“Especially the horns?” He teased, one eyebrow raising.
I grinned, reaching up to trace their curve again. “Especially the horns.”
A low rumble vibrated through his chest. “They’re sensitive,” he admitted quietly.
“Good sensitive or bad sensitive?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Good,” he confirmed. “Very good.”
I made a mental note to explore this revelation more thoroughly later, as I was increasingly aware that we were still tangled together on my couch, clothes askew, with my discarded teacup lying on the carpet beside us. Eventually, the position became uncomfortable, my sofa simply not designed for two people, especially when one was the size of Rion. He sensed my discomfort before I voiced it, carefully disentangling himself and helping me sit up.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling self-conscious as I smoothed my rumpled dress. “Not the most comfortable makeout spot.”
The term ‘makeout’ seemed to amuse him, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “No apology needed,” he said, his voice still rough with desire.
I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see how late it had grown. “It’s past midnight,” I noted with surprise. “I had no idea.”
He followed my gaze to the clock, then looked back at me, his expression softening. “I should go,” he said, though he made no immediate move to leave.
“You could stay,” I offered, unwilling to let the night end.
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with gentle fingers. “Another time,” he said gently. “Tonight has been… significant. I don’t want to rush what comes next.”
The consideration in his words touched me deeply. I nodded, understanding his need for time, for space to process the shift in our relationship. “Okay,” I agreed, leaning forward to press one more kiss to his lips. “But don’t make me wait too long.’”
His smile was warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made my heart flip. “I don’t think I can,” he admitted, and I laughed, the sound bubbling up from a well of happiness I hadn’t known existed within me.
“You are…” he began, then shook his head slightly, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Quirky? Weird? Inappropriately fixated on your horns?” I suggested, only half-joking.
“Remarkable,” he finished, the sincerity in his voice making my breath catch.
We rose from the sofa together, his movements careful in my small space. As he gathered his coat and prepared to leave, I found myself already missing his presence, already counting the minutes until I would see him again.
At the door, he paused, turning back to me with an expression of such open vulnerability that it made my heart ache. Without a word, he drew me into his arms, holding me against the solid warmth of his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist as far as they would go, breathing in his scent, committing to memory the feeling of being held by him.
When he finally pulled back, his dark eyes were filled with an emotion that mirrored what I felt building in my own heart—something too new, too fragile to name just yet, but undeniably powerful.
“Goodnight, Clara,” he said softly, his deep voice wrapping around my name like a caress.
“Goodnight, Rion,” I replied, standing on tiptoe to press one last, lingering kiss to his lips.
After he left, I leaned against my closed door, my fingers touching my lips where I could still feel the imprint of his kiss. A giddy laugh escaped me, part disbelief, part sheer joy. I had just spent the evening making out with a minotaur on my sofa—and it had been the most incredible experience of my life.
As I prepared for bed, my mind replayed every moment, every touch, every kiss. I knew with absolute certainty that something fundamental had shifted between us tonight, something that couldn’t be undone or ignored. And despite allthe complications, all the potential obstacles, I couldn’t bring myself to worry.
For tonight, at least, I would simply savor the memory of Rion’s lips on mine, his gentle hands in my hair, and the look in his eyes when he called me “remarkable.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Iburst through the library’s staff entrance the next morning like a woman possessed. My feet barely touched the ground as I floated down the hallway, my mind still swimming in the intoxicating memories of the previous night. Every time I closed my eyes, even for a blink, I could feel the press of Rion’s lips against mine, the surprising softness of his fur beneath my fingertips, the impossible gentleness of his massive hands as they cradled my face.
I kissed a minotaur. A minotaur kissed me back. And it was absolutely glorious.
I caught sight of my reflection in the darkened computer screen—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair slightly disheveled despite my best efforts with a brush this morning. I looked… different. Not just happy, but transformed somehow. As if the universe had shifted slightly on its axis, and I along with it.
“Well, well, well,” came Brenda’s voice from behind me. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”
