Chapter 8
by 
Yelawolf
Do you want to try your luck with one of the ladies?
You pick Lae'zel
You walk back to her tent. Her lips curl into a sneer. “If you have come to waste my time with your foolishness, leave now.”
You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. You’re always so serious. Ever think about having a little fun?”
Her eyes flash with something—amusement, perhaps, or challenge. “Fun? What do you propose, istik? A game of dice? A song around the fire?”
You step closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Something a little more… hands-on.”
For a moment, she’s silent. Then, to your surprise, she smirks. “You are bold. Foolish, but bold.”
You grin, leaning in. “You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”
She stands, her movements deliberate, and closes the distance between you. Her golden eyes bore into yours, her voice low and dangerous. “Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness. If you wish to play this game, you had best be prepared to lose.”
You raise an eyebrow, your heart racing. “Is that a challenge?”
Her smirk widens, and before you can react, she grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you close. “It is a promise.”
The kiss is fierce, almost bruising, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. Her hands are everywhere—tangling in your hair, gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.
When she finally pulls back, her breathing is ragged, her eyes blazing. “You are… surprisingly capable.”
You laugh, your voice husky. “Glad I could impress.”
She pushes you down onto the fur mat, her smirk turning predatory. “Do not get ahead of yourself, istik. This is not over.”
Her hands move with purpose, stripping away your armor and clothing with practiced efficiency. You reach for her, but she catches your wrist, pinning it above your head. “Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. “You will learn it.”
Her lips trail down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp. She’s relentless, her touch both punishing and intoxicating. When her mouth finds yours again, it’s with a ferocity that leaves you dizzy.
You manage to free your hand, tangling it in her hair as you roll her onto her back. She lets out a low laugh, her eyes gleaming with approval. “Better,” she says, her voice a husky purr. “But do not think you are in control.”