Calavia ground her teeth and glanced down at the nipple he’d toyed with, half-hidden by her hair. It was still hard and peaked.
“What now?” she asked when the last thrall entered. They were all here—all except her mother…
“Command them to gather all the wood in Prayer and bring it to the temple steps.”
“Why? If I do that, they will tear down what is left of the town.”
Astegur moved to stand beside her and cupped her chin to force her to face him directly. “Do you want my help or not?”
She narrowed her eyes. She knew she had to trust him, if only a little, if she wanted him to help her.
“Gather all the wood within the boundary,” she said as she and Astegur glared at each other. “Bring it to the temple.” One by one, the thralls pattered back off, leaving her alone with him again. “Are we having a bonfire tonight that we will throw ourselves into with hopes an evil god takes notice of our sacrifice?”
He released her chin and turned to follow the thralls out. “Stakes, hag. Stakes.”
“Where are you going?”
“To prepare for war.”
“You can’t leave me here.”
He was already walking down the corridor. “When I return, then perhaps we can have a real conversation.”
Calavia jerked forward with a screech.How dare he?But the harder she fought her bonds, the rawer her flesh became beneath them. Those that held her wrists weren’t connected to the rest, having been torn from the walls. She bit into them and tore them with her teeth, shredding some of the fibers. A bitter taste filled her mouth, and she spat. When she glanced up a minute later, the minotaur was gone, and in the distance, through the murk, she saw the first of the thralls drop wood. She thought about calling out to them to help her but knew Astegur would be close enough to hear.
I do not want him to stuff my mouth.She slumped down to the waxen floor, hating the ties for pulling and rubbing her skin. The vines that were still alive slithered over her in gentle caresses, pleased she was at their mercy as much as she was at the minotaur’s.
Calavia inhaled and calmed herself, pulling her arms into her chest and positioning her knees beneath her. As she shifted, her thighs slipped, and she found a slick, warm wetness between them. Shocked, she discovered the source of the dew within the curls of hair at her sex, leaking in potent waves.
She pushed her fingers farther in, finding the wetness to be even thicker at her cunt entrance, enough to rub it between her fingertips. She knew why she was wet, but her body had never prepared itself for another.
A soft moan escaped her when she clutched the entirety of her mons and vulva and applied pressure. Astegur’s bull’s cock came to mind and the feeling of wet emptiness expanded. She had felt the same things earlier, but had not realized it was a reaction to his presence. She was on the brink of death, why would she experience arousal now?
Nothing had ever made her feel this way. Not in recent memory. She knew about sex. She knew that past monsters wanted to jam their members into her, but it had never happened. She’d never been interested.
But he interests me…Calavia peered down the long, fogged corridor, but he was still out of sight.
She pressed her palm even harder against her cupped sex and whimpered, her knees spreading just enough to allow a little more space for her hand.
The emptiness grew the more pressure she applied. The wetness increased, coating her hand. A new smell tickled her nose, one that was bitter and musky but not unpleasant. She squeezed her legs closed, trapping her hands between her legs, desperate for the void to go away but despite how much she tried to alleviate herself, it only got worse.
What did he do to me?She unwillingly pulled her now slickened hands away to touch her nipple where Astegur had touched it. Another, not all unpleasant sensation shot through her.
She licked her lips and waited for his return.
Chapter Nine
The day went long.
The mist swirled and brightened as if the hidden sun traversed behind clouds that no one could see unless they were high up on the mountaintops. Astegur wiped the sweat off his brow and surveyed the giant pile of wood before him.
He had been setting the longer, stronger pieces aside from the rest, making a new pile. Beside him were several dozen stakes already sharpened to a deadly point. There were dozens more ready for his axe’s attention. Hacking, sculpting, whittling.We will need hundreds.The thralls had begun to return with less frequency, and he knew the usable wood left in Prayer was coming to an end.
His hands were raw from the work.
Prayer was a small settlement, at least what remained of it. Each of the houses and buildings that still stood were built on raised islands in the swamps, keeping most of the stone foundations from crumbling away. Knowing it must have been well over a hundred years, possibly several hundred, since Prayer was swallowed up by the labyrinth, it surprised him how much of the original village was left.
Astegur tested the stake in his grip, found it sound, and placed it aside before starting on the next.If the hag has been here since it fell, then she has done well in preserving and protecting what she could of her land.Stranger things had happened in the mists.
