Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

15. Mara

15

MARA

T he forest is a labyrinth of shadows. The moonlight filters through the canopy above to cast a silver glow on Calo's fur as he slows to a stop. My body aches from the frantic flight, the adrenaline still singing in my veins. Calo's breaths are heavy. His chest rises and falls with the exertion of our desperate escape.

Gently, I touch his arm. "We're far enough. Let me see your wounds," I say softly.

He hesitates, a flicker of that youthful pride I've come to know. But then he nods, sinking to the ground with a sigh. I kneel beside him, my hands steady as I inspect the cuts along his arm. The moonlight reveals the stark contrast of his tanned skin against the dark, drying blood.

Nearby, a patch of herbs catches my eye, their scent sharp and earthy. I recognize them from my time in the dark elf's service—healing plants I was made to tend. Plucking a few, I crush them between my fingers, releasing their healing oils. The aroma fills the air.

As I bind Calo’s wounds, my voice is soft. "Do you think Garron and Lazir will be okay?"

Calo's smile is faint, but his confidence is unwavering. "They'll be fine. Garron and Lazir are tough," he says.

I nod, feeling a twinge in my chest. "Good. I… still need them," I say softly.

My fingers linger on his arm, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine. I can't help but think of the gentleness in his rough hands, the way he touched me with a reverence that belied his fierce exterior. Calo is kind, too kind for the likes of me. I can't afford to let myself feel anything more than gratitude for his protection.

And yet, as I look at his face, softened by the moonlight, I feel a pang of sadness. He's been so good to me, and despite my best efforts, I can't deny the affection growing within me. It's a dangerous feeling, one that could jeopardize everything I've worked for.

Calo seems to sense my inner turmoil, his green eyes searching mine. "Mara," he begins, "We're a team. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

I offer him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Calo. Your loyalty means more than you know," I whisper.

The sincerity in his words is a balm to my weary soul, but it also serves as a stark reminder of the precariousness of my situation. I'm playing a dangerous game. And as much as I wish things could be different, I know that my path is a solitary one.

A rustle in the bushes slices through the stillness of the night. I turn sharply, my heart lodged in my throat, only to exhale a sigh of relief when Garron and Lazir emerge. They're bloodied, their armor dented and scored from the battle, but they're alive.

Relief washes over me, and I rush toward them. But Lazir waves me off, his gruff voice cutting through my concern. "Tend to Garron. He's worse off."

I nod, swallowing hard as I approach Garron. His ice-blue eyes, usually so cold and unyielding, are now clouded with pain. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for his wound on his shoulder, but before I can touch it, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist tightly.

His eyes bore into mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch. "Who are you?" he growls, his voice laced with suspicion.

Calo bristles behind me. "Garron, don’t start with this nonsense," he says, his voice tinged with annoyance.

I force a calm smile, even as Garron's grip tightens around my wrist. "I'm Mara. The slave you rescued," I say, my voice steady despite the discomfort.

Garron's eyes narrow, his lip curling into a snarl. "You're hiding something. If you betray us…" His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, and a shiver runs down my spine. "I'll kill you myself."

Anger flares within me, hot and fierce, but I mask it with a soft smile, my gaze never leaving his. "I assure you, Garron, my interests are aligned with yours," I say, my voice sugary sweet.

I remove his bloodied bandage and press the herbs against his wound harder than necessary. He hisses in pain, his grip on my wrist loosening. "What the hell are you doing?" he grunts, glaring at me.

"Sorry," I say. "It's just... these herbs can help stop the bleeding and prevent infection. But they need to be pressed firmly into the wound."

Calo steps closer, his green eyes filled with concern as he watches us. "Mara knows what she's doing, Garron. Let her help you," he rumbles.

Garron's gaze flickers between Calo and me, his jaw clenching as he gives a curt nod. I continue to apply pressure to his wound, the scent of the healing herbs mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

As I work, my mind races. Garron's suspicion is a complication I hadn't anticipated. I need to tread carefully, to maintain their trust without revealing too much. It's a delicate balance, one that requires all of my cunning and wit.

I can feel Calo's gaze on me, his worry palpable even without words. I offer him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm I don't truly feel. This world—these minotaurs—are my lifeline, my means to an end. But as I look into Garron's wary eyes and feel the warmth of Calo's presence behind me, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

They're risking everything for me, and yet, my ultimate goal remains unchanged. Revenge is a bitter pill, one that leaves a trail of destruction in its wake.

I finish dressing Garron's wound, my hands stained with the evidence of our shared struggle. "There," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I turn to Calo. "Help me set up the tent?" I ask. The words come out more pleading than I intend, betraying my exhaustion.

Calo nods, but Garron's voice cuts through the night air like a blade. "No. We're moving," he growls. His ice-blue eyes scan the treeline, shoulders tense. "There's a lowtown nearby. We'll stay there if we keep to ourselves."

I bite back a sigh of frustration, my fingers unconsciously finding the worn edges of my necklace. Every time I try to connect with him, to breach that wall of ice he's built, he pushes back harder.

"The wounded need rest," I say, keeping my voice soft, reasonable. "Even a few hours would?—"

"We move now," Garron snaps, already shouldering his pack. The moonlight catches the fresh bandages on his shoulder, spots of red seeping through where my herbs haven't fully stemmed the bleeding.

Lazir exchanges a look with me, his amber eyes unreadable in the darkness. He shrugs, as if to say 'what can you do?' and follows his leader.

I fall into step beside Calo, who offers me a sympathetic smile. The forest floor crunches beneath our feet, wet leaves and broken twigs marking our passage. My legs protest each step, but I force myself to keep pace.

I press my lips together, swallowing the words I want to say. How does Garron expect me to trust him when he won't extend the same courtesy? But I know the answer - he doesn't want my trust. He doesn't want anything from me except the gold I promised.

The crystal in my satchel seems to grow heavier with each step. If he knew what I really carried, what I really planned... I push the thought away.