Page 9 of Monsters in Love

There is no way I will allow Adalyn to be taken and victimized. It’s a good thing that the goat man’s attention shifts to something behind me because I’m sure he would have seen my eyes narrowing with anger.

“Perfect timing. Cyril, take her to the waiting area. Go the back way. I don’t want her buyers taking her before payment is in hand. And this should go without saying, but do not sample the merchandise! She is bought and paid for.”

A large hand wraps around my upper arm. The grip is firm but gentle. This touch is different, so unlike the rough treatment I endured earlier. I sneak a glance up, way up, and don’t recognize this guard. He looks different from the others, too, though I can’t place how. His bullish profile is as alien to me as the rest, stern and aloof, even. Yet, there’s something about him that makes me feel safe.

Cyril, on the other hand, makes me cringe. “Don’t worry boss, she’ll be intact,” then under his breath he adds, “more or less.” Even though the minotaur doesn’t have human facial features, that predatory smile is universal enough.

Figures that no matter where I am in the universe, I always seem to attract the creeps.

I’m grateful that this new guard moves me in a way that has me tucked firmly against his body, his hand moving from my upper arm to my opposite shoulder. Flanked this way, he escorts me into the mist, not waiting for his partner. Instead of walking off stage as I expect, we are now in the back of the house again, with its circuitous halls that look identical.

My heart pounds with every step. How am I going to get Adalyn out of here? How amIgoing to get out of here?

The room he leads me to is barely bigger than a closet, but at least there is a place for me to sit. The new guard moves me so I can sit. Cyril leers at me from the doorway.

He swaggers in, crowding me. When he reaches out to touch me, I shrink away from him reflexively. He pauses in mild surprise.

Oops, I gave away that I’m no longer completely frozen. Maybe I can make a dash toward the door—

The new guard grabs Cyril’s arm, twisting it up and pinning it behind the creep’s back quicker than I would’ve thought possible given his bulk. Like following steps to a graceful dance, the minotaur sweeps Cyril’s legs out from under him. Cyril’s knees crunched as they hit the ground. Before he can utter one sound of protest, the new guard grasps Cyril’s horns and twists his neck.

I swallow a scream as Cyril slumps over.

The guard steps over the lifeless body and nudges it aside with his boot. My sluggish brain realizes in that moment the contrast of this new minotaur’s boot and pants to that of Cyril’s—and his lack of a uniform.

This new minotaur’s clothing is crisp, maintained, and something out of a science fiction movie’s interpretation of space military heroes. Even with his chest bare—I assume he did so to blend in with the others—I can see him more at home standing on a starship deck shouting commands like, “Engage!” and “Fall back, it’s a trap!” than cavorting with the horrible people who called this place their home.

The minotaur kneels in front of me. Clear blue eyes look at me from a broad face, a stunning contrast against his rich, reddish-brown fur. What I wouldn’t give for those cheek bones…

Some blood splatter glistens along his jaw, marring his otherwise perfect face. I reach out to wipe it away before I realize what I’m doing. I stare at the blood on my fingertips.

The minotaur takes a cloth from his pocket and gently takes my hand and wipes it clean. He inspects my face, and I try not to squirm. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he pulls away.

I stop him, taking the cloth from him and wiping away the offending speckles of red from his fur. When I finish, I hand the cloth back to him with a smile that I hope translates my gratitude.

He speaks words I cannot understand, but at least it differs from the grunts and growls of the other people I’ve encountered here. “I’m sorry. I can’t understand you,” I say.

He tilts his head in a decidedly animal gesture. Nodding as if weighing out a decision, he reaches into his pouch and pulls out something that looks like a small flashlight.

What is he going to do with that?

He lays it against my neck and pushes the button. It feels like a lightning strike. The shock of it makes me gasp. “What the hell?!”

“I am sorry for the temporary pain. I would normally ask for permission before touching someone under my charge, but the communication barrier prevented me from doing so.”

I rub at the sting at my neck, grumbling. “A little warning would help next time.” My gaze meets his at the realization that I understood his words. “Oh wow. I understood what you said.” Pain forgotten, I throw my arms around him in a hug.

“Indeed,” he says. He pats at my arms awkwardly.

Oops. I forget not everyone is a hugger like my family. I lean back before this minotaur regrets trying to rescue me. “You do not know how horrible it’s been, only understanding that goat man and his crew. Thank you.” I stick my hand out to him. “My name is Karis. Karis Gloria de la Cruz, but please call me Karis only my mom calls me by my full name, and only then when I’m in trouble, and I’m sorry for snapping at you, and for rambling since I tend to do that when I’m nervous. I’m sorry.”

A slight frown creases his forehead as he stares at my proffered hand. I help him out by grasping his hand with both of mine. His brow furrow deepens as he stares at his hand between mine. “You may call me Bronn. I am the urso of House Nighthold. I am not sure when this snapping occurred. And you apologize for things you do not need to apologize for.”

“Bronn?” I say. The memory of Adalyn’s mobile device flashes in my mind, along with the deep voice that answered the call before it was smashed. “Adalyn’s Bronn? The one she tried to contact?”

His mouth quirks. “I am not Adalyn’s,” he says. “And not only did she try, but she did indeed contact me.”

“Thank God! Adalyn swore up and down that you would find us. At first I thought she was crazy, but you know, being in this nightmare world is crazy.” I pause, and then add, “I’m not dreaming, am I? This isn’t some drug-addled trip? Please tell me you’re actually here to rescue us?”

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