Page 38 of Primal Snow

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, as if apologizing to a literal monster makes any sense. I motion a vague washing gesture in some stupid attempt to offer to tend to his wounds.

What’s the matter with me? It’s like my mind is screaming one thing, but my body—traitorous thing that it is—is on some completely different wavelength.

He’s a killer. A feral, flesh-eating, kidnapping psychopath. And yet, here I am, acting like some concerned wife in a period drama because some sick, twisted part of me wants to take care of him.

I laugh maniacally at the thought.

He watches me in silence for an agonizingly long moment, his eerie, inhuman eyes assessing me like he’s trying to make sense of my insanity.

“Fine. Be wounded, then. See if I care,” I say, pretending that his lack of trust doesn’t affect me. But it does. More than I’m willing to admit. I manipulated him,and he may not understand words, but he for sure understands that.

I give up and focus back on my food, but as soon as I finish the last bite, the cage creaks open. Yeti moves in fast, sweeping me off my feet, and I yelp in surprise, instinctively clutching onto him. He carries me, cradled against his furred chest, through the dark, twisting tunnel leading farther into the mountain.

We emerge into the cavern’s vast opening. Sunlight slices through the jagged mountain peaks, spilling down from the gaping ceiling above. A river cascades into a natural pond, its water so clear it looks like glass, the surface shimmering and reflecting the tiny rainbows cast by the hanging icicles in the sun

Icicles… I shiver at the memory, knowing damn well I’ll never be able to look at ice the same.

This must be where he gets the fresh water from and where he washes himself. It looks unreal, almost magical, like an oasis in this frozen hellscape.

The realization immediately unsettles me—I shouldn’t be seeing beauty here, shouldn’t be appreciating anything about this place.

I miss the ocean. Palm trees. Human contact.

Yeti puts me down and walks knee-deep into the water like the freezing temperature is nothing to him. He starts cleaning his wounds, and against every ounce of common sense I have left, I find myself inching closer to help.

I dip my toes in, and immediate regret settles in. It’s cold as fuck—I’mtalking,your-ancestors-didn’t-survive-the-Ice-Agelevel of glacier-fed cold here.

But then I remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a real bath. Sure, he cleans me himself—but that’s not exactly the same as scrubbing the dirt off my own damn body.

Before I can decide if I’m really about to risk hypothermia, there’s a blur of movement. And suddenly, I’m airborne.

My shriek dies in the air as I hit the water, and my body gets assaulted by what feels like a million tiny knives stabbing me from every angle.

Desperately, I push myself to the surface, gasping. “You son of a bitch!” I scream, threading water despite my muscles screaming in protest, but my words come out as a chattering mess.

His humongous frame shakes while a deep rumble rolls through his chest.

Wait.

Is he… laughing?

Oh, no. Absolutely fucking not.

Yeti—the eldritch horror of my nightmares—just yeeted me into the abyss and is nowlaughingabout it.

I glare at him, but I can’t even focus properly because my limbs are already going numb. I try to swim, I really do, but what’s the point?

Maybe it’s best if I give up.

Let’s face it—nobody is coming. This is my life now. He’ll keep fucking me, using me, until he gets bored. And then? He’ll do what he’s done before. Tear me apart. Scatter my bones among the others. I’ll be nothing butanother trophy in his collection, a nameless skull buried in his lair of torture.

I can end this right here, right now.

There’s no reason for me to fight. My friends are gone. My beautiful boyfriend is gone. And I defiled their memory—I let the monster that murdered them claim me.

Worse, I let myself want it.

Ienjoyedit.

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