by Danica Avet
It didn’t take her long to spot them. The bull was resistant, well, as resistant as he could be considering the little monster was leading him around by his nose. His tail swished angrily and foam dripped from his mouth. Izzy wasn’t a fan of drool, but she did feel sorry for the bull. Sighing, she strapped the pack to her back and secured it.
And here she thought she was going to be bored. Not even in camp for four hours and she was already on a rescue mission. Rescuing a cow, but still, it was better than twiddling her thumbs in her car.
She stretched her legs and eyed the distance between her and the bull. Yup, she could do it. No problem. She took off running.
* * * *
Grant grunted, wincing at the pull on his nose ring. The little psycho bitch guiding him slapped his snout. So pissed he was foaming at the mouth, he planned revenge. He’d shave all her hair off, smear her in honey, and leave her for the bear shifters to find. No, that wasn’t good enough. He’d tie her up in a room with his sisters for a week. Their constant drone would kill her.
He didn’t know who the bull-ball-eating woman was, but he’d wanted to cheer for her when she kicked the other women’s asses. She’d moved like a whirlwind, and other than one little “ouch” she hadn’t said a word. She was some kind of warrior, no doubt a Veilerian, though he couldn’t remember seeing any female warriors in these parts for years.
The nymph muttered something under her breath about plans going awry when sudden weight on Grant’s back made him rear, pulling at the ring the nymph held. He bellowed in pained fury as the little bitch spun around to get a better grip.
A long leg appeared, the foot attached to that leg landing in the nymph’s face with a sickening crunch. Grant didn’t care. The pressure on the ring had finally eased and he felt almost normal. Well, except for the long legs wrapped around his back.
Heels dug into his sides and long fingers grabbed his horns. “Giddy-up!” His “savior’s” husky voice shouted in his ears. “C’mon, bull! Get up and go! Those little bitches won’t be out for long and as much as it pains me to run from nymphs, I can’t promise they won’t lead you to your doom again.”
Grant shook his head, flinging the foam from his mouth and started walking towards his land. The crazy female on his back started singing “Home on the Range” at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t heavy, but he’d never had a woman riding his back…not in bull form anyway. They usually preferred to ride his cock, but he had a feeling this woman had no clue he was a minotaur.
Had to be a human woman. A crazy human woman with legs that went straight up to her neck. In spite of his sore nose, he breathed in the warm musk of female and roses. It seemed a strange scent for such a wild woman, but he liked it. He shook his head again. No, he wasn’t messing with any women he didn’t know ever again.
“Dude, if you don’t stop throwing your slobber at me, I really will castrate you,” she said, her voice filled with menace. Then, she patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Raging Bull, I won’t cut off your balls.”
He almost relaxed.
“Unless you piss me off.” She was quiet a moment, and then started talking again. “Those were some crazy bitches, LaMotta. Who knew nymphs could be so bloodthirsty? I mean, I probably just earned myself another year of exile by beating them up, but they were asking for it, weren’t they? You can’t just call another woman fat ass and expect to get away with it. Hell, if Saga had been here, we’d be ankle deep in nymph blood.”
Grant lowered his head, trying to make sense of her ramblings. She wasn’t a succubus because although she smelled great, he didn’t feel compelled to bed her. She couldn’t be a shifter because he’d smell her animal on her. She didn’t remind him of the other Veilerian races. He shook his head in thought.
“…sucks in the middle of nowhere,” she was saying. The woman sure could talk. “You play ‘Ain’t Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)’ one time and you’re exiled from your tribe for a year. Did I know that’s the song Queen Marina was dancing to when she booty-bumped her mate off a cliff? No, I didn’t know that. Did anyone tell me not to play that song? No! They just assumed I knew,” she muttered, her hands tightening on his horns. “And really, was it my fault that I hit reply all on that e-mail about Chief Snow and his shady past as an exotic dancer? No. It was an accident! Now I’m away from my tribe with a stupid bull who was being led to his slaughter by big-boobed nymphs.”
