Page 14 of Her Possessive Minotaurs

Is that so? I cross the room in a few swift strides, looming over her. The scent of fear mingles with determination radiating off her. It’s intoxicating.

“Then prove it,” I growl, my gaze darkening as I lean closer. “Kill for us. It’s the only way.”

Laia’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. She meets my gaze head-on, defiant and resolute despite the tremor in her limbs. This girl… there’s something about her.

Something about her drives me to the brink of my sanity.

She nods, her jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll do it.”

We move out quickly, the dense forest swallowing us whole. The smell of pine and earth hangs thick around us, mingling with the dampness of the night air. My steps are silent, predatory, each movement deliberate and controlled. Laia follows close behind, her heart pounding loud enough that I can almost hear it over the rustling leaves.

Another group of dark elves are close now, their voices low and hushed as they scan the area. I signal for Laia to stay back, a quick gesture that she acknowledges with a tense nod. I creep forward, every sense attuned to the slightest movement.

I see them first—a trio of dark elves moving in a loose formation. Their eyes dart around, searching for any sign of disturbance. They don’t notice me until it’s too late. My axe swings in a brutal arc, cleaving through the first dark elf’s neck with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprays across the forest floor, dark and gleaming in the moonlight. The second elf lunges at Laia, his blade flashing dangerously close to her throat. For a moment, she freezes, terror paralyzing her limbs.

But I’m faster.

I step in front of her, blocking the blow with my axe. The impact jars through my arms as metal meets metal, but my grip holds firm. With a swift motion, I twist and drive my axe into the elf’s chest. He gasps, blood bubbling from his lips as he collapses at my feet.

I turn to Laia, my eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and expectation.

“You’re next,” I growl, voice low and intense.

Her face is pale, eyes wide with shock and fear. But there’s also something else—determination flickering beneath the surface. She swallows hard, her gaze locking onto mine.

“Show me,” she whispers, her voice trembling but resolute.

I nod curtly and step aside, pointing to the last remaining elf who stands frozen in horror at the sight of his fallen comrades. “He’s yours,” I say.

Laia hesitates for only a moment before stepping forward, hands trembling but steadying as she grips the dagger I hand her. This is it—her chance to prove herself that she’s now one of them.

And she takes it.

10

LAIA

Irix drags the last dark elf to me, his black eyes wide with fear as he struggles against Irix’s iron grip. “Do it,” Irix growls, shoving the elf to his knees before me. “Prove your loyalty.”

My hands shake, the dagger heavy in my grip. I stare down at the elf, my vision blurring as memories flood in—Eryndor’s face, the screams of my friends, the taste of blood in my mouth as I watched them die.

The dark elf looks up at me, his lips moving in silent prayer, his eyes pleading. For a moment, I hesitate. I’m not a killer. I’ve never been this person.

“Do it!” Irix’s voice snaps me back to the present. The dagger feels like a lead weight in my hand, and my heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst from my chest.

The elf’s eyes lock onto mine, and I see something familiar—fear, desperation. My grip tightens on the hilt, knuckles white against the rough leather. The memories press in closer: Eryndor’s laughter echoing in my ears, the sight of blood pooling around lifeless bodies.

Bile rose in my throat.

“I can’t...” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Irix’s snarl is immediate. “You have no choice.” His hand clamps down on my shoulder, fingers digging into my flesh. “Prove your worth or die trying.”

Tears blur my vision as I lift the dagger higher. The dark elf’s silent prayers become audible whispers, words I don’t understand but feel deep in my bones.

I take a shaky breath and step closer, the cold metal of the blade reflecting the moonlight. The forest around us seems to hold its breath, waiting for what comes next.

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