fleeing she hadn’t given much thought to her naked state. But now, hanging uselessly in midair, her arms bound to her sides while her lower half was bared to him, her vulnerability hit hard.
After hating her anazi pelt for so long, she now desperately wished it was wrapped around her, shielding her from sight.
She still didn’t understand why the Other wasn’t dead. He’d touched her skin several times and still appeared as vital as ever. Her pack leader, Talg, had been very clear about what would happen to anyone foolish enough to press their skin against an abomination like her.
Perhaps her captor was imbued with some dark magic? Or was he simply such an evil creature that touching someone cursed like her didn’t matter?
It was shocking. It was revelatory. It was the culmination of one of her secret hopes, and it mattered not at all.
The beast was her enemy and she’d soon be too dead to even consider the ramifications of what she’d just discovered.
“Flat-toothed savage.” She spat the words at him. Insults and bravado all she had as the unique male scent of the Other—a potent mix of sweat, determination, and hate—invaded her lungs.
“Mouthy, too, huh?” He lifted her higher, muscles rippling with ease as she swayed in his hold. “We’ll fix that soon enough.”
Her stomach shriveled. Seeing him up close in the harsh light of the suns confirmed what she already knew. Her captor was a true beast, every part of him rippling with corded, ropey muscles that screamed brute strength and power.
Unlike the smaller hairless shimmering bodies of pack males, his square jaw and massive chest were covered with shadowed black fur, as if the prickly darkness within had crept its way out. The curling hair on his head was dark as a night with no moons. His eyes the same bright green as the thigose when it hunted at night.
He was marked by scars. Everywhere. The most prominent, a thin raised line under his throat and a still-raw burn across his ribs. Strange symbols also decorated his skin. Dark, slashing lines as aggressive as the barbarian himself.
If that wasn’t proof enough of the violent life he led, an array of weapons and rope dangled from the leather bands strapped around his biceps, one thick thigh, and his chest.
Everything about the beast was foreign, barbarian, and terrifying.
Unable to help herself, her gaze flickered to the massive bulge barely contained by the fabric wrapped around his hips. That was another difference from the males of her pack. He was far
bigger there, too. He would split her wide.
Would he touch her while he rutted her? If so, Ancients help her, but the part of her that was so starved for contact wondered fleetingly if it could be worth the agony.
Disgusted by such traitorous, weak thoughts, she struggled harder.
“Stay still and this will go a lot easier for you.” Rough fabric slid between her thighs. Before she could kick out, her legs were forced together, gripped in a single hand-hold. Coarse cord wrapped tight around her ankles, then her knees.
It dawned on her then that he was adding more rope, tying her up tighter.
Thrashing, she tried to break his grip. It proved impossible.
He flicked his wrist. The scratchy fibers between her thighs scrapped sensitive, untouched skin before wedging tight against her center.
She cried out.
It didn’t matter. Dropping her trussed legs to the ground, he straddled her hips before circling the rope around her neck, yoking her like an animal. She flinched. Protested with a whimper. In the next instant, her wrists were bound and her arms crossed over her breasts. More rope surrounded her, pining her arms to her chest as his boot landed lightly on her shoulder.
She had always hated being helpless. Yet look at her now.
With a gentle push of his boot, she was rolled over and over in the dirt, dust filling her lungs as the rope circled her belly, hips, closed thighs, knees, and calves, securing her tight, making movement impossible.
A wilding brought to heel.
Coughing, she landed face up. Staring once more up at the sky—and him.
She had thought she was strong enough to survive anything. She had assumed all the trials, deprivations, and punishments had made her resilient. She was certain she would never look back on what she had done at the Other camp and regret.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
5
Grif stepped back to survey his rope work…and to gain a little distance.
Securing his target was supposed to be quick and impersonal, but the brush