Chapter 6

Despite my earlier comment about using all the hot water, it didn't run out during my shower, even though it may have been the longest one I've ever taken. I've always done my best thinking in the shower. Not this time. There's too much crowding my brain. I can't imagine how shriveled I'd be after a shower long enough to sort through everything I've learned since arriving.

My texts to Ro didn't prove helpful, either. She answered my first message immediately, relieved that I'm awake, mentally sound, and sticking around to be her maid of honor. As soon as I changed the subject to Constantine's "you're my fated mate" confession, the conversion changed. Ro sent a big-eyes emoji, followed by a shrug emoji, said we'd talk about it in person tomorrow, then ghosted me.

Talking tomorrow would be fine if I weren't bunking here. Sure, I could hide out in my bedroom for the rest of the night. I don't have to join him in the kitchen. I'm hungry, but I'm not going to die if I go without eating for one night. If I didn't want to seem totally rude, I could text him and say I'm going to bail on food because I'm exhausted. A reasonable excuse.

That'd only buy me tonight. Tomorrow's Saturday. It's possible he doesn't work on the weekend, or he took the day off to be a good host. What am I going to do if he's out there in the morning? Hole up in my bedroom until Ro finds time to come rescue me? And rescue me from what? Someone who seems perfectly nice and totally accommodating?

Not just nice and accommodating. He's a hunky Minotaur who thinks I'm his fated mate. I may not feel the certainty of a fated-mates bond, but I do feel something. And lots of it. Attraction like I've never experienced—for a man who's not human. I knew there was a spark from the first time we talked on the phone. Our easy connection was a turn-on, even without knowing what he looked like. With each call, each minute spent talking, the connection grew. So did the sparks.

I came here planning to act on those sparks if opportunity presented. To break out of my overthinking mode and have some sexy-times fun during this two-week break from my plodding life.

Well, opportunity has certainly presented. Constantine didn't make a move on me, but the "you're my mate" thing should be an open invitation to get down to it.

Except I don't think it is.

I've never met a human male who'd balk at a quick fling with a predetermined expiration date. No-strings-attached, commitment-free sex is every human man's dream.

But Constantine isn't human. The concept of having one true, fated mate in a lifetime sounds like it has more strings than a marionette. More than a harp. Heck, a marionette playing a harp. And getting caught up in all those strings could make disentangling myself very difficult. Also, it wouldn't be fair to him.

So, decision made. No finding out if Constantine is massive all over. My body is going to have to keep on jonesing. I didn't pack my vibrator out of fear I'd be selected for some random luggage inspection. Maybe there's a sex-toy shop in town. That's a question I'm sure Ro will be happy to answer tomorrow. Tonight, I'm going to be a friendly houseguest. It's the least I can do.

Determined to appear more uninterested than I truly feel, I opt for sweatpants, a baggy hoodie, and fuzzy socks. No makeup. Hair in a loose, basic braid. This is the head-to-toe version of granny panties. If I were asked to label this look, I'd call it "man repellent" or "the attraction vaccine."

It's a short trek down the hall to an open-concept kitchen, dining, and living room area. Just like the guest room, everything in here is light, airy, and noticeably oversized. Monster sized.

Constantine is leaning over a large, granite-topped island, focused on a flat-screen TV on the opposite side of the living room. The Sports Network. Apparently, some things are universally "guy," no matter their species.

His rapt attention on the highlight reels gives me a moment to check out this new-to-me backside view of him. He's still wearing the blue button-up shirt, only now the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His forearms are the thickest I've ever seen. There's something about a man with solid arms and rolled-up shirtsleeves. Constantine wins this category by a landslide.

Maybe the clothing here is magically enhanced, too. It must be, because the way his shirt is stretched taut across his unbelievably wide back would be too much strain for normal material and stitching. His long, dark hair lies in neat, shiny waves that end in a tidy line at shoulder-blade level. I shouldn't want to touch it, but tell that to my fingers, twitching at my sides.

