Page 10 of Her Possessive Minotaurs

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7

THALOS

Thalos watches Laia as she appears at the entrance of their cave, a bucket of water in her hands. Two days since Kael patched her up, and she’s already moving around. Lucky human to have Kael’s pity.

“Come here,” I call out, voice low but commanding. “Follow me to my cave.”

She hesitates for a moment, then steps forward, her eyes wide with apprehension. The firelight dances across my chest, highlighting the scars that mark my skin.

She stands before me, trembling but resolute. Her green eyes meet mine, defiant yet fearful. I step closer, towering over her. She looks even smaller, more fragile in my shadow.

“Do you think you can keep your end of the deal?” My words cut through the silence, each one deliberate.

She nods, swallowing hard. “Yes.”

“Words are cheap,” I say, my gaze never leaving hers. “Show me.”

Her hands shake as she sets the bucket down. She stands straight, her chin lifting in a show of courage that almost impresses me. Almost.

“What do you want me to do?” Her voice is steady despite the fear I see flickering in her eyes.

I lean down until my face is inches from hers. “Everything,” I say softly. “Everything I command.”

She doesn’t flinch, though I see the effort it takes for her to hold her ground. Good. She’ll need that fire if she wants to survive here.

“You’ll have to earn it,” I growl, my voice low, a rumble in the silence between us. My gaze roams over her, assessing and calculating. “Trust isn’t given. It’s taken.”

Her heart pounds in her chest—I can see it in the way her throat pulses, hear it in the slight catch of her breath. But she meets my gaze, defiant despite the fear curling in her stomach. She’s offered her body and her loyalty, but she knows it’s not enough. Not for me. Not for us.

My hand reaches out, fingers brushing the side of her face. Her skin is softer than I expected, almost fragile under my touch. I feel a strange mix of power and restraint, knowing how easily I could crush her. My thumb trails down to her lips, and her breath hitches—a small sound that betrays more than she intends.

I put my thumb in her mouth, and she gasps. My eyes stare at the seemingly soft lips as I push my thumb in and out, mimicking the movement of a cock thrusting inside a female's core.

“You’re desperate,” I murmur, my voice a dark whisper against the crackle of the fire. “But desperation doesn’t make you strong.”

I pull my thumb out and I lick it, tasting her saliva in my mouth. Not bad.

Her lips part slightly as if to speak, but no words come out. The defiance in her eyes flickers but doesn’t die. She’s still fighting, even now. It’s almost... admirable.

Her pulse quickens once more under my touch as my fingers skim down her neck, over the curve of her shoulder. The heat between us grows, an unspoken tension tightening the air.

She feels it—the weight of my dominance pressing in on her, challenging her. I see the conflict in her eyes—fear mingling with something darker, something she doesn’t fully understand.

I grip her waist, pulling her closer. My breath brushes hot against her ear. Her skin tingles beneath my hands—a shiver runs through her. She doesn’t pull away, though I sense the struggle within her to stay composed.

“You feel that?” I whisper, my voice low and dangerous.

Her body trembles slightly, but she nods. There’s a defiance in her eyes that refuses to be extinguished, a spark that keeps her standing tall despite the fear coursing through her veins.

My hands are rough, calloused from years of battle, but the way they touch her—she shivers again. It’s a small movement, but telling. She’s caught between terror and a strange curiosity.

Lust.

“Good,” I murmur against her ear. “You’ll need that fire. That desire. I want my woman willing.”

Her breath catches as I press closer, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against my chest. She’s fragile yet fierce—a contradiction that intrigues me more than it should.

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