Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kassie
The high-pitched buzz-buzz-snore—like a miniature chainsaw wrapped in velvet—was probably the cutest thing I'd ever heard.
I'd always had a thing for the cutely gothic type of things.
When darkness gets that adorable twist, like a plush bat with midnight fur so soft it feels like petting a shadow, or a spider figurine with glossy obsidian legs and cartoonishly enormous eyes that catch the lamplight, I can't help but press my fingertips to my lips to suppress the embarrassing squeal that bubbles up from somewhere deep and girlish inside me.
The scene before me was so damn adorable, I wanted to cherish the moment forever!
I reached over beside me, where my bag was haphazardly dropped to the ground. It was filled with lunch for the both of us, but Atlas had a whole new idea of what he wanted for lunch. Me.
I held back a smile as I rummaged through the bag and pulled out my phone, quickly pulling up the camera app and hitting record.
Atlas was lying on my stomach; he had put my leg over his back, my naked calf resting between his legs. His snores were high-pitched buzzes, his antennae danced in the wind, and his little tongue would curl out and in with each of his long, drawn-out breaths.
I recorded for the longest I could, making sure I got the best video. Who knows when I would get an opportunity like this, during the day, no doubt and while I was awake.
I had never slept so much in my life as I had that past week, especially with all the biting and claiming going on. After I bit Atlas, it felt like something inside me had shifted, like my body had officially accepted him as mine, even though he had been the one to bite me first.
Elowyn came by and told me that, based on their limited knowledge of monsters finding their matches, it had something to do with our life spans aligning more closely.
Monsters didn’t age the same way humans did, and vice versa, and there was no real way of knowing how long either of us would live.
If we were going by the only example in town, the wolf shifter and their mate, who had been together the longest, they had been bonded for over fifty years, with no one aging yet.
“It was too soon to tell what would happen with a moth matching,” she had said.
Not that I had any problem with that. I had never been one to worry too much about the future. I mean, look at my current job in gaming.
But if I were going to keep doing gaming and we were going to live longer, I probably should have thought about saving for retirement. Or maybe I would never retire.
I made a face and stopped recording. Atlas could always chop down trees and make furniture. Wood furniture never went out of style. And if we had to, we could make videos of him in his magical human form, chopping down trees without a shirt on.
I felt a warm trickle of drool slide down my chin.
He would be magnificent—all rippling muscles and honey-gold skin, glistening under the summer sun, each bead of sweat catching the light like tiny prisms. I could picture him answering questions with that crooked half-smile, running his fingers through his tousled hair while the comment section exploded with heart emojis.
Then, when the cameras stopped rolling, those same powerful hands would find their way to my waist, and he'd whisper "your turn" against my neck, before carrying me to bed, where we'd tangle together until dawn painted the windows pink.
Is this my life?
This is my real life!
I can have his human version and moth version.
I hummed and ran my fingers through the tuft on his head.
While Atlas still had his clumsy moments, he had really grown more confident. I didn’t know if it was because he knew I would never leave or if he had truly found himself on his own.
I felt like it was probably both.
Atlas rubbed his head against my stomach, his hands wrapping tighter around my body like I might slip away. “Kassie?” his gravelly voice murmured as he began to wake. “What time is it?”
I lifted my phone from the ground where I had placed it and checked the time. “A little after lunch. You didn’t even eat any of the food I brought.”
Atlas hummed and rubbed his face into my stomach. “I ate a meal,” he hummed. “I ate the best-tasting flower ever imaginable.”
I gasped. “Please don’t say that.”
“What? That I drank nectar from your petals.”
I groaned and tried to wiggle away. “That is the cringiest thing you can call my junk, don’t call it that.”
“And what? You had a great summer sausage as well today. We both got in our favorite foods.”
I have created a monster. I sex monster, a terrible, horrible-mouthy, cringy monster.
“Do not refer to my lady parts as flower materials, but just know I can talk about your dick as a sausage,” I warned him.
Atlas lifted his head and tilted it from side to side. “But why? Why can I not give pretty names to such a delicate, delectable part of your body?”
