Page 29 of Her Possessive Minotaurs

Laia moves beside me, ducking under a slicing blade with a grace she’s only recently learned. She’s not as strong as us, but she’s fast—darting between attackers like a shadow, her blade flashing in the dim light. Her movements are precise; every strike is calculated to survive.

Irix’s laughter rings out amidst the chaos, his axe carving a deadly path through our enemies. He’s enjoying this too much. Typical. Kael fights with quiet efficiency; his movements are fluid and lethal.

“Laia! Behind you!” I bellow as I see a dark elf sneaking up on her.

She spins just in time to parry the blow, her blade ringing out against the elf’s sword. With a swift twist of her wrist, she disarms him and drives her dagger into his throat. The elf gurgles and collapses at her feet. The dark elf didn’t die immediately; Laia’s strength is clearly not enough, so she drives the dagger into his throat again.

“Good,” I grunt approvingly as I crush another attacker beneath my boot.

The dark elves are relentless, but we hold our ground. We have to. For Laia. For us.

My muscles burn with exertion as I cleave through another foe, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest is alive with the sounds of battle—clashing steel, grunts of pain, and the desperate cries of our enemies.

“Laia! Stay close!" I command again as I see her drifting too far from our formation.

She nods, sweat dripping down her face as she continues to fight with fierce determination.

We will make it through this night. We have to.

I fight like a beast, my large frame moving with terrifying precision as I cut down one dark elf after another. Each swing of my axe is a death sentence, each thrust of my blade a promise of finality. But even I can’t fight them all.

From the corner of my eyes, I see the dark elf, but it’s too late for me to move as I parry another.

Without thinking, Laia lunges, her blade sinking into the dark elf before they can strike me. Blood sprays across her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the dark elf crumples to the ground. I turn, my eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, there’s something raw and unspoken between us—something like gratitude.

The battle rages on, but we fight together now, side by side. Each time Laia falters, I am there, my massive form a shield between her and the enemy. She moves with newfound confidence, her strikes more sure, more deadly.

When the last dark elf falls, we’re both panting, covered in blood and sweat, but alive. The forest is eerily silent again, the echoes of battle fading into the night.

We go back to our lair, and Laia tends to my wounds, her hands trembling slightly as she cleans the gashes on my arm. The fire crackles in the background, casting flickering shadows across my face. Kael is treating Irix in the corner of the room; his focus is split between his patient and our conversation.

“You saved my life,” I mutter, my voice gruff but softer than usual. My eyes follow her movements as she works, her touch gentle but firm.

Laia meets my gaze, her own eyes wide and searching. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?” she says softly, her voice tinged with something like hope.

I hold her gaze for a moment longer before nodding once. “Yes,” I reply quietly. “We are.”

For a moment, the air between us crackles with the same intensity as the fight. I reach up, my rough hand cupping her chin, pulling her closer. The kiss is sudden and fierce—like the clash of steel. My lips are hard against hers, but there’s a desperation in the way I hold her. It’s as if everything I’ve been holding back erupts in this one moment.

Her lips part beneath mine, and I feel her shudder, her breath mingling with mine. There’s something primal in the way she responds, something that mirrors my own need. The taste of blood and sweat lingers between us, a reminder of the battle we’ve just fought.

But then I pull away, my chest heaving, my eyes dark and conflicted. The reality of what I’ve just done hits me like a cold wave. “This doesn’t mean anything,” I growl, standing abruptly. My voice sounds harsher than I intend, but it’s the only way to keep my walls intact. “Get some rest. We hunt at dawn.”

Laia watches me go, her heart pounding so loudly I can almost hear it. She’s torn between the heat of our kiss and the coldness of my retreat.

I can feel her gaze burning into my back as I walk away, every step heavier than the last.

21

LAIA

Thalos’s back is to me, his broad shoulders hunched over his work. He sharpens his axe with methodical precision, the rhythmic scrape of stone against metal grating on my nerves. For two days, he’s kept his distance, that kiss lingering like a ghost between us. I’ve had enough of his cold indifference.

My hands clench into fists as I watch him from across the lair. Each scrape of the whetstone against the blade is a taunt, reminding me of the fire that burned so briefly and then was snuffed out. My heart pounds in my chest, anger and frustration mixing into a volatile cocktail.

I storm over to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. “Thalos,” I snap, my voice cutting through the steady rasp of the whetstone. “What the hell was that the other night?”

He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t even pause in his task. “It was nothing,” he says, his voice as cold as ever.

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