2. Kotos

CHAPTER TWO

KOTOS

P ain exploded through my groin, vision going white as I buckled in half. What the fuck? My hands cupped my aching balls, as though holding them tight enough might ease the torment ripping through my gut.

A lone orange rolled along the deck, wobbling to a stop against the edge of my private pool.

I snapped my head up, searching for the source of the attack. A flash of auburn caught my eye. There, on the balcony above—a woman. Gorgeous, despite the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled appearance.

Of course. Another opportunist, thinking she could worm her way into my good graces—or my bed. Maybe both.

They truly would try anything, wouldn’t they?

I’d dealt with her type before. Paparazzi, gold-diggers, thrill-seekers... all hoping to get a piece of the last minotaur. To them, I wasn’t a person. I was a conquest, a story, a godsdamn sideshow attraction.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled, my voice echoing across the private terrace. The words came out more of a pained wheeze than the commanding tone I’d intended.

She opened her mouth, stumbling over what I assumed were excuses. I cut her off with a snarl. “Do you make a habit of assaulting people, or am I just lucky?”

The sarcasm dripping from my voice seemed to flip a switch. Her apologetic expression hardened. “Excuse me? I’m trying to apologize. I didn’t know anyone was even down?—”

“Listen, sweetheart,” I growled, straightening to my full height. Let her see exactly who she was dealing with. “If this is your idea of making an impression, you’ve succeeded. Congratulations. Now kindly fuck off before I have security escort you from the premises.”

Her eyes narrowed, cheeks blazing pink. Fire glinted in their green depths. Her tiny fists clenched so hard at her sides, I wondered if she might chuck another orange at me.

“You arrogant ass,” she spat. “Has it occurred to you that not everything revolves around your oversized ego? It was an accident. But clearly, you’re too self-absorbed to consider that possibility.”

I blinked, taken aback by her boldness. Most people groveled when faced with my anger. Yet here she was, yelling at me. Like I deserved to be used as target practice.

“How dare you—” I started, but she cut me off.

“Oh, fuck off,” she snarled, spinning on her heel. The balcony doors slammed behind her with a resounding bang.

I stared at the spot where she’d stood, mouth agape. No one spoke to me like that. No one. The sheer audacity... it was almost refreshing. She hadn’t backed down from me. Not even a little. In fact, she’d risen to meet me, toe to hoof.

Who the hell was she?

My phone rattled on the table, snapping me from my thoughts. I reached for it, then scowled at the message from Maya, my assistant.

URGENT: Shadow Daddies offering free trials this week for all MythMatch users in the area. Analytics showing drops in active users over the last hour. Rumored to be a precursor to a pop-up event.

“Fuck!” The curse ripped from my throat. Of course, Devlin would pull this shit now. That conniving sea witch never missed an opportunity to weasel into my business.

I paced the length of the terrace, fingers clenched around my phone. This was the last thing I needed with the Elysia partnership hanging by a thread. Andreas was already wavering, and if word of this reached him...

A string of curses fell from my lips. I needed damage control, and fast.

The dining hall stretched out before me, full of chatter and holiday cheer. Heads turned, conversations halted mid-sentence. I strode in, horns held high, my hooves echoing against marble.

Fuck, I hated this.

Every eye latched onto me, hungry gazes raking over my body. I could practically hear their thoughts. Look, it’s him. The minotaur. The last of his kind.

As if they knew a fucking thing about me.

I stalked past table after table, the murmuring growing louder. I breathed deep, trying to center myself.

Wait. What was that?

A scent. Faint and elusive. It wove through the air, cutting through the miasma of perfume and overcooked lamb. My nostrils flared, trying to pinpoint its source, and came up empty.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. I had bigger problems than some mystery aroma. Like the fact Devlin was trying to poach my users right under my nose. Or the last-minute trip to convince Andreas to sign the damn partnership papers. Or some crazy woman pelting people in the balls with citrus.

One wrong move and everything I’d built could come crashing down.

