Page 41 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“There’s a diner somewhere around here, come on.” Brad excitedly jabbers as he starts walking off quickly with my son in his grip, and my feet follow automatically so I don’t lose sight of Lucas. “We can discuss the best way for me to still have easy access to Lukie Pookie, which is only fair, of course, and then…”

I tune him out, frowning heavily as I follow along behind him. How does this keep happening? Having a conversation with Brad is dangerous, because he has this way of somehow convincing me to go along with his wishes, even when it feels wrong.

I straighten my back and steel my expression as I follow along. Had. He had a way of manipulating, charming, and convincing me into doing whatever he wanted. He will not have that way with me anymore, not now that I see him for what he really is. I’ll let him say his piece one last time, on the off chance that I’ve misjudged him, and he really doesn’t want to lose touch with Lucas. I’m not cruel, and I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone who has a connection with a child.

But if it turns out he’s just making another play, that he’s only looking for a foot in the door, so he has room to wriggle further and further under my skin as time goes on—then that’ll be the last he’ll ever see of the kind, considerate Grace.

This is the final straw.

Chapter 16

Olistaire

Brad is bothering Grace again. He accosted her at the

park, and now apparently has kidnapped her son and forced them all to Silver Spoon, according to her second text. I park nearby along the street and slam my car door shut as I power towards the diner.

Unlike the other two times I helped Grace ward this male off, this time I feel a spark of something deeper igniting in my chest.

Who does this blunt thumbtack of a human think he is? How many times do Grace and I have to tell him to back off before he gets the message? He needs to keep his limp little hands offmy female and away from her child, or I might very soon snap and do something rash.

My feet falter as my thoughts catch up to me, and I pause at the door. He needs to keep his hands off my friend, I mean.

I catch sight of them through the glass pane, sitting opposite each other at a booth, and the spark in my chest immediately reignites. Brad’s clammy hands reach across to grab at Grace’s fingers, his colorless eyes doing their best to showcase what seems to me to be a pathetic, fake attempt at earnestness.

I shove the door open, stride across the restaurant and grab Brad’s thin wrist within my palm.

“Do not,” I say quietly, slowly prying him away, “touchmy female.”

I feel a sizable spark of satisfaction at the flash of fear on his face when he looks at me, twitching in surprise at my sudden appearance and knocking his cup off the table with a shattering of glass. The room around us goes quiet, but I don’t take my eyes off the human, or my hand off his arm. He’s a threat, and threats are not tolerated.

“It’s alright,” Grace says. “We’re just talking.”

“He was not just talking,” I say, my tone hard even as I keep my volume low. “He was touching.”

“Oli—”

“And we do not touch claimed females around here.” I drop his wrist and rest my palm on the table, lowering my horns and keeping my gaze direct, despite how his darts around with nerves. “This is your last warning, human. Do you understand?”

A sweat breaks out along his hairless upper lip, his mouth opening and closing without saying a word, until I feel a presence beside me.

“Is everything alright here?”

I turn to look at Daniel, the werewolf owner of this diner, who has his arms crossed and a towel thrown over his shoulder. I don’t straighten from where I loom over Brad. “I’m reminding this male that Grace does not want him, and that his continued advances are unappreciated.”

I look back at Brad, hearing Daniel sniffing the air and muttering something about jealous mates and pheromones. I don’t pay attention.

“Do you understand?” I repeat to Brad. “Or do we have a problem?”

“No problems in my diner.” Daniel shifts forward, but rightly doesn’t touch me in this state. I don’t know how I’d react to that, as I feel my anger stirring further and the hair along my neck rise threateningly. “Take it outside, boys.”

“Nobody’s taking anything anywhere.” Grace stands and lays her warm palm over my hand, fingers curling to grip my inner wrist, right where a minotaur Mating Mark would appear, if such a thing could ever happen to me. It’s possibly the only thing able to break my intensity right now, and I let my gaze slide over to her. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

I purse my lips, before relenting and allowing her to drag me into the corner. I’m dimly aware as the natural clatter of a diner at dinner time picks up around us once more, and I resist the urge to tuck Grace’s loose waves behind her ear as she folds her arms and raises a brow.

“Why’s your hair out?”

She looks thrown off for a moment at my words. “What?”

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