Grant stopped dead in his tracks. Amazon?
Chapter Three
Izzy dug her heels in again, not hard, just enough to tell the bull to keep going. She was surprised he hadn’t bucked her off the instant she sat on his back. He was the most docile bull she’d ever seen. Stupid, she corrected with a pitying look at his horns. He wasn’t docile. He was too stupid to live. Any other self-respecting beast would’ve gored the nymphs before letting them grab his ring.
She sighed, patting his big, stupid shoulder. Poor thing was probably just a stud that wandered away from his pasture. But then what had the nymphs wanted with him? They weren’t big meat eaters as far as she knew. Not to the point where they’d go out and catch their own steak. Something wasn’t quite right about those nymphs, but she’d think about it later, after she got the bull back to his pasture.
“Is this it?” she asked the bull, looking around with pleased surprise at the picturesque sight.
The house in the middle of the valley below was straight out of her dreams. One story of solid wood cabin, it was rustic and perfect. Low to the ground, it would be cool in the summer and easy to heat in the winter. Izzy would have expected the barn to be right next to the house for easy access during the winter, but to her surprise it was far away.
She hummed with curiosity. If it had been her land, she would have done the same simply so no one could sneak up on her. Buildings gave enemies cover to hide behind, so moving all structures further away and making the land around your house completely open provided them with nowhere to take cover.
The bull shook his head again, drawing her attention. “Oh, sorry. You probably want to go on home now,” she murmured, her eyes still on that land.
She’d never cared about owning land or her own home. Living with her tribe had been enough for her, but seeing how the Blood Maidens were her eighth tribe in fifty years…yeah, she wasn’t having much luck with the tribal living thing.
She sighed as she slid off the bull’s back. She was glad he wasn’t dead, even if he was the dumbest animal she’d ever seen. Slapping him on the hip, she said, “Go on home, stupid, and the next time some sweet-talking nymph comes around maybe you’ll stay away from her.”
With one last look at the house, Izzy turned and headed back the way they’d come. Maybe she’d look into property in the area. Maybe it was time to finally go it alone. Maybe Wyoming wasn’t so bad after all.
* * * *
Grant watched the Amazon walk away and nearly swallowed his tongue. She had no idea she was being observed by a shifter, so there was no reason for her to walk like that. His heart thudded in his chest. If he had to put music to that walk, it would go something like, boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom. Her hips rolled and her round ass twitched with every step. Without conscious thought, he shifted back to his human shape.
Her scent clung to him like a bur, enveloping him in musky rose. His cock went from soft to hard. He wanted that ass. In his human form, the woman was just a few inches shorter than he, which was impressive for a female. Her ponytail bounced with her every step. Her Mae West figure belied her strength, which only made her that much more attractive to him.
Grant padded after her, impervious to the snow under his bare feet. Her body sent out a mating call, and he definitely planned to answer it. Gods, he was pathetic, he thought as he let his dick point him in her direction. He’d just escaped from a bad situation with this woman’s help and here he was letting his libido lead him astray again.
“I think there’s a law somewhere about carrying concealed weapons,” her hus
ky voice said from the shadows of a tree. He saw the glint of metal and knew she’d pulled a knife.
He raised his hands in surrender, granting her a smile. “I’m unarmed.”
“Uh-huh.” She pointed at his cock with her knife. “And what do you call that?”
He looked down and up again. “Mr. Longfellow?” he said helpfully.
She snorted back a laugh, her head tilting back in surprise. “So you aren’t dumb.”
Grant frowned mightily, feeling anger uncoil in his chest. “Of course I’m not dumb.”
“Then why did you let a group of nymphs lead you around by your nose?”
Feeling vulnerable standing naked in front of her, Grant crossed his arms over his chest. She acted as though she wasn’t impressed by what she saw, but he knew that had to be an act. Women were always in awe of him and his cock. Always.
