Bride of Glass (Brides of the Hunt Book 2)

by Jeanette Lynn

  Holy guac and chips, I thought, a wild giggle creeping up my throat, did I just win?!

  Hmmm. Glancing down at the pot I was to use to, for lack of better phrase, piss in, my eyes slid to the door and I bit the inside of my cheek. I could technically try and make a run for it... but where would I go? I had no clue how I’d even gotten this far in the first place, let alone that stupid first hut. How would I get back, and without the elements taking me first, if I wasn’t caught within seconds of escaping? One glance down at my naked body and my shoulders slumped harder than Tokre’s. I couldn’t, not yet, and I knew it. Bide your time, Rosie. Bide your time.

  “Pot pissing to appease the furred monster mate, it is.” Walking back to the pot, I glared down at it. “Where were you yesterday, asshole?” I grumbled down at it, but bent down, shaking my head the whole while, and went to do my business.

  It was hard enough being a strictly indoors gal taking her first stab at this, worse yet to have someone standing there waiting expectantly for you to do it, blanket over his head and his back turned or not. So, like anyone I imaged might do in my situation, desperate to drown out the live rain dance I was performing, I sang.

  My voice warbled out a garbled version of The Dead Kennedys’ “Holiday in Cambodia” at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t even mad, or really all that surprised, when Tokre scooted, blanket still over his head, to the bed, dropping to his knees to scrounge something up from a small basket beneath the foot of the bed.

  A grumbling snarl in his throat more than half the time and his back still to me, he shifted towards me, then lifted his hands and wiggled a thick stack of leaves at me from behind his back.

  I almost laughed aloud at that, wondering if his grumblings were the beastie version of cuss words. Almost. But this was all just too fucking weird to be believed. I was possibly being thoroughly bitched out and I couldn’t have cared less.

  Maybe I’ll laugh later, I thought, when I’d finished, washed my hands, and went to slide the blanket off his head, my business tended to.

  Chucking the pelt back on the bed to motion me onto it, Tokre pointed at me and grunted, garbling words out in a growling rumble, bending down and leaning in.

  Nostrils flaring, his ears wiggling on the sides of his head, he pointed to my chest before he pressed a hand to his, spreading his fingers out slowly across the middle of his impressive pecs. I didn’t know what it meant, but he stood there and waited until I did it back.

  An odd, haunted look on his face as he pulled back and his eyes coasted over my thighs, with one last hand waving filled instruction for me to stay in bed or else, he rushed off, grabbing up his things and leaving me staring after him.

  “Well, now that was just...” I mumbled confusedly, my eyes sliding to the piss pot in the corner, “super weird.”

  ˜˙˜*˜˙˜

  Flopping back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling, frowning. Does he mean for me stay in bed and that’s it? Or stay in the hut? Assuming he meant bed, I stayed put, twiddling my thumbs as my eyes strayed to the window.

  Time passed and I finished the cold stew in his nifty beastie ice box. It tasted even better with a bit of a chill on it, but I was kinda weird like that. I felt the same way about leftover pizza.

  Afterwards I dutifully crawled back in bed, wiggling around until I was snug as a bug. More time passed and I found myself lost to my thoughts, trying to figure out my next move, a million scenarios playing out in my head.

  Once I’d worked myself up, I decided anymore of that might make my brain explode, forcing all of it to the side.

  Humming, trying to mimic Tokre’s lullaby, I counted tiles, cracks in the walls, played with my hair, stroked the fur pelts loaded up on the bed, examining each and every one, drank half a pitcher of the water he’d left for me on the table, just to see if I could, you know, bored people stuff.

  It wasn’t long before I assumed more than half the day had gone by, and nature made to call on me and naturally, before I knew it I really had to go.

  Glancing around the room, I didn’t know where, exactly, to… go. That pot wasn’t exactly massive, and those leaves I’d dumped in there that first go ‘round had kind of filled it up pretty quick there. Nope. Don’t feel like having to clean up my own urine off the floor if that sucker overflows. Gotta nix that one. Next!

