His hand opened slowly as the dust of shattered stone settled around it. “What?”
“If you want your answer then I will have your silence,” she said, lifting her ritual blade to hand it to him. “It’s the only way.”
“What did you say?”One of my brothers?The fire in his belly exploded. He did not understand why, but the idea that she would so easily choose one of his brothers over him made him want to find and maim them, so even if she did, they could never make it here alive.
“That it’s—”
He surged over the table between them and grabbed her forearms, stopping her words. He pushed her up against the wall with enough force to make the vines behind slither up the walls.
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Her hands came up to push him away. Astegur knocked the knife from her hand aside and let the warmth within him burst from his mouth. She briefly vanished within the smoke and the heat, and her sweat quickly filled his nose. Not her blood, not his brimstone rage, but her sweat, and it was delicious.
“I am the one you chose. I will not let you bring one of my brethren here to fight and die for you. I have suffered defeat by your rituals, but they will not.”
“I couldn’t compel them here even if I wanted to,” she gasped again, swirling his belly smoke in the air.
“No. I will make sure of that.” Astegur let go of her left arm, lifted his hand to his mouth, and sunk his teeth into his flesh, letting his blood rise. He pressed his ruby, wet palm to her open mouth and angrily marked her with it from lips to chest. When his hand settled between her breasts he pushed her back into the wall again.
Her hands came up to grasp his wrist. Her legs kicked out to flee from his trap. “What are youdoing?”
“I realized something,” he said as he stared at his bloody hand on her chest, the blood soaking into her loose-fitting, ratty old dress. His cock, harder than it was earlier, stabbed at her belly. He was eager to rip her clothes off and feel her touch upon it. “I cannot hurt you, but I can control you. You aremine, hag, from this day forth. You are atmymercy.”
The air between them cleared and her eyes stared up at him, wide with an anger all her own. Everything about her was beginning to please him, even her courage to bend him to her will.
“I will fight you,” she vowed.
He would have it no other way. The need to grope her and claim her body grew the longer he held her against the wall. He wanted to familiarize himself with the female he had claimed.
Astegur cupped her jaw and squeezed, leaning in until his face was before hers. He was going to enjoy this.
Chapter Eight
Anxiety tore through her. Fear burst behind her eyes at the prospect of losing everything to the coming army, and the minotaur holding her with such bruising force only fanned the burning coal of her anxiety into a roaring flame
Calavia tried to breathe as he enveloped every inch of personal space she had. It was all too much. She had been alone for so long that having him this close both excited and scared her. The heat of his blood wetted her skin, and as his brooding, broad, and blunted features filled her vision, an entirely different and not so foreign sensation coursed through her.
She kicked out her legs, struggling, but without strength, she knew she was trapped where he held her against the wall.
His breath fanned her face. “You want my protection? Well here it is.”
He spread his fingers upon her chest, twisted his fingers into the cloth, and tore it from her. The fabric ripped like fine paper from her body, ending up at her feet in a careless pile. The old threads could not hold it over her arms, leaving her naked and at his mercy in a single heartbeat.
She let go of his wrist and curled her arms over herself, sliding down the wall to shy away from his brutality, but he took her arm and yanked it up.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as he uncovered her. “You can’t hurt me.”
“Oh, hag, you have no idea what I can do when I put my mind to it.”
She met his eyes; they flared bright and heady, and quickly dropped from her face to her body. The saliva in her mouth dried up as every muscle in her body tensed. “Please,” she whispered. Despite her uncertainty, she steeled herself against him, locking her knees in place, and held his gaze.
He drew back as he continued to stare at her, and Calavia held back the shiver of discomfort that threatened to course through her. Her arm went numb. Suddenly, he dropped it as if burned.
“Magic,” he spat, and reached for her again, dragging her to her altar, ripping some of the vines from the walls as he went. The minotaur bound her wrists in front of her and tied her to the altar, wrapping the vines across and around the edges of the stone. When he was done, he stepped away.
Calavia pulled at the ties but knew they wouldn’t give, at least not in his presence. The vines could be intimidated. Astegur hadn’t hurt her, but her position was...uncomfortable, forcing her to either stand in place or sink down onto her knees atop her wax. She didn’t bother hiding her nudity anymore, what mattered now was figuring out how to free herself.
He grabbed her bound hands when she reached down for the wax—her fingers hovered only inches above it.
“We don’t have time for this,” she said, glaring up at him. There was fear clawing to unleash itself within her, but she forced herself to remain calm, that was, until her gaze found his prick jutting out from his loincloth. All traces of calm vanished as she stared at it.
