Holt Wraith | Minotaur x Reader

14: Comfort In Caligo

You blink, your lungs constricting, and you have to take a moment to regain your breath. A woman? With child? Over the body of a Night Beast?

Your mind whirs with questions that can't be answered. After a short silence, you release a shaky sigh.

"I...think this is deeper than either of our understanding," you conclude, sorting through your jumbled thoughts like a crow digging through pebbles in search of the right one.

Your mind quotes Matilda; what must be known will be known in time, and what mustn't be revealed will stay hidden as it should be. You find yourself being comforted by the echoing words.

Your eyes focus back on the beast, and you smile gently, brushing your thumbs over the inner parts of his soft ears, causing him to release a deep sigh. His lashes flutter at the sensation, but he keeps his white pools locked onto you.

"Accepting...that you do not know...what this all means," he acknowledges, gazing into your eyes as if he's reading your mind and understanding every part.

You nod, but your smile falters a little as you recall your terrible dream. When Caligo tilts his head at your somber expression, you figure you should explain, even though you don't fully understand it for yourself.

"In my dream, I remember seeing a journal in the cellar of the cathedral. I don't know why, but I feel like it holds great importance, as if it was revealed to me in hopes I would find it in real life."

You turn your head away, laughing under your breath awkwardly. "I know, I must sound insane saying that."

The creature leans forward and nudges the side of your face with his snout, making you look straight at him, and he shakes his head. "Not insane. Brave. Capable," he asserts with a firm nod and deep huff.

Your cheeks heat up at his words, and you can't help smiling shyly at the sweet beast. You trail your hands down to the sides of his jaw, cupping the sides in your palms, and you admire the way he rests his head in your hands like a sleepy puppy.

You forget sometimes that he killed Delle, especially in moments like these. He can be so gentle, so loving, so affectionate and caring, you forget he has fresh blood staining his soul.

He had to do it. He had to killer her, otherwise she would've killed you, though you aren't sure why he cared for you so much at the time. You shove those thoughts away, preferring to forget about it all.

"And you," you say, rubbing up and down his jaw, feeling the slick, wet fur slide against your skin, "must get back to the cottage before you catch a cold."

He huffs through his nose, almost resembling a laugh, causing you to quirk your brow as a small grin spreads across your lips. His eyes gleam with an unreadable emotion, but you're sure it's positive, seeming thankful even, as if appreciating the fact you're concerned about his health.

"Can not...get ill," he informs you in a gentle, soft tone. And then, his eyes widen a bit, "but...you can."

And with that realization, he starts striding through the dark forest, pulling you close to shield you from the rain, even though you're already completely soaked. You're pressed against his chest as he walks, his warmth causing goosebumps to scatter across your exposed arms.