Chapter 3

He sat up slowly, the mud sucking at his skin.

His eyes never left Cora's face. He reached out, his massive hands wrapping around her waist, and pulled her hard against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

The sheer force of his grip made Cora's ribs ache. She pushed against his shoulders, but it was useless.

"BEEP! Target lifeform's protective instincts have been triggered. Threat level to host decreased. Reward: Basic Language Translation Module."

A sharp prick of pain hit Cora's temples. Suddenly, the low, guttural sounds rumbling in the man's chest formed into distinct words.

"I owe you my life," his voice was a rough, gravelly rasp against her ear. "You are mine now."

Cora's breath hitched. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her sternum. She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him she belonged to no one, but the words died in her throat.

He didn't wait for an answer. He stood up, hauling her over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain.

Cora gasped as her stomach hit his hard shoulder muscle. She grabbed fistfuls of his thick, dark hair to keep from sliding off.

He started walking. His strides were long and ground-eating.

Cora bounced against his back, her stomach churning with every step. She focused on the translucent blue screen of DAISY, scanning the bizarre, glowing flora they passed, trying to distract herself from the nausea.

A rustle in the canopy above made her flinch.

A beast that looked like a panther with a single, jagged horn leaped from the branches, aiming straight for Cora's exposed back.

The man didn't even break his stride. He reached down, his hand wrapping around the hilt of a bone knife strapped to his thigh. In one fluid, brutal motion, he spun and hurled the blade.

The bone knife sank deep into the beast's skull, pinning it to the trunk of a tree.

He walked over, ripped the blade free, wiped the blood on his own thigh, and kept walking.

Cora stared at the dead beast, her throat dry. This world was a meat grinder, and the man carrying her was the sharpest blade in it.

Hours later, the dense jungle gave way to a massive clearing.

A sprawling settlement of stone huts and massive animal hide tents came into view. Two towering men, holding spears tipped with black stone, stood at the entrance.

When they saw the man carrying Cora, they immediately dropped their heads in submission.

But as they straightened, their eyes locked onto Cora. The submission vanished, replaced by blatant shock and sneering disgust.

The man carrying her felt the shift. A low, vibrating growl ripped from his throat. The guards instantly averted their eyes, their bodies trembling.

He carried her into the heart of the tribe.

The bustling square fell dead silent. Hundreds of eyes turned to them.

The women, dressed in scraps of fur, stared at Cora's small, mud-caked frame. Their lips curled in revulsion. They whispered to each other, their eyes full of contempt for her lack of physical strength.

The men looked at her differently. Their eyes were hungry, stripping her down, assessing her as a weak, easy piece of prey.

The hostility in the air was thick enough to choke on. Cora shrank back, her fingers digging tighter into the man's hair. She felt completely exposed, completely vulnerable.

He felt her fear.

He stopped in the center of the square. His golden eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, a suffocating, invisible weight crashed down on the entire square. The air grew thin. Cora couldn't feel it, but she saw the reaction.

The tribespeople gasped, clutching their chests. Several of the weaker men dropped to their knees, their faces pale with terror.

He was using his spiritual power to crush them into submission.

An old man, leaning heavily on a staff made of a twisted spine, hobbled forward. He looked at the man, his voice shaking but stern. "Jagger. Why do you bring this useless, weak thing into our home? She will only waste our meat."

Jagger. That was his name.

Jagger's jaw clenched. He looked at the old shaman, his voice carrying across the silent square, cold and absolute.

"She is not useless. She is my property."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Cora's face burned hot. She pushed against his back, desperate to tell them it was a misunderstanding, but Jagger's massive hand clamped down over her lower back, holding her firmly in place.

He ignored the shocked whispers and the angry stares, carrying her straight toward the back of the settlement.