  Back at the huts in beastly daycare they’d had a decent sized pot everyone had to take turns using, shielding each other with our bodies like human bathroom stalls but... the pot was pretty damned full and he didn’t appear fond of the idea of me traipsing around outside by my lonesome. And if he reacted in the same sudden, panicked, semi-howling manner as those last two times, clutching to me like a madman afterwards, yeah, I didn’t wish to relive that again.

  The fear of the unknown rode me harder than anything else, though. Sitting up, wrapping a fur around my shoulders, I slipped from the bed.

  Groaning, I found myself wincing with every step. “Yep,” I muttered, then scoffed. “That’s definitely going to leave a mark.” Lots and lots of marks.

  Hobbling over to the fish beheading station, I glanced up, eyeing the odd assortment of clay pots laid out along the shelves lining the top.

  “Decisions. Decisions.” One more pee pot for Rosie, coming up.

  Tapping my lip with my finger, I decided on the smallest pot, figuring he’d be the least upset when he found out I’d piddled in it. Here’s to hoping there’s no sentimental attachment of any sort to this one, I thought, eyeing the thick handle.

  A heavy knock sounded at the door and I glanced over, then to the pot, just out of my reach, before finally peeking down at myself. Snorting at my nude state, glancing towards the door again, I shook my head. Let them, whoever it was, think we’re not home. They’ll go away. And back to the pee pot. Standing on tip-toe, my fingers crazed the lip of the pot. Almost… almost there.

  No dice. Grunting, I sighed but kept up.

  “Oh, come on.” Tongue peeking out as I let my grip on the fur around my shoulders go, ignoring it as it fluttered to my feet, I pressed my palm along the counter to steady myself better.

  A knock sounded again but I grunted, growing frustrated. What would they do, I wondered, if I told them to get lost? Or just answered the door like this—a snarling crazy lady? But, no, where is Tokre to protect me if they were to get mad? Or… I gulped. Something worse. Eyes straying to the door and then the window, I hoped he hurried back.

  And that look on his face, what was that about? No, I’m not going to worry about that.

  Because I don’t care, I reminded myself. I don’t. He’s a possibly semi cannibalistic creature that kidnaps women to mate or eat. They’re beasts bent on taking, enslaving the human race. Had to remember that.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be this calm about it all—not that my sudden spurts of freakout took away from that or anything, ahem—but I’d been watching just such movies my entire life. I’ve read the books, done my homework, in a way—haven’t I, to some extent, been preparing for something just like this? Well, no, but I could lie to myself until my head swelled to the size of a honeydew at the ‘knowledge’ that was how it’d always been intended. Yes, I totally could.

  And, oh yeah, I really, really had to pee! A fact that needed absolutely no reminding whatsoever as my bladder protested the lengthy wait.

  Fingers about to grasp the end of the short handle on the small pot, that stupid, incessant knock clambering at the door, I smiled triumphantly right as I tipped it and it tumbled into my hand. The door chose that moment to thud heavily, the sound akin to a battering ram slamming against it, and swing open.

  A beast that most certainly was not my mate stormed inside.

  Gasping, I dumped the pot in my hands, scrambling for the fur I’d trampled beneath my feet and was currently standing on, the fluffy fur soft and warm. Fingers curling around one end, I tugged and tugged, to no avail.

  Mortified, too dumbstruck to realize I needed to move off of the blasted thing to not on
ly pick it up but get it around me, the green-eyed beast staring me down, observing me intently in all of my naked, horror-struck, pink-cheeked, bruised-up glory, storming into the room.

  “Female,” Rek, the beast who’d taunted me from before, rumbled angrily. He was pissed. Pissed at me? What the hell did I ever do to him?!

  Scampering back, I scooped up the pot and the fur, clutching them both to my chest as he slowly and methodically backed me into a wall.

  My back finally hit that wall and I squeaked, stifling the squeal jammed in my windpipe.

  He was kinda like a dog, right? Don’t anger it or act aggressive, back away slowly, don’t make direct eye contact, act like a fucking tree.

  Taking in my reaction, something in the feral look on his face softened, but not enough to give me any kind of ease. If anything, I tightened up more.

  “Female.” Voice dipping low, Rek’s tone took on a crooning quality, but it didn’t have anywhere near the same effect Tokre’s did.

  My captive, my lover, it could be the title of the monster romance book based off Tokre I’ll never write, I thought hysterically. I want to stick with the one that’s kidnapped me, bruised me up, and decimated my maidenhead!