I made a face of disgust. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I’ve never heard guys call it that.”
Atlas huffed and crawled over me, causing me to fall back onto the bed. “I should call it whatever I see fit. Not anything vulgar, but something worthy of worship.”
My lips parted in shock.
His voice dropped to a reverent whisper that sent electricity racing down my spine.
"Because when I touch you, when I taste you," his claws trembled against my skin, "it's like worshipping at an altar built only for me.
Like I've been wandering lost in darkness my whole life until I found the sacred temple of your body, and now I'll spend eternity on my knees before it, grateful for every moment you let me inside.
If you'd prefer, I find another way to speak of your most intimate places; I will.
But understand this…" his voice softened as his gaze held mine, unwavering, "every inch of you is sacred to me. "
“Atlas,” I whispered to him. “That was beautiful, I…”
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to mine. “You do not need to say anything. I know you might find my words uncomfortable, but I have wanted to speak my mind, and Lucien has helped me with these romance books you often read.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, half disbelief and half wonder. "How are you even real?" I whispered, reaching up to trace my fingertips along the edge of his jaw. I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You've been taking love lessons from a demon moth. That's a thing that happened."
Atlas grinned, his crooked smirk sending a flutter through my chest. "Lucien has become infatuated with your books. He just wants to be prepared with all things romance when he finds his."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "Yeah, well, just don't go picking up any of his bad habits. I don't need you turning into a smooth-talking Casanova on me. I like you stumbling on your words."
He nuzzled my neck, his breath warm on my skin. "Never. That was a one-time deal. I could barely look you in the eyes when I spoke."
I squealed as his scruff tickled my neck, pushing him away gently. "Okay, okay, Romeo. Let's get you fed. You must be starving after…" I paused, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "After your earlier snack."
Atlas chuckled, rolling off me and onto his back. He stretched out, his limbs long and languid. "Yes, food would be good. But I must admit, I enjoyed my earlier meal immensely."
I swatted his arm, grabbed the bag of food and pulled out the sandwiches I'd packed. "Here, try this. It's not a 'summer sausage,' but it'll have to do."
He propped himself up on one elbow, taking the sandwich from me. His eyes never left mine as he took a bite, chewing slowly. "Mmm. Almost as delicious as you."
I felt a blush creep up my neck, turning my attention to my own sandwich. We ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the sun seeping into our skin. It was peaceful, just the two of us alone in the forest where Atlas worked.
Nothing could be heard but our munching, the playful banter and how he had to chop up the rest of the tree before…
A distant voice bellowed through the trees: "Really? Canoodling during work hours?" The shouter was keeping his distance… a lesson learned after last time, when the poor minotaur had stumbled upon us and left with psychological scars that probably required therapy.
I turned to Atlas and whispered, “Canoodling? Really?”
Atlas silently laughed. “He isn’t as open to talking about sex as you are, vixen.”
I snorted and quickly tugged on Atlas' infamous red and black plaid flannel, the soft, worn fabric falling to mid-thigh as I tucked my bare legs beneath me.
Byron emerged through the dense pines, ducking his massive head as branches snagged on his polished horns.
Each one spanning wider than my outstretched arms. His coal-black fur wasn't the earthy brown I'd expected from storybook minotaurs, but instead gleamed like obsidian, interrupted by patches where deep purple undertones caught the sunlight.
Blood-red eyes glowed from beneath a heavy brow, and when he shifted his weight, his mirror-bright hooves struck sparks against the stones.
Every movement rippled with barely contained power, his chest expanding like a bellows with each breath.
Watching him, I couldn't help but imagine Harlow's face when she returned home and met this magnificent creature—she'd absolutely lose her mind.
Unlike Atlas, Byron rarely ventured into town, his shyness keeping him tethered to the forest. He'd haul the freshly cut timber only as far as the tree line, where phantom workers would arrive with their smaller trucks, loading the wood before continuing on to the workshops without him.
I waved at the minotaur as he emerged into the clearing. "Byron! Perfect timing." His massive nostrils flared, releasing a cloud of warm breath that briefly fogged the gold ring piercing his septum.
