Page 53 of Chained to the Horned God
Beltran places a hand on my shoulder, grip firm, almost comforting in its certainty. “Trust the plan. Trust yourselves. We have one chance, Barsok. One chance to make this count.”
Valoa steps closer, the warmth of her body a balm against the chill of the cell. She meets my eyes, searching for something, perhaps reassurance. I give her what little I can, a nod, small but fierce.
“I won’t fail,” she whispers fiercely.
“Neither will I,” I promise, my voice low, thick with unspoken fears and unbreakable resolve.
Beltran steps back, crossing his arms. “Then it’s settled. Rest now, as much as you can. Tomorrow, we put on the greatest spectacle Kharza has ever seen.”
Tomorrow, I face a dragon and dance with death one more time. But tonight, hope flares inside me, bright and fierce.
The torch sputters in the corner of our cell, casting flickering shadows that dance across the walls like restless ghosts. Valoa’s breath is warm against my throat, her small body pressed tight against mine, as if somehow she can melt into me and ward off what tomorrow will bring. My back is pressed to the cold stone, every jagged ridge digging sharply into my skin, but the discomfort means nothing—not tonight. Tonight, there’s only her.
She shifts in my lap, straddling my thighs, fingers brushing tenderly through the coarse fur on my chest. My heart thrashes inside my ribs, a wild, reckless thing trying to escape. I rest my hands gently at her hips, memorizing the feel of her beneath my fingertips, warm and soft and entirely mine. She tilts her head up, her eyes catching the torchlight, glowing emerald like gems lit from within. I see everything reflected there—fear, determination, hope—but more than anything else, I see love. Love that makes my blood burn hotter than dragon’s fire.
“Barsok,” she whispers, and my name sounds like a prayer on her tongue, one word that carries all our secrets. Her voice trembles slightly, but her eyes hold steady. “Tomorrow…”
“Don’t.” I brush my thumb along her jawline, feeling her pulse jump beneath the delicate skin. “Just tonight. Let’s have tonight without thinking about tomorrow.”
Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to protest, but the words never come. Instead, she leans forward, closing the small distance between us, capturing my mouth in a kiss so desperate, so fierce, it leaves me dizzy. Her mouth tastes of honey and sorrow, sweet and bitter mingling together as if they’ve always belonged side by side. I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, feeling her small, rapid heartbeat thrumming against my chest. My senses sharpen, drawing in every detail—the heat of her body pressed against mine, the faint floral scent of her hair mingling with the earthy, iron tang of the cell around us.
She kisses me like she’s committing each movement to memory, as if she fears tomorrow will erase everything. Her fingers tighten around my shoulders, digging into muscle, nails scraping lightly against my skin. She breathes my name between kisses, a hushed chant, “Barsok, Barsok, Barsok,” and I answer her with kisses of my own, fierce and hungry, like I can somehow seal her inside me, safe and untouched.
When we finally pull apart, her eyes glisten with unshed tears. My gut twists sharply. I reach up, cupping her face gently between my palms, brushing away the single tear that finally spills free, warm and salty against my thumb. “Don’t,” I murmur softly. “Not tonight. No tears.”
She laughs quietly, shaking her head, her smile trembling but beautiful. “It’s not fair to ask that.”
“Life’s not fair,” I say bitterly, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of her skin—warm, sweet, alive. “But gods, Valoa, I want just this moment. I want you. No fears, no regrets.”
She draws a shaky breath, hands sliding down my chest, mapping every muscle, every scar. Her touch burns through me, raw and tender. “I wish we could just vanish,” she whispers,voice breaking slightly. “Disappear somewhere where nothing and no one can find us.”
I chuckle softly, trying to lighten the crushing weight that presses in on us. “You’d tire of me within days. Minotaurs make lousy company in the long run.”
“Don’t joke,” she whispers fiercely, grabbing my face, forcing my gaze to hers. “Not now. I don’t ever want to forget this moment, not even if we live a thousand years.”
“You won’t,” I assure her, my voice thick with emotion I’m barely holding back. “I swear it.”
She leans in again, kissing me slower, sweeter this time. Her tongue glides softly against mine, coaxing, tasting, promising everything we can’t put into words. My hands trail along her spine, memorizing every curve, every dip. Her breath shudders against my lips, her heart pounding so loud I feel it vibrating through her skin, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
When she breaks the kiss, her forehead remains pressed against mine, our breath mingling, hot and heavy in the air between us. “Barsok…” she murmurs, her voice so low I barely hear it, even this close. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” I reply immediately, my voice hoarse with urgency.
“If things go wrong,” she says, pulling back slightly to look directly into my eyes, “if I don’t make it?—”
“No.” My voice is rough, almost angry, fear cutting through the tenderness. “You will. We both will.”
“But if I don’t,” she persists gently, “promise me you won’t let it break you. Promise you’ll survive, for me.”
The request lodges painfully in my chest, a weight heavier than chains. I swallow hard, struggling for words, but her eyes plead with me, raw and open. “Valoa,” I finally rasp out, throat burning, “I can’t?—”
“Promise me,” she whispers fiercely, gripping my hands tightly. “Please.”
I draw in a slow, unsteady breath, gathering the strength I’m not sure I possess. My voice is barely a whisper when I speak again. “I promise.”
She releases a shaky breath, leaning forward to rest her cheek against mine, her hair falling like a silken curtain around us, shielding us from the harsh reality outside these walls. We stay that way for long moments, simply breathing, hearts beating together, our bodies pressed so close we’re practically one.
Eventually, she lifts her head, her expression shifting subtly from desperate to defiant. “But we’ll make it,” she says fiercely, the fire returning to her voice, eyes blazing with stubborn conviction. “Together.”
