It was becoming too much. She was rarely touched to begin with, and another living being had not held her so closely since she was a child.
Calavia parted her mouth under his palm and bit him—hard.
He snatched his hand back with startled yowl but quickly wrapped it around her throat. She inhaled sharply.
“And you do not know what I am capable of, minotaur,” she said, searching for the cool swamp breeze to calm her feverish skin, but with every inhalation, she was more desperate to put distance between them.
“You’re a comely little thing,” the minotaur said suddenly, squeezing her neck lightly. “It has been so long since I had a female in such a position.”
Calavia swallowed and slipped her hands between them, pushing at the bull’s giant chest. “Let me go and it may not be the last time,” she hissed.
His muscles tensed under her fingers. “Ah, so my freedom can be won, or are you suggesting something else?”
Knots formed in her belly. The mere mention of the idea was a wicked thing even for her. “Your freedom can be won.”
“For a few dead centaurs.” He squeezed her neck a little more, his rough fingers rubbing the side of her throat.
For ahundreddead centaurs.She nodded without correcting him. “Yes.”
He leaned in, crowding her further, making the knots in her belly crazed. “A few dead centaurs is it.” His nostrils flared as he moved in and inhaled just behind her ear. Her hair fluttered.
Fear of being found out made her press hard against the wall. “Yes, and protection.”
“And?” he asked softly.
Her knees locked. “My lands now border your own. The quickest path down from the mountains and toward the labyrinth wall are between our lands. I propose an alliance.”
“Astegur.”
“What?”
“My name is Astegur Bathyr, third bull to the great Steelslash Bathyr and human witch Amia, first of her name. Killer of giants, killer of centaurs, decimator of the undead hordes of the deadlands and slayer of hobgoblins. I have hacked the tail off the great sea serpent, Arcetros, and rendered it immobile. I am the master of tactics for my brothers and the finder of knowledge. Wielder of flame breath, and user of battleaxes. And what are you, small female, that you think you have the right to live through this meeting? What have you done?”
“I capturedyou.”
The minotaur drew back, his eyes bright with malicious contempt. “Yes. And now you are mine to take from this world.” He tensed his muscles and pinned her with his hard, angry eyes, exerting violence and testing her courage.
She waited, throat tight, for him to do something but all he did was stare back at her. She bit down hard on her tongue and held his furious gaze, testing his courage as well.
She was about to force her mouth open to break the boiling tension when he stepped back and turned away, storming out of her room and down the passageway.
His abrupt departure didn’t lessen the tension but made it worse. Now that she knew what she was up against, a chilling strain formed in her gut. When she looked up to follow his retreating back, he was already out of sight.
Calavia sagged against the wall, the joints in her knees buckling. She raised her fingers and rubbed her neck where his hand had been, disturbed by the warmth that remained there from his touch. She did not consider her will to be weak, but compared to his, it very well could be. He could have broken her neck in one swift motion but hadn’t. Even she didn’t think her magic was fast enough to stop it from happening if he had tried.
She caressed her aching neck, cupping it gently.
But if he had tried…it would have killed him too. Calavia sagged further against the wall and hoped it would never come to that.
Chapter Six
Astegur clenched his fists. He strode from the temple ripping fallen vines in his wake. When he stepped out into Prayer and back into the mist, he inhaled deeply, fighting off the urge to let loose the berserk rage within him, the fire that wanted to be released. To let his body grow, to gore the very heart of Prayer with his horns, and walk out of this bleak place once and for all.
His tendons were taut, his muscles strained. Veins threatened to pop out from his flesh as he squeezed his hands once more. They ached for his axe, but he denied them.
Prayer’s hag did this to me.His hooves sank into the mud as he went straight for the broken-down house at the farthest edge of the settlement. Only distance and fresh air would calm him. Only the exertion of battle. But there was nothing here for him to fight that would not bring him to his knees in pain.
She did this to me.He breathed in the lush scents of wet wood and new growth, trying to cleanse the female from his system, and the violent frustration flowing through him. Her witchy scent caught his nose.
