Hotter Than Hell

The stone creeps. I press as close as I can, hooking my arms around the Minotaur’s neck. I kiss him, hard, and after a moment I feel him stir and kiss me back. I smile against his mouth. Taste tears. Mine.

The Minotaur murmurs something I do not understand. I do not let go. I keep kissing him, even when he begins struggling, protesting, trying to push me away from the contagious gathering of stone. I hang tight, ignoring him. He has been betrayed by magic—both of us have—but I will be his champion to the end.

The stone rises. The Minotaur and I stop moving. We are locked together, and all I can do is tilt my head, to kiss him. I look into his eyes—blue like sky—blue with grief—and try to smile.

“Not what you expected?” I say, and the Minotaur makes a choking sound that I cut off with a kiss. One last kiss.

The stone covers my face. I go blind.

The next time I learn how to see again, I find myself cradled in strong arms. I am being carried. My feet dangle, my head lolls, and I feel sick to my stomach. I struggle to be put down. Just in time. I bend over, gagging, eyes streaming.

Then I remember. I fall to my knees.

A hand touches my shoulder. I turn. Find the Minotaur crouching beside me. He is not wearing the mask.

It startles me. For a moment I do not know him, but then I look into his eyes and they are the same soul, same heart. I touch his mouth with trembling fingertips, and he captures my wrist, holding me gently. His hands are the same, as well. Strong and warm.

“How?” I murmur. “I thought we were dead.”

“We were,” says the Minotaur, a hint of wonder in his voice. “You gave your life for mine.”

I sag against him. We are still naked. I run my hands over his body, searching for injury. Explore his face, studying the unfamiliar lines, the dark curl of his hair. He is a handsome man. But then, I thought so before ever seeing his face. Before he was anything but a presence in the dark.

I trail my fingers down his neck, following the red imprint of the former straps. The Minotaur watches my eyes. There is such tenderness in his face I want to lower my head and weep. I think I might do so anyway.

“How?” I ask again.

“I was a monster,” says the Minotaur, “and the king did not think it possible that anyone would ever care for me. Not enough to do what you did. The fact he even allowed one chance to lift the curse was meant more as punishment than hope. To break me with the futility of my existence. Because who…who would ever love a Minotaur?”

“I do,” I say quietly, and he shuts his eyes, shuddering.

“You had faith,” he whispers. “You believed in me, or else you would not have held me.”

“It was difficult. I thought you would kill me in the process.”

“I almost did.” He opens his eyes. “I became the creatures I transformed into. Only your touch kept me centered. Only you. If you had let go…”

I stop him. I do not want to think about what might have been. I glance around, noticing for the first time that we are in some kind of building. The stones are dark and smooth with age, and there are pillars rising to a vaulted ceiling that is elegant in its massive simplicity. The silence is heavy. We are alone. But there is light—streams of it cutting through holes in the upper segments of the high walls.

I look at the Minotaur. “Where is the labyrinth? How did we escape?”

“The labyrinth is where it always is,” he says gravely. “It is everywhere and nowhere. But we were able to leave because you freed me. And as you know, I have…some skills of my own.”

I shiver. The Minotaur helps me stand. “Come. There are clothes nearby.”

“How do you know?”

“Because this is home.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Home has been empty a long time. There won’t be anything left to find.”

The Minotaur smiles. “We shall see.”

But before we begin walking, I lean in for a kiss. A soft kiss that becomes urgent, fierce. I remember fear, desperation, my decision to die, and such memories will never leave me. They are another darkness, another labyrinth, and I want the Minotaur to steal me away. To save me.

And he does, his own calm face breaking into a mask of grief and desperation. He pushes me up against a pillar, his breathing unsteady, tears shadowing his eyes. He kisses me so deeply I feel him in my soul.

The Minotaur takes me. He is hard and I am ready and he slides so easily into my body I wonder how two people could fit so well and still be separate hearts.

I say as much, later. Later, when my legs are still wrapped around him and we lie on the cold stone floor. The Minotaur smiles. I can still see the outline of the mask, the mighty horns resting like a crown. Fit for a prince, I think. A prince of the labyrinth.

“We are two pieces of a puzzle,” says the Minotaur. “You and I.”

“So where do we go now? What do we do?”

The Minotaur points. I narrow my eyes; a moment later I see the silver mirror resting close by on the stones. Set there earlier, no doubt, when I was ill.

“Anywhere,” he says simply. “We go anywhere.”

I think of my library, my home in the darkness, my routine. My old life, safe and quiet. I am not naïve; anywhere will not be easy. But I look at the Minotaur, curled around my body, staring at me with his shining eyes, and I know that he is not naïve, either.

And I would rather face a life with him, no matter the danger or difficulty, than rest easy by myself.

I take his hand. “Have we really left the labyrinth?”

“I think we are making our own,” says the Minotaur. “It will be an adventure.”

“I hope so,” I reply.

And it is.

DEMON LOVER

Cheye

CHAPTER 1

HE VANISHED IN A WHIRL OF MIST, LEAVING BEHIND scents of sandalwood and sex on a hot summer’s night.

Ericka Roberts cried out and clenched her bedcovers in both fists as she woke. Perspiration coated her body and the sheets clung to her damp skin. Her breathing was harsh, her heart beating so hard it pounded inside her ears.

These dreams are killing me.

For the past week, since she’d arrived at the oceanside condo in San Diego, she’d woken sweating, body aching with need and frustration. In her dreams, her demon lover teased her with his tongue and tasted her until she was on the edge of a climax so powerful she knew it would rock her to her core.

The moment she reached that pi

And he would vanish.

Goddamnit. He just disappears!

The dreams were so intense that each morning she woke up pleasantly sore from his rough attention.

How’s that for a vivid imagination? She groaned and flung her arm over her eyes. “I’ve entered another dimension, where sane people don’t exist.”

Ericka moved her arm from her eyes and turned onto her side, facing the window. Shadows from palm trees and the first hint of morning sunlight winked through the glass as she faced reality.

Not too far away, the rush and pound of the surf matched the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart. The scent of sandalwood shifted into salt and brine mixed with the vanilla of candles she’d placed on every available surface of the room.

She attempted to grasp the power of the dream, but it faded through her fingers like tendrils of mist.

Yet he was there, never leaving her thoughts.

Ericka blew a strand of red hair out of her eyes and chewed on one of her nails. She slumped in the deck chair, her shorts hiking up her thighs. Her mind was anywhere but on the page on her laptop. Another planet, maybe.