By the Horns
By
Jeanette Lynn
Copyright © Jeanette Lynn 2018
Thank you for purchasing and downloading this e book.
It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and or distributed for commercial or noncommercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase and download their own copy.
Thank you for your support.
Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked ownership of all trademarks and word marks mentioned in this book
Please Read Before You Proceed
Warning
This book contains explicit sex scenes, foul language, woolly bully beast men of the Minotaur persuasion, a plucky heroine that just won’t give up, dubious consent, light bondage, graphic violence, torture, ménage scenes, intended for readers 18 and older.
Note from the author:
This story is not a fluff-fest in the sense not everyone gets a neat, tidy happily ever after with a pretty bow on it. The characters, like real people, make mistakes, don’t always do or say the right thing.
If looking for a big dose of the happy feels for everyone is what you’re looking for, this may not necessarily be the story for you.
I don’t normally put dedications in books. Here’s me giving it a shot?
To my Neanderthal. You’re a butthole. Yeah, I just put that in a book, buddy. Bahahaha!
Love you, sweet cheeks, to the moon and back.
To all my fellow pod peeps and readers who get my nerdalicious, totally geeky, goofy, sometimes crude, humor, you keep the Lynndom spinnin’. From the bottom of this glitter sparkly, Monty P coated, Trek lovin’, Star Wars quotin’ heart, thank you for giving this nutty gal and my books a chance.
Shout out to my fellow wooly bully Minotaur author buddies.
You ladies rock, and you know it. Mwah!
To the best beta readers ever. Wonder P, my Dragonlady, Nana J, all of you, you’re the best of the best, pure awesomesauce! With cheese! I appreciate you!
Table of Contents
Please Read
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
More by
CHAPTER ONE
LOCATION-
Tsiamuun, third planet from the largest moon, smallest planet in the tiny solar system bordering Oberon’s belt.
Oberon’s belt—the galactic version of the Bermuda Triangle.
Durmad, a tiny village bordering Poseidon’s Rim, just north of The Hollows, south of Davill’s Arzhe.
My palms were sweaty, thick fingers adjusting the strap on my bag yet again. If I did it up any tighter, knotted it any farther up, I might break it. I couldn’t seem to stop fiddling about with the blasted thing! Yet I had no desire to lose the cumbersome burden in my descent as I climbed back down the tree.
“They’re coming,” I informed the shadow at the base of the giant, charcoal grey Hofen—a spike-coned conifer with bitter black needles, Devil’s needles, that caused one’s flesh to inflame if a poor sap was unlucky enough to get jabbed by one. Hofen were common around these parts.
It was late, the celebration had long ended, the rites had been said and the real festivities had begun. The chanting, sounds of splashing and screeching—thanks to Barron’s suggestion of a purity baptism—like that would somehow help?—had stopped at least an hour ago. Now all that was left was the echoing roar of an angry beast and his- Well, the village’s scapegoat’s cries, muffled from a distance, coming from opposite directions.
Soon, I thought, with no small amount of trepidation.
The beast’s thunderous roars, much closer to me than the poor, unwilling, chosen bride at the moment, as I sat perched quietly in my hiding spot next to the labyrinth, waiting, made my skin itch.
Enough of that now, I told myself, shaking myself out as if to rid my soul of the creature’s trumpeting, angry protests.
Where are they…?
Ah.
I saw before I heard. The Minotaur’s bride was sobbing softly, her hands tied behind her back, feet dragging as the hooded males assigned the honor of escorting her to the labyrinth carted her towards her fate like chattel.
Her feet slipped as she tried to dig her heels in, her soft slippers leaving track marks behind, dirtying the hem of the flowing white gown they’d fought her into. Her efforts were halfhearted at best. She was tired, and clearly worn down. Pain started at the back of my eyes, seeing the fight leaving her. She knew there was no way out—she was starting to accept her lot in this wretched life.
Hold on, Vetra...
Barron and Vartok, the more pompous, vocal of the village Elders, watched impassively as their personally selected minions, decked out in blood red ceremonial robes, did their bidding.
Remi and Tomas, I guessed, were the cloaked minions in question, based on the heights and shoulder breadths of the red garbed guards, the heavier, squat one limping slightly. Tomas, a supposed friend of the family and childhood playmate, was the shorter of the two.
Traitors, I thought with a spiteful twist of my lips. I’d slit all their throats without a backwards glance, had I the opportunity, the blaggards. They made me sick, the whole lot of them.
My hand slid to the rope belt I’d fashioned for my borrowed pants, fingering the knife at my waist. They were too big, these wide legged beasts, the bottoms rolled up and tucked into my boots, and my pilfered knife, secured between the ring of too soft flesh hanging around my middle, the long shirt I’d donned keeping my poor excuse for a weapon from pressing into my flesh, and the band of my pants. The blade was so dull I wondered if it could even slice through bread. Better than going about this emptyhanded, but by how much?