There's a subtle V shape to his upper body, but only because his shoulders are so damn wide. He's definitely not thin at the waist. He's deliciously thick. The kind of body that could give protection or the world's best cuddle.

With how snug his jeans fit over what is undoubtedly a solidly muscled butt, the belt he's wearing must be for fashion, not function. And it works. It all works. So well, in fact, I'm a heartbeat from sneaking back to my bedroom to make use of my fingers and one of the extra-fluffy pillows while I mentally undress him in private.

Until he turns to face me. "I didn't hear you come in," he says, using the remote to turn off the TV without taking his attention off of me for a split-second. "Feel better after the shower?"

"All cleaned up and fresh. Head to toe and everything in between." I snap my mouth closed. So much for my decision to keep things platonic. I might as well have invited him to inspect my freshness, up close and all over. At least I'm dressed to un-impress. That'll save me from my uncontrollable, galloping libido.

Leaning back against the island, his gaze sweeps down and up my body. When his eyes lock with mine, he doesn't look unimpressed by my clothing choice or lack of fancying up. Heat swirls in his amber eyes. One of his bullish huffs follows, and this time, he doesn't apologize for it.

Likely because earlier, I all but told him the sound turns me on. Which it did. It does.

"Hungry?" His question could be literal or innuendo.

Either way, my answer is the same. "Starving."

"Let's get you filled up."

Yes, please. Fill me up, Constantine. Fill. Me. Up.

Squeezing my legs together does nothing to relieve the building tug of need. There's no hiding it from him, either.

His big, strong jaw ticks and he draws a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he undoubtedly catches the scent of my arousal. Tail flicking at his side, he pushes off from the granite and takes a step toward me. "Natalie." The deep, rumbling way he says my name sends another ripple straight between my legs.

"Yes?"

"I need you to know that no matter how much I crave you, and even when your body is crying out for me to claim you as my mate, I won't act until you tell me you want me."

I could play coy, tell him I don't know what he's talking about. But we'd both know it to be a lie. "I don't know what's happening to me. I'm a slow cooker at the best of times. I'm attracted to you, but I literally just decided it'd be best for us to remain platonic. I'm only here for a couple of weeks and I don't want things to get messy between us. Then I walked out here, checked you out, and bam, I'm heated to maximum. I'm ready to do all kinds of things I'd never do on a first date. And this isn't even a date; I'm just a guest in your house."

"You know you're much more than that. Attempting to deny or avoid it won't change what fate has in store for us, but we don't have to figure it all out here, now. How about we round up some food, kick back on the couch, relax, and get to know each other. No pressure for more. We can even make a mutual promise that it won't turn into more tonight."

"Even if I have a moment of weakness and tell you I want more?"

His dark lips curve into a warm smile that matches the affection in his eyes. "Even then."

"I'd like that. Very much."

"Good," he says, extending one arm toward the living room area while moving toward the kitchen cabinets, where he takes out a serving platter. "Go and get comfortable. I'll bring over a plate."

"Okay." The weight of his attention follows me while I peruse the seating options as if I were Goldilocks. "I don't want to take your favorite spot," I say, looking over at him. "Where do you usually sit?"

To my surprise, he points at one end of the large sectional. "There. But I don't mind switching it up. You might disappear in the divot I've made in that seat cushion, though."

It's so easy to laugh with him. "I'm not that small."

"Compared to me, you are." The flare of his nostrils is clear, even from across the room. He's thinking about our size difference in ways that have nothing to do with innocently sitting on the couch.

I know it because I'm thinking about it too. The size of his cock likely matches his big body, and if so, it's huge. He's sure I'm his mate, so sex must be possible. God help me, I want to find out. I have so many questions to ask Ro when I see her tomorrow.

