Page 21 of Primal Snow

My mouth instantly feels dry, and my throat scratches.

How long has it been since I drank something?

One thing stands out: the careful way in which everything is arranged. Yeti’s lair isn’t just some random hideout—there’s thought behind it, though barbaric in execution. It’s his domain. His territory. And now, I’m part of it.

Suddenly, somewhere behind the noise, I hear breathing. Slow and steady. My skin prickles, and I force myself to look up.

Yeti emerges from the outer tunnel of the cave, dragging the body of a deer behind him. He drops the fresh kill and sits just beyond the fire, crouched low, his massive form blending into the shadows. His white fur is matted and streaked with blood. His face is monstrous—a grotesque blend of beast and something almost human. His eyes lock onto mine. Black, glossy pits that seem to drink in the light as he watches me.

I freeze. My chest tightens, and my mind screams at me to do something, anything. But I can’t. All I can do is stare, trembling under his gaze.

“What… what do you want?” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible.

The creature doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He just tilts his head, as if it’s studying me, curious.

The chains around my wrists rattle as I try to pull back further, but there’s nowhere to go. My back is already against the wall.

His breathing grows louder, deeper. The sound fills the space, each exhale making my pulse pound harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing, praying, hoping this is all some sick, twisted dream. But when I open them, he’s still there.

Thankfully, though, he focuses on the carcass. Breaking the bones and skinning it with his extended claws, he carves out a huge chunk of meat and chews obscenely, as if demanding my attention.

Bile rises in my throat, but it isn’t nausea this time. My stomach grumbles. I’m… hungry.

Yeti’s mouth twists into a sinister smile. He cuts outa smaller piece of meat and places it on a plate-sized scrap of metal, serving it raw in front of the cage, just out of my reach.

Oh, he’s even more cunning than I gave him the credit for.

I ignore it—or I try to at least—but then he moves and fills a shallow stone vase with water. He places it next to the bloody steak on the ground like a trap, waiting for me to break.

God, I need just a sip so badly. I can feel how dehydrated I am, every cell in my body screaming for relief. It doesn’t help that I drank so much the other night… or is it the same night? I have no clue how much time has passed.

One thing I’m sure—I won’t come close to the bars. I’m safe here, at the distance, away from his grabby hands. The memory of his touch still lingers on my skin, and I’d rather have him tear me apart than experience that again.

He huffs, his patience wearing thin.

“Let me go,” I say, flicking my eyes to him.

A low growl rumbles in Yeti’s chest, almost as if he understands my words. The firelight flickers over his towering form, casting a devilish shadow that stretches across the cave wall behind me and swallows me whole. My breath catches in my throat as he takes a step closer to the cage. Each footfall is a threat, the ground quivering beneath his weight.

“No,” I whimper, my back pressing harder against the cold rock, as if I could somehow will myself to disappear into it. “No, please…”

His eyes don’t leave me, dark and hungry. His oversized hands wrap around the iron bars, gripping them tightly, his claws scraping against the rusted surface. He leans closer, the bars creaking under the pressure of his strength.

“Stay back!” I scream, my voice raw and desperate.

He doesn’t listen.

His possessive gaze pierces through me, and his hand shoots through the bars. Quicker than I can react, he catches my wrist in a firm, unyielding grip.

“Let go!” I scream, but my voice is hoarse, trembling with fear.

He doesn’t.

With zero effort, he pulls me forward, pressing me against the cold iron bars. The jagged edges bite into my skin, digging directly between my thighs, and I gasp, the chill of it shocking against my bare flesh.

His head dips low as he crouches to my height, and I feel his breath against my skin—hot, damp, and sickeningly intimate. His nostrils flare as he sniffs me, his chest rumbling with a low growl that vibrates against the metal pressing into my body. I try to turn my head away, but his other hand rises to hold me still, his claws grazing the side of my neck.

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