Page 27 of Primal Snow

I don’t know if he’s going to kill me or… something worse.

As adrenaline surges through my veins, terror transforms into defiance. My legs shoot out, one desperate kick after another, trying to connect with anything. My foot slams against his chest—solid, immovable muscle—but I don’t stop. Another kick catches his shoulder near the wound, and he growls, the sound low and menacing like a thunderstorm rolling in.

“Release me!” I scream, my voice hoarse from crying. But I don’t stop. I kick again and again, twisting and flailing with renewed desperation as the chain groan above me.

Yeti doesn’t react. He stands there, watching me struggle with unnerving patience. His breathing is slow and controlled, a stark contrast to my panicked gasps as he simply waits until my strength ebbs away.

“You can’t do this to me! Please!”

Despite all the will, my thrashing grows weaker, the fire in my muscles extinguished by exhaustion. Every movement sends sharp jolts of pain through my arms and shoulders. Eventually, my body gives in. My legs fall limp, my head hanging low, tears streaking down my face. I can barely lift my gaze to meet his, but when I do, the sight is more terrifying than before.

The intensity of his gaze pins me in place, making it hard to breathe. I swallow hard, my mind racing for anything that might calm him down. But nothing comes. How do you fight something that can’t be reasoned with, something that’s just pure instinct? He’s a beast, untamed and unpredictable.

His hand moves suddenly, brushing against mycheek, and I flinch. But it’s not as violent as it’s possessive, almost tender in a raw, wild way.

I twist my head, trying to pull away from his probing touch, but his claws scrape lightly down the side of my neck, the sharp points sending jolts of sensation through me.

He leans in, and the next thing I feel is his jagged teeth sinking in my throat. The pain shoots through me like an electric shock, and all I can do is scream.

There’s no escaping him.

I’m his offering now.

And he’ll make damn sure I neverforget it.

Chapter 13

The tears won’t stop. They blur my vision as I sob uncontrollably, helpless and broken.

And he relishes every moment of it.

His ribbed tongue follows the mark of his teeth, soothing the sting of the bite as he laps up the pooling blood. My body trembles, swinging slightly in the air as I pull against the chains with what little energy I have left.

His mouth moves down my neck, leaving shallow marks until his lips close around my nipple. He sucks greedily, the tip of his tongue toying with the hardened peak, and I can’t suppress the moan that escapesmy lips. The sting of his teeth testing against my flesh adds a delicious edge to the sensation. And when he bites down on, a sharp hiss tears from me, the pain flaring briefly before being swallowed by the wave of shameful, unwanted pleasure. My back arches involuntarily, pushing my chest closer to him as my body betrays me.

He moves to the other breast, giving it the same ravenous attention, and his growls vibrate against my skin, sending shivers straight to my core. He’s teasing me, savoring every reaction, every tremor that runs through my body as he alternates between biting, sucking, and licking, his motions maddeningly slow and calculated.

As he finally pulls back, his dark eyes meet mine, glinting with cruel amusement. Blood smears his lips, and he drags his pointed purple tongue over them, licking away the remainder of his feast.

Then, his claws rake down my sides, sharp tips breaking the skin with ease, sending fresh waves of pain radiating through me. Blood wells up, warm and sticky, trailing down in uneven streams that drip onto the stone floor below.

The metallic scent of it fills the air, and his eyes flash with an otherworldly hunger, drinking in the crimson streaks, fixated. He immediately leans in, and his tongue flicks out, dragging along the fresh cuts with agonizing slowness as he savors the blood like it’s an aphrodisiac. His breathing grows heavier, pupils blown wide as his growls take on a ragged, fevered edge. He isn’t just feeding on me—he’s consuming my resistance, my fear, proving with every deliberate motion that his control over me isabsolute, reminding me that I am entirely at his mercy.

Terror slithers through my entire body, and yet, buried beneath the dread, something else stirs. A sick, crawling heat that I don’t want to acknowledge.

“Get off me!” I scream, kicking blindly, my heel connecting with the solid muscle of his chest, but it’s like kicking a brick wall. He growls, low and dangerous, his glowing eyes narrowing as his claws dig deeper into my flesh.

A sharp, searing pain bursts across my sides, and a wail rips from my throat, echoing through the cavern. More blood wells up, trickling down my ribs in sticky rivulets, and I bite down on my lip, desperate to fight back the rising panic.

I realize it’s his punishment, a lesson carved into my flesh and etched into my mind:You’re mine. There’s no running away from me.The blood oozing from my body, stripped of its power, isn’t just sustenance to him but a mark of his claim.Yet, it isn’t just brutal—it’s almost reverent, like a twisted form of worship.

My body responds. And that’s the actual horror in this hell.

His tongue catches every drop of blood with deliberate, unhurried strokes, pressing harder, scraping over raw, exposed cuts. A cry escapes me, the pain unbearable. His claws trail lower, dragging across my legs, parting them before I even register the movement. His fingers slide between, and his claws dig into my thighs, pressing into muscle with just enough force to pierce the skin. He knows exactly how to hurt, how to draw freshblood without crippling his prey in a calculated torment. Every scrape, every flick is excruciatingly precise, and the sting of him meeting the torn skin of my inner thighs makes my vision swim with tears, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He doesn’t stop—if anything, he revels in it. I can feel his excitement. The sight, the scent, my fear—it’s awakening something in him, something even more bestial. He gets off on it. And I know he’s just getting started with me.

He exhales against my skin, heat mixing with the cavern’s chill before his tongue returns, more urgent now, almost frantic. My mind spins with the horrifying mix of pain and the perverse intimacy of his touch. His blood-covered hand moves up, steady and firm, slipping between the apex of my thighs before I can even protest. His rough, calloused fingers slide against the slick folds of my pussy, the invasive touch igniting fresh waves of shame. Then, without hesitation, he plunges them inside my core. My body jerks at the intrusion, the sensation both unbearable and maddeningly precise as his fingers curl and pump, stroking with an intensity that makes my stomach twist.

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