  It was some kind of fucked up, sure, but nothing like the squiggy feelings I got hanging around this Rek beast. Someone was only looking out for number one, and that one wasn’t me.

  Isn’t that what I’ve been doing, I questioned. Well, I grudgingly admitted, guess we had that one thing in common.

  “You mate bad, female. Tokre hurt mate?” Reaching out, bending enough to reach my knee, his fingers brushed it, gliding upward.

  Rough, heavily calloused fingertips sliding along my thigh, he shifted the pelt in my arms covering my nudity, to expose a few of my bruises.

  I couldn’t explain what came over me as I gaped at him, aghast, and stiffened. It wasn’t like that. He didn’t understand. He was assuming the worst.

  That asshole didn’t know anything!

  Jerking out of his hold, my lips twisted and I scowled. Mustering up as much bitch as I could, hoping he bought it, I informed him coldly, “I’m Tokre’s mate. It was an accident. We got… uhm, rough.”

  I shrugged like it didn’t matter, more wrung out trying not to shake in my boots under Rek’s too serious, menacing gaze than the accusation he was thrusting on my mate.

  A strange sense of possessiveness overwhelmed me. I’d picked this one, because I chose. Even after all the shit Tokre’d pulled, he was still the better choice. There was some consideration for me in there, somewhere. Well, now there was, I corrected, still eyeing Rek huffily.

  Rek was giving me the stink eye, as if I might break and admit all of Tokre’s supposed sins under that sharp, shrewd stare.

  “He’d never hurt me.” Not on purpose, I was beginning to gather. And that was the truth. I knew, from both of our fumbling attempts and obvious ineptitude at bedroom acrobatics—not to mention the brevity of our bungled interlude, then his reaction to me just leaving to take a leak, and that look on his face as he hurried out to leave this morning—that beastie was feeling as all over the place and wrecked, fucked in the head the hell up, as I was. He was hooked, and didn’t know the first thing to do about it.

  Well, that just made two of us all messed up from the neck up, honey.

  I wasn’t the only one to lose their virginity last night, I surmised—something I hadn’t exactly taken into consideration at all until later reflection, but it explained an awful lot. Maybe this could play in my favor? You don’t eat your first, uh, love, right? Not literally...?

  Chime in here any time now to reassure me, brain.

  Making to grab at me again, Rek’s huge hands coming towards me, I slapped them away, cringing inwardly as the angry looking beastie growled. I froze, locking up, standing there stupidly, stiff as a board, my breathing growing choppy as my brain blanked out. Scream, my mind reeled, shouting instructions I couldn’t seem to obey.

  Rek’s hand slid to my elbow and he would have gripped it, his other hand clamping down on my hip. It was all I needed to pop out of my petrified state.

  “Don’t touch me!” My voice came out much higher than I’d intended, my hands trembling as my pulse throbbed in my ears. It wasn’t a scream but it was something. I didn’t know what would give out, explode first, my heart or my head.

  Again, I twisted away, sliding farther away from him along the wall. “I’m not yours to touch.”

  Rek’s face tightened but he pulled back. His fingers curled into tightly balled fists as he dropped them to his sides and took a single step back. “Tokre not warrior. Tokre broken. Tokre bad mate. Rek warrior. Rek good mate.”

  Broken record, alien creep, shout me another song, will ya.

  “Well, Tokre is my mate. I chose him, and I’m keeping him.” And that, asshole, was that. Ugh, I didn’t know what it was about the beast before me, but I disliked him on sight. He had dick written all over him.

  Making as if to sweep past the beastly, erm, beast, his arm shot out and he snarled, blocking my path. He’d have clotheslined my ass if I hadn’t stopped fast enough.

  “Female more mates.” His chin dipped and he tilted his head questioningly. “Rek make good mate. Female take Rek. Rek first mate.”

  Ah… well... wow. Now there was something you didn’t hear every day. “I’m sorry? I don’t think I quite heard you. For a second there, I thought you just suggested that I should take you on as a-a-a…” I couldn’t even say it out loud.

  Yeah. Another one? NO.

