13. Lyra

13

LYRA

Z oldryn's touch is gentle as he tends to my wounds, his long fingers deftly cleaning and bandaging each cut and bruise. I wince as he presses a cloth to my cheek, but I don't pull away. There's something comforting about his touch, despite the fact that he's the one who's keeping me here.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

I shake my head, refusing to answer. I don't want to give him any more ammunition to use against me.

Zoldryn's eyes narrow, and he tilts my chin up so that I'm forced to look at him. "You are mine, little human. No one will touch you again."

His claim sends a thrill through me, despite my better judgment. There's something possessive and primal about the way he says it, like he's marking his territory. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a spark of anger. I don't want to be anyone's property, least of all his.

"I want freedom," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not to be owned by someone else."

Zoldryn's eyes flash with anger as he demands, "Why didn't you use your powers to defend yourself?"

I stare at him in disbelief. "What powers? You're insane!"

He grabs my wrist, his grip tightening as he growls, "Don't lie to me!"

I try to pull away, but he's too strong. "I don't know what you're talking about!" I cry out, my voice trembling with fear.

Zoldryn's eyes narrow, and he leans in close, his breath hot against my face. "You will tell me everything, or I will make you regret it."

I feel a surge of anger and defiance. "You can't make me do anything!" I spit out.

Suddenly, Zoldryn's lips are on mine, rough and possessive. I'm too shocked to react at first, but then I feel a strange warmth spreading through me. His kiss is demanding, but there's something comforting about it too.

Zoldryn pulls away, his eyes blazing with desire. "You belong to me now, little human. And I will protect you with my life."

His lips find mine once more, the fervor of his kiss leaving no room for doubt. His hands, those strong, capable hands, roam across my body with an urgency that sends shivers down my spine. I feel the fabric of my dress give way under his touch, the sound of tearing cloth echoing in the cavernous room.

I gasp as the cool air touches my newly bared skin, but the heat of Zoldryn's body is a furnace against me, stoking a fire within that I never knew I possessed. My initial resistance to his touch, to his claim over me, is a distant memory, washed away by the tide of desire that now courses through my veins.

"You are mine, Lyra," he murmurs against my lips, his hands cupping my face, his thumbs gently caressing my cheeks. "Mine to cherish, mine to keep."

I find myself nodding, my hands clutching at his muscled arms, pulling him closer. The word 'mine' echoes in my mind, a possessive claim that should terrify me, but instead, it brings a sense of security I have never known.

His hands, those large, powerful hands, cup my ass and lift me with an ease that is both terrifying and exhilarating. I'm weightless in his arms, a feather caught in a tempest, as he carries me to the bed. My heart races, a wild drumbeat in my chest, as he places me gently on his lap.

I'm trapped between the hardness of his body and the cool air of the cavern. My skin prickles with goosebumps, but it's not from the cold. It's from the anticipation of what's to come. Zoldryn's gaze is intense, a fire burning behind his obsidian eyes as he looks at me.

His hand moves to my breast, cupping it with a gentleness that belies his gruff exterior. His thumb brushes over my peak, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I gasp, my back arching involuntarily, pressing myself further into his touch.

And then his mouth is on me, hot and wet, his tongue swirling around the tight point. He sucks hard, the sensation pulling a groan from deep within my chest. I'm lost in the sensation, the feel of his mouth on me, the way he's claiming me with every suck, every lick.

"Z-Zoldryn…" His name is a whispered plea on my lips, a plea for what, I'm not sure. More of this all-consuming heat? More of his wild, untamed passion?

"Mine," he growls against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine. His hands grip my hips tightly, pulling me against him. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me.

He pulls me against him, sliding between my legs. I'm unprepared for the surge of desire that courses through me, a white-hot flame that threatens to consume me whole. I'm wet, soaking wet, and the friction of his movements against my sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear.

I'm caught in a whirlwind of sensation, a slave to the pleasure that Zoldryn is wringing from my body. It's a stark contrast to the life I've known, a life of servitude and obedience. But here, in Zoldryn's arms, I'm free. Free to feel, free to want, free to be consumed by the fire that he's stoked within me.

"So wet for me…"

His lips find mine again, his kiss fierce and demanding. I meet his hunger with my own, our tongues dueling in a dance as old as time itself. His hands roam my body, exploring, claiming, as if he's trying to imprint the feel of me onto his very soul.

And in that moment, I understand. I understand the primal, possessive need that drives him. It's the same need that's driving me, the same need that's making me grind against him with wild abandon.

"If you don't stop moaning like that, little human," he growls deeply in my ear, "I will end up fucking you senseless."

I gulp, swallowing hard, chest rising and falling with uneven, ragged breaths. He groans, cupping my breasts again and burying his nose between them, breathing deeply in.

"Gods, I want nothing more…"

"Z-Zoldryn?" I stutter breathlessly. "Ah-!"

He flips us over in one swift movement, wrapping a hand around my throat as the other disappears between my thighs, feeling just how wet I am. He brings those same fingers to his mouth and licks them dry as my mouth falls open in some twisted kind of arousal.

"Mine," he growls deeply, the word vibrating from his body and into mine.

Yours .