Page 2 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
I scan the nearby trees, shading my eyes against the morning sun. It doesn’t take long to spot them. About fifty feet away, clustered in the lower branches of a massive valley oak, hangs the most beautiful swarm I’ve ever seen. Thousands of bees form a living, breathing teardrop the size of a basketball, their gentle humming carried on the breeze like nature’s own lullaby.
The sight should fill me with relief. Swarms are usually docile and easy to collect if you know what you’re doing, and I definitely know what I’m doing. There’s just one tiny problem that makes my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles.
The tree is on my neighbor’s property.
Raphael Tauros’s property, to be exact.
I’ve never actually met him, but his reputation precedes him like a storm front. Eight feet of pure minotaur muscle who moved to Sunnybrook six months ago with the kind of casual wealth that makes longtime residents nervous. The rumors about him spread through town faster than gossip at a church potluck—ruthless businessman, corporate shark, the kind of monster who probably eats small-town beekeepers for breakfast.
Okay, maybe not literally. But still.
The locals aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome wagon for him either. There’s something about wealthy outsiders buying up properties that puts people on edge, especially when said outsider happens to be a species most people have only heard about in whispered conversations since the Great Unveiling five years ago.
I chew my bottom lip, weighing my options. Those bees represent at least forty pounds of honey production over the season—money I desperately need if I have any hope of saving this place. The tree might technically be on his property, but it’s right at the fence line. Maybe twenty feet from the boundary marker.
If I’m quick and quiet, I could collect the swarm before anyone notices. It’s not like I’m planning to throw a party over there. Just a simple bee rescue operation.
I grab a nearby ladder and collection box. The fence between our properties is just basic wood posts. Easy enough to slip through, if you’re not built like a minotaur.
His property is… wow. Where my land is practical and functional, his spreads out like something from a magazine. Rolling meadows dotted with wildflowers, perfectly maintained without looking overly manicured. In the distance, I can see part of a sprawling mansion that looks like it was transplanted straight from the Mediterranean coast, all warm stone and red tile roofs.
The man clearly has money. Lots of it.
I position my ladder against the oak’s massive trunk, trying not to think about what I’ll do if he catches me trespassing. Theswarm hangs about eight feet up, well within reach if I’m careful. I light my smoker and send gentle puffs toward the cluster of bees, watching them settle into an even calmer state.
“Sorry, girls,” I murmur, positioning the collection box on a nearby branch. “I know you picked this spot for a reason, but we really need to get you somewhere that won’t land me in jail.”
The bees are beautifully docile, the way swarms usually are when they’re focused on finding a new home. I’m reaching for the branch they’re clustered on when a voice behind me rumbles like distant thunder:
“You’re on my property.”
The smoker tumbles from my hands as I spin around on the ladder, my heart launching into my throat. The sharp movement sends me teetering backward, and for one terrifying moment I’m falling—
Until massive hands catch me, steadying me against a chest so broad it blocks out the morning sun.
My face is pressed against warm brown fur that smells like earth and something darker, more primal. I can feel the power in the arms holding me, the casual strength that could crush me without effort. Every instinct screamspredator, and I’m suddenly very aware of how alone I am out here, how no one would hear me scream.
When I finally work up the courage to tilt my head back, I find myself staring into eyes so dark they’re almost black. They’re set in a face that’s undeniably bovine yet disturbingly intelligent,framed by curved horns that catch the light like polished obsidian.
This is him. Raphael Tauros. Eight feet of solid muscle and barely leashed power, and I just got caught trespassing on his territory.
He doesn’t let me go immediately, and those dark eyes study me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. There’s something calculating in his gaze, like he’s deciding what to do with the little human who wandered onto his land uninvited.
“I—” My voice comes out as barely a whisper. I clear my throat and try again. “I can explain.”
One dark eyebrow rises, and there’s something that might be amusement flickering in those dangerous eyes. “Can you?”
The way he says it makes my thighs clench, which is absolutely the wrong reaction to being caught by a creature who could snap me like a twig. But there’s something about the careful control in his voice, the way he’s holding me like I’m made of glass despite his obvious strength, that’s doing very inappropriate things to my pulse.
“The bees,” I manage, gesturing weakly toward the swarm above us. “They’re mine. Were mine. They swarmed overnight and—”
“And you thought you’d collect them before anyone noticed.” His voice is a low rumble that I feel as much as I hear.
My cheeks burn. There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”
He studies me for another long moment, and I have the uncomfortable feeling I’m being evaluated. Measured. His nostrils flare slightly, and something shifts in his expression. Finally, he lets me go.
“What’s your name?” he asks, and the question sounds more like a command.