“You aren’t finished chopping. Now my schedule will be delayed.”
Atlas stood, his wings flapping behind him. “What schedule? You haul wood, what else do you do besides that?”
Byron counted with his hoof on the ground. “I do many things. Now, hurry up while I wait. Surely you can be done in ten minutes.”
I propped my chin on my fist, watching their back-and-forth like a tennis match.
With each of Atlas's quips, Byron's massive bull tail flicked harder against his haunches—not from anger at my match, but discomfort at my presence.
He claimed to dislike all women, but I suspected the truth was simpler: we terrified him.
Byron kept his eyes fixed on Atlas, pointedly avoiding my gaze while making no move to help with the work. "Perhaps," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder, "you two might consider taking your... activities... elsewhere. You could wander the forest instead."
I wrinkled my nose. “I would rather crochet my own cunt hair than go for a hike in the forest. Besides, Atlas can fly; why would I want to walk?”
Byron's jaw dropped, revealing not the flat, herbivore molars I'd expected from a bull-man, but rows of jagged predator teeth that glinted like daggers in his cavernous mouth.
Way cooler than the typical minotaurs I have read.
He also didn’t have a cock pocket, because he was wearing a loincloth. Or did he have a cock pocket?
“Hey, Byron?”
Byron was still staring at me, shock written all over his face.
“Does your junk just hang out, or do you have somewhere to, like… hide your stuff, the way Atlas does?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder toward Atlas.
He stopped chopping, but I didn’t pay it any mind.
“Because you seem like the kind of monster who would wear a loincloth just to hide the slit part since you’re so prudish. ”
Byron let out a sound halfway between a moo and a wail.
Atlas placed his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle but firm.
"My mate has always been curious," he said, amusement threading through his voice.
"Humans often are about our anatomical differences.
" He cleared his throat, leaning closer to my ear.
"Kassie, how would you have felt if I'd asked about your intimate anatomy when we first started spending time together? "
I bit my lips and smiled. “If I knew you were a monster, I’d have let you explore it because I think it’s funny.”
“Bad example.” Atlas rubbed between his antennae. “For the record, no, he doesn’t have a slit; it all hangs out. Leave the bull alone.”
I shrugged my shoulders in disappointment.
Byron huffed, his nose ring glinting as he exhaled forcefully.
With surprising efficiency, he helped load the cart and secured the harness across his broad shoulders.
Without so much as a backward glance, he heaved the overloaded timber wagon forward, his powerful hooves striking sparks against a stray rock here or there as he disappeared between the trees.
“I think he’s starting to like me.” I crossed my arms and leaned up against Atlas while we watched Byron pull away.
Atlas hummed, his antennae lay on my head. “He is better. He will be as good as me one day, if he is lucky and finds a match as beautiful and adventurous as I.”
I giggled and rubbed Atlas’ chest with my hand. “Yes, first Harlow and Gideon, don’t you think?”
I could already picture Harlow's face when she'd meet Byron.
Her eyes would widen, and she'd probably stammer out something awkward like, "You're a minotaur, but you're not, like, supposed to be in a maze or anything, right?
" I chuckled to myself, knowing she'd love every minute of it.
She had a thing for the big, burly types, and Byron was about as big and burly as they came.
Atlas looked down at me, his antennae twitching. "What's so funny?"
I grinned up at him. "Just imagining Harlow's reaction to Byron. She's going to lose her mind."
Atlas smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You enjoy this, don't you? The chaos, the unpredictability?"
I shrugged, still grinning. "Life's more fun when it's a little messy, isn't it? Besides, I can't wait to see how Gideon handles it. He's so straight-laced, and Harlow's anything but."
Atlas laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. "It will be interesting how it unfolds when they return in a few days.”
I hummed excitedly. “I’m ready. I’ve missed her. You will still have to let me visit and play with her often.”
“I would never keep my female away from her friends and life. There is something called balance between all walks of life. You would be annoyed with watching me cut wood all day.” Atlas tapped my nose.
I highly doubt that…
“As for tonight, it is my turn to take part in your fun activities. Let us go home and prepare for tonight’s events.”