Page 34 of Nanny for the Minotaur

"ENOUGH!" The guild master's voice thunders through the chamber. It takes three more merchants to help Dex drag me toward the door, while Marcus shouts threats through his broken teeth.

Dex drags me all the way home, and I finally stop fighting halfway. I let him get me inside, slipping into my study before my kids can see the mess I've made, the blood matted in my fur. Immediately, he goes to the bar on the wall, and I watch him pour two generous measures.

"You look like shit." He slides one glass across my desk.

"You should see the other guy." I wince as I reach for the drink, my bruised ribs protesting.

"Oh, I did. Pretty sure he'll need new teeth." Dex settles his bulk into the chair across from me, the wood groaning beneath his weight. His green eyes study me over the rim of his glass. "Want to tell me what that was really about?"

I drain half my whiskey in one swallow. "You were there. He called Lyra a pet."

"Marcus has been calling people worse for years. Never saw you lose control like that before."

I run a hand through my fur where the blood has matted it. "He brought the children into it. Said they needed a proper minotaur mother. Lyra does just fine."

But she's not their mother, something I keep forgetting. She's just healing Mira.

"Ah." Dex leans back, his horn rings catching the lamplight. "And you realized you'd burn everything to the ground to protect what you've built with her."

The truth of his words hits harder than Marcus's headbutt. My fingers tighten around the glass. "I would. Gods help me, I'd watch every trade route and contract go up in flames before I let him hurt them." The admission scrapes my throat raw. "And that terrifies me, because Marcus won't let this go. He'll use it against us somehow."

"Of course he will." Dex tops off my glass. "That's what snakes do. But you're not alone in this fight, my friend."

I stare into the amber liquid, seeing Lyra's face, hearing the children's laughter. Everything I never knew I needed until it was right in front of me. "I can't lose them, Dex."

"Then we'll make damn sure you don't."

The study door opens and Mrs. Bramble bustles in, Lyra close behind her with a healing kit. My housekeeper's stern expression could curdle milk.

"I'll leave you to it." Dex rises with surprising grace for his size, shooting me a knowing look. "Try not to break any more merchants this month."

Lyra sets her kit on my desk, copper-red hair falling loose from her braid as she bends to examine my face. I notice that Mrs. Bramble slips out with Dex and shuts the door.

Her fingers brush my jaw, gentle but sure. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking some people need to learn when to keep their mouths shut." I try to turn away but she catches my chin.

"Hold still, you stubborn man." She dabs a stinging herb paste on my cuts. "Fighting in the guild hall? You could lose everything you've built."

The warmth of her touch seeps into my bones. Her green eyes flash with both worry and exasperation as she works. "I know you can handle yourself in a fight, but there are better ways to-"

"He called you a pet." The words scrape out of my throat. "Said the children needed a proper mother."

Her hands pause on my face. Something fierce and protective flashes across her features before she resumes cleaning my wounds. "And you thought the best response was to redecorate the guild hall with his face?"

A laugh rumbles in my chest despite the pain. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Impossible man." She presses harder than necessary on a particularly tender spot, making me wince. But her other handstrokes soothingly through my fur, contradicting her stern tone. "What am I going to do with you?"

The gentleness in her touch, the worry in her eyes - it crashes over me like a wave. No one since my mother has fussed over me like this, has cared enough to scold and tend to me in the same breath. Even Cassandra kept her distance when I was injured, sending servants instead.

My chest tightens with an emotion I'm not ready to name. I catch Lyra's hand against my cheek, holding it there. The size difference between us still startles me sometimes - her delicate fingers nearly lost in my grip. Everything I've built, everything I care about, suddenly feels as fragile as her bones beneath my calloused palm.

Our eyes lock as I hold her hand against my face. Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a trapped bird. The scent of her healing herbs mingles with something uniquely Lyra - sunshine and wild flowers and determination.

"I would do it again," I murmur, watching the candlelight dance in her green eyes. "Anyone who threatens what we've built here..."

"Shh." She traces the curve of my horn with her free hand, a touch so gentle it makes my breath catch. "No more fighting tonight."

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