The Minotaur in the Snowstorm (Monstrous New York #3)

Chapter 1

“Ness, the storm is supposed to be terrible. Why don’t you stay at our place until it passes?” Concern threads through Viktor’s voice as it filters from the phone speaker. Tilting my head to the side, I pin the device between my shoulder and ear while I walk to the window.

Hooking a finger into the curtains, I pull them back and peer out across the snow-covered front lawn of the farmhouse.

Flurries coat the air as they cascade to their resting place on the ground.

Under the fading sunlight, the fresh blanket of white sparkles like diamonds.

It’s magical. “It really doesn’t look that bad, Viki.

I’ll be fine. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight and spend Christmas with Mom and Dad in the city tomorrow.

Now that Dad isn’t a total asshole, he’s actually kind of fun to be around. ”

His gusted sigh hits my ear. Ever the protector, my twin brother has only my best interests at heart. But the last thing I want is to spend Christmas Eve alone at his and Maggie’s place.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s cozy and warm, but it’s too quiet without the constant chatter of my soon-to-be niece, Lily.

“Okay. But call me the second you get home… or if you run into any trouble. Our flight is delayed, so we’ll miss Christmas dinner.

Tell Mother and Father I’ll call them when we’re stateside.

And thank you again for watching the place while we’re away.

” Viktor took Maggie and her daughter on vacation to the Swiss Alps for his birthday. He proposed to Maggie tonight.

She said yes, of course. My mouth quirks into a smile; I knew she would.

They’re probably itching to get home to share the good news.

I spin to face the living room, which I spent the last few hours decking out in all the classic Christmas trimmings. The tree stands in the corner, sparkling with lights and baubles.

Red and gold glint against the evergreen branches.

Garland is draped around the beams of the ceiling. Festive and tasteful.

Was it impractical to decorate now that they won’t make it home due to the impending storm? Absolutely. But impractical is my middle name.

“Happy to help. I’m heading home now. Love you!”

Right before I hang up, his deep voice demands, “Call me when you get home. I mean it, Ness.”

“Yes, dear brother.” Rolling my eyes, I hang up and haul the last of the leftover decorations to my car.

The sleek silver hatchback sits in the driveway, a thin layer of snow already coating the outside and more piling up by the second.

“It’s just a little snow. You’ll be fine, Ness.

” A drawn-out exhale leaves my mouth as I slip into the driver’s seat and prepare for the hour-long drive back to the city.

“I’ll be home for Christmaaaas!” My off-key crooning fills the small car, the snow crunching under my tires with every slow inch I travel down the old farm road. A wall of white flurries makes it nearly impossible to tell where the road ends and the ditch starts.

Maybe I won’t be home for Christmas.

At the rate the flakes are falling—more like careening—from the dark sky, I might be spending Christmas Eve in my tiny hatchback on the side of the road.

“Should have listened to Dad and taken his SUV. Four-wheel drive. All the bells and whistles. Sounds pretty good right now,” I mutter, fingers tightening around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn a ghostly shade of white.

Gone is my usual sunny disposition as the tires spin and the backend fishtails.

Pressing the gas all the way to the floor, the car doesn’t move, but an ear-splitting squeal fills the air. “Ouch!” I slam my hands to the sides of my head to cover my sensitive vampire ears.

It’s safe to say I’m stuck. “Great.”

“They’re saying it’s the storm of the century. Make some hot cocoa and stay inside, folks. We’re in for a rough one tonight,” the radio DJ helpfully provides.

My head bangs against the headrest, and all the air leaves my chest on a powerful sigh. Spending the night cramped in my car like a sardine in a tin can? Can’t get much worse than this.

Rolling my head to the side, I peer out the window. A faint glow in the distance catches my eye.

A house?

Maybe I can stay there for the night and still make it home tomorrow to salvage some of Christmas with my parents.

Hope fills my chest as I wrap my hand around the door handle.

With my shoulder pressed against the door, I groan and push it open.

