5. Kotos

CHAPTER FIVE

KOTOS

T he bass thrummed through my bones as Laramie and I stepped off the yacht to the private island Devlin had booked. Neon signs shaped like mistletoe and candy canes cast an eerie glow over the crowd, pulsing in time with the dark, sensual holiday music. The scent of cinnamon and spice hung heavy in the air, a magical aphrodisiac drifting from lanterns scattered throughout the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Laramie breathed beside me, her eyes wide as she took in the spectacle.

I couldn’t blame her. Devlin had outdone herself with this ‘Bad Santa’ event. Everywhere I looked, there were scantily clad elves, seductive Mrs. Clauses, and more than a few Krampuses engaged in activities that would make even the naughtiest blush.

As we pushed through the crowd, I instinctively placed a hand on Laramie’s lower back. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed into my touch. The simple contact sent electricity racing up my arm, and I had to bite back a groan.

It wasn’t fair that she looked so damn good. That dress should be illegal. Hugging her curves in all the right places, a keyhole in the high neckline revealing just enough skin to drive any man wild with desire.

Any man... or minotaur.

We paused at the edge of the pier, taking in the extravagant setup. Laramie’s eyes darted from one attraction to another, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“I wonder about their ROI,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “You can’t deny the engagement levels. But that VR Santa’s Lap experience? Can’t come cheap.”

I fought back a smirk. “Oh, I suspect it’s a costly release.”

She snorted at my obvious innuendo, but otherwise ignored me. “It’s... thorough. I’ll give them that.”

A group of elves sauntered past, their pointed ears twinkling with jewels and lights. One of them, a busty blonde in a costume that was more lingerie than workshop attire, gave me an appreciative once-over.

“Well, hello there, big guy,” she purred. “Care to stuff my stocking?”

I opened my mouth to politely decline, but Laramie beat me to it.

“Sorry, sugarplum,” she said breezily. “Santa’s workshop is closed for renovations.”

With that, she tucked her hand in the crook of my elbow and pulled me deeper into the crowd. I glanced at her in surprise, but she kept her attention firmly ahead of us.

“What?” she griped, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “We’re here to work, not... fraternize.”

I glanced at what had caught her eye—a couple locked in a passionate embrace beneath a glowing mistletoe arch. Hands roamed freely over exposed skin, and it was clear neither cared they had an audience.

Her pulse thumped wildly at her throat, and the scent of her arousal spiked.

“Of course,” I agreed smoothly. That was a reaction to file away for later shower fantasies. “Strictly professional.”

She gave a terse nod and slipped her hand from my arm. I immediately missed her touch, but stayed close as we navigated the crowd. The entire island hummed with energy and temptation. With magic and decadence.

We made our way to a roped-off area where couples wearing enchanted mistletoe crowns mingled and danced. Throbbing music poured from hidden speakers, providing an insistent tempo for the sea of writhing bodies.

A vampire and satyr twirled past, their crowns blazing like miniature suns. His fangs grazed her neck as they moved to the music’s sensual rhythm. She moaned, loud enough to draw appreciative whoops from the crowd.

I swallowed hard, acutely aware of Laramie shifting beside me. What would happen if we tried on those crowns? Would they burst into flames? Short-circuit the entire system?

Would that be enough to convince her to stay?

“Well, well,” a familiar voice purred. “Look who decided to join the naughty list.”

I stiffened and turned to find Devlin sauntering toward us. She wore gauzy layers of black styled into something vaguely resembling an ancient priestess. A circlet of thorny branches and florals rested atop her bare head, another prop meant to evoke goddess vibes.

“Devlin,” I greeted flatly. Maybe I should work to bury the hatchet; her appearance worked better than a cold shower. “Quite the spectacle you’ve put together.”

She smiled, and it reminded me of a shark circling its prey. “Only the best for Shadow Daddies’ user base. Surely you haven’t forgotten how important keeping our customers happy is.”

My hand dropped possessively to Laramie’s lower back. Devlin’s yellow eyes flickered to the gesture, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“Love the dress, darling,” she told Laramie with poorly disguised cattiness. “Though a bit conservative for the Bad Santa theme, don’t you think? We do encourage guests to embrace their wild side.”

Anger simmered in my gut, and I let off a warning growl. “That’s enough, Devlin. She looks perfect.”

Devlin’s eyebrows shot up. To her credit, Laramie didn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, she seemed to grow several inches taller. Her chin jutted out defiantly as she leveled an unimpressed look at Devlin.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Devlin’s grin turned predatory. She reached into her cleavage—because of course she did—and pulled out a key card. “In case you decide to be a little naughty. The view is... spectacular.”

I ignored the key. Devlin shrugged and tucked it into my jacket pocket anyway.

“Enjoy the party.” She winked and sashayed away.

As Devlin disappeared into the crowd, Laramie let out a shaky breath. “Well, that was...”

“Infuriating?” I supplied.

“I was going to say ‘intense,’ but yeah, that works, too.” She laughed, the sound sending warmth blooming in my chest. “Come on, let’s see what other ‘innovations’ they’ve cooked up for the wild side.”

We didn’t get more than three steps before a vendor materialized before us, brandishing a tray of shimmering, ruby-red shots.

“Care to sample Santa’s Secret Sauce?” she asked, gesturing to the glasses. “It’ll put you in the mood for a very merry Christmas.”

“We’ll pass,” I said, steering Laramie away from the vendor’s disappointed pout.

But the temptation crept up the back of my neck. How easy it would be to blame the drink, the atmosphere, the magic in the air. To taste those lips again...