A flash of a camera went off in my face. I blinked away the spots in my vision, pasting on what I hoped was a polite smile.

“Oh my god, it’s really you!” a woman with more plastic than flesh squealed. She clutched her phone to her chest, bouncing on her toes. “Can we get a selfie?”

Her friends, clearly already three sheets to the wind, descended upon me like a flock of perfectly manicured vultures. I bent slightly so we could all be in frame. Their perfume assaulted my senses, itching at my nose and throat. Nothing like that other scent...

“Sign my shirt!”

“Are you single?”

I plastered on my practiced smile, the one that showed just enough fang to be intriguing without scaring the masses. “Ladies, please. I’m just here to enjoy dinner like everyone else.”

That scent drifted past again, stronger this time. My head snapped up, scanning the growing crowd shoving pens and phones at me. Where was it coming from? And why did it make my blood sing?

“Mr. Mavridis, over here!”

“Kotos, darling, you simply must join us for drinks later!”

“Is it true you’re expanding into the were market?”

The voices blurred together, a constant barrage of demands wrapped in sickly sweet adoration. I felt my control slipping, irritation bubbling beneath my carefully crafted mask.

Another overeager fan reached for my arm. I jerked back instinctively, colliding with something warm and solid behind me.

“Oof!”

A feminine yelp rang out, followed by the sound of a plate shattering against the floor.

And that scent. Stronger now. So close I could almost taste it.

I spun around, apology already forming on my lips, but the words died in my throat.

It was her. The woman from the balcony. My orange-wielding assailant.

Our eyes locked, and the world tilted on its axis.

Mine.

The word thundered through me, drowning out everything else. The clamor of the dining room faded to a dull roar. My vision tunneled until all I could see was her.

Her scent. Gods, her scent. It filled my lungs, set my blood on fire. Like vanilla coffee and jasmine and... something uniquely alive .

Mate.

My knees nearly buckled as the full force of the mate bond slammed into me. Every instinct screamed to gather her close, to bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe in that intoxicating scent. To mark her as mine for all to see.

“What the hell?” Sad confusion laced through her voice as she picked at the hem of her blouse. “Are you so afraid I’ll pelt you with a bread roll that you had to steal my ammunition?”

I blinked, struggling to process her words. I dropped my eyes, finally registering the splattered remains of her dinner decorating the floor between us.

Oh. Shit.

A bright red stain spread across the front of her crisp white blouse. Marinara sauce, my brain supplied unhelpfully. The urge to lick it off warred with mortification.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I opened my mouth. Closed it. What could I possibly say?

Somewhere nearby, a camera shutter clicked.

No. Fuck no. This couldn’t happen here.

I glanced around wildly, taking in the sea of expectant faces and raised cell phones. The crowd watched us with bated breath, waiting for my next move. Waiting for a show.

“Ah, Kotos! Ms. Scanlon! So good of you to join us!”

Andreas’ booming voice cut through the tension like a knife. He snapped his fingers at a nearby server, barking rapid-fire instructions in Greek. The poor kid scrambled to clean up the mess at our feet.

Wait. Ms. Scanlon?

My eyes widened as the final piece clicked into place. This wasn’t just some random resort guest. This was Laramie Scanlon. My employee. The marketing genius I’d brought to help close the deal with Andreas.

Fuck me sideways with Poseidon’s trident.

I’d berated my mate. Threatened to have her thrown out. And now she was covered in pasta sauce, glaring at me like she’d love nothing more than to introduce my balls to something far more painful than citrus.

The fates were laughing their asses off right now. I just knew it.

I stared at her, drinking in every detail. Auburn hair twisted into a professional knot. Green eyes that sparked with annoyance. Those enticing freckles trailing down the column of her throat—a throat I suddenly wanted to bite and suck and cover in bruises.

“Oh, my dear, oh dear,” Andreas tutted, eyeing the stain on Laramie’s blouse. “This is the gods telling you not so professional, not here. Relax! Enjoy yourself!”

