Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

6. Calo

6

CALO

T he fire crackles, its warm glow casting dancing shadows across Mara's face. She's a picture of vulnerability, her hands bound, her posture defeated. Yet, there's a resilience in her eyes, a spark that refuses to be extinguished. It's that spark that draws me in, that makes me want to protect her.

I clear my throat, the sound sharp in the quiet of the night. Her gaze snaps to mine, wary yet hopeful. "I believe you about the gold," I say, my voice low and steady. I want her to trust me, to see me as her ally for some reason.

Her relief is palpable, lighting up her face like the morning sun. "Thank you," she whispers, and I feel a strange sense of pride.

But I can't let her think this changes everything. "Garron has his reasons for not trusting humans," I tell her, my gaze flickering to the flames. I can't betray Garron's confidence, but she needs to understand the depth of his mistrust.

She absorbs this, her brow furrowing, curiosity piqued. "What reasons?" she asks.

I shake my head, my resolve firm. "It's not my story to tell," I say, standing up. "But know that a human female hurt him. Badly." I see the realization dawn on her, the softening of her features as understanding takes hold.

"I see," she says, her voice thoughtful.

I sigh, feeling the weight of our situation pressing down on me. "I'll talk to him. Lazir too. If there's a way to make this work, I'll find it." I'm promising more than I should, but something about her makes me want to be her champion.

Her smile, when it comes, is like a balm to my spirit. "Thank you," she says again, her gratitude genuine.

I turn away quickly, my heart pounding in my chest. She's getting under my skin, this human. She makes me feel things I don't understand, things that are foreign and unsettling.

I walk away, needing to put distance between us before I do something foolish—like untie her and offer her the world. My thoughts are a tumultuous sea, crashing against the walls of my resolve. I can't afford to be swayed by a pretty face and a tragic tale.

Before long, the night wraps around the camp like a shroud, the embers of the fire dying in the stillness. My thoughts, however, are still far from quiet. The image of Mara, the soft curve of her neck as Lazir's hands roamed her body earlier that night, plays on an endless loop. It stokes an ember of jealousy that I can't seem to quell.

I'm on my feet before I realize it, my strides eating up the ground as I near her tent. The flap is open a crack, and I peer inside, my heart a thunderous drum in my ears. She's asleep, her features relaxed and tranquil, a stark contrast to the turmoil she's caused within me.

I shouldn't be here. I know that. But knowing and doing are two different beasts, and tonight, the beast within me hungers for something it has no right to claim.

With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I slip inside the tent, my movements whisper-quiet. The air is thick with the scent of her—earthy and sweet. It's intoxicating, and I feel a pull deep in my gut, an alpha's urge to claim, to possess.

Crouching beside her, I reach out, my fingers barely grazing her cheek. Her skin is a canvas of silk, warm and inviting. A shock runs through me at the contact, and I snatch my hand back, the heat of her like a brand against my skin.

She shifts in her sleep, her clothes riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of her leg, the gentle swell of her stomach, and the tantalizing curve of her breast. My breath catches in my throat, a primal hunger clawing its way to the surface.

I'm caught in a web of my own making, torn between the loyalty I owe my brothers and the desire that burns through my veins like wildfire. I tell myself I'm just watching over her, that I'm here to ensure her safety. But the tightening in my groin betrays the lie.

My hand moves of its own accord, tracing the contours of her body, lingering on the soft mound of her breast. She's oblivious, lost in dreams, while I'm ensnared in a waking nightmare of need and guilt.

I can't have her. I know this. She's a job. A means to an end. And yet, as my fingers explore her form, the throbbing ache within me grows unbearable.

With a muttered curse, I give in to the base instincts that threaten to consume me and lay beside her. My hand slips beneath the waistband of my trousers, gripping myself with a desperation that borders on madness. My movements are quick, silent, as I seek release from the torment of my desire.

I dare to touch her again, my hand gentle where it rests upon her breast. She stirs but does not wake, her breathing a steady rhythm that fuels my fantasy. The sound of her, the feel of her—it's too much.

A growl builds in my chest, a feral sound that I barely manage to stifle as I reach the peak of my pleasure. I come with a shudder, my body rigid as I spill my seed inside my trousers with shameful abandon.

The aftermath leaves me hollow, the guilt of my betrayal a bitter pill to swallow. She trusted me, looked to me as a protector, and I've violated that trust in the most intimate of ways.

I pull back, my hand trembling as I tuck myself away. I'm a monster—no better than the dark elves.

With a final, lingering look at her sleeping form, I rise to my feet, my resolve hardening. I can't let this happen again. She's not just a job. She's a person. A person who deserves better than the selfish desires of a beast like me.

My heart slams against my ribs as I step out of the tent and find Garron's massive form blocking my path. His ice-blue eyes pierce through the darkness, judging, always judging.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice carrying that familiar edge of disapproval.

I force my shoulders back, drawing myself to my full height. The shame of what I just did burns in my gut, but I keep my voice steady. "Just checking on her," I mutter.

Garron's gaze lingers, and I feel like a cub again, caught stealing treats from the clan's stores. His lip curls slightly before he turns away. "Don't waste your time," he snarls.

The dismissal hits harder than any physical blow. Heat rises in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I call after him. "You're not the only one with a say in this! We're a team, Garron!"

He doesn't even pause. Just keeps walking, his broad back a wall between us. My fists clench at my sides.

Why does he always do this? Treat me like I'm some naive fool who can't tell danger from opportunity? I'm not the runt of the litter anymore.

The urge to chase after him, to force him to acknowledge me, burns in my muscles.

Instead, I stand here alone, the night air cooling the sweat on my skin, while shame and anger war in my gut. The worst part is, after what I just did in that tent, maybe I am exactly as stupid as he thinks.