  “First mate,” he snapped impatiently, shifting from one giant, hairy Hobbit foot to the other gnarly one, hovering over my much shorter frame. Intimidation, the male lived by it.

  Large and wants to be in charge, he was big, clunky bodied, and bossy. Dominant, snarling, flat out intimidating, and impatient, he screamed overbearing, controlling asshole, the exact opposite of anything I’d ever want in an anything, if one had to pick. His snarl was just plain menacing, forget intimidating.

  At least I felt I had some choice, some semblance of a backbone with Tokre.

  Tokre, for all his grumbling, growling mumblings and shortcomings, was more animalistic in an untamed kind of sense… I couldn’t explain it. Softly feral? I just felt it, sensed it. He didn’t know how to be any other way. He was wild, but in a lost, grasping sort of way.

  I had the distinct impression the beastie was trying to be careful with me, learning as he went, or at least now he was, but simply didn’t know how. The nose nuzzling, the cooing, the way he clutches me to him so tight, even in sleep, almost fearful if he lets go he’ll lose me, the way his heart pounds in his chest, the way he stares at me… When he has that look on his face sometimes, that little boy, worried, confused, terrified, haunted light in his eyes, like he’s afraid he’s going to do something wrong—the male just has this... he almost... he just seems so damned lost and searching.

  “What am I saying?” I mumbled to myself, burying my face in my hands, shaking my head.

  Barely been here, what? Twenty four hours, maybe more? A day, going on two, roughly, and I’m waxing on about how I know my captor turned mate’s furry butt? Like we’re suddenly connected somehow? Like I’m the fur whisperer or some shit? Pfft.

  And then, “Can Stockholm syndrome take hold that fast?” I wondered aloud.

  Lips pursing, brow furrowing, I huffed. No, there had to be another explanation. Had to be. It’s more than just the bear rescue, more than buying into some silly looks and thumping heartbeats.

  Maybe it naturally beats that fast? Maybe he can’t stand to see people cry, anyway? Why should that affect anything? How is any of that a determiner of anything? He kidnapped me, for Christ’s sake! Kidnapped! You don’t feel for a potential meal if you crave human flesh. That would make absolutely no sense!

  “Maybe it’s in the water? I did drink and eat… But I didn’t feel drugged. Hmmm.”

  Lifting my arm, I sniffed my pit, wondering if I’d someho
w sweat it out and smell differently as my body tried to rid itself of whatever magical punch or poison I’d unknowingly chugged.

  Mind manipulation through subliminal messages while I’m sleeping? The humming! It could be! It could!

  Head shooting up, my expression lit up. “I’m not going crazy! I’m not falling into anything! I’m just being manipulated!”

  My finger shot up as my face lit up. I was one giant ah-hah moment, complete with lightbulb bursting to life above my noggin.

  But then my expression fell, and my finger tapped my chin. “Wait… how is that any better? Shoot.”

  Present company blinked at me strangely, his thick monster lips falling open until he was openly gaping down at me as he tried to form responses to my rambling chatter. It was then I finally realized he was still there, having forgotten him completely for a moment there, lost to my ramblings.

  Reeling back when he leaned in closer, bending his tall frame lower to sniff at me, I let off a small whimper.

  “Female,” he grumbled, when he felt I hadn’t responded fast enough, and then I realized he’d asked a question and was expecting an answer.

  Oh. Right. The mate thing. “No,” I blurted, cringing away from him.

  “No?” he barked out, incredulous, stiffening.

  “No,” I said louder.

  A snarl ripped from his throat, making me jump, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Rek made Tokre look pitiful, puppy dog-like, when compared side by side.

  Rek treated him much like a dog, too, the cur, I thought churlishly.

  No, I don’t care, I insisted. I sooo super duper don’t.

  “Rek first mate,” he demanded.

  I’d rather die before I let that happen. From the look on Rek’s face, one might assume he had the same idea.

  “No?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, losing steam as my knees wobbled, but I still managed to get the word out.

  Hunching in on myself, I was the tiger-fly, ready for something to come along and swat me—a Rek-sized swatter?—strong enough to say no, even if it sounded wimpy and pathetic to my ears—not quite strong enough to be a full blown tigress. I’d still said it, though, I reminded myself, tiny as my voice warbled out. That counted for something. Erm, didn’t it?