Laramie’s smile was so strained I thought her face might crack. “Of course, Mr. Vasilakis. I’ll do my best.”

I made a mental note to have a new outfit sent to her room. Maybe several. Did she prefer dresses or pants? What was her favorite color? I needed to know everything about her.

My cock twitched as I imagined what lay beneath that soft material. Perky tits, dusky nipples, creamy skin...

Was her pussy equally perfect? Tight and slick, ready for my tongue? Was she bare, or would I find curls dusted with copper to match her hair? Would she moan my name as I lapped at her?

Stop it.

She was my employee. There were boundaries. Rules. I couldn’t just...

But she was my mate.

Dammit.

I cleared my throat. “Andreas, perhaps we should discuss the partnership agreement. I know you had some concerns about?—”

“Bah!” Andreas waved a hand dismissively. “Business talk can wait. Tomorrow, you must experience Elysia as guests, then we talk! How can you market paradise if you haven’t lived it, eh?”

He gestured widely to encompass the dining hall. Music rose in answer, a lively folk tune floating on the sea breeze. Drinks appeared from nowhere, filling our hands before I could protest.

“Come, come!” Andreas ushered us towards a table. “I’ve saved the best spot in the house for you. Did you know our head chef trained under Gordon Ramsay himself? Although,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “between us, I think even Gordon would weep at the perfection of our moussaka.”

I barely heard him. Every cell in my body was attuned to Laramie’s presence beside me. The sway of her hips as she walked. The soft inhale of her breath. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

We reached the table. A prime spot overlooking both the dining room and the glittering expanse of the Aegean beyond. Under normal circumstances, I’d have appreciated the view. Now, it barely registered.

“Sit, sit!” Andreas pulled out Laramie’s chair with a flourish. I lowered myself into the seat across from her, acutely aware of how my knees nearly brushed hers beneath the table.

A server materialized at Laramie’s elbow, offering us both fresh plates piled high with some kind of seafood pasta. She accepted it with a murmured thanks, carefully avoiding my gaze.

“Now,” Andreas clapped his hands together, “I will have your promise to join me for the Siren’s Luminary Spectacular this evening. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen our sirens perform. They are exquisite! Truly, our pride and joy.”

I nodded absently, my thoughts preoccupied by Laramie Scanlon. How was I supposed to concentrate on anything when my newly discovered mate sat inches away, smelling of pasta sauce and paradise?

“That sounds lovely,” Laramie said, her voice strained. Was it my imagination, or did her eyes keep darting in my direction? “Though I should probably change first.”

“You are perfection already, my dear! But if you insist...” Andreas winked at her. “I will have my assistant send over the details. For now, eat, drink, and be merry! The night is young, and Elysia awaits!”

He swept away with another boisterous laugh, leaving us alone in uncomfortable silence.

“Well.” Laramie eyed her food warily. “This has been an interesting welcome, to say the least.”

I took a long swallow of wine, struggling to collect myself. “I didn’t recognize you before. From the balcony. I apologize for any inconvenience. If I’d known we would be working together, I wouldn’t have?—”

“Threatened to have me thrown out?” She arched an eyebrow. “Consider it forgotten, Mr. Mavridis. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy my dinner in peace. After all,” her lips curved in a sardonic smile, “I need to relax and enjoy myself. Boss’s orders.”

With that, she stabbed at her pasta, pointedly ignoring me.

I sat back. This was not how I’d imagined meeting my mate would go. Then again, given the luck of my life, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

Last minotaur alive. Betrayed again and again by those closest to him. Strong-armed into a semi-public appearance for meetings that could have been emails.

And now this mate bond pulsed between us like a living thing. Demanding attention. Insisting that I claim what was mine.

But she wasn’t. Not really. She was my employee. And I was her boss, for fuck’s sake.

So instead of doing what every fiber of my being demanded—sweep her off to my suite and ravish her senseless—I picked at my pasta and waited for Andreas to claim more of my time.

This was going to be a very long week.