Before the heat between us rises any higher, I turn away, then settle on the best part of any sectional sofa—the inner corner. The earthy-gray velour and pillowy cushions welcome me like an embrace. Fatigue rushes in, not overtaking my arousal entirely, but subduing it. If I close my eyes, I'll be out within seconds.

Not wanting to fall asleep, I shift to a more upright position as Constantine joins me. "Ooh, that looks amazing," I say, my empty stomach making itself known while I attempt to not drool at the contents of the large, wooden serving tray he places beside me.

"It's all yours. Dig in." The couch doesn't shift when he sits, but the depression of the cushion beneath him is definitely visible.

"How much do you weigh?" The question pops out of my mouth as it enters my head. "Sorry! That's too personal a question."

"Between us, there's no such thing. I'll tell you anything and everything you want to know." Again, the heat flickers in his eyes, as if he knows the particular things I was wondering moments ago. "To answer the question you asked, I'm around 180 kilograms. Just shy of 400 pounds."

Three times my weight. He'd crush me if he were on top. Only, I know he wouldn't, because he'd be careful while fucking me.

Stop thinking about him fucking you, Natalie!Especially while he's sitting right there!

Desperate to be something other than being horny for the horned Minotaur, I focus on the food. A selection of sliced meats and cheeses, crackers and quarter slices of some sort of grainy bread. Assorted cut fruits and raw vegetables. A wedge of paté with a spreading knife. Little bowls of dip. There are even pickles. Very specific pickles. In fact, everything on the platter looks deliberately selected.

Picking up one of the little green cornichons, I meet his gaze again. The pickle is crisp, tart, and sweet, and I can't help making an mmm noise when its flavor bursts in my mouth.

His smile widens. "Good?"

I lick my lips to catch any lingering juice. "Very. Those are my favorite kind of pickles. Did you take notes during our conversation about foods we like and dislike?"

The deep chuckle he makes might as well be his fingers on my clit. "No note-taking required. I remember every detail."

"Your memory is better than mine. I always have a notebook on the go—tabs for work projects, personal stuff, banking, etcetera. On top of that, I have online spreadsheets. Every aspect of my life has to go in a list or a spreadsheet. I can't imagine how much I'd forget if I didn't record it all. I write everything down."

"I hope you left a lot of pages for your Fate's Falls section." He drapes one beefy arm along the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers nearly reaching my shoulder.

The serving tray on the cushion between us prevents me from subtly shifting closer. But I want to. Even though my hoodie would be in the way of skin-on-skin contact, I'm still tingly at the thought of feeling his touch.

I focus on the charcuterie board while I attempt to settle the flutter low in my abdomen. "I think Fate's Falls is going to need its own notebook." Unable to resist, I look at him from beneath the fringe of my eyelashes—and find him staring at me. "Is there a stationery or other store in town that sells pretty notebooks?"

"The notebook has to be pretty?"

"Of course." My body temperature is on the rise again, and it's not from the cozy sweats I'm wearing. The oversized, nondescript sweats I'm now regretting. I'm not the shapeliest woman around, but my body is decent enough, and I'm kinda wishing he could see it, even though we agreed tonight was just for relaxing and getting to know each other. It wouldn't hurt for him to get to know what I look like when I'm not hidden inside boxy fleece coordinates. Too late now.

"Yes, there's a store. Fae-vorite Things. It's downtown, near my coffee shop. Stationery, trinkets, lots of pretty things."

"Is it owned by a non-human?"

He nods. "A fairy named Flora."

"A fairy? For real?" Appropriately, or inappropriately, I'm gaping like a fish. "Does she have wings?"

"She does, yes."

"Is she tiny, like a butterfly?"

"No," he says, chuckling softly. "Pixies are small like that. Fairies are human-sized." He says it all as if it's totally normal. Which it is to him.

"Are there pixies here in Fate's Falls?"

"Several families of them. Quite a few fairies, too."

