Fuck.
“Um,” I begin, not sure how to explain this. “Do you have a restroom here?” It’s a dumb question. There’s no bathroom here. No door is visible. I don’t even know where the exit is.
Mr. Grunty is holding something over the now blazing fire. Something on sticks. Some kind of meat. Skewers. My tummy rumbles again.
“I need to pee,” I declare loudly, finally drawing his attention. “Use the restroom.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then points to a corner.
“I am not going to do my business there!” I tell him emphatically.
He shakes his head and gets up. “Follow.”
When we’ve gotten closer to where he was pointing to, cool air wafts in my face. There’s a way out, hidden behind a rock wall. “Oh.” I let him lead me out, then look around, hoping to find a bush or something.
He stands up straight and folds his arms across his massive chest.
“Oh no. You’re not gonna watch me pee. That is where I draw the line.”
“Safe,” he says.
Safe? As in: he won’t look? Or he has to stay here to protect me? Hoping it’s both, I look around again. We must be at the back of the cave—I can hear the thundering waterfall, but I can’t see it. There’s a large bush to my left, and I hurry towards it, my desperation overcoming my modesty. “Don’t look!” I tell him as I squat behind the foliage.
He gives a grunt. I can’t see him, so I have to just assume he can’t see me, either. When I’ve done my business, I look around for something I can use as paper. The leaves on the bush are broad and flat. Fuck it. Praying I’m not about to give myself some terrible rash, I use that, then return to Gruntypants’s side.
It’s getting light. The temperature has increased, and in the pink-streaked sky, the last two of the five moons are sinking below the horizon.
We’re in some kind of forest, but it’s not like any I’ve seen before. Trees rise like skyscrapers. Their bark is red and their leaves are black. Groves of neon-orange ferns glow between each monolith. Copper-colored rushes rattle by the river. Before I can gawk some more, the hunter has grabbed me and dragged me back into the cave.
Gesturing to the pile of furs we slept on, he stares me down.
“You need to work on your communication skills,” I grumble as I head over there. “You’re not giving great woo.”
Ignoring me again, he gets back to whatever he was doing at the brazier. The smell of smoky meat tickles my nostrils, and my tummy rumbles again. Deciding to make myself useful, I head over to the chest and get out more of the fruits they use as beverages around here.
Mr. Grunty glances over to check what I’m doing, then returns his attention to cooking. I can’t figure him out. Then again, I can’t figure anything out right now.
Setting a couple of the fruits down for him, I sit cross-legged on the furs, and wait. I have so many questions. Like: where the fuck am I? Who is this guy? How in the world did he get me to let him fuck me?
Okay, so the answer to that one is simple. Feeling the heat rise in my face at the memory, I close my eyes and force myself to ignore the unbidden pang in my sex.
The hunter distracts me by bringing over a large, flat stone holding the food. The aroma of barbecued meat overpowers even his distinctive, delicious scent, and it’s all I can do to wait until he’s seated before reaching for a skewer. Following his lead, I gnaw at it.
It’s surprisingly good.
For such a big brute, he eats with the same dexterity he displays when he’s fighting. And… doing other things. Popping the top of another fruit, I take a sip before picking up a second skewer. The meat tastes like tangy chicken, and I force myself not to put any more thought than that into its origins.
We eat in silence. I don’t know when I last had food, but I manage three whole skewers before I’m full. Grunty McGreenface puts away seven, plus three of the fruits.
“Thanks,” I tell him. He can understand me just fine. Just like Sian did. He just doesn’t talk much. It’s infuriating.
Looking up from the empty plate, he meets my eyes, and my tummy does a little flip at the raw lust in his hazel gaze. I feel like I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Oh no,” I tell him. “I need to wash first. And so do you.”
Getting up off the bed, he leans down and scoops me up.
“No!” I squeak. “What are you doing? I can walk!”
