26. Taurex
TAUREX
Guilt was a cold, heavy stone in Taurex’s gut, colder than the night air on his wet skin. He had promised to protect her and keep her safe and then the pleasure blooms had attacked.
He carried Terra into the warmth of his home, her slight form shivering against his chest, her arms locked around his neck. Her face was buried in the curve of his shoulder, her breath a warm, rapid flutter against his skin.
The scent of her fear—sharp and acrid—cut through the lingering, floral musk of the pleasure blooms that still clung to them both.
It made his own muscles coil with a savage need to conquer a foe he could not fight.
He had failed her. He had brought her to a place of peace, and it had turned on her.
But I’ve never seen them so active! How could I know they would attack her? he asked himself.
The words felt like a pathetic excuse even as he thought them. The red blooms had moved with a singular, aggressive purpose he’d only ever read about in theoretical texts on symbiotic reproductive triggers. They hadn’t been seeking general arousal. They had been seeking completion—a mating.
The thought, once formed, would not leave him alone. It hammered inside his brain, leading to even more guilt.
His scent, thick with a Monstrum’s primal need for his fated mate, had combined with Terra’s own human pheromones—a scent that, to him, was the most intoxicating blend of sweetness and heat he’d ever known.
Together, they hadn’t just aroused the blooms—they had triggered them to stage a mass attack.
It was the only explanation. The flora had sensed the unique biochemical signature of a potential bond and had reacted according to its nature.
But he could not say this to Terra. To voice it would be to expose the terrifying depth of his own truth.
He had known she was his from the moment her small, brave hand had taken his in that grimy club.
The psychic flash that had nearly buckled his knees had been confirmation—a brutal, beautiful glimpse of a union so profound it had shaken his soul.
But to Terra that would no doubt sound like madness. Or worse, as the humans said it would sound like a “line.” After the violation of the blooms, the last thing she needed was to feel pursued by another force she could not control—especially if that force was him.
So he held his silence, cradling her closer as he shouldered his way into the main bathing chamber. He set her down gently on a wide, padded bench, her legs still unsteady.
“Taurex?” she looked up at him, shivering. “S-so c-c-cold,” she stammered, her teeth chattering.
Probably from shock as much as the lower body temperature, he thought grimly.
“Let me dry you, lovely one,” he murmured, his voice roughened by emotion.
He grabbed a large, absorbent towel made from dried moss-silk, softer than any Earth cotton. Kneeling before her, he began to pat the moisture from her skin.
He was achingly careful, treating her like something infinitely precious and fragile.
He blotted the water from her shoulders, the elegant line of her spine, the gentle curve of her waist. He toweled her legs and her feet, each motion slow and deliberate, a silent apology he hoped she could feel in every touch.
Terra just sat passively, her head bowed, her damp hair veiling her face. She didn’t say a word but finally her shivering began to subside under the gentle friction and the room’s warmth.
When she was mostly dry, Taurex wrapped the large towel around her like a cloak. Only then did he attend to himself, using a second towel to scrub roughly over his own head, horns, and body.
Once dry, he lifted her again. She felt even smaller wrapped in the towel, a bundle of trembling warmth.
He carried her to the room he had prepared for her—a cozy space with a bed grown from living, yielding moss, draped in soft fabrics.
She had loved it earlier so he hoped she would feel warm and comfortable.
Gently, he laid her on the edge of the bed.
“Try to rest, Terra,” he murmured. “You are safe here. Nothing can get in.”
She looked around the room, her eyes wide and shadowed in the soft light. Her gaze fixed on the round, transparent window that looked out into the bioluminescent garden and the bathing pool beyond.
Taurex saw her eyes widen and then she shook her head—a quick, jerky movement
“No. I can’t…can’t sleep here. What if… what if they come after me again? What if they get through the window? I mean, I let one of them inside me and then they all attacked.”
Her voice was a thin thread of sound, laced with a fear that made Taurex’s heart fist in his chest. She wasn’t just frightened—she was traumatized.
The logic that the blooms were rooted outside and couldn’t get through the window was no comfort to her primal fear.
He made a decision in an instant—the only one his heart would allow.
“Then you will not sleep here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He gathered her back into his arms. “You may sleep with me, if you wish it. My room is safe—nothing will disturb you there.”
He felt her tense for a moment, then a shuddering sigh escaped her, and she melted against him, her head finding its place once more on his shoulder.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s what I want. Take me to your room, please, Taurex.”
He carried her to his own chamber, a larger space dominated by a broad, low bed grown from the same resilient heart-wood as the rest of the house.
It was covered in blankets woven of heather-fur—a dense, soft plant that really did feel like fur.
He placed her in the center, where she immediately drew her knees up, the towel still clutched around her.
“I will be right back,” Taurex said softly. “Will you be all right if I leave you for a moment?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“As long as you’re not long.”
“I won’t be,” he promised.
“Good.”
Taurex retreated to a dressing alcove, pulling on a pair of loose, soft sleep trousers.
He took a moment, bracing his hands on the wall, hanging his head and breathing deeply.
The scent of her fear was fading, replaced by her natural fragrance and the clean smell of the moss-silk towel.
It called to him on a level deeper than instinct.
Mate—she’s my mate! I need to make her mine so I can protect her!
Every instinct demanded it, but he couldn’t rush her—especially after what had almost happened to her in the bathing pool.
He took several steadying breaths, schooling his features into a mask of calm, before returning to the bed. Later—he would tell her later—and try to make her understand they belonged together.