“We were going to have ourselves a little party,” he shot back with a smile.
She took a step forward, coming into the light. Grant swallowed hard. She wasn’t beautiful. Very girl-next-door with large brown eyes, an upturned nose, and full lips, she looked like she should be doing someone’s homework instead of carrying weapons around and kicking ass. Her gaze drifted over his chest which he couldn’t help but puff out for her perusal. When her eyes settled on his cock, Grant felt it swell.
“Jeez,” she said with a sad sigh. “You really are dumb.”
Incensed, he took a step closer. “The hell I am!”
She waved her knife at him. “Dude, didn’t it occur to you that nymphs can only have one lover, ever? Why would six women want to have sex with the same male when they’d have to share him for the rest of their lives if he even stuck around?”
Oh. Grant scratched the side of his nose. Shit, she was right. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course, all the blood had left his brain when the redhead grabbed his cock through his jeans. He said nothing though. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.
She smirked, her full lips pulling to the side. “It’s okay, you have testosterone poisoning.” She cocked her head to the side. “So why did you let me ride your back?”
When her lips formed the words “ride your,” his brain instantly tagged “cock” on the end of it. His body didn’t feel like his own and it was all because of her ass. He’d watched it walk away from him and became spellbound. Hell, he might even be in love with it. He wanted to bite it, wanted to mount and fuck her like the raging bull she’d called him. Sweat broke out along his hairline in spite of the frigid temperatures. He was probably steaming.
He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Because he was an idiot. “What do you think those nymphs wanted?”
It was her turn to shrug. “Maybe you stepped on their flowers, or dropped a cow patty in their territory. No telling with those crazy bitches.”
Grant almost snorted. She had a lot of nerve calling other women “crazy.”
“What are you doing out here?”
Her smile disappeared and her lips compressed into a tight line. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go.” She spun around and stomped away. “It was nice saving you, Raging Bull. Next time, though, your balls are mine!”
She was gone in seconds, leaving Grant alone with an erection the size of a baseball bat. Dammit. He stomped to his house, entering through the secret door that led directly to his bedroom. He needed sex and he needed to know who she was and when he would see her again. More importantly, he needed to know what her favorite position was, because he was going to keep her in it for hours.
* * * *
Izzy stormed back to the Black Dog Camp, not surprised to see the nymphs long gone. The idiotic minotaur deserved to be castrated, she grumbled as she glared at the lipstick smeared all over her SUV. Her hands fisted. She was going to kill them. Slowly.
Snarling, she climbed inside and settled in the backseat. She huddled in her blanket, pouting at the darkness. She hadn’t suspected the bull of being a minotaur, not once. Either she was slacking, or she’d been too distracted by her exile to pay attention. If she’d been on her game, then she might’ve realized there was something off about him. Instead, she’d been downright surprised by him, and she hated surprises.
When she’d heard a footstep behind her and whirled around to see a massive man with a small gold ring in his septum, she’d known.
Long blond hair had cascaded over his big shoulders, and dark blue eyes had gleamed at her in the darkness. He’d stood in the full moonlight, so she had plenty of opportunity to ogle him without him knowing. He had a face like an angel, the real kind, not a statue. Full, sensual lips that she’d wanted to lick and nibble. A strong nose with flared nostrils, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut, all paired with a massive body made for sex.
He was built like a prizefighter with broad shoulders, a heavily muscled chest and arms. Thick thighs that begged to be bitten had framed the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen in her hundred and fifty-one years.
She chuckled. Mr. Longfellow, indeed! More like Mr. You-Won’t-Walk-the-Next-Morning! He was hung like a…well, like a bull. Izzy snorted.
But day-um, the sight of his naked body against the moonlight darkness had left her with a very wet pair of panties. If Rosetta was here, she’d slap Izzy upside the head for thinking about sex when she should be learning “self-control.” Her chicks wanted her back home where she belonged. She didn’t have time for males, beautiful, large dicks or not.