"Wow, that's…it's all so…" Completely unbelievable. But I'm hearing it from a Minotaur, which makes it as possible as anything. Still, I make a mind-exploding gesture and kaboom sound, at which he chuckles again—a sound that makes me smile. "I can't wait to see it all."

"And I can't wait to show you everything."

Warmth washes through me as he looks into my eyes. I should be making these plans with my cousin, not him. I'm here for Ro, not to play fake dating your alleged Minotaur mate with Constantine. Except, it wouldn't be fake. And every minute I'm with him makes it feel less alleged.

His smile widens while watching me line up three crackers, then layer each in production-line fashion, until they're perfectly equal mini towers of identical deliciousness. "How much trouble would I be in if I said you're cute?"

"Zero trouble. I never understood women who get bent out of shape by the word cute. Did your last girlfriend have a problem with it?" Now I'm the one whose mouth is going to get them in trouble. "Not that I'm comparing myself to anyone who's had girlfriend status."

"You shouldn't."

It's as if my stomach has a trap door. "Of course not," I say, returning the loaded cracker I'm holding to the tray.

His dark eyebrows draw together, his eyes flaming with intensity as his gaze focuses on the frown tugging my lips downward. He shifts, dropping his arm onto the seat cushions and capturing my hand, where it lies like a dead fish beside the serving tray. "You're my mate, Natalie. Whether you accept what fate chose for us or not, you will always be beyond comparison."

How sad is it that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me? A short time with this man, this Minotaur, is already proof I've dated nothing but duds until now.

Until now.Well, that thought sprang out pretty darn naturally. Is this the beginning of dating Constantine? Am I really going there while I'm here?

Not before we discuss the bigger issue. The one that goes way beyond dating.

"How long have you thought I'm your mate?" Attempting to make the moment more casual, I pluck a perfect cherry tomato from the platter and pop it into my mouth.

"I've known since I heard your voice. I was fairly certain when I saw your picture. And I've had a sensation in my chest since the first time Rosetta mentioned your name."

The tomato feels like a rock stuck in my throat. I pull my hand from his and beat my fist against my chest, choking the tomato down. "You're kidding about the ‘since you heard my name' part."

His gaze stays on my face as he makes a slight headshake. "I'll never lie to you, and I wasn't exaggerating."

"Did Ro know about all this ‘mate' stuff when she arranged for me to stay here?"

The dark-brown fur of his face makes blushing impossible, but the set of his mouth seems like an equivalent. "The accommodations were my idea. My offer of guest bedrooms to any of her family who could attend the wedding was sincere, but I was motivated by more than a sense of friendship or goodwill. I wanted you here. And no, I didn't tell her you're my mate at the time. Not until after you and I spoke on the phone. When I mentioned it to her after that, she suggested having you stay with a female friend instead of me."

"Why did she change her mind? And then change it back, obviously, since I'm staying here."

"She knows the intensity and permanence of a mate bond. She doesn't want you to get hurt emotionally, but agreed to let you stay at my house because she trusts me to take care of you." He grips the back of his neck and massages it with his big hand. "And because I pleaded with her."

My eyes go wide at that little truth nugget. "You pleaded with her? That's pretty intense, you know. Like, red-flag intense." My heart's thumping a mad beat against my ribs and I swear the temperature in the room just rose five degrees. "Why am I not seeing red flags?"

"Because you feel our mate bond, even if your conscious mind hasn't accepted it yet." What should be a ballsy statement holds no cockiness whatsoever. It doesn't sound irrational, either.

Maybe the magical aspect of this town is affecting my ability to think logically.

"I can tell you're unsettled," he says. "What can I do to ease your mind?"

"I'm not sure that's possible with everything I'm trying to digest." I smooth my hand over my forehead and crown, then slide my fist down my damp braid with a subtle tug, attempting to snap myself out of whatever this is. It doesn't work. The feelings, wild as they are, refuse to be broken. "Okay, explain to me how you're so sure I'm the one."

