Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

18. Mara

18

MARA

T he rough wooden floor beneath me feels like a slab of ice, a stark contrast to the heat that Lazir's body radiated just a short time ago. My breath hitches as I watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling with ease.

I can't tear my eyes away from the steady rhythm of his breathing. It's hypnotic, almost soothing—but it doesn't quiet the storm raging inside me. "What am I doing?" I whisper to the empty room, the words barely above a breath. My hand finds the hilt of my dagger in my bag. In this moment, I have the power to end this farce, to cut the threads of this dangerous game I'm playing.

The lamplight flickers, casting an eerie glow over Lazir's face. He looks almost peaceful in sleep, the harsh lines of his features softened, his guard down. It would be so easy, a voice in my head murmurs. One swift motion, and it would all be over. I could slip out into the night and vanish into the shadows.

But as I lift the dagger, hesitating just inches away from his skin, I falter. The scent of him—a mixture of leather and the sharp tang of the forest—fills my senses, muddling my resolve. My hand trembles, the dagger's point wavering as doubt creeps in.

"Not yet," I murmur, the words tasting like defeat on my tongue. I lower the weapon, placing it gently back into my bag, as if it might betray my intentions with the slightest clatter. My heart thuds heavily in my chest as I rise, my movements silent and deliberate. I cannot wake him. I cannot face those amber eyes knowing the thoughts that have just raced through my mind.

I dress quickly, my fingers fumbling with the laces of my tunic in my haste. The coarse fabric feels like armor against my skin, a barrier between me and the world I've entangled myself in. But I can't shake the feeling of Lazir's hands on my body, the memory of his touch both a brand and a balm.

With one last glance at the minotaur who has become my unlikely protector—and perhaps something more—I pad silently to the door.

I step out into the dimly lit hallway, each step taking me further away from the warmth of Lazir's body, the safety of his presence.

"You're losing yourself, Mara," I whisper into the darkness. The realization hits me like a physical blow, leaving me to wonder if I'll ever be able to find my way back to who I once was. Or if that person has been irrevocably altered by the choices I've made, the lines I've crossed.

The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I make my way down the narrow hallway. My heart nearly stops when I spot Garron's massive form leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The dim light catches the steel in his eyes as they lock onto me.

"What do you want?" I snap, forcing steel into my own voice as I straighten my spine. I won't let him intimidate me, not after everything.

His jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his fur. "I won't fall for your tricks like Lazir and Calo do. I see through you," he snarls.

I step toward him, letting a predatory grace fill my movements. The same grace that helped me survive all those years under Wlloza's thumb. "Tricks? What just happened between Lazir and me was mutual. I wanted it." I let my voice drop low, my lips curling into a smirk. "And he wanted it too."

Garron's eyes narrow dangerously, his whole body tensing. "You're hiding something. And I'll figure out what it is," he growls.

Before I can respond, his hand shoots out. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs as he slams me against the wall. Rough wood scrapes against my shoulder blades through the thin fabric of my tunic. His fingers wrap around my throat - not choking, but a clear warning.

"You think I don't see it?" His breath fans hot against my face, carrying the scent of pine and anger. "You're playing with us, twisting us around your little fingers. What's your endgame, Mara?"

My pulse quickens under his grip, but I refuse to show fear. I've faced worse than him. The crystal hidden against my skin seems to pulse with my racing heart, a reminder of why I'm here, why I must succeed.

"Get your hands off me," I murmur, letting danger seep into every word.

The sound of hurried footsteps up the inn's staircase cuts through the tension. Calo's voice, sharp and furious, slices through the air. "Garron!"

Garron barely has time to turn his head before Calo's shoulder slams into him, the force of the impact sending both of them stumbling. Garron releases me, his fingers uncurling from around my throat as he steadies himself against the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Calo roars, his fists clenched, his chest heaving with rage. His green eyes are wild, a stark contrast to the calm, collected scout I've come to know.

Garron smirks, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip where it split against his teeth. "You're just as blind as Lazir," he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. "She's playing you too."

Calo doesn't wait for more. He lunges at Garron, his fist connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack. Garron staggers backward, but he recovers quickly, throwing a punch of his own that lands squarely on Calo's ribs. The hallway fills with the sounds of fists meeting flesh, grunts of pain, and furniture scraping against the floor as the two grapple with each other.

I watch, a sly smile curling my lips as I take in the chaos I've unwittingly unleashed. My gaze flickers between them. This power I seem to wield over them is intoxicating, a dangerous game that I'm not entirely sure I want to win.

The door to Lazir's room creaks open, and Lazir steps out, his hair disheveled, his eyes heavy with sleep. The sight before him snaps him awake instantly, his amber gaze flickering between Garron and Calo before landing on me. "Enough!" Lazir's voice booms, his hands grabbing Garron by the shoulder and yanking him back. He shoves Calo away with his other hand, his expression dark with anger.

Garron shrugs Lazir off, his glare shifting from Calo to Lazir. Calo wipes blood from his lip, his gaze locked on Garron with a mix of fury and disbelief. The tension crackles like a storm about to break.

My smile fades as Lazir's eyes meet mine. "What the hell is going on here?" he demands, his voice rumbling.

I don't answer. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, my expression inscrutable as I lean against the wall. Let them figure it out. The less I say, the more they'll turn on each other, and the longer I can keep them distracted from the truth hidden beneath my skin—the truth that could very well be my undoing.

Garron's gaze slides back to me, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my posture. "She's a manipulator," he spits, his voice filled with venom. "Can't you see? She's tearing us apart."

Calo shakes his head, his expression pained. "No, Garron. You're the one tearing us apart. Mara... she's not like the others," he insists.

Lazir looks between us, his brow furrowed in thought. "This isn't helping," he says, his voice carrying a note of authority that even Garron can't ignore. "We need to stick together, now more than ever."