Page 94 of Evil Hearts

Diego’s heart fluttered. “So-so was I.”

Atticus’ hold on his hand tightened. Diego could feel an uncharacteristic tremor in his partner’s strong grip. He turned to look up into those infernos, the watery sheen over the minotaur’s eyes glistened in the glow of the string lights.

“I’d…” Atticus hesitated.

“Yes?” Diego asked, opening up the doors for an honest conversation.

Atticus huffed again, as he was so apt to do, and released Diego’s hand. He stomped over to the trailer entrance and peered out into the night sky before he closed the door. The illumination from the streetlight across the way vanished, leaving them basking in the warmth of tiny bulbs and the small slivers of moonlight that trickled in through the open windows. Diego rubbed his hands nervously and watched the muscular, broad back of the minotaur rise with uneasy, anticipated breaths.

“Atti?” Diego asked as he approached. He set his palm against Atticus’ spine. “It’s alright, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Would you like to continue to be partners? Even after the tour ends?” Atticus asked.

“I mean, yes? We, um, we still need to-to practice. A-and plan for the next season—”

“I meanpartners.Beyond the requirements of work.”

Diego swallowed hard. Atticus looked over his shoulder at him with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t… understand,” Diego admitted.

“Neither of us can continue to deny the chemistry here. I know it’s a bit unconventional, that there are better, more… normal options than I—even in the mythical sense—but…” Atticus turned back to the door. “I cannot fathom a day, let alone a season, without you. I… would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I’m falling for you. I can no longer pretend that I’m satisfied with this being a simple working relationship.”

Diego smiled. He let his fingers trace across Atticus’ back to his arm until he was able to nudge it up and slide under the sturdy limb, placing himself between his partner and the door. He looked up at the towering myth and felt his smile grow. Softly, he placed his hands upon Atticus’ chest.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t say I agreed,” Diego said cheekily.

Admitting it felt freeing. He could tell it offered a similar relief to Atticus. The minotaur set his hand over Diego’s and held it tight; the matador could feel the racing of his massive heart against his wounded palm.

Diego had seen many wonders in his short life. Many dragons in the twilit sky, many fae in bountiful gardens, mermaids in the harbors, sunsets over the Grand Canyon and cities coming to life with twinkling lights as far as the eye could see, but nothing ever compared to Atticus. He was a god walking among men, and he was so lucky to be one of the few who saw him this close. Who touched him. Who knew his intimate secrets, his fears, his dreams. Who knew Atticus the kindhearted, jovial, tender mythwith a big smile. The one who snored, who got his horns caught on doorways, who grew flustered when dogs barked at him on sidewalks. No one knew him like Diego did, and the young man felt blessed because of it.

“I don’t know, sir, you’re quite a bit older than me. I’m not sure it’s proper. Whatever will my poor madre think?” Diego said with fake contemplation.

Atticus huffed and grinned. “Says the brat with self-proclaimed ‘papi issues’ pining after every silver haired fox in cinema.”

Diego threw his head back and laughed. Atticus chuckled and pulled Diego into an embrace in a way he’d never held him before. Intimate. Timid. Intentional. The young man buried his face into the tufts of fur and inhaled the warm, woodsy musk. He felt enveloped by the myth’s strong arms, like a fuzzy blanket had been draped around him. It was a comforting, safe feeling. He liked it.

Slowly, Diego lifted his head and set his chin on Atticus’ chest. The near foot and a half height difference left him feeling so small. The minotaur’s hot breath was akin to the swelling rays of the summer sun across his face.

“I suppose that means we won’t be joining the others for the wrap party tonight? I assume you have… other plans?” Diego teased.

“I suppose I should be glad that I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this for a while,” Atticus said with a shy grin.

Fixing his hold on Diego’s body, Atticus hoisted him up into his arms so they could see eye to eye. Diego held the myth’s heavy head in his hands and planted a soft kiss on the bridge of Atticus’ long nose. His hands found themselves moving to the myth’s horns. The texture was smooth like porcelain, and the length of each one was nearly the same as his entire arm. And theywere his to hold. No one else would see this majesty this close, this intimately, and Diego couldn’t help but nuzzle his face into Atticus’ snout and close his eyes in gratitude and near worship. Yes, the infamous myth washisto hold.

The minotaur turned and headed back to the far end of the trailer with his human in his arms, mumbling something about being glad that Nigel the dragon’s sound system was still playing. Diego’s cheeks heated with embarrassment and anticipation that grew alongside everyclopof Atticus’ hooves, knowing full well what he was insinuating with the comment. He let out a huff of his own, unable to believe the audacity and bluntness of his partner.

Atticus nudged Diego’s head with his warm nose, wordlessly asking for him to turn those whiskey eyes his way, and the sleepy, yet happy, matador could only oblige. He finally lifted his head and addressed him.

“What?” Diego inquired.

Atticus planted a soft kiss on Diego’s cheek. “I am merely happy, that is all.”

He set Diego down. The matador’s worn feet touched the mattress, and from this height he could stand eye level with Atticus. He wrapped his arms around the minotaur’s head and smiled, inviting the myth to hold him tight. To explore his body in a new way. To claim him.

Atticus’ hand cupped nearly the full of his rear, his other cradled his back.

Diego was amazed that such a powerful being could so easily crush him, yet he handled him so delicately. As if his simple human body was made of something precious. The minotaur’s warm lips returned to Diego’s cheek. Then his jaw, then his neck. His thick fingers began pushing up the sweatshirt Diego had only just put on, and the desperate matador let himself be held like clay in a master’s hands. Arms lifted, he grabbed holdof Atticus’ horns and kept himself aloft as new sensations and emotions rolled over him. As those soft kisses moved across his skin. With heavy eyes, he looked out of the tiny window at the full moon and felt himself dreaming of home and how beautiful it would be with Atticus by his side.

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