Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

8. Lazir

8

LAZIR

M ara's body is limp in my arms, her face pale against the darkness of the forest. I can feel the thrum of her heartbeat against my chest. Garron's voice slices through the quiet, anger sharpening his words.

"Why did you accept her offer, Lazir?" His eyes, full of storms, bore into mine.

I adjust Mara's weight in my arms, her dark hair spilling over my arm. "We're in this together, Garron," I say, my voice steady. "We need this. More than the paltry sum that dark elf bastard is offering."

Calo steps forward, his gaze defiant. "We're a team. All of us," he insists, looking at Garron, who's standing rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. "We have to listen to each other."

Garron's jaw tightens. Without a word, he turns on his heel and disappears into the trees, the underbrush rustling in his wake.

I carry Mara back to the carriage, her body a delicate burden against my shoulder. The worn wood of the carriage creaks under our combined weight as I place her gently inside. Her chest rises and falls in a rhythm of exhausted sleep, and I can't help but note the fragile strength in her features.

As I step back, Garron reappears. He carries a restless energy with him. "We need another mount," he grunts, his gaze flicking to the unconscious Mara. "The dark elves will be on us as soon as they regroup."

I nod, a silent acknowledgment of his strategic thinking. "You're right. We should go, now." I turn to Calo, who's already moving to hitch a spare horse to the carriage.

Garron watches me for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "Why did you do it, Lazir?" he asks again, his voice quieter now.

I meet his gaze, holding it with a steadiness that matches my conviction. "Because we need a win, Garron. Because this could be our chance to make things right, to regain what we've lost."

His eyes search mine, a silent battle raging between us. Finally, he gives a curt nod, accepting my reasoning if not agreeing with it. "Let's get moving then. We've wasted enough time here."

As we set off, the forest becomes a blur of shadows around us, the clatter of hooves and the creak of the carriage the only sounds breaking the stillness of the night. I keep a watchful eye on our surroundings, alert to any signs of pursuit. Mara's breathing remains even, her body relaxed in the depths of her unconsciousness.

I can't shake the feeling of her in my arms. There's a vulnerability to her that calls to something primal within me, a need to protect. But I can't afford to let my guard down, not with so much at stake.

The weight of our mission sits heavy on my shoulders, but there's a glimmer of hope now, a possibility of redemption.

We finally stumble upon a cave hidden deep in the mountains. It's a suitable refuge for the time being. I gently carry Mara inside the cave and lay her down on a bed of moss. Garron and Calo take up their posts outside, their vigilance our first line of defense.

As I venture deeper into the cave, the air grows cool and damp, the scent of earth and minerals filling my senses. My hand traces the rough stone walls, guiding me through the darkness. The sound of trickling water draws me forward, and I find myself at the edge of an underground river, its surface glistening in the dim light. I fill my jug with the cool, clear water.

As I make my way back to Mara, the cave is eerily silent, save for the soft echo of the river behind me.

I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks. Mara is awake, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire I'd left for her. But it's not her gaze that holds me captive—it's the sight of her chest, bare and smooth, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she takes.

My throat tightens, a surge of primal desire coursing through me. I clench my fists, the jug of water suddenly heavy in my grasp. "What are you doing?" My voice is gruff, the words coming out more as a growl than a question.

I force myself to look away, my jaw clenched. "Cover yourself," I command, the alpha in me asserting control over the situation. I hear the rustle of clothing as she complies, but when I dare to glance back, she's left the tunic bunched around her shoulders, her breasts still exposed, the shadows highlighting the gentle curve of her cleavage.

A battle rages within me. Part of me wants to reprimand her, to demand that she dress properly. But another part, a part I can't fully suppress, wants to drink in the sight of her.

I step closer, my shadow falling over her. "I said, cover yourself," I repeat.

Her eyes meet mine, a silent challenge hanging in the air between us. She's testing me, pushing the boundaries of my restraint.

Her voice, soft yet laced with resolve, cuts through the thick tension of the cave. "I was just checking my wounds," she says, her gaze unwavering. "The dark elves were rough. I thought you were all outside."

The firelight dances across her bare skin. My eyes trace the lines of her body, the gentle swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her waist. She's not wrong; she is small, her form delicate and almost fragile.

"You should be ashamed," I tell her, my voice gruff with an edge of a warning. "A female like you, baring herself?—"

She cuts me off, her voice growing stronger, "But don't you see, Lazir? You own me now. I've sworn to serve you, to do whatever it takes to repay your kindness. Even... even with my body, if that's what you wish."

Her words hang in the air, a bold declaration that stirs something primal within me. I scoff, the sound echoing off the cave walls. "I have no interest in a female so small and scrawny. I take my pleasure with those who can match my strength, who can withstand the fierce hunger of a minotaur."

A spark of defiance flares in her eyes, igniting a challenge that I hadn't expected. "Then why not test me? You might find that I'm stronger than I appear."

My body moves of its own accord, driven by the alpha within me that refuses to back down from a challenge. I step closer, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. Our eyes lock, the air charged with the electric energy of our standoff.

"You think you can handle me?" I growl, my voice a low rumble. "You're not built for the kind of rutting I enjoy. You look like you might shatter beneath me, and I have no desire to bed a female who might not survive the night."

Her breath hitches, her cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and excitement. "Then prove it," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "Prove that I can't handle you, Lazir."

The scent of her—a blend of earthy fear and the sweet, heady aroma of arousal—fills my senses, clouding my judgment. The alpha in me roars to life, aching to claim her, to dominate and possess her completely. But I am not ruled by my baser instincts. I am controlled, measured, and I do not give in to such trivial provocations.