Pants. Such a foreign concept for a lady. I couldn’t say I’d ever been bold enough to wear a pair before—as it was generally frowned upon but not necessarily unheard of—but regretted the fact I’d waited so long.
I mean, there was the village and their backwards ways, and the chance they’d label me a witch and try to burn me at the stake, you know, over pants. Lovely people and their lovely, isolated, small minded ways of thinking.
Hmm. Even have pockets. So much easier to get around in, I observed, swishing my bottom this way and that. Should have made myself a pair of my own, but time and money weren’t exactly on my side.
My companion, off to my left and slightly behind me, made a gruff, strangled noise in his throat.
Shit. Whoops! Sorry, Thess. I’d completely forgotten he was there.
B
efore I could even think to apologize, something was going on up ahead, and my mind switched gears, the commotion catching my undivided attention
Barron said something to Vartok that had the grey-haired fool chuckling, his gap toothed grin pulling wide, pale face creased with good humor. Did they think this some casual after dinner stroll about the caverns? They were going to sacrifice somebody, gods help us all!
Jaw clenching, I glared at the backs of Barron and Vartok’s balding heads as they rounded the path, trotting along at a leisurely pace. No masks for them. They cared little for what anyone else thought so long as they were given their way. They’d yet to find a naysayer they couldn’t easily dispose of. The old coots thought themselves invincible.
Did they think this all amusing? It wasn’t bad enough they’d thought to trap the creature, they had to trap someone in there with it? To what purpose, I had to ask the heavens, tipping my face towards the sky, barely banked rage suffusing me.
There was no point trying to plead my case to the Elders, they couldn’t have cared less what some silly female thought. I had no voice, no choice. And the heavens? If there were gods, they heard me not. Never a day had passed that a prayer of mine had come to pass and suddenly been answered. Not a once.
I didn’t care what cock and bull the aging relics playing gods themselves in this tiny shit poor excuse of a shit stain had come up with, ancient rituals and mystical nonsense, forsaken gods seeking revenge and all that gobbledygook. Plain and simple, the weather had slowly been changing for years. The winters had steadily grown colder, the summers hotter, until the crops froze or burned up in the sun, the lands growing barren. The villagers with more than rocks tumbling between their ears packed up and headed for more promising pastures.
From the smell of the menial crop my father had managed to scrounge up for the four measly cows he had left, at first smell at harvest it stunk like rot had already taken hold.
Rot—that’s what this place was doing, rotting before our eyes. Wouldn’t be long and there’d be nothing left—people, animal, or otherwise.
There had to be a real, actual explanation, not some gods and prophecies nonsense.
This gods forsaken lump of fetid dirt was a vast wasteland. The ground looked like something was literally sucking it dry of life. Our little slice of world, it was being... depleted.
A masculine chuckle, a feminine scream, I couldn’t see what was going on, but anger swiftly seeped into me. They weren’t even trying to make this any easier on her. I’d say they were enjoying torturing Vetra.
Rage, deep, malevolent rage filled me, bubbled over, until I was standing there visibly seething, trembling angrily, contemplating finding a large rock to rush them and bash their heads in with.
Did picking on a defenseless female make them feel more manly? Big and important? If only I was given the chance, oh, I’d show them.
If I’d the time, I’d hunt them down and gut them one by one like the heartless pigs they were. Tomas had seemed to fancy Vetra, once upon a time. Where was that affection now? As he dragged her off. Heartless swine. No, that was wrong, it was offensive to pigs.
My eyes narrowed as they popped back into my line of sight. Vetra gasped and stumbled, wincing as her foot caught on her gown’s hem. Her cheek was red, the wide imprint of a hand across her cheek.
The boys must’ve slipped up and she’d made a run for it.
Good girl, Vet. Give ‘em hell.
Hefting her back up fast like she was a rag doll, Tomas, never a coordinated sort, gripped her forearm, muttering something to her too low for me to overhear, yanking her along.
My fingers gripped the large boulder we’d chosen to hide behind, sticker bushes and rushes we’d pulled to pile up on top of others, masked to better blend us into the natural foliage offering us privacy.
“Be at the ready,” I whispered to my companion and long time friend, who sidled up behind me, watching as Vetra and her escorts disappeared inside. “We won’t have much time.” Gods, my fingers clenched, how I wished we had a bit more time.
“Adi...” Thessen hesitated. I could feel him fidgeting behind me, his wide chest pressing almost uncomfortably close, his heartbeat, pounding wildly, thundering into my back. He knew something was off, he just didn’t know quite what. And while not the bravest of sorts, he’d followed me into the abyss anyway.
His overlarge body fidgeted horribly. He was nervous. Why wouldn’t he be? If we failed, Vetra might not survive the night—and we most certainly wouldn’t.