"I just know. That's how it is with Minotaurs. But that's not the real question you want answered, is it. You want to know why you think I might be right." He's so calm, seemingly at complete ease with this conversation.

"Maybe," I hedge.

Smiling, he offers me his hand, palm up.

I don't hesitate. Placing mine on his is automatic, and I gasp the instant we touch. His hand is warm, firm, soft. The sensation of his fingers closing around mine is electric, but also soothing. My body temperature rises with each second of contact, but it's not just arousal. It's lightness, comfort, excitement, and calm, all at once. More than a physical response. There's a connection.

The amber of his eyes shines brighter than before. "You feel it."

"I feel something, but I already knew I felt something for you. I'm not seeing a ‘this is your mate' banner light up in my head. Is that how it is for you?"

The soft lighting casts a shimmer on his dark hair as his body shifts while silently chuckling. "There's no flashing banner. Nothing that literal or tangible."

I give him the single-raised-eyebrow expression. "You're suggesting I should embrace the woo-woo?"

This time, his chuckle is audible. Deep. Super sexy. "If that's the same as relax and be open to possibilities instead of searching for answers, then, yes."

"The woo-woo, like I said. Totally my parents' schtick; it's just never been mine." A smile tugs at my lips, then I exhale and let my eyelids flutter closed. "Okay, here goes." Taking a deep breath through my nose pulls his scent into my lungs, my head. Earthy, masculine, virile. Warmth flows through me like a gently rippling wave. My skin tingles and a soft, golden glow brightens the insides of my closed eyelids. It's like being immersed in pure energy. And he's there. Not as a picture in my mind, as a presence. I feel like I could touch him…

"You're reaching for me."

"No, I'm not," I say, opening my eyes. "See? I haven't moved."

"You heard that?"

"Of course I did. I had my eyes closed, not my ears."

"You wouldn't have heard it with your ears, Natalie. I didn't say the words out loud."

"Bullshit." I yank my hand back to clap it over my mouth. "Sorry, that's probably offensive because of your, um, heritage. God, saying that probably made it worse."

The deep laugh I remember from our phone conversations rumbles from him. Then he shifts position, moves the serving tray to the coffee table, and gently removes my fingers from my face. "You're fine. No offense taken by any of it. Minotaurs share history with bulls, just as humans do with primates. Would you be offended if I used the term ‘apeshit'?"

"No, I'm not a psycho," I say, smiling as tension loosens its grip on my shoulders. Questions about the origins of the other non-human residents in town pop into my head, but I push them aside to make room for more important things. "I distinctly heard you say ‘You're reaching for me.' Your voice was crystal clear. You must have said it out loud."

"I didn't. My word to the gods, Natalie."

"Then how? I'm not a mind reader."

"But you are my mate."

"And mates can read each other's minds?"

"Not all mates, but some."

"I don't want anyone knowing what I'm thinking all the time. Have you been reading my mind since I got here?" My face feels hot enough to burst into flames. "Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" I pinch my eyes closed and mentally repeat one word over and over in my head: Pickles. Pickles. Pickles.

"Natalie," he says, softly laughing. "I don't know what you're thinking."

"You're sure?" I crack one eyelid open. "You promise?"

"Yes, and yes, one hundred percent. Plus, it was you who heard my thought, not the other way around."

"Oh shit, you're right. I don't think I want that kind of power." Still, I can't resist closing my eyes and trying again. Several deep breaths later, all I have is a calmer heart rate. "I don't hear anything now. And it doesn't feel like you're in my head."

He's smiling at me when I open my eyes. "Because I'm not. The first time, I opened myself to you so the mate bond could flow between us. You did more than accept it, you moved into it. Picture opening a door and walking into my mind. It's sort of like that. Though, you hearing my thought was unexpected."

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea I was invading your privacy like that."

