Chapter 29

Damian

"Of course, my bull wants his own name. SMH." ~Damian

The women and children who packed up and left this nightmare behind this morning wept and gave emotional hugs to the others who weren't ready to leave. Tears flowed freely, mingling with whispered promises to never forget one another.

None made commitments to reunite.

It seemed those lingering were more afraid of the unknown world than of their mates. The familiarity of their current life, no matter how painful, was a comfort compared to the uncertainty that lay beyond the walls of the labyrinth.

Violet's trauma appears greater than any of them. She trembles at the mere mention of leaving with Peter. The memories of her past, filled with pain and suffering, have left scars that will take longer to heal. The thought of venturing into the unknown with him seems too much for her fragile psyche to bear.

She didn't make him leave, probably because of Alexander's instant connection with him. The bond between the boy and Peter was undeniable, a rare spark of joy in their otherwise bleak existence. Yet, despite their connection, Violet keeps Peter at a distance. Although the bond between them has begun, her heart might be too wounded to embrace him. Even though her soul yearns for the safety and love he offers. I know this because it's how the mating call works.

Peter watches her every move with a gaze filled with longing and protection. His feelings for her are already evident in the way he shadows her, always ready to step in if she needs him.

I advised the men left in the labyrinth not to approach Violet for any reason. Her anxiety was palpable, and any added pressure could push her over the edge.

Peter's bull simmers below the surface, ready to pounce on anyone who stirs the anxiety pouring off his mate in waves. His protective instincts and fierce determination to shield Violet from harm are heightened because of his young age. The years of patience developed in those who've waited decades for a mate are more tempered. The other men understand the delicate balance and keep their distance, respecting the boundaries set to keep Violet and themselves safe. No one wants to battle Peter over an innocent action.

As the day wears on, the echoes of goodbyes fade into the background, and the labyrinth grows quieter.

The remaining women and children settle into a tense silence. Their look occasionally darts toward the exit.

Among the camp, a rare moment of calm fills the atmosphere on their otherwise tumultuous journey.

I take a deep breath, and cool mountain air fills my lungs. My bull is restless. The primal urge to shift and release pent-up energy grows stronger by the minute. It had been days since he last transformed, and the beast within him claws to break free.

Emjay's eyes reflect the moonlight as she approaches me. "Are you okay?" she asks softly, sensing my unease. My bull stands taller, knowing she's paying attention to our moods.

"I need to shift," I reply tightly. "The bull is getting restless. It's time."

Emjay nods, understanding the necessity. A hint of mischief lights up her face. Something I've never seen in her before. "That reminds me. Aren't I supposed to name him?"

I laugh, and my bull preens. "Yes, mate, you are." I'm not shifted in any form, so she doesn't hear him.

"He says, ‘he's waiting'." I smile. This is the most relaxed moment we've shared. I won't mess it up by rolling my eyes or expressing how I really feel about the women naming our bulls. Or our bull's eagerness to have their own name.

"I'll keep an eye on the camp. Do what you need to do," she tells me.

"Thank you," I say with sincere gratitude.

Before I walk away, a smile lifts her cheeks. "Walker."

If shifting in front of the women wouldn't send them into a panic, my bull would have turned when our mate called his name. I'm sure there is a story behind her choice. Maybe one day she will tell me.

I turn in search of the other men. It seems like a good time to invite the males to join me in the mountains for a shift and sparring.

Many are eager to join me. We walk away from the camp—our footsteps silent on the dirt floor.

Rocky terrain and dense foliage make the trek farther up the mountains a challenge, even for me, but the promise of release drives me forward. Our massive prints and path of destruction will leave Bigfoot hunters scratching their heads. Considering these mountains are famous for Bigfoot sightings, our presence will only fuel their searches.

We travel until we find a secluded clearing; I stop and take a moment to center myself. The moon hangs high in the sky, and its light bathes the clearing in a magical glow. I remove my clothes before I close my lids and allow the change to come, embracing the transformation.

Bones crack and muscles shift as my body expands, my skin giving way to coarse fur. Horns sprout from my head, curving menacingly, and my face elongates into a fearsome snout. Within moments, the man is gone, replaced by a towering Minotaur, the embodiment of power and fury. Some prefer to shift completely into a bull. I've done it before, but rarely. On this night, I need my fists.

I roar into the night; the sound echoing through the mountains. I paw at the ground and my hooves dig deep into the earth. Walker is free, and he demands action.

He spars with the trees. His massive fists and horns crash against the trunks, splintering wood and shaking the ground. Each strike releases a bit of the pent-up aggression.

The clearing soon bears the marks of our fury. Trees splintered and uprooted, the ground churned and scarred. Our breaths come in heavy snorts, steam rising from his nostrils in the cool night air. Walker continues sparring until the bull's rage is spent, leaving him panting and exhausted, but finally at peace.

The others who'd joined me followed the same path of brawling with nature. A part of us feared what our aggression might do to one another. None of us have ever sparred with such deep emotions. We are a danger to one another, despite knowing the enemy is not among us.

Gradually, I allow the transformation to reverse. My fur recedes, my muscles shrink, and my horns disappear. Within moments, I'm a man once more, standing naked amidst the devastation we have wrought.

I take a deep breath, and the tension drains from my body. My bull is calm and satiated for now. I'm not the only one. I look around at the others. Peace has filled each of us.

After getting dressed, we trek back to the labyrinth.

Inside, Emjay waits for me. She scans me for any signs of distress. A small smile plays on her lips. "Feel better?" she asks.

"Much," I reply, with a heart filled with relief. "Thank you for understanding."

She nods and together we return to the campfire.