“Just be ready,” I muttered, turning, our shoulders brushing as I pressed past him.
I shouldn’t be mad at him. Now wasn’t the time for such things. And he was helping me. More than helping me, and he had no clue just how much I’d dare to put on him, but he’d know soon enough.
I had to keep telling myself if he hadn’t held his tongue at the men’s meeting, the one to decide if there was to be an unlucky winner in a lunatic’s lottery, a sacrifice for the supposed mythical creature they’d managed to trap in some wild scheme to appease false deities, they might have removed him too, and then where would I be? Doing this all on my own, no one to do the heavy lifting, no forewarning to plan.
The Elders had acted too hastily, eager to finish their proposed, horrid idea, leaving me no time to try and make off with their chosen bride.
Maybe it was horrible of me to think of Thess in such an unfavorable way, just another set of hands—and very strong ones at that, if not exactly coordinated—but Father did say I could be a cold little viper at the best of times, a right demon when provoked. I’d admit I was one to hold a bit of a grudge.
Visions of my once-lover slaughtering the lot of them in my name had danced through my head—which was silly, really—naught but a dream—but I’d wanted a savior, unwavering loyalty and protection. I had to snort at the idea. From a man who could barely wield a hoe in the field, let alone a sword... hah!
You always were a bit of a romantic, Adne.
True.
An unstable one with fantasies of a knight charging in to slay my demons, then sauntering up covered in gore, a bloodied axe over one shoulder, ready to claim his prize.
Also true.
Marauding butcher, Thess was not.
While he couldn’t be my knight in shining armor, he was a rescuer and protector of a sort by dint of his own nature, which made him the perfect pick for my plans. A nurturer, that one was, not a life ender.
“Adne?” Thessen’s boots crunched, trampling underbrush, the sound trailing off behind me. Stumbling, he tumbled into me, mumbling an apology as he struggled to right himself.
He’d been only a few steps away from me at all times since they’d called Vetra’s name. Had he known and kept mum, allowing me to hear her name announced by the Elders instead of slipping from those thick, wide lips I’d once acquainted myself with intimately? I was still too mad to ask. He’d seemed as shaken as I was when she was announced and then promptly carted off, the village chosen one, but the question still nagged.
Chosen for a creature? This half man, half monster? Why did they feel the need to trap the being in the caverns in the first place? The veritable fortress was a labyrinth, this stone mountain, literally. They should have just let it, that bellowing beast, lumber back into the dark forest where it had come from in the first place, no sacrifices, no trapped beast men.
The Hollows was a haven for the dark and mysterious, let it welcome him into its embrace and do what it would, I say.
But they’d insisted! This was the way of it. The gods had answered. It was a sign, a promise of fruitful harvests to come, should they continue the old ways. Bullshit—all of it. Complete and utter codswallop.
“Don’t see any of them lining up to be the beast’s sacrifice,” I muttered under my breath, slowly moving around the back, quietly creeping along the rocks. Then again, if what Gus Masters was drunkenly babbling about was anything to go by, unless the Minotaur preferred the companionship of males, sho
uld he be in a frisky, less murderous mood, the town’s menfolk would have proved useless.
Women, always getting the short end of the stick.
Thinking of the slew of small dicked men inhabiting these parts, I thought with a derisive snort, my statement was true in so many ways it almost hurt.
“Riadne?” It took a moment for Thess to realize, still watching the mouth of the tunnel Vetra had just been dragged through dazedly, I’d already moved on.
Catching up, until his tall form was hovering over mine, practically breathing down my neck, he muttered my name quietly.
Thessen grunted then, when my name went unanswered, the sound of our packs rustling on his back pricking my ears. Practically plastering himself against my back, he leaned in even closer. “Riadne, did you say something?”
Of course I hadn’t, we both knew. What was he playing at?
My skin prickled, memories assailing me. His breath was warm on my neck. There were other parts of him that were warm, very warm, I knew, parts I had full knowledge of, could close my eyes and picture if I tried. But it hadn’t been me he’d remember, thinking of those times, would it? It wasn’t my name he’d cried out that last time as he’d reached his peak. Shaking my head, I brushed it, all of it, and him, aside.
It didn’t matter. What’s done is done.
“This way. Come along now. It’s just ‘round this way.” I didn’t bother looking back, there was no point. I’d lead, he’d follow. “And be quieter, would you,” I hissed, “they might hear you.”
Making my way farther around the back, the rock face to my left leading the way, I knew the stone I was looking for, had memorized it by feel.
Two protruding, jagged pieces with a dip in the middle, just like... a set of horns. I had to shake my head, but that’s exactly what came to mind. Oh, the irony, I thought with disdain. My hands smoothed over the craggy, crumbling pile of boulders, my light, guiding my way, in the dark.
By the Horns Page 1