Page 75 of The General's Captive
“And turn me into a shish kebab, no thanks, Mr. spikey pads,” I said, nodding to his shoulders.
His lips twitched, as if he was trying not to laugh, which managed to alleviate some of the tension.
“Seriously, what do you even eat to get that big?”
“Troublesome little human females who ask too many questions,” he remarked, making me laugh before we started walking once more.
Before long, we fell into a comfortable silence. And I had to say, although this certainly complicated things, it was the safest I had felt in the last three years.
Because here I was with a Class one bodyguard who could kill as easily as breathing. Someone who was completely unaffected by walking in the dark. That raw power radiated off him, although it wasn’t enough to keep the chill off me.
I wished I had brought a jacket with me and wore more layers than this long black T-shirt and my khaki combat pants. But I thought I would be in a car with a heater, not walking along a highway at night.
I didn’t know how well my hip was going to hold up, because I seriously needed some meds. I was starting to really limp now. So much so, that after about an hour of walking, Aster growled down at me and stated firmly,
“That’s it, I’m carrying you”
“It’s okay, that’s not ness… hey!” This ended in a shout as he swept me up into his big arms.
“No arguments. You are slow, and you are cold. Both problems I can solve,” he affirmed and I had to admit, he was right. The guy was like a walking furnace. I couldn’t help but sighin relief as his heated skin penetrated through my meagre layers of cotton.
“Why were you limping?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“I hurt my hip when that Gryphon attacked the base… it just needs rest, which I haven’t exactly had much chance at,” I told him, making him nod his head.
“And your healer?”
“Jenkins? I haven’t had a chance to get it seen to.”
Again, he seemed to be asking these questions for a reason, but I had no idea why that was. Which was when a plan started to form.
“When we get closer to the city, can we find a vet?”
“Why, is there something you need to tell me, do you turn into a dog and try and bite the mailman?”
I gave him a dry look, knowing with his eyesight he wouldn’t miss it because I felt him look down at me.
“Says the Shifter Minotaur,” I shot back, and he protested in his deep voice.
“I am not a Shifter.”
“Then how did you turn into a human form?” I asked, desperate to know.
“I am a rare breed, the last of my kind. A berserker Minotaur, which gives me the ability to transform into what you see now,” he replied.
“You mean you don’t usually look like this?”
“That depends on if I choose to,” he answered cryptically, his face hard to read in the dark.
“I’m sorry, isn’t that what a Shifter is?” I pointed out, and again he grumbled his response.
“Gods, you don’t quit, do you…? No, I am not a shifter. It’s not that simple.”
I frowned, snapping, “Then why not simplify it for the clueless human?”
“Rage is the trigger for this form,” he finally offered begrudgingly.
“But you’re not angry right now… are you?” I asked cautiously, making him tease,
