Page 153 of Monsters in Love

The satyr was larger than a mortal man and thick with muscle that made the species skilled at pursuing their amorous hungers. Barbasas was large even among his kind but was still nothing compared to the brawn of Asterion. The male slanted a bright green gaze at him, a secretive smile playing about his lips as he brushed a lock of reddish-brown hair from his eyes.

“Is that a way to greet an old friend, Asterion?”

“A ‘friend’ would not have tried to devour me at first opportunity,” he snapped in reply.

The satyr shrugged, his smile widening. “I admit that I got a little carried away. But that is all history, and besides, the labyrinth would have protected its favorite son.” He tipped his head. “Why the threats now? You certainly have not sought out my company, and I have not offered you any harm.”

“Why are you following me?” Asterion demanded bluntly.

A sly looked crossed the males face, his eyes dancing with laughter as he leaned a shoulder again the wall. “I have come to investigate an interesting rumor that has sprung up among my flock. There is talk that there is a female here… a human.”

Asteron’s ears flicked impatiently. “And if there were?”

“Then I would have to ask why a minotaur that we have lived peacefully with for so long would attempt to steal our prey?” Barbasa replied with a feigned casualness, his friendly words belied by the iron in his tone.

Grunting, Asterion lowered his horns subtly, which the satyr acknowledged with a faint quirk of his brows.

“From what I recall, my territory is not part of your flock’s hunting grounds,” he bit out. “You have your own halls and lower reaches that I do not care to traverse. I expect the same respect to be given to what is mine.”

Barbasas sighed, his lips pinching. “It is not as easy as you say. Yes, prey enters our corridors, but in places where our territories converge and we pick up the scent of human flesh, it is impossible to rein in our hungers.” He cocked his head n. “They also say that you did not spill her blood and that the labyrinth groans angrily for it. How did you resist the hunger, Asterion?”

“Who says that I resisted?” Asterion grumbled. “She is mine to feedmyhungers, not the labyrinth’s.”

The satyr’s eyes widened as he glanced around warily. “Do not say such things,” he hissed. “We are granted immortal reprieve here that is sustained by the labyrinth. Because of it we do not age, we do not become sick. All our basic needs for survival are cared for by its will. Even a favorite son cannot flaunt the will of the labyrinth.”

“Then it will have to be happy with the other blood I give it,” Asterion replied, holding up the small roe he had found wandering the upper corridors. The deer’s head hung limply, its glazed eyes staring out sightlessly. “The labyrinth shall receive more of its blood in addition to its fat and bones when I take it to my butchering room.”

“And the woman?”

“Mine,” Asterion reiterated. “All that the labyrinth may enjoy from her is our combined essences when she submits to me and the sounds of her pleasure. These will be offerings enough.”

Barbasas frowned. “The labyrinth will have its way of getting what it wants, one way or another. When the time comes, if you cannot do what needs to be done, then allow us to satiate ourselves. It has been long since we have enjoyed a woman.”

Gritting his teeth, Asterion stepped closer, his shadow falling over the satyr as his fingers of his free hand curled into a fist at his side.

“You and yours will not touch her.”

A tremor ran through the satyr, but he straightened, however reluctantly, under the weight of Asterion’s glare and returned it. “Then do not force us to make that choice. The labyrinth will not conceal your abode forever if you deny it.”

Nostrils flaring, Asterion took another step, forcing the smaller male to crane his head back to meet his gaze. “Are you threatening me?”

Despite the bitter scent of fear filling the air, the satyr’s lips curled smugly. “That would not be our intention. It would hardly serve our interest to make such an attempt. Not when it is the human that you want, and, as you can see,” he nodded meaningfully at the deer, “you cannot stand guard over her perpetually.”

Bellowing out his anger, Asterion swiped at Barbasas, gripping the smaller male in his brutally crushing hand. Hauling him up off of his hooves, he brought the satyr nose to nose with him so there was no possibility of the satyr mishearing his words.

“This is your only warning—one that I am only giving to sustain the long peace between us and because I do not wish an unnecessary conflict—if any of your flock come anywhere near my female, I will rend their limbs from their bodies and feed their corpses to the hunger of the labyrinth.”

Barbasas curled his fingers around Asterion’s hand, grinning wildly. “That would doubtlessly be quite interesting to witness. Just remember, Asterion, we all depend on the mercy of the labyrinth. Enjoy her while you can—I envy you that and would not deny you—but keep my words in mind. Sooner or later, the labyrinth will tire of your delaying tactics and demand the appropriate sacrifice. Under the madness of the labyrinth, even that carnal hunger you feel will not be able to overwhelm the bloodlust when the fog descends.”

Asterion curled his lip at the satyr, lowering him again to his feet. Deep within, however, his gut clenched. He had always suspected that the labyrinth was as tainted as his sister had said but had not wanted to entirely believe that it drove its inhabitants into madness. He had thought that it was merely his imagination that the satyrs had become more vicious in their blood frenzy over the centuries. Hearing confirmation from Barbasas brought a sickening realization of just how much his human was in danger.

Nodding his head in a sharp swing of his horns, he backed away from the male, watching quietly as the satyr straightened and brushed himself off. A deadly smirk crossed Barbasas’ handsome face, and he inclined his head in silent understanding before spinning away and racing back into the shadows from whence he had come.

Asterion wondered if the male truly understood how readily he would kill him despite their long span of association with each other. The wary challenge and acceptance, and an unnatural giddiness that had been in the male’s eyes, suggested that he did and looked forward to it in the manner of one eager to court death and dance along the edge of danger and drown himself in feasts of blood regardless of the source. Once, Asterion would have doubted that the satyr flock would cannibalize their own, but now he wondered if Barbasas and his kin would not drink their blood as equally as any other.

Ears twitching, he stood stock still, listening as he drew in deep breaths through his nostrils to scent the air until he was satisfied that the satyr had departed. Only then did Asterion move from his spot and resume along his path back to his abode—if not at a considerably quicker pace.

Ultimately, he knew that he worried for nothing. Ariadne’s magic could not be superseded by the labyrinth itself, despite what the satyr believed. Unlike the flock, his abode was not carved out and provided by the labyrinth but woven by the magic of his ancestral house that had guarded over the labyrinth and laid the first stones. His sister, disturbed by what the labyrinth had become, had woven the magic around his abode to protect him from it as she found a way to keep his fires lit and to draw the sun into his garden chamber. While it was true that the labyrinth kept him fed and had tended to his needs, his sister had been wise not to trust or depend on that generosity. Even if the labyrinth should turn against him, the satyrs would have no access. Still, it chilled his blood to even imagine what they might do to his female should they get their hands on her. It was that thought which hurried his pace.

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