Page 16 of The Brute and the Blade

He growls against my throat, a primal, possessive sound that resonates from deep in his broad chest and ignites something wild and reckless inside me. With a show of effortless strength that steals the breath from my lungs, he lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing, my legs instinctively wrapping around his thick, muscular waist as he presses me back against the rough stone wall of the training yard.

The cold, unyielding surface is a stark contrast to the searing heat of his grey-tinged skin, the hard, chiseled planes of his massive chest and abdomen molding perfectly to my softer, more delicate human curves. I arch into him, craving more of that delicious friction, that overwhelming sensation of being completely engulfed and possessed by his powerful ogre body.

He claims my lips in a searing, purposeful kiss, his long, thick tongue delving deep to plunder my mouth, dancing with my tongue in a sensual tangle that makes the world spin and tilt around me. I moan into his mouth, my hands roaming restlessly over the huge expanse of his muscular back, feeling the ripple and flex of raw, untamed power beneath my fingertips.

"Mine," he rasps against my lips, his deep, growling voice resonating through me like a physical caress, underscored by the scrape of his tusks against my skin. "Say you're mine, little human. Say you belong to me."

"I...I can't," I whimper, even as my body arches and writhes against him, craving his touch, his possession. "We can't, Grok. It's madness, it's forbidden, it's..."

"It is fated," he rumbles, his amber eyes burning into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "You are my mate, Lily. My match in every way. Denying it will only make the claiming all the sweeter when you finally submit."

His words send a shiver of fear and longing through me, the primal part of me yearning to give in, to let him claim me as his own. But I cling to my stubborn resistance, to the tattered remnants of my duty and my loyalty to my people.

"I will never submit," I whisper fiercely, even as my body melts against him, reveling in his strength, his heat. "I am not yours to claim, Grok. I belong to no one but myself."

He chuckles darkly, the sound rippling through me like a physical caress. "We shall see, little blade," he murmurs, his lips trailing to my ear. "In the end, you will come to me willingly, offering yourself up to be claimed in body and soul. This I vow."

With that, he sets me down, steadying me as I sway on trembling legs. I stare up at him, my heart pounding, my skin flushed and tingling from his touch. Gods, how I want to pull him back, to lose myself in his embrace and let the world fade away.

But I can't. I can't forget who I am, what I am. And what he is—my captor, my enemy, the warlord who threatens everything I hold dear.

"I have to go," I whisper, my voice cracking with the strain of holding back tears. "I...I can't do this, Grok. I can't be what you want me to be."

He regards me steadily, his expression a mix of frustration, understanding, and a fierce, unwavering determination. "You already are," he says softly, his hand coming up to brush my cheek in a feather-light caress. "You just don't know it yet. But you will. One day, you will."

With that, he turns and strides away, leaving me shaken and breathless in his wake. I watch him go, my heart aching with a sudden, wrenching sense of loss.

What is happening to me? How can I feel this way, about him of all people? He is everything I've been taught to hate, to fear...and yet, somehow, he's also becoming everything I crave, everything I need.

It's madness. It's impossible. It's a betrayal of everything I am, everything I've ever fought for.

And yet, as I stand there in the empty training yard, my body still thrumming with the memory of his touch...

I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe...

He's right. Maybe this thing between us, this fire that consumes me, body and soul...

Maybe it's not madness at all. Maybe it's something else, something far more powerful and inevitable.

Maybe it's fate.

As I turn to leave, to seek the solace of my chamber and try to make sense of the chaos raging inside me, a small, traitorous part of me whispers that maybe, just maybe...

Grok's vow will come true, after all. Maybe, one day, I will go to him willingly, offering myself up to be claimed by my mate, my match...

My king.

But that day is not today. Today, I am still the Red Blade, still the shield of Thornhall. Today, I will cling to my duty, my honor, my loyalty to my people.

Even if it means denying the deepest, most secret longings of my heart.

For now, that will have to be enough. But as I walk away, I can feel the weight of Grok's gaze on my back, the searing heat of his promise echoing in my bones.

And I know, with a certainty that both terrifies and thrills me...

That this is far from over. That he will never stop pursuing me, never stop fighting for what he knows is his.

For in the end, an ogre always claims his mate.

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