Eleanor slammed her free hand against his chest, pushing with every ounce of strength she had. It was like trying to move a mountain. Jace didn't budge an inch.

He lowered his head. His rough nose brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, right at the collarbone. He inhaled deeply. His Adam's apple bobbed against her forehead.

A violent shudder ripped through Eleanor's body. The sheer animalistic nature of the gesture made her stomach heave.

"Let go of me, you psycho!" she screamed in English. She jerked her knee upward, aiming straight for his groin.

Jace's combat instincts were instantaneous. He shifted his hips slightly, taking the blow against his thick thigh muscle without a flinch. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He squeezed.

The air rushed out of Eleanor's lungs. Her ribs groaned under the pressure. Tears of pure, physiological pain sprang to her eyes. She stopped fighting, gasping for breath.

Jace paused. He looked down at the moisture gathering in her eyes. A flicker of confusion crossed his harsh features, but his grip didn't loosen. Instead, he grabbed both of her wrists with one hand, pinning them firmly behind her back.

With his free hand, he reached into the leather pouch tied at his waist. He pulled out a thick cord of animal sinew. Strung on it was a massive, pristine white wolf tooth, sharpened to a lethal point.

He held the tooth up to her face. He spoke a single, harsh sentence in a guttural language, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

Eleanor stared at the bone. She thought he was going to stab her eyes out. She thrashed wildly, throwing her head back to avoid the sharp tip.

Jace frowned. His jaw tightened in annoyance. He reached out and clamped his large fingers around her jaw, forcing her head still.

He slipped the sinew cord over her head. The heavy wolf tooth dropped against her collarbone. The bone was freezing cold against her flushed skin.

The moment the necklace settled on her chest, Jace's eyes changed. The predatory calculation vanished, replaced by a dark, consuming possessiveness.

Eleanor looked down at the tooth. A primal instinct warned her this was a mark. A brand. She shook her head frantically, her pinned fingers twitching as she tried to reach up and snap the cord.

Jace swatted her hands away with a low warning growl. His grip on her jaw tightened, tilting her face up toward his.

He crashed his mouth down on hers.

There was nothing gentle about it. It was a brutal, claiming force. His teeth clashed against her lips, tasting of copper and raw power.

Eleanor's mind went blank with terror and humiliation. She clamped her lips shut, refusing to yield.

Jace growled against her mouth. His fingers squeezed her jaw, applying just enough painful pressure to force her lips apart. He invaded her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, claiming everything. His rough hand slid down her spine, pressing her closer.

Nausea rolled through Eleanor's stomach. A desperate, violent anger flared in her chest. She waited for a fraction of a second, then bit down hard on his lower lip.

She tasted fresh blood instantly.

Jace grunted in pain and pulled back. A drop of bright red blood swelled on his torn lip.

Eleanor gasped for air, bringing her shoulder up to wipe her mouth violently. She glared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with defiance.

Jace ran his tongue over his bleeding lip. He didn't look angry. He looked thrilled. A low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

Before Eleanor could process the sound, Jace bent his knees. His thick arm swept behind her knees and around her waist.

The world flipped upside down.

Eleanor shrieked as he hoisted her into the air and slammed her face-down over his broad shoulder.

His shoulder bone dug painfully into her stomach. She hammered her fists against his scarred back, kicking her legs wildly.

Jace ignored her completely. He walked over to the dead wolf, bent down, and yanked his stone spear out of the mud with one hand.

Eleanor stared at the ground moving beneath her, the dead wolf shrinking in the distance. The blood rushing to her head made her dizzy.

Jace broke into a jog. His long strides ate up the distance, carrying her deeper into the suffocating green hell of the prehistoric forest.

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.

Jace stopped at the edge of the stone bed. He shoved the slab of meat toward Eleanor's face. The outside was charred black, but thick red blood still oozed from the center.

Eleanor's stomach violently contracted. The smell of raw blood and unrendered fat made her gag. She pressed herself harder against the rock wall, shaking her head frantically.

Jace let out a low grunt. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He tore a piece of the meat off with his teeth and chewed, his jaw muscles working.

He didn't take his eyes off her. His gaze dragged over her pale face, down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the windbreaker. The air in the cave grew thick, suffocatingly hot.

He swallowed the meat. He tossed the rest onto the floor.

Before Eleanor could blink, Jace lunged.

His massive hands clamped around her ankles. He yanked backward. Eleanor screamed as she was dragged flat onto her back, sliding across the pelt until she was pinned directly beneath him.

His weight was crushing. The heat radiating from his skin sank into her bones. His heavy, ragged breathing fanned across her neck.

Jace grabbed the collar of her windbreaker. He didn't know how zippers worked. He simply closed his fists and ripped his arms apart.

The heavy nylon tore with a sickening sound.

"Get off me!" Eleanor shrieked.

Her right arm whipped out from her sleeve. She jammed the tactical flashlight directly into Jace's face and slammed her thumb down on the tail switch.

Three thousand lumens of blinding white light erupted in the dark cave. The strobe function pulsed at a dizzying, high-frequency rate.

Jace let out a deafening roar of pure agony. His pupils, dilated for the dark cave, took the full, unfiltered blast of the tactical strobe. He dropped her jacket, his hands flying up to cover his eyes as he reeled backward.

Eleanor didn't hesitate. She gripped the flashlight with both hands. She aimed the jagged, crenelated strike bezel at the side of his head.

She swung with every ounce of adrenaline in her body.

The heavy aluminum smashed into Jace's temple with a hollow thud.

Jace grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head. His massive body swayed for a second before collapsing sideways onto the stone bed like a felled tree.

Eleanor dropped the flashlight. Her chest heaved, pulling in jagged breaths. She stared at his motionless body, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt.

She waited thirty seconds. He didn't twitch.

She scrambled off the bed, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell. She grabbed the flashlight, clicked it off, and plunged the cave back into shadows.

She grabbed her multi-tool, sliced a strip of fabric from her ruined jacket, and wrapped it tightly around her bruised wrist. She slung the backpack over her shoulders.

She crept to the cave entrance.

Night had fallen. The camp was dotted with small fires, but most of the tribe was asleep. The two guards at the bottom of the path were sitting on the ground, their heads nodding in sleep.

Eleanor pressed her back against the rock wall. She slid down the path, placing her boots carefully to avoid kicking loose stones.

As she passed Greta's hut, a loud mumble came from inside. Eleanor froze, her blood turning to ice. She held her breath until her lungs burned. Silence returned.

She slipped past the sleeping guards, keeping to the deep shadows cast by the fires. The moment her boots hit the soft, damp soil of the forest edge, she broke into a dead run.

She plunged into the pitch-black woods, running until her lungs felt like they were bleeding.

She had no GPS. No stars visible through the canopy. Within twenty minutes, she was completely, hopelessly lost.

The forest grew eerily silent. The crickets stopped chirping. A foul, musky odor drifted through the damp air.

A rustling sound came from the bushes ahead.

Eleanor stopped dead.

In the darkness, a pair of glowing, sickly green eyes opened. Then another pair to her left. Then two more to her right.

She slowly turned in a circle. There were five of them. Giant prehistoric wolves, their lips curled back to expose jagged, yellow teeth. They had her completely surrounded.