The Savage Chief's Coveted Modern Bride

The brutal bouncing knocked the breath out of Eleanor with every step. She didn't know how long he carried her. Eventually, the dense trees began to thin. The sharp scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat hit her nose, followed by the chaotic noise of human voices.

Jace stepped out of the tree line.

Eleanor's upside-down view opened up to a massive clearing. It was a sprawling camp built into the side of a rocky cliff, dotted with natural caves and crude huts made of branches and hides.

Several heavily muscled men, covered in blood and holding stone knives, stopped butchering an animal carcass. They let out loud, barking cheers at the sight of Jace, but their eyes immediately locked onto Eleanor.

Her bright blonde hair and pale skin stood out like a beacon. The entire tribe stopped what they were doing. Dozens of pairs of eyes-curious, hungry, and hostile-stared at her.

Eleanor felt a suffocating wave of panic. She buried her face into the rough fur of Jace's loincloth, trying to hide from the piercing stares.

The crowd suddenly parted. A young woman shoved her way to the front. She wore a pristine white animal pelt and a necklace of vibrant bird feathers. Greta's face was twisted in an ugly sneer.

Greta's eyes darted from Eleanor's face down to the white wolf tooth resting against Eleanor's collarbone. Her face went pale, then flushed with violent rage. She let out a piercing, ear-splitting shriek.

She lunged toward Jace, pointing a trembling finger at Eleanor, screaming in their harsh tongue. Though Eleanor couldn't understand the exact words, the venomous translation was clear from the crowd's gasps: "The Chief's mating token! You give the sacred claim to this pale outsider? !" The hatred in her eyes was palpable.

Jace barely glanced at her. He let out a single, deafening roar that shook the dirt under their feet.

The surrounding tribe members flinched and took a collective step back. Greta froze, the color draining from her face. She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes burned holes into Eleanor's back.

Jace didn't stop walking. He carried Eleanor straight through the center of the camp, heading toward the largest, highest cave carved into the cliff face.

He stepped into the shadows of the cave. The air instantly cooled, smelling of dried grass and male sweat.

Jace bent down. He dropped Eleanor onto a massive slab of stone covered in a thick, striped pelt that looked terrifyingly like a saber-toothed tiger.

Eleanor scrambled backward the second her hands hit the stone. She clutched her tactical backpack to her chest, pressing her spine against the cold cave wall. She stared at him, her breathing ragged.

Jace watched her for a moment. He turned his back on her and walked to the cave entrance. He grabbed a boulder the size of a mini-fridge and effortlessly dragged it across the opening, blocking half the wind and the only exit.

He walked over to a clay pot in the corner, poured water into a crude wooden bowl, and walked back to the bed. He held the bowl out to her lips.

Eleanor's throat was parched, but she looked at the dirty water, then at the dried blood still smeared on his mouth. She turned her head away sharply.

Jace didn't force her. He brought the bowl to his own lips and drained it in three massive gulps. He tossed the bowl aside.

He looked at her, pointed a thick finger at the wolf tooth on her neck, then thumped his own chest twice. The message was clear. Mine.

He turned and walked out of the cave, his heavy footsteps fading down the path.

Eleanor waited until the silence settled. Her muscles turned to jelly. She slumped against the wall, dragging in deep, shaky breaths.

She had to get out.

She crawled to the edge of the cave and peeked around the boulder. The path led straight down into the main camp. Two massive men with spears stood guard at the bottom. Greta was standing near them, glaring up at the cave.

There was no sneaking out the front door.

Eleanor scrambled back to the bed. She unzipped her backpack. Her hands shook as she pulled out her inventory: a multi-tool knife, two bottles of water, three energy bars, a first-aid kit, a lighter, and her heavy tactical flashlight.

She grabbed the flashlight. It was made of aircraft-grade aluminum, heavy and solid. She checked the battery indicator. Four green lights. Full charge.

She gripped the textured metal handle, hiding it inside the long sleeve of her windbreaker. She forced her breathing to slow.

Heavy footsteps echoed outside. The smell of searing fat and blood drifted in. Jace was back.

Eleanor threw herself back onto the tiger pelt. She hid the backpack behind her and pulled her knees to her chest, feigning absolute terror. But inside her sleeve, her thumb rested firmly on the flashlight's rubber switch.

Jace's massive frame blocked out the remaining sunlight. He held a massive chunk of roasted meat, grease dripping down his forearm. His eyes were dark, fixated entirely on her.