The Alien Minotaur’s Bride by Skye MacKinnon

Resisting fate is hard. Alien minotaurs are harder.

I spent nine years alone on a space station at the edge of nowhere, and I told myself I liked it that way. No one to answer to. No one to let me down.

Then Keth took me. Eight and a half feet of alien minotaur: curved horns, cloven hooves, a restless tail, and hands that span my whole waist. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and still handles me like I’m the most breakable thing he’s ever touched.

He says I’m his fated mate. The serum he gives me rebuilds my human body into an omega made for his: I run hot for his knot, and I’m built to be bred. My breasts swell heavy and full with milk, aching for a relief only he can give. Among his people, an omega who produces is sacred, and Keth tends to every drop with a reverence that wrecks every wall I have left. He wants nothing more than to keep me full.

I’ve never been wanted. Never been kept.
But on Keth’s world, a producing omega is a prize, and a higher-ranked alpha has already moved to claim me for himself. If our bond reads as weak, the law can take me from Keth and hand me over.

I should be fighting my way home. Instead I’m fighting to keep him.