Chapter 36

Shay

My heart pounds with fury. Circe stands there in front of Jayce provocatively, her nakedness a desperate ploy to regain his affection or in a pathetic attempt to make me believe he’s cheating.

My fists clench at my sides. Anger boils within me. The overload of emotions threatens to snuff out my sanity.

It’s all too much. The things I can’t give Jayce, my sperm donor’s arrival, a twisted man who believes he owns me, my real parents not knowing I’m not their blood child, and the long line of women Jayce shoved his dick inside.

I’ve endured the crap show that is my life long enough. Add Circe’s games and I’m at my breaking point. This blatant display of manipulation is my last straw.

I surge forward, my movements fueled by an instinct to protect what’s mine. To defend Jayce from Circe’s misguided advances .

With a guttural cry, I launch my entire body at Circe, my every muscle coiled with pent-up rage.

My nemesis’ eyes widen in shock as my onslaught descends upon her. Circe’s attempts at defense are laughable against the ferocity of my assault.

I rain blow after blow upon Circe—each strike propelled by the full force of weeks of pent-up fury.

Circe’s not helpless. With a swift motion, she dodges my wild swings before delivering a sharp kick to my abdomen, momentarily knocking the wind from my lungs. The kick sends me stumbling backward. My vision swims with pain, fueled by rage. I gasp for breath.

I refuse to yield to this beotch. My determination to put her in her place burns brighter than ever.

I roar as if my animal is finally awake.

I lunge back at her, my movements controlled by a renewed sense of purpose.

Punch after punch, I pummel Circe relentlessly. In my mind, I’m not just fighting Circe. It’s Daphne, Maria, Penelope—all of his sweet butts.

My fists are a blur of motion. I fight to vanquish the taunts of every one of the beotchs who dared touch my mate.

Despite Circe’s desperate attempts to turn the fight in her favor, my resolve proves unyielding .

With a final, decisive strike, I send Circe’s naked body crashing to the ground, the impact echoing through the park like thunder.

With both of us bloodied and bruised, I stand over this woman who made herself my adversary, heaving with exertion.

A profound sense of relief washes over me. Though the scars of our encounter are permanent, I know I’ve faced my demons and emerged the winner.

I turn away from Circe’s defeated form into Jayce’s waiting arms.

His arms hold me tightly with no words necessary. Circe’s scheme failed to plant doubts about Jayce’s devotion to me. It did the opposite. Standing there seeing her naked body coming on to him and the look of revulsion on his face sealed my trust in him—in us.

While his hands rub my back, our legs shake as a tremor rips through the ground. A force strong enough to crack the cement under our feet.

Scattered bottles rattle. Birds wake from their slumber and scatter from the trees in alarm.

From the depths of the marsh surrounding us like a cocoon, emerges an army of twelve towering figures, their forms partially shrouded in the lingering shadows of the rides, highlighted by the moon’s rays.

As they draw nearer, the unmistakable silhouette of Minotaurs becomes apparent. Their massive frames tower above many of the roller coasters nearby.

Each step they take seems to bounce through the clearing, their hoof feet leaving hints of imprints in the concrete. A sight for bigfoot or paranormal hunters.

The rhythmic thud of their approach creates an unsettling atmosphere amongst our group. Like a foreboding drumbeat signaling their arrival.

With every stride, the Minotaurs exuded an air of power and dominance, with their muscular torsos rippling beneath fur-covered hides, horns glistening menacingly under the stars.

I’ve been so focused on the giants in front of me I hadn’t noticed Jayce moving us back toward the others.

As they draw closer and step fully into view, one of them shakes a six-foot alligator from his forearm as if its powerful jaw held on with the strength of a mosquito bite. Did they walk through the swamp to get here?

Jayce and the other men stand ready to shift if they’ve come for battle instead of to honor the ceremony.

Jayce lets out a long exhale as the formidable figures of Minotaurs seem to blur and shift, their forms contorting and reshaping until they stand before all of us not as mythical beasts—at least what I believed mythical until a few months ago—but as men. Naked men.

As men, they appear almost sickly. Their bodies lack the muscle and power the men in my herd carry effortlessly.

They stare at us with piercing gazes. Each with an expression of anger and hatred.

Though their outward appearance changed, the energy that emanated from them moments before still lingers, a reminder of the otherworldly power that lay ready to strike on a whim.

A tense silence settles over Jazzland, broken only by the bellow of the gator tossed aside, watching from the shadows.

Off to the side, Circe pulls her clothes on.

I scan the group, trying to determine which one is my sperm donor. The smell of the marsh coating their bodies makes it impossible to determine who he is based on his similarity to Cill and me.