Page 54 of Jayce

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.

Chapter 37

Jayce

Lucas steps out to greet our guests, unfazed by their early arrival.

The predatory look in each of their eyes as they roam over all the heifers we’ve brought sends a shiver down my spine.

Mixed in with the scents of the swamp they emerged from is the unmistakable stench of lust, greed, and hatred.

I’m surprised they haven’t ripped one another to shreds. Emotions this powerful rarely work well together.

Lucas raises his hands to the sky. “Helios, our patér, we invite you to honor this sacred mating ceremony. May your favor shine upon us.”

The words aren’t important to Helios. Just an invitation. Our legends of old tell us he never failed to bless fated mates with his mark.

My patér hands Lucas a white bag filled with stones. All black and one white for the males. He keeps the other bag that’s red, containing all black and one red for the females.

Lucas allows our enemies—men with this much malice in their hearts we can never call friends—to pick first.

---