rock between his pecs alone. Someone as tiny as Nayla would be no match against that kind of strength.
He was also bald, with a flat nose and sharp pointed ears, and, unlike Nayla’s golden skin, this male’s flesh was a patchwork of gold, red, and black that enabled him to blend in disturbingly well with the cliffs as he worked his way along the path toward the pit where Grif had first trapped his captive.
The male was grunting to himself as he scanned the ground, his face twisted into a scowl, a glowing spear held tight in his grip.
Two good-sized tusks jutted from his lower lip.
While Nayla’s fangs were tiny and damn close to adorable, protruding from the top of her mouth and only visible when she snarled, this guy’s lower chompers looked like they could tear the skin from a body as easily as a Tigos.
An angry bark issued from the male. He pounded forward. Grif didn’t have to be a mind reader to guess what had prompted the male’s reaction. He’d found the pit. The guy moved so fast and silently, it was almost as if he were floating over the ground rather than walking on it.
Another low growl. The male was on the move once more. Grif followed as best he could, sliding along on his stomach as his target moved from the pit to where Grif had captured and roped his prey.
The male’s upper fangs flashed as bursts of red and orange rippled across his skin.
Grif was suddenly pleased he’d taken the time to wipe away all traces of his route from here on out. He’d was also thankful he’d done such a good job erasing Sharluff’s tracks.
Undeterred, the rescue party of one surveyed the area, his gaze intent.
The guy’s persistence pissed Grif off, and pleased him, too. The former because he didn’t want anyone honing in on his captive. The latter because, in some sick way, he was glad there was someone out there who cared enough to look for Nayla.
Even if Grif was going to make sure she wasn’t found until he was ready to give her up.
A series of low frustrated grunts erupted from the male as he swept the area in wider, erratic circles, his movements more frustrated with every pass.
The pack male had lost the trail. Just as Grif had intended.
The next time the male circled past, he came close enough to Grif’s overlook that he could easily make out the golden symbols on the pack hunter’s skin, far more numerous than his captive’s, as well as deep lines etched in evenly spaced patterns down his arms and thighs, far too precise to be anything but purposeful scars.
As near as the male was, it would have been easy to leap out and engage in one fell swoop.
Grif forced himself to stay right where he was.
With Nayla chained and vulnerable, engagement was too great a risk. Especially when the bastard was the one with the glowing spear.
He just hoped the fucker didn’t stay too long.
13
“Wake up.”
Nayla woke with a start, the sensation of intense green eyes boring into her enough to have her springing upward—only to be shocked she could. Her wrists were roped together, but her arms and ankles were free from the manacles.
When she’d decided to rest her eyes, she’d been alone in the cave, lying on her side under a blanket, one wrist and one ankle chained to the restraints.
She’d dreamed of green predatory eyes and terrible, beautiful pleasure.
Before he’d left, her captor—Grif, it was strange to know his name—had allowed her to release her bladder in a small cave with a trickle of running water through its floor, but he’d watched the whole time, his gaze hard and alert. There’d been no chance for escape. After she was done, he’d taken her back to the blanket, fed her a chalky square of unidentified nutrients that tasted better than it looked, and ordered her to rest.
Then, he’d grabbed his harness of weapons and left. She feared he was going to hunt Sharluff. Terrified, she’d fought her chains until she wore herself out. After that, she’d been too exhausted and sore to do anything but follow his command.
Sometime since, the Other had returned, undone her restraints, roped her wrists, and covered her with a blanket, and she’d slept through it all.
Now, he sat across the cave from her, on a chair of bone and hide sturdy enough even for someone as large as him. His jaw was tight, his mood