Steeling myself against the bite of the winter wind whipping around me, I leave the warmth of my sardine can.

Luckily, vampires are cold-blooded creatures, so the fierce chill rolls off my back as I trudge through the knee-deep snow.

The same can’t be said for my maxi dress and suede booties.

Cute, yes.

Practical for being caught in the middle of a blizzard, not so much.

Almost instantly, the thin fabric around my ankles is soaked through with bone-chilling liquid, clinging to my legs with each step.

As I round the hood of my car, a mound of snow swallows the front tires. Trailing along the side of the car, I find the same situation with the back tires.

I’m not going anywhere until the snow stops and someone can help me dig the tires out.

Perfect.

“Oomph!” The wind gusts a distant grunt to my ears. “Oomph!”

There’s another one! My head snaps up, eyes squinting toward the direction the sound came from. That’s when a loud whack joins the chorus of masculine grunts.

My feet move on their own, sinking into the heavy drifts of snow until the light I saw earlier grows brighter. Closer. Beckoning me out of the cold and wet like a mirage in the desert.

With each step, a small cabin comes into view, nestled between towering evergreens, whose branches bend under the weight of the snow.

Clad with worn stone siding and a slate roof, it’s not a cabin at all, but a cottage. Straight out of a children’s story.

“Who would live all the way out here?” Honestly, I didn’t think Maggie had any neighbors. Her orchard is on the outskirts of a small town called Maple Ridge Hollow, so most people live closer to Main Street. But based on the plumes of smoke pouring from the chimney, someone clearly lives here.

“Oomph!” Another grunt. Louder this time.

My heart picks up speed. The flicker of hope from earlier bursts to life again.

Even though I may be immune to some level of cold, the next gust of wind has me shivering and my teeth chattering. I need to get inside ASAP!

Wrapping my arms around my middle, I will my feet to move faster, but the knee-deep mounds of snow hinder my supernatural speed.

After what must be a year’s time, I finally make it to a roughly shoveled narrow path that leads toward the back of the adorable little cottage. When another deep grunt—followed by a loud bang—fills the winter air, my ears perk up.

A small smile tips the corners of my lips as I round the back corner of the cottage. I’m sure I’m quite a sight in my soaked dress and frozen sheet of long white hair. Prince Charming won’t even know what hit him when he sets his eyes on me.

But my smile pulls wider, into something downright wolfish, when my eyes land on the source of the grunts and groans.

It’s the bull of my dreams.

I ball my icy hands and rub them against my eyes to make sure he’s not a figment of my nearly hypothermic imagination.

Red flannel stretches across his broad back, and tufts of dark-brown fur flecked with gray line his thick forearms. Raising the ax over his head, my gaze is drawn to his bulging biceps… and horns.

Protruding from either side of his head is a pair of long, curved horns. The bone-white color is yellowed with age and wear, similar to the facade of his cottage. This minotaur has lived a rugged life, if I had to guess.

But those horns. Mmmm. They’d make the perfect handlebars…

A bolt of pleasure zips down to the needy space between my thighs.

Shaking my head, my frozen hair smacks me in the face. The chill against my skin clears the horny thoughts—for now, anyway.

The burly minotaur foreman, Jean-Luc, has been my obsession ever since Maggie’s harvest festival last fall.

Call me a stalker, but I even gave up my usual casual hookups because I can’t get him out of my damn head. My core tightens, and I clench my thighs together. I’m so horny from the lack of a real cock after making do with only my toys for the past few months.

In fact, I’m so desperate for what he’s packing in those skintight jeans that I ordered a minotaur replica dildo and imagine what it’d be like to have this beast rutting between my thighs, holding me hostage against the mattress, a wall… Hell, even the floor.

Or, better yet, maybe I tie him up and have my way with him. A subtle smirk flits across my snow-kissed lips at the naughty idea.

My pussy isn’t picky. But she is greedy.

The fates must be smiling down on me, delivering a fine specimen like Jean-Luc. And, gasp, it looks like we’ll be snowed in together for the night.