Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

29. Garron

29

GARRON

T he first rays of dawn filter through the gaps in the hut's walls, casting a pale light over the cramped space. The storm has passed leaving behind a heavy stillness. My armor feels twice as heavy, the wet leather sticking to my skin, and I can hear the soft rustle of fabric as Lazir and Calo struggle out of their own soaked gear.

I glance over at Mara, who's huddled under a blanket near the far wall. She's trying to be discreet, her eyes downcast, but I catch the occasional flicker of curiosity as she steals glances at us. The thought of stripping down in front of her sends a jolt of discomfort through me. I'll be damned if I let her see me vulnerable, even if it's just the primal vulnerability of nakedness.

"I'll be outside," I grumble, rising to my full height.

Lazir snorts in amusement, his nimble fingers already working the ties of his armor. "Afraid the human will catch a glimpse of your modesty, Garron?" he ribs.

I shoot him a withering glare, but he just grins back, unfazed. Calo, ever the peacemaker, tries to defuse the tension. "Just be glad this place had some spare cloth. It's better than nothing," he says.

I step outside, the cool morning air biting at my skin. The forest around us is a riot of colors, the storm having washed the world clean. I strip off my wet clothes, my movements efficient and practiced. The fabric we found is barely enough to cover the essentials, but it'll have to do. I wrap it around my waist, securing it with a tight knot. My axe leans against the hut's exterior, close at hand, as always.

As I stand there, the quiet of the morning allows my thoughts to drift. I can't shake the image of Mara from my mind. She's a puzzle. And yet, there's a fragility to her that tugs at something deep within me—a protective instinct that I thought I'd long since buried.

I sigh, running a hand over my face. What am I doing? I've spent so long building walls around myself, refusing to let anyone in, and yet here I am, allowing a human woman to breach my defenses again. It's not just her vulnerability that draws me in. It's her strength, her determination, her unwavering resolve to see her mission through, no matter the cost.

My skin bristles against the rough fabric of the loincloth. I soon turn and go back inside the hut. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the faintest trace of Mara's sweet, human aroma. I grit my teeth, pushing the thought of her from my mind as I survey the hut.

"Calo, help me clear this mess," I command, my voice echoing through the space. My eyes flick to Lazir, who's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "And you, stop lounging around. We need to make this place livable for a few days."

Calo nods, his youthful energy barely contained as he begins to gather the debris scattered across the floor. Lazir pushes off the wall with a sigh, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

I turn to Mara, who's watching us from her makeshift bed. Her hazel eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something I can't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe something more. It unsettles me, but I mask my unease with a stern expression.

"Mara, you should keep resting," I tell her, my tone leaving no room for argument. "You've been through a lot."

She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "No arguments. You need your strength."

She seems to deflate at my words, her shoulders sagging as she nods. "Alright, Garron," she concedes, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll rest."

I busy myself with rearranging the hut's meager furnishings, my mind racing with strategy and caution. I can't afford to back down now, not when we're so close to our goal. The thought of gold and the possibility of redemption in the eyes of my clan is a powerful motivator.

"Garron, the floor's clear," Calo calls out, breaking me from my thoughts. I nod in acknowledgment.

The three of us continue to tidy the hut, our movements synchronized from years of working together. Despite our differences, we function as a single, well-oiled machine. It's a testament to our shared past, our exile, and the unspoken bond that ties us together.

As the day wears on, the hut begins to take on a more hospitable appearance. The floor is swept clean, and the few pieces of furniture we have are arranged to provide maximum comfort for Mara. Lazir adds more wood to the fire in the hearth, the flames casting a warm glow over the room.

We soon settle into our temporary home, our bodies weary but our spirits undeterred. Lazir and Calo take turns keeping watch while I sit beside Mara, my thoughts a tangled web of duty and desire.

I tell myself that I'm only doing what's necessary to ensure our success, that my concern for her well-being is born of practicality rather than affection. But as I watch her rest, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, I can't escape the nagging feeling that I might be lying to myself.

Sleep eludes me later that night. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and desires. I rise, my muscles protesting, and step outside into the cool night air.

I sit against the rough wooden wall of the hut, my gaze lost in the tapestry of stars overhead. A soft rustle next to me breaks my reverie. I turn, my senses on high alert, and find Mara standing there, her figure bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper flickering within their depths.

"Mara," I say, my voice a low rumble. "What are you doing out here?"

She takes a seat next to me, her hands wringing together nervously and whispers, "I... I wanted to thank you, Garron. For everything you've done for me. For saving me."

I nod, unsure of what to say. The silence between us is charged, the air crackling with an energy that I can't quite understand. I start to stand up, the alpha in me wary of the desire that stirs within my chest. But her hand reaches out to grasp my arm.

"Please, don't pull away," she pleads, her voice barely above a whisper.

Before I can respond, she closes the distance between us, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that is both soft and tentative. The sensation is like a spark to tinder, igniting a fire within me that I can no longer control.

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close as our kiss deepens. Her body molds against mine, her curves fitting perfectly against my hard planes. I explore her mouth with a hunger that surprises me, my tongue dancing with hers in a primal rhythm that speaks of need and longing. She moans against my lips, the sound sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.

For a moment, I forget about the world outside—the danger that lurks in the shadows, the mission that lies ahead. All that matters is this woman in my arms, the way she makes me feel alive and vulnerable all at once.