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Still not a word from him. Could he be in shock? If so, what should I do? I rack my brain, trying to remember something, anything, I learned from the hundreds of hours I spent binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy.

“Do you know what day it is?” I ask.

Isn’t that what doctors do after a possible concussion? Test the patient with mundane, easy questions?

Then again, even I sometimes don’t know what day of the week it is and I’ve never had a concussion.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes practically spit fire. Okay, so he might not have a head injury after all.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

My gaze travels down his enormous body, determined to look for any sign of blood. Instead, I notice the dark ink covering his thick, furry arms, the black T-shirt that’s stretched across his broad chest, and his worn jeans hugging powerful thighs. Somewhere along the way, I stop assessing his health and start assessing his hotness. And boy, does he score high on a scale of one to ten.

Only when his eyes narrow do I remember I was checking him for injuries, not checking him out.

“Can you still move everything?” I ask.

He crosses his arms over his broad chest in reply.

“Obviously, your arms still work. And your legs, because you’re standing,” I say with a laugh that makes me sound like a nervous witch.

My goodness, I’m making a complete fool of myself.

“Are you done?” he finally says.

I nod while biting my lip. His deep voice makes me feel things I definitely shouldn’t be feeling right now. I wait for him to say more, maybe give his insurance info. Anything to resolve this, really.

But instead, he lets out a growl as he marches to his bike. He pulls it upright as if it’s as light as a feather, swings one leg over it, and revs the engine.

He gives me one last angry look, then speeds away.

I watch the minotaur disappear from view before getting back in my car.

Well, that went brilliantly.

Chapter Two

Romy

I’m still reeling from the accident, so I decide to stop in town for something to eat and drink before going to the house.

Screaming Woods Diner is on a street called Nightjar Row and looks casual enough for a quick bite. I debate just grabbing a coffee at Lucky Bean, but I doubt downing caffeine when I already have shaky hands is a good idea.

I push the door open and do a double-take. Some patrons are human like me, and some are… definitely not human.

The rumors are true. I already suspected as much when I hit that minotaur, but now, I’m one hundred percent sure that Screaming Woods is home to real monsters.

I slide into a booth and grab the laminated menu that’s wedged between some condiments. The moment I look at all the available burger options, my stomach growls. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

A woman with small antlers takes my order of a classic cheeseburger and soda. As soon as the food arrives, I scarf it all down. I’m beyond caring how that comes across—although I don’t want everyone’s first impression of me to be that I eat like a starving wolf, so I try to contain myself a little bit.

When the server brings the check, she smiles at me. “New in town?”

I nod. “Just arrived, actually.”

“Nice. Just in time for the Fall Celebration.”

“Oh? When’s that?” I ask as I pay for my food.