Page 27 of Nanny for the Minotaur

"That's right, little one." Lyra tucks a strand of hair behind Mira's ear, so natural it makes my chest ache. "Always remember, strength comes in many forms."

Kai props his chin on his hands. "Like how you're strong because you know which herbs heal people?"

"Exactly." She ruffles his black fur, and he doesn't pull away like he usually does with others. "And you're strong because you take such good care of your sister."

The scene strikes something deep in my heart. It's not just how she tends Mira's condition or guides Kai through his questions. It's the way she's woven herself into our lives, bringing warmth to cold corners. How she matches my children's needs without dimming their spirits. The solarium itself stands as proof – she hasn't erased my mother's memory, but honored it by bringing life back to her favorite space.

I lean against the doorframe, unwilling to break the moment. Lyra glances up, catching my eye. Her smile, soft and unguarded, hits me like a physical force. Gods help me, I'm falling for everything about her – her fierce independence, her gentle strength, the way she's made my house feel like a home again.

14

LYRA

The day flows like honey - sweet, languid moments stretching between my duties. At breakfast, Theron's massive hand brushes mine as he passes the bread basket, sending sparks racing up my arm. During Mira's lesson, which I've started helping her with, I catch his amber eyes watching me from across the room, the intensity of his gaze making my cheeks flush.

Evening settles over the manor, and I slip into the library to return a text on cardiac conditions. The scent of leather-bound books and aged paper wraps around me as I navigate the towering shelves. My fingers trail along the spines, searching for the right spot.

Heavy footsteps echo behind me. I turn to find Theron filling the space between the shelves, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides. The lamplight catches the silver rings in his horns, casting dancing shadows across his face.

"I thought I might find you here." His deep voice rumbles through my chest.

The tension between us has been threatening to overwhelm me. I spend more and more nights talking to him. More andmore days stealing little touches. And I am desperate at the point for more.

"Just returning this." I hold up the book, my hand trembling slightly.

He steps closer, and I lean into the shelf behind me. His black fur gleams with that subtle silver sheen as he lowers his head, bringing those striking amber eyes level with mine, and I know he feels it, too.

Maybe he's finally giving in.

"Lyra." My name comes out as a growl that makes my breath catch.

I reach up, letting my fingers sink into the soft fur at his neck. He shudders at my touch, his massive hands coming to rest on either side of my head.

"Tell me something," I whisper like it's every other night and we are sharing stories.

"Anything." His eyes shine bright like he means it.

"Am I wrong?" I move closer, pressing into his chest. "Or do you feel this, too?"

It's a risk, but I've been waiting for so long. I tried to hedge around it, I tried to tell him that this feels like home for me to see how he would react. But now, I want to take my chances.

His response is to close the remaining distance. The first brush of his lips against mine is achingly gentle, as if he fears I'll shatter. I press closer, rising on my tiptoes to show him I won't break. His arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly until we're properly aligned. The book tumbles forgotten from my grasp as I wind my arms around his neck, letting my fingers tangle in his fur.

The kiss deepens, and I feel the restraint in his touch - the careful way he holds me, the measured pressure of his lips. I nip at his bottom lip, drawing a startled grunt from him.

"I've felt it from the first second that you entered my home," he whispers against my lips.

Theron's lips trail down my neck, each kiss a spark igniting my skin. "I want every taste of you, Lyra," he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Take it," I whisper, tilting my head back to expose more of my throat. His lips curve into a smile against my skin, and then he's lifting me, cradling me against his chest as if I weigh nothing. The library blurs around us, the scent of old parchment and leather filling my senses as he carries me to the couch tucked in the corner.

He lays me down, the cushions soft beneath me, and then he's standing over me, his amber eyes gleaming with hunger. His hands, massive and gentle, skim over my body, undressing me with a patience that makes my heart pound. Each layer of clothing falls away until I'm bare beneath him, the cool air of the library raising goosebumps on my skin.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his gaze roving over me like a caress. I reach up, letting my fingers trace the silver rings in his horns, drawing him closer.

"Show me," I say, my voice barely a whisper.

He starts at my lips, kissing me deeply before trailing down to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Each touch of his lips sends a jolt of pleasure through me, my body arching into his touch. When he takes one nipple into his mouth, I gasp, my fingers tightening on his horns. He sucks, teases, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until I'm writhing beneath him.

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