Free Jungle Freakn' Bride by Eve Langlais

between huts, only the deaf could ignore the screams.
    Was it wrong to be proud that their mate, most beautiful and strong of them all, screamed loudest?
    He couldn’t wait until they’d completed this portion of the ritual and got to the part he’d waited for most anxiously. The part where they made her yell – in pleasure.
    If she d oesn’t kill us first.

Chapter Seven
    I’m going to kill them for this.
    How many hours had Carlie already screamed? Was it days since she’d last enjoyed a pain free existence? C ould n’t she just hurry up and die already ? Anything to stop the agony , a n agony caused by a poisoning she still didn’t understand even as she’d used the act to distract herself from the worst moment s of her life .
    Why keep her alive, feed her, bathe her, and arouse her to the point she would have begged them for their touch only to kill her slowly with some jungle potion? When none of her screamed curses to that query earned her answers or oblivion, she dreamt up ways of killing the two bastards who betrayed her . For some reason , though, those violent fantasies tended to always end up devolving into some erotic orgy where she bit and rode them like a cowgirl out of control. Some punishment.
    Sweating, her body on fire, she hissed at the cool cloth on her brow, one of her captors once again contradicting everything she thought she knew by caring for her. Why did they take turns tending her? Why bother w iping her down and cleaning up the vomit she spewed their way ? What point was there in massaging her limbs and letting her see chagrin - filled eyes? Bully for them, they felt bad about torturing her. She harbored no qualms about chomp ing anything that came too close, or aiming her vomit to inflict the most disgusting damage possible.
    “Kill me,” she moaned at one point .
    Instead, they poured cool, fresh water in to her mouth and she gulped, so thirsty. So hungry. So…relaxed? The fire in her body subsided suddenly , leaving her limp. The pain receded , like a wave sucked back out to sea, until only the flinching memory remained.
    What happened? Did the end approach? Had her body finally given up? Not while I still breath e , it won’t.
    She wiggled fingers and toes. No pain. No paralysis. She opened an eyelid with the wariness of a skittish cat . She could see the thatched roof above her clearly. Too clearly. She shut her eyes against the dizziness threatening. Taking a few deep breaths, she opened them again, the sharpness of her vision still startling , but not as overwhelming now that she expected it.
    She lick ed her lips, not chapped as expected , and a sweet - tasting balm flavor ed the tip of her tongue. A rustle of motion caught her attention and she turned her head.
    A blue and golden eye stared back. Mr. Kitty, still alive and well. For now. She narrowed her eyes at him. Haggard in appearance, his usually knife - shaven jaw sported thick bristles, his usually poised look marred by his messy braid and bloodshot eyes.
    Rough time? Too bad. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but under her glare, clamped it shut. She felt he r arm on her other side lift, and she tilted her view to see Golden Grin holding her by the hand. Almost as ragged in appearance, he flashed her a wan smile that wilted as she blast ed him with her gaze.
    He’d better not! He did. H is lids got droopy, his lips turned down in a sad pout. She would resist, damn him. He would not get her to melt even if he did remind her of that stupid pussy cat in that ogre movie , the ridiculously cute one . Then he upped the unfairness factor. He rubbed his cheek against her palm and digits, almost feline like, his eyes hooded and glowing.
    Shit , they’re glowing! She turned to look back at Mr. Kitty and found his eyes just as Halloween freakish. Not human! Her mind threw off the last of her haze and screamed at her to get out. Before she could sit up, she found her wrists caught in a pair of tight vises as her captors