’s people, it might screw up the order of things for his next match if I’m not his mate.
My gut twists into pretzel-worthy knots at the thought of Leander being with someone else. I don’t want to share his quiet chuckles and hot looks.
Would she come to the market and cause less destruction? Would he lap at the sugar on her fingers with his rough tongue? With his sexy sandpaper scratch that left me wondering how it would feel if he licked between my thighs? Will someone else stand in my place next week? The sourness snakes through me, and I want to lose myself in testing out his sex magic theory.
Ignoring Darnell, I ask Leander, “Can we go now?”
