Chapter Ten
***
Aldora ate while hepacked up. The sweet scent of charred meat filled the room until it became cloying and thick. The stone walls were coated with the residue of it. Her chewing filled his ears and the space tightened around him.
Vedikus palmed the handle of his axe with one hand and squeezed the grime out of the washcloth; brown and murky water gushed between his fingers. The female studied him as he washed his body. A strange tension had formed the night before, and even when he broke contact and relit the fire, it had only grown.
The pressure between his legs built and it was becoming harder to ignore. Now that he had spread her thighs and discovered the soft flesh hidden within, ignoring it was the last thing he wanted to do.
She is unlike a female minotaur, even a half-breed.He swiped the cloth down his chest and flicked the water away before it soaked into his leathers. The females that belonged to his old tribe had never fought off the need for sex. It was a natural bodily act, a ritual for his brethren. There were always willing females to curb the needs of the bulls, and mountings were revered among his kind. If there was sex, there was a possibility of creating a mating link, which meant offspring.
But there had been no links since his childhood, and he and his brothers had little to no recourse when they came of age. As the years continued and no sons and daughters were birthed, the tension in the tribe had increased.
Vedikus listened to the trickle of the spring and for any other sign that meant enemies had found them. His ears twitched, hearing onlyher.
Aldora sat near the fire, watching him through the strands of her long hair. He squeezed the cloth in his fist, wishing it was her silken hair in his grip.
“Come here.” He held his hand out toward her. She stiffened and frowned but closed the distance, ignoring his hand. “Wash my back.”
Her body heat, slight as it was, rushed over his skin like a wave. Vedikus hummed somewhere in his chest, feeling their connection strengthening.
Mount me.His gaze blurred slightly as she moved around him, peeling the cloth out of his hand. When she touched it to his shoulder, he lowered his head in pleasure. The act sent a rush of blood through his horns.
Streams of frigid water dribbled down the curves of his back. His focus was lost to everything else but the way it felt. Aldora washed it then patted the old water away, softening her touch around his wounds.
Her breath hitched. “Some of these...” her fingertip caressed the skin above one of the gashes, “some of these are still open.”
“They will heal.”Keep your hands upon me.
“How can you be so sure? Does your kind heal differently than mine?” Another cold rush of water fell across his back.
“We’re harder to take down and even harder to kill,” he mumbled, one hand still on his weapon. “Minotaurs are more resilient than most beasts in the mist. My skin is tough and layered with extra muscle and sinew to give a natural barrier, and my bones are nearly unbreakable. Some of the most prized weapons and tools of the goblin and centaur tribes are made from the bones of my kin.”
“Doesn’t that bother you? Monsters are carrying around the bodies of your ancestors.”
“The mist has no patience for sentimentality.”
“You haven’t answered my question. I know you’re hard to kill...but to heal? Wounds like these would fell a human, but they would also scab over by now, or at least stop you enough so that you’re forced to heal. Do you feel pain?”
