I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 72: Claiming turf

Mara moved quietly through the house, her duties for the morning meticulously planned. She had risen with the sun, determined to fulfill her responsibilities as the mistress's maid even in this unfamiliar setting. The mansion was different from the usual grandeur she was accustomed to, but her devotion to her role and her affection for Zafron kept her motivated.

She swept the floors with practiced ease, the rhythmic swish of the broom a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs, wafting through the kitchen. Mara had cooked a hearty breakfast, her mind occasionally drifting to Zafron.

His handsome face, his warm smile, and the way he had looked at her the previous day made her heart flutter.

As she finished her tasks, a contented smile played on her lips. Zafron was a source of fascination and excitement for her, and the memories of their shared moments were sweet and vivid. She decided to check on him, to see if he was awake and perhaps share a bit of the morning with him.

The sun was rising, casting a golden glow over the house, and it was likely that he might still be sleeping after their eventful night.

Her steps were light as she approached his room. She knocked gently on the door, her fingers hovering with anticipation. The absence of a response made her wonder if he was still asleep, so she turned the handle cautiously. The door swung open silently, revealing an empty room. A tinge of disappointment flitted through her, mingling with confusion. Had he gotten up before her?

Was he outside?

She stepped inside, her gaze scanning the room for any sign of him. The bed was neatly made, and everything seemed in order. There was no trace of Zafron. Puzzled, she retraced her steps, closing the door behind her. As she moved toward the stairs, a sound caught her attention—faint giggles and muffled screams from the mistress's room.

Her curiosity was piqued, but she hesitated, not wanting to intrude.

Mara's heart raced as she moved closer to the mistress's door, the sounds growing louder. Her initial smile of anticipation turned into a grimace of concern and jealousy. She pressed her ear to the door, the giggles morphing into unmistakable moans and cries of pleasure. The realization hit her with a jolt—Zafron was in there with Matilda.

A rush of emotions surged through her, a bitter cocktail of envy and sadness.

'Why is he in there with her?' she thought, her heart sinking. 'Why is he giving her what I wanted?'

Mara's emotions were a tumultuous whirlpool of frustration and longing. She spun around, her instincts driving her to flee, to escape the suffocating feeling of inadequacy. She hurried toward the stairs, each step echoing her inner turmoil. But as she reached the stairway, something within her snapped. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she paused, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

'Why am I running away?' she questioned herself, the internal conflict raw and disorienting. 'Why do I let my fears dictate my actions?'

The thought of Zafron with Matilda, so close yet so unattainable, ignited a fierce determination within her. She had always been the one to retreat, to step back when faced with competition. But now, she felt a burning need to fight for what she wanted, to assert her place in his life. She couldn't just let him slip away, not after everything they had shared.

'Matilda has everything—beauty, wealth, influence,' Mara mused, her resolve strengthening. 'But why should she have him too? Why can't I?'

A surge of defiance filled her as she considered her options. She could no longer accept being pushed aside. Zafron had stirred something within her, a yearning for connection and recognition that she had never felt before. The mistress might have the advantages, but Mara had something else—an unwavering commitment and a fierce desire to be with Zafron.

'This is my chance,' she thought, her mind sharpening with purpose. 'I need to take control of my own fate, not run away in defeat.'

Mara turned back toward the mistress's room, her steps purposeful and determined. The decision had been made. She would not be the one to retreat any longer. She would confront the situation, make her presence known, and fight for her place beside Zafron.

As she approached the door once more, the sounds from within grew louder, more insistent. Her heart pounded, but her resolve was clear. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, prepared to face whatever awaited her on the other side.

Muffled giggles and soft gasps filtered through the closed bedroom door as Mara approached the bedroom again. She paused, her cheeks flushing as she realized what she was hearing. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand to knock.

"Zafron? Lady Matilda?" Mara called out, her voice wavering slightly. "Breakfast is ready!"

The sounds from within the room abruptly ceased, followed by hushed whispers and rustling.

"Just a moment, Mara!" Zafron's voice came, sounding slightly breathless.

Mara bit her lip, fighting back a surge of jealousy. She knocked again, louder this time. "The food's getting cold. I've made something special."

More whispers and the sound of hurried movement came from behind the door. Mara's knuckles whitened as she tried to knock again.

"Zafron? Lady Matilda? Is everything alright in there?" she called again, unable to keep a hint of frustration from her voice.

"We're coming, Mara," Matilda's voice replied, sounding slightly flustered. "Give us a minute to... come..." The mistress sounded disoriented.

Mara's jaw clenched at Matilda's words. She knocked once more, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. "The tea will be cold soon. Are you ready yet?"

Finally, the door swung open. Zafron stood there, his hair tousled and cheeks flushed. Behind him, Matilda was hastily smoothing down her dress.

Mara's eyes darted between them, taking in their disheveled appearance. Her gaze locked with Matilda's, a moment of silent tension stretching between them.

"Lady Matilda," Mara said, her voice syrupy sweet but with an undercurrent of steel. "Your breakfast is ready. As I've mentioned... A couple of times now."

Matilda met Mara's gaze evenly, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, Mara."

Zafron, clearly sensing the charged atmosphere, quickly interjected. "It smells wonderful, Mara. Shall we go down and enjoy it?"

As they made their way to the dining area, the air remained thick with unspoken tension. Mara couldn't help but notice how closely Zafron and Matilda walked, their hands brushing against each other. She trailed behind, her mind racing with thoughts of what she'd interrupted and how she might ensure Zafron's attention remained where it belonged – with her.