by Lucas, Naomi
He didn’t know why the urge to comfort her arose in him, but saliva pooled in his mouth the longer they stared at one another.
“What did you see?” she asked when he remained quiet.
“They are on the move. Those that are left are still weaving reed armor and crafting newly sharpened weapons. I assume they plan to meet up with the others on the edge of their borders when they are ready.” It was what he and his clan would have done.
She twisted her hands into her ragged dress. “We don’t have much time.”
“The swamps will slow them down. How often do you have centaurs in your lands?”
“Occasionally. I have provided sanctuary to their kind before but it is a rare thing. They do not often leave the coastal lands unless it is a scouting party or a lone deserter.”
“Then we will assume they know what they are up against by coming here.”
She shook her head. “I had nothing to hide from their scouts. Not then.”
“It will not matter. I have thoroughly wandered the edges of Prayer, and the thickened mist that obscures it will be in our favor.” He had more pressing questions to ask her but Astegur knew there was no trust between them. “I will help you defend this place because they are here because of my brother and because if we do not stop them, they will either ascend the mountains to wipe us out or wait for us to emerge to make an already very dangerous passage even more so. We have a week, maybe a fortnight to prepare. But I have one question I need answered first, hag.”
Calavia turned from him and reached for the wax bowl, pouring it out and over the wax coating the bottom of the altar. “A question you say?”
His gaze followed the pink wax as it spread and hardened, wishing he could take the blood within it out and consume it. “One I need answered.”
“And if I refuse to answer it?”
“Then I will protect myself and only myself until such a time your protection falters and the centaurs invade. They will torture and kill you and my escape will be assured,” he lied. If anyone would kill her, it would be him. He owned that right and no horsebeast would take that from him.
She frowned but nodded, straightening as if she had to show him courage. “What is your question?”
“Why, if the rumors are true that you have been dwelling in Prayer since it fell to the mist many years ago, are you unable to protect it now?”
Her frown deepened for a moment before vanishing entirely. “To answer that…” Her lips twitched, and he took a step toward her. She stepped back. “I would need proof that you will not betray me, like you are obviously considering. To answer that, I could never let you leave me or Prayer even if we survive. I could not risk my future safety or those I care for.”
Astegur snarled. “You are risking it now.”
Calavia skirted around him as he took another step in her direction, moving back to the other side of the altar and picking up her knife again. “You have given me a choice, and I have given you one as well. A sacrifice for a sacrifice.”
He stormed back to the altar and reached for her across it, but she dodged away from him. “You have taken my free will from me, witch! Every minute not answering is another minute the centaurs gain.”
“You think I do not know that?” she snapped. “You do not know how much I have risked.”
“You brought me here through pain and offered me death if I do not fight.”
“This is my battle as much as yours now.”
“You say a sacrifice for a sacrifice, but you have not realized the price you will pay for what you want. If you truly want to save Prayer then you would be willing to pay any price.” Astegur slammed his fist down on the broken altar, breaking it a little more.
Calavia jumped back with a small cry. “I should have chosen one of your brothers.”
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 you doing?”
“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 are mine, hag, from this day forth. You are at my mercy.”
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.
It pushed the hardened leather material of his loincloth aside, and the thick, wide head of it hung half-cocked in her direction. It looked like it was almost too heavy to hold itself up, too large to even try. But then it jerked and lifted as if the muscles of his loins had something to prove. Calavia shrunk back.
“Are you afraid, little hag?” he said roughly, but her gaze remained on his member. He moved one of his hooves to scrape the ground, moving the sexual weapon closer to her body.
Tendons seized, her mouth parted, and she sucked in her belly. She’d never been so close to having a cock rammed into her.
“I’m not human,” she whispered, hoping the lie would keep him away. She wondered if he already knew her greatest secret. Her mother had not approached her this day, and Calavia had not had time to hide her nature.
If he keeps me tied up… Her fear returned.
“You were once, before the mist tainted you. What a shame.” He knelt before her. “If you had pure blood, our young would be strong. I would father numerous upon you, using you as the beautiful vessel you are. Our bull sons and daughters would have an affinity for real magic. They would take after their father in every way but would have such heady gifts bestowed upon them by their mother. What a shame.” He curled a tendril of her hair around his finger.
Calavia frowned, shocked at his words. Anger swiftly followed. If he knew...
“If only you were a pure blood human, then I would have all the power I needed to save Prayer by myself,” she gritted.
“I enjoy seeing you like this, hag.”
“We’re wasting time,” she reminded him again.
He released her hair and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it. “Are we?”
She tensed and struggled to bring her hands up to cover herself, to push his hand off her, but the restraints didn’t allow such movements. Her skin pinkened with internal heat, and her cheeks warmed.
His palm moved across her nipple as his thumb and finger found it, rolling the now-taut point between them. “Are we?” he asked again as she groaned and shook her head as strange sensations burst through her.
“Please stop,” she breathed.
“Am I hurting you? Your magic hasn’t stopped me.”
“The pressure is uncomfortable.” She gasped as he continued to tweak her nipple.
“Liar.” He released her anyway and backed up.
Calavia strained against her bonds as he moved away, bowing her head to cover her chest with her long hair, and pressing her legs tightly together. There was a wetness between her thighs she was ashamed of.
“Call your thralls,” he commanded.
“Why?”
“Because I want them all to see you at my mercy.”
She closed her eyes. The minotaur was humiliating her, trying to get under her skin. She tried to rationalize him and her predicament, but her predicament was distracting. There had been times in the past where she allowed strong, monstrous males into Prayer who wanted to throw her to the ground, but back then she had the means to protect herself better. Her mother had always been by her side, even if she was only in the shadows.
Now, her mother was distant, and with her increasing absence, Calavia’s magic had lessened.
Her eyes found Astegur’s stiff cock, and her belly knotted.
She imagined what it would be like having it inside her, pushing, pressing, expanding until it was held within her quim.
The thralls sometimes engaged in sex, and Calavia found the behavior interesting—academically. They seemed to have sex not due to desire or deep-seated need, but because it was an old habit they’d never shaken. Their cocks, often limp and flaccid, were nothing like Astegur’s, which was thick and strong.
I want strength…
And the idea of children had never occurred to her until now. Children with him? A bull?
She shivered even though she was warm. Clenching her toes, she turned her thoughts back to her situation. The thralls do not know mercy or humiliation. If anything, her thralls would help her. He has to know that.
She met Astegur’s darkened eyes and called for her family. A short time later, the first of them arrived. Astegur unsheathed his axe and raised it, telling her without words that if she commanded them to help her, he would cut them down. He would not be stopped.
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 push
ed 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.