From the way Laramie’s eyes followed the tray, I suspected she thought the same thing.

We found ourselves in a relatively quiet corner, away from the main crush of revelers. Dark, glittering snowflakes hung from the ceiling, casting shimmering patterns across plush velvet curtains. A curved bench beckoned, offering a modicum of privacy.

“You seem remarkably at ease,” I observed, unable to keep the hint of amusement from my voice. “Not quite what I expected from someone who hates the holidays.”

Laramie shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m doing my job, Mr. Mavridis?—”

“Kotos, please,” I insisted.

“Kotos,” she conceded, and the sound of my name on her lips made my blood run hot. “Tonight, that job requires me to attend a party for a dating app. I’m not here to pass judgment, but to figure out how to sell such experiences to our own user base.”

Our user base.

Anyone else, and I’d be snarling about ownership and ultimate responsibility. I’d fended off Devlin’s threats and climbed over other competition to the top. No one laid a claim on what I built.

No one but the one I built it all for. No one but my mate.

Her gaze drifted to two orc males with a woman sandwiched between them in a similar alcove, only partially hidden. Both men gripped the woman’s ample curves, dipping and kneading. And judging by the blissful expression on her face, they were doing a fine job.

Laramie’s cheeks blazed hot, and I caught the slight hitch in her breath. Even more telling, though, was the scent of her arousal. A honeyed aroma that cut straight through me, making my slacks suddenly tighter.

Fuck, that was hot.

Her eyes met mine. “Besides, who am I to judge what consenting adults do for fun?”

Unable to resist, I trailed a finger along the delicate curve of her collarbone. Laramie shivered, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before snapping back to mine.

“But fraternizing is out of the question?” I murmured, leaning in close enough that my breath stirred the loose strands of hair framing her face.

Laramie swallowed hard, her throat working in a way that made me want to trace it with my tongue. “My career is important to me.”

I arched an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

“After last year... It’s all I have, really. And I’m reluctant to give someone control over it, beyond my job performance.” She sighed, some of the fire leaving her eyes, and swirled a finger through the air. “You get it. You’re practically an empire unto yourself, and that tension with Devlin seems to go beyond mere business rivalry. ‘Old time’s sake,’ and all that.”

Ah. There it was.

I leaned back, suddenly feeling every one of my centuries. “That,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Is a long and rather unpleasant story.”

“Somewhere else you need to be?” she teased. “I thought this was your job too, Mr. Mavridis.”

I studied her for a moment, weighing how much to reveal. It wasn’t something I talked about openly. Ever. But something in her eyes—open, curious, free of judgment—made me want to bare my soul.

I took a deep breath, letting the memories surface. “Devlin and I met in a tech incubator program years ago. We were both passionate about creating a dating app that would bridge the gap between humans and monsters.”

Laramie’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

“Devlin was brilliant with code. We worked well together, at first. Long nights debugging, arguing over user flows.” I clenched my jaw. “She wanted to push boundaries, make it edgier. When I refused, things got ugly.”

“She didn’t take that well?”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “No. For her, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d gotten the idea that we would be a power couple and take the matchmaking world by storm.”

Gods, that night still hung around my neck like a millstone. The hurt in her eyes turning to fury. Papers flying. Accusations of theft and threats of legal action. The sound of shattering glass as all the windows in the building broke with a single shriek.

“But I couldn’t be who she wanted,” I admitted. I reached out again, brushing a finger against Laramie’s shoulder. “Because she isn’t my mate.”

There. I said it. Out loud. Finally.

Laramie’s breath hitched. I watched her intently, tracking the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Your... mate.”

“Minotaurs can only reproduce with our one perfect match—one person in all the world who completes us on every level. And when we find them...” I trailed off, lost for a moment in the memory of my parents. The way they’d looked at each other, even after all their long years together. “It’s unlike anything you can imagine.”

“That’s why you’re the last,” Laramie said softly. “Because the odds of finding that one person...”

I nodded, a familiar weight settling on my shoulders. “It’s why I value my privacy so highly. The expectations, the constant scrutiny, everyone wondering if they’ll be the one to spark my interest... and part of me wondering the same. Easier to keep it locked away on the other side of a very tall, thick wall.”

“With your employees scattered to the winds and limited to email communication,” Laramie added wryly. “Keeping everyone at arm’s length. Never getting too close.”

She saw right through me. “But not tonight.”

“How does a minotaur know?” The soft glow of the fairy lights caught the gold flecks in her green eyes, making them sparkle like emeralds. “When they’ve found their mate?”

The pulsing music faded to a distant throb as I studied her face. The curve of her lips. The flutter of her pulse at her throat. Every instinct screamed at me to close the distance. To claim her lips with mine and show her exactly how a minotaur recognized his mate.

“It’s... instinctual,” I said, voice dropping to a low rumble. “A pull so strong it’s impossible to ignore. You can feel it in your bones.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “What else?”

“Scent is part of it,” I confessed, leaning in to skim the tip of my nose up the column of her neck. “They smell... irresistible. Like everything you’ve ever wanted wrapped in sunshine.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and I stifled a groan. Gods, the things I wanted to do to that mouth.

“Touch,” I added. I traced a finger along her wrist, feeling her shiver. “Even the smallest contact feels electric.”

She exhaled unsteadily, her eyes never leaving mine. “And?”

“And...” My thumb circled her palm, and she gave a breathless sigh. The mate bond thrummed between us, demanding action. “When did you last check your email?”