"You weren't. I welcomed you there. I always will." Taking my other hand, he gently caresses both while holding my gaze. Sparks skitter through me. Awareness and arousal immediately, then the other sensations return. "Do you feel it now, without closing your eyes?"

"Yes," I whisper, afraid to shatter the feeling by speaking louder. Like before, warmth floods me, wraps around me. And he's there, in my head, like a comforting presence. It's different than before, though. Looking into his eyes makes it extremely intimate. I hope he doesn't let go. Doesn't stop whatever he's doing to make this happen, because I never want this feeling to end.

But it does end, when my phone vibrates in my pocket at the exact moment Constantine's doorbell rings.

Groaning at the inevitable, I slide my hands out of his. "That has to be Ro."

"Did you ask her to come by?" he asks, rising from the couch.

I shake my head while checking my phone. Sure enough, there's a new text from my cousin.

Ro:

Dak and I are at the door. Thought you might appreciate some backup to reduce the awkwardness. Constantine is a great guy, but I know I should have waited for you to wake up before I took off. Sorry! Here now though! Let us in! Seriously, let us in. I can't wait for you to meet Dak. Don't be scared, okay? He looks like a brute, but I swear, he's really a big green teddy bear.

If she'd sent that message immediately, when I texted her before leaving the bedroom, I would've jumped at the offer. Now, I wish she'd stayed home. Sighing, I return the phone to my pocket and shrug my shoulders while looking up at Constantine. "Better answer the door. I'll go with you." My intention is to tag along behind.

He clearly has other ideas because he takes my hand to help me up, then keeps it.

"We really shouldn't be holding hands when we open the door," I say as we reach the entryway. "I don't want Ro to think we're together."

"She wouldn't disapprove."

"I agree." Stopped at the door, I wiggle my fingers free of his big, warm hand. "But she'd get her hopes up that I've agreed to be your mate, which would mean I'm staying in Fate's Falls."

"You are my mate, Natalie. That won't change if you decide to leave after your cousin's wedding."

After what I experienced with him, I really can't argue the "you are my mate" point. I felt it. I liked it. But declaring it is a lot of pressure, especially so fast. Even if I did, I'm not ready to make a decision about the rest of my life. Maybe it's a good thing Ro and her fiancé are here. If Constantine and I had continued down the path we were on, I probably would've agreed to be his fiancée before the end of the night. Part of me—a significantly sized part—thinks that would be the best thing ever.

"You didn't hear my thoughts just now, did you?" I ask, when he gently squeezes my hand before releasing it.

"No. I may never be able to, and for it even to be possible, you'd have to open yourself to me—mind, heart, and soul. That can't happen while you're feeling uncertain."

"Wait." Stopping him before he reaches for the door handle, I place my hand on his forearm. The short fur covering his thick muscles is soft beneath my fingers, and I can't resist stroking it. Is the fur on the rest of his big, solid body the same? I want to feel it all. Beneath my hands. Against my naked body. It could be raw physical attraction. I could be having some weird post-traumatic response thing. Or it could be that he really is the one I'm meant to be with.

Nothing about this makes sense. Does it have to, though? It's time I took a page out of my cousin's book, stopped overthinking, and just went with it. Rosetta found true love with a monster. Maybe I will too if I don't close myself off from the possibility. If I open myself to him the way he did with me.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, push my fears and doubts aside, and imagine myself opening a door, hoping he's on the other side. I'm certain I want you.

His deep rumble and sharp, bullish huff snap me back to where my mind needs to be. Heat blazes in his eyes. His nostrils flare wildly.

"Did it work with me touching your arm? Could you feel it?"

"Yes, Natalie, I felt it."

I shouldn't expect that he heard the thought I tried pushing toward him, but I'm disappointed that he didn't. "We better answer that," I say, when the doorbell goes off multiple times in succession. Unquestionably my cousin's doing. "The sooner we let Ro in, the sooner we can kick her out."

His body shakes with silent laughter. "I like the way you think."