Free Hotter Than Hell by Kim Harrison, Martin H. Greenberg Page B

with anyone.
    He touches my shoulders. He is shaking, but he does not tell me to stop, and I take the invitation, going further, deeper, using my hands and mouth, feeling him ignite as I push closer to some indefinable edge. His hips thrust, again and again, and a low shuddering moan escapes his throat, building as I suck hard.
    The Minotaur pulls away from my mouth as he comes, though I still hold him with my hands, savoring his violent release as though it is my own. His breathing is ragged, harsh, and when he grabs me up in his arms I feel a new weakness in his body; tremors in his muscles, in the breathlessness of his kiss, that makes me desire him even more.
    “Why?” he murmurs. “Why do you want me? Why did you want to come back?”
    “I don’t want to be without you.” The words slip free so easily it frightens me.
    The Minotaur’s breath catches. He cradles my face between his hands. I cannot see his eyes, but I am sure he can see mine. “Why? Of all men, why me?”
    I wish I could see his eyes. I wish it so badly. “Why
me?
”
    The Minotaur exhales slowly. His arms slide around my body. He holds me close and whispers in my ear. “Because I wanted you. Because I wanted your help, but I also wanted just…you. To touch you, once. I have watched you for so long.”
    I cannot speak. He stands and lifts me into his arms. “There is something I must show you.”
    He carries me through the darkness. I listen to his heartbeat and the shuffle of sand. The air becomes warmer, humid. Nothing of the harpies.
    The Minotaur walks for a long time. The oubliette is larger than I expected, or else we have left that place and his entire home is made of darkness. He finally stops, though, and lowers me to my feet. I stay within the circle of his arms and he says, “In front of you.”
    I kneel. I reach out and touch water. Hot water. I lean closer and steam bathes my face.
    “A natural spring,” says the Minotaur. “Take off your clothes. I will wash away the blood.”
    “And you? It was your blood, after all. You’re hurt.”
    “Then we will wash together.” There is tension in his voice. He shows no hesitation, though, when he helps undress me. He holds my hands with care as I step blind into the hot water. It feels good, though I cannot help but think of the harpies. I mention them again as the Minotaur slides into the water beside me.
    “There are always risks,” he admits. “Risks for the unwary. It is the labyrinth, after all.”
    “I’ve always thought of the library as a labyrinth,” I tell him, and the Minotaur makes a rumbling sound, splashing warm water over my arms and rubbing his wet thumbs across my cheeks.
    “All places of paths and knowledge are part of the great maze,” he says. “Some more so than others. Your library is one of them. The veil between worlds is weak there. Weak enough even for one as untalented as I to reach through.”
    “Why just reach? Why not step through entirely? Escape, if that is what you really want.”
    The Minotaur’s hands still. “I am bound here.”
    “No.” I think of all that has passed between us, what little he has told me. “No, not completely. You brought me here to save you. That’s what you said.”
    The Minotaur remains silent for along time. Not until I press my fingertips against his cheek does he make a sound. His sigh is warm.
    “I should not have brought you to this place,” he murmurs. “Not the first time, not the second, and not now. Selfishness begged it. Despair and loneliness. But I know better, and better means keeping you safe. You must not free me.”
    “I must,” I whisper. “You know I must.”
    Again, the Minotaur says nothing. He washes me and I do the same for him, discovering in the process a terrible slash across his shoulder.
    “It is already healing,” he says quietly. “I cannot die here. The king forbade it.”
    “He controls this place?”
    The Minotaur’s laugh is bitter. “No one controls the labyrinth.