Chapter 1 🦌
POV — Myra
I know he’s watching me even though I do not actually have to look in his direction to feel it.
The awareness crawls across my skin like heat, prickling along the back of my neck before settling low in my stomach in a way that is extremely inconvenient considering the circumstances we are currently in as prisoners inside a treetop fortress in a foreign village surrounded by warriors who may or may not be hostile.
The four of us are sitting close together on the woven rug in the center of the room, our knees nearly touching as we talk in low voices like a group of girls at a sleepover instead of captives trying to figure out what the hell just happened to our lives.
The room itself would almost be beautiful if the situation were different. Lantern light glows warmly against carved wooden walls, and the entire structure sways gently with the wind moving through the massive branches supporting it. Someone has brought us fruit and fresh water again, which only reinforces the strange reality that whoever captured us clearly wants us alive and comfortable.
Just not free.
I try very hard not to react to the enormous warrior standing across the room.
Unfortunately my body seems to have other plans because my pulse keeps jumping and my chest feels tight, while every time I shift even slightly that strange electric pull between us tightens like an invisible thread connecting my ribs directly to his.
My brain immediately starts searching for explanations, running through adrenaline responses, heightened survival instincts, pheromonal signaling between unfamiliar populations, and several increasingly desperate theories involving neurological misfires caused by stress and exhaustion.
Every one of those theories collapses the moment I accidentally glance up again and meet his eyes.
Rowan was not exaggerating about the bond thing.
Jules follows my line of sight and exhales slowly through her nose like someone watching a very interesting experiment unfold.
“Yeah,” she mutters quietly. “There’s definitely something there.”
Eliza shifts beside her, leaning slightly forward as she studies him with wide eyes like she might be able to see whatever invisible force is currently scrambling my nervous system.
“I can feel the pull from here.”
Fantastic, which means the phenomenon is apparently not limited to my own imagination.
I drag a hand down my face and mutter under my breath that I am absolutely screwed.
Jules snorts immediately and tells me “Not yet,” which earns her a sharp look because she knows exactly what I mean and is choosing to be unhelpful on purpose.
Rowan keeps her voice careful and thoughtful, the way someone speaks when they are trying to explain something that sounds insane even to them.
“It looks like a mate bond,” she says quietly. “Or the start of one.”
That information does not help in the slightest, because the second she says the words the pull between us tightens again like the universe itself just went, yes, that one right there.
Across the room the giant warrior has not moved even slightly, and he continues to watch me with an intensity that makes the air between us feel charged.
I swallow hard before speaking.
“Okay,” I say slowly while keeping my eyes fixed on the enormous stranger across the room. “Hypothetically speaking… how bad was it for you?”
Rowan blinks in confusion.
“…What?”
I gesture vaguely towards the over sized man.
“I mean,” I clarify while lowering my voice, “the sex. Was it at least good?”
Heat creeps up Rowan’s neck immediately as she bites the inside of her cheek before admitting that she had no complaints.
Jules grins wickedly.
“Just looking at him, I don’t think you’re going to either.”
Eliza nods toward the man across the room, who still has not taken his eyes off me.
“By the way he’s staring at you,” she adds thoughtfully, “you might actually be the one wrecking him.”
I look again.
This time I really look.
He is enormous in a way that makes the word tall feel inadequate, because his shoulders look wide enough to block half the lantern light and his arms carry the kind of heavy muscle that suggests he spends his life doing things like fighting predators or lifting people off the ground.
Dark hair is pulled back from a face carved entirely out of sharp angles and quiet danger, but it is his eyes that stop me.
They are a deep, striking amber, almost gold in the lantern light, sharp and unblinking as they track every movement I make with the focused intensity of a predator that has just discovered something it intends to keep.
Those eyes have not left me once since he walked into the room.
Not once.
My stomach flips hard enough to make me inhale sharply.
This is happening.
This is absolutely happening.
I square my shoulders and glance back at the girls.
“You all owe me,” I say flatly.
Before anyone can stop me, I stand and start walking toward him.
Each step toward him makes that strange pull stronger, humming through my chest like the air itself is vibrating around us.
Behind me I can hear Jules and Eliza trying—and failing—to hold in their laughter while Rowan makes a choking sound that suggests she knows exactly how badly this could go.
No pressure.
Just casually flirting with a giant warrior who does not speak my language and could probably throw me across the room like a football.
Totally normal day.
I stop in front of him, realizing immediately that he somehow looks even larger up close while his gaze remains fixed on me with that same intense focus.
The air between us feels charged, like stepping into the edge of a thunderstorm.
Alright.
We are doing this.
I straighten my shoulders and flash him what I hope is a sultry smile, although judging by the way Rowan coughs behind me it is probably terrible.
Too late now.
I twirl a strand of hair around my finger and tilt my head slightly while batting my eyelashes in what I am fairly certain is an extremely aggressive attempt at flirting.
“Hi,” I say slowly.
He does not understand the word, which is obvious, but he watches my mouth like the sound might somehow translate if he studies it long enough.
Encouraged by the lack of immediate violence, I press my palm against his arm.
Holy hell.
His bicep feels like solid granite beneath my hand.
I give it a small experimental squeeze, lifting my eyebrows in exaggerated appreciation.
“Wow,” I murmur quietly.
Then I gesture between us.
Then toward him.
Then toward myself.
Then shrug.
You know.
Very advanced communication skills.
The wild part is that he remains completely transfixed, staring at me without blinking or moving like his brain has temporarily stopped processing anything except the fact that I am standing directly in front of him.
I glance over my shoulder briefly and see Jules shaking with silent laughter while Eliza watches the situation with a look of horrified fascination.
Good.
Glad someone is enjoying this.
I turn back to him and decide it is time to escalate.
I run my hand slowly down the front of his chest.
The man inhales sharply like I just set his nervous system on fire.
Progress.
I lean in close to his ear and murmur something completely meaningless.
“You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”
The effect is immediate.
His breath stutters.
His hands flex.
Something in his posture snaps like a bowstring pulled too tight finally breaking.
Before I can even process what is happening, he grabs me.
One moment I am standing in front of him, and the next I am upside down as he throws me cleanly over his shoulder like I weigh absolutely nothing.
“What—HEY—”
My protest turns into a surprised yelp as he turns and strides for the door, his boots pounding across the floor like a man on a mission while I kick my legs uselessly and smack his back.
“WAIT—”
The door slams behind us hard enough to echo through the room.
A second later the sound of my friends losing their minds laughing drifts faintly through the wood from the other side.
Fantastic.
Just fantastic.
Because judging by the way this man’s grip tightens around my thighs as he carries me down the hallway—
I may have just made the most impulsive decision of my entire life.
And somehow I have a feeling I am not going to regret it.
