Dawn is there, her hands on my face, head against mine. “I can see them,” she whispers. I try to pull away, but she holds me there. “You don’t have to talk, show me.”
“Draya.” I cover her hands. “The memories are dark and ugly.”
“I can do dark and ugly. If you haven’t noticed, bull man, I thrive on it. Show me, let me see you, my minotaur.”
I search her eyes before closing my own and opening my mind to her. I fight the need to roar and pull away, old habits dying hard. I have to remind myself she wouldn’t hurt me, she is my mate, again and again. She must hear.
“Oh, my minotaur, I would never hurt you, I see your struggle.” Her voice is sad. “I promise you, on my life, I will never harm or betray you. I don’t know how I became this or what brought us together, but neither of us will ever be alone again.”
Her voice whispers through my head, calming my bull, a feat no other has ever managed. He curls around her, protecting her, loving her, and I know...this goddess was made for me. I may not be worthy of her, but I will strive to be. If what she wants is to see the darkest, most depraved parts of me, she can. I will split myself open and let the memories tumble out so she can bathe in them if that is what she wants.
“Beast,” the queen greets, turning from the mirror where her hair is being coiffed. With a wave, she dismisses the young witch helping her get ready. Tilting her chin up, she stands, her skirts moving around her like water, and strolls towards me, the crown on her head held there by magic. “I did not call you.”
“I am not an animal you can just call for,” I snarl, voice rumbling with my bull who is huffing and digging his hooves in my mind, wanting to be unleashed upon this woman.
“Oh, but you are.” She grins, still not seeing my true intent, her boldness and pride blinding her to the truth, the hate that her people feel for her. “You will always be mine, my beast, and when I die I will have you entombed with me. Serving me forever.” She trails her fingertip down my body, heading to my crotch, and I snap.
My bull comes to the forefront of my mind, forcing himself out. He has been chained long enough, and his hatred only rivals mine.
With a roar, I change, faster than she has ever seen. She is too close, too trusting that she had me controlled. Her pride and fear will be her downfall. My horns gouge her as I flick them, tossing my head about. She is thrown around like a ragdoll until she falls to the once white silk of her bed with a pained scream. The blood slowly leaks from her many wounds onto the mattress, staining the silk crimson. Before the witches can arrive and heal her, I take up my swords she keeps in here and cross them at her neck.
“I am no one’s pet. I am the Beast of Cornacadia, a legend. A myth. The monster of the labyrinth and yours no longer. History will not remember you. You will be nothing but a bad memory for me. All this power, and at the end you die alone and weak. Nothing but a pathetic human,” I growl, turning my face back to human so she can see the hate there.
I hear the witches coming, the incantations on their lips. I know what this will mean for me, but I’ll gladly take any punishment of death they offer, it is worth it to free me of this human monster. She holds a bloodied, weak hand up to me, eyes terrified and reeking of fear and her own mortality.
Humans are so breakable. She thought she was more than that, but it’s time I remind her where she belongs.
“My beast,” she pleads.
“Never yours,” I roar and slice, her head rolls from the bed and towards the door, eyes open wide, mouth parted on a silent cry. The runes on my swords flash, covered in the queen’s blood as I let out a triumphant roar. It fills the night sky, floating down to the supernaturals I had freed not five minutes before from the cells under the arena. They will carry my story, they will be alive, even if I am not. And that