Pillowing her head on her backpack, she closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the fire raging in her lower body. As soon as she cleaned the longhouse, she’d find BOB and take care of that particular itch. No man was going to interfere with her returning to her tribe. Oh, hells no.
Chapter Four
Grant groaned as sunlight penetrated his blinds. He really shouldn’t have sat down with that bottle of Wild Turkey last night. It had seemed the perfect way to end a piss-poor evening, but he regretted it this morning.
Shifting his limbs sent crushing waves of pain through his head. He didn’t even want to grab his poor skull for fear that it would burst if he touched it.
“Green isn’t a good color on you,” a husky voice said, sending shards of agony through his brain.
He managed to pry one eye open, squinting into the light to find the smart-ass. She stood leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed and one booted foot crossed in front of the other. In the sunlight, her skin was dusky as though she spent a lot of time outside. She wore a tight T-shirt that molded to her full breasts and a pair of cargo pants that emphasized the curve of her hips. His cock twitched beneath the sheet, drawing her gaze.
“Glad to see Mr. Longfellow isn’t bothered by your hangover.”
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he tried to ask, but the words came out garbled and raspy as though he’d been chewing nails all night.
She seemed to understand though. Big brown eyes settled on his face. She could have pulled off the innocent act except for the spark of battle in the dark, coffee-colored depths. “I thought I’d just make sure you didn’t fall in with a gang of pixies on the way home. And I came in through that doorway.” She pointed out the hidden entrance.
Grant closed his eyes, slumping back against his pillows. She was an Amazon. There was almost no way to keep them out of non-warded homes. He just hadn’t expected her to come back, especially when he wasn’t at his best. He gave a silent snarl.
“Wow, your nostrils flare when you’re pissed,” she said from much closer.
The scent of warm woman and roses drifted to him, setting his dick to throbbing. If he hadn’t been in pain, he would’ve grabbed her for a quick wrestle. Grant was pretty sure he could take her, in more ways than one, but at the moment, he’d just be glad if she stopped talking. He grunted at her.
“So what’s up with the nose ring anyway? It was bigger when you were a bull,” she commented, flicking the ring.
Strangely en
ough, it didn’t hurt. If anything, it sent a bolt of pure desire through his body, shocking him out of the hangover. His hand snapped out and latched onto her wrist. Grant pulled her into his bed, pinning her beneath him.
“I guess you’re finally awake.” She didn’t look the least bit worried.
“Yes,” he grunted, feasting his eyes on her mouth.
They stared at each other for what seemed like endless minutes. One of her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What’s up with the nose ring?” She spoke slowly as though speaking to someone with limited intelligence.
“Minotaurs are pierced when we hit our first transition. Once we bond with our mate, the ring falls out,” he mumbled, leaning down to sniff her. Damn, she smelled delicious. “It also changes size when I shift.”
Her eyes sparkled. “That is so cool! Why does it fall out?”
“The ring helps keep the Minotaur’s Rage from killing anyone. I guess once a minotaur is mated, the gods figure his mate will keep him in line.”
“So you’re not mated?”
Grant shook his head and instantly regretted it. Okay, so the lust hadn’t healed his hangover, just pushed it to the side for the moment.
His stomach rumbled.
She squinted at him. “If you puke on me, I’ll rip your spine right through your nose.”
His cock twitched at the threat, coming to rest against the apex of her thighs. He groaned at the sensation. She was fully clothed, but he could feel the heat of her sex through the material.
“You’re sick,” she said in disgust, pushing him away with disturbing ease. “First you follow some psycho nymphs like a little lamb to the slaughter, and now you’re excited by my threats to kill you.” She hopped off the bed pacing around his room. “It’s got to be the cow thing,” she muttered to herself. “Any animal that stands around chewing on nothing all day can’t be smart. I don’t know why I thought I could help him out. I must’ve lost my mind.” She whirled around to pace in the opposite direction. “It’s the stress. The stress has made me crazy.”