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The Savage Chief's Coveted Modern Bride

The Savage Chief's Coveted Modern Bride

The darkness of the Yale archaeological dig site swallowed Eleanor whole, dropping her straight into a lethal, prehistoric jungle. Before she could even process the bizarre time jump, a massive prehistoric wolf attacked her, only for her to be saved—and immediately claimed—by Jace, a towering, blood-soaked savage chief who marked her as his mate. Dragged back to his primitive camp, her nightmare only escalated. When she used her modern first-aid kit to save a dying hunter whose stomach had been ripped open, the tribe didn't thank her. Instead, a jealous tribeswoman named Greta and a ruthless Shaman incited a violent, torch-wielding mob. "Burn the witch before we all die!" They marched on the Chief's cave, demanding Eleanor be burned alive, claiming her life-saving stitches and antibiotics were dark magic that would curse them all. Eleanor was terrified and furious. She had just pulled a man back from the brink of death using basic medical science, yet she was about to be slaughtered by a mindless mob simply because they couldn't understand her language. Was she really going to be burned at the stake for an act of pure salvation? But when the hunter's fever broke and he walked out alive, the angry mob dropped to their knees in absolute reverence. Looking at her dying lighter and finite supplies, Eleanor realized that fear wouldn't keep her alive in this brutal world. She pulled out her tactical pen, deciding to drag this savage tribe out of the dark ages herself.
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Chapter 4

Jace stopped at the edge of the stone bed. He shoved the slab of meat toward Eleanor's face. The outside was charred black, but thick red blood still oozed from the center. Eleanor's stomach violently contracted. The smell of raw blood and unrendered fat made her gag. She pressed herself harder against the rock wall, shaking her head frantically. Jace let out a low grunt. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He tore a piece of the meat off with his teeth and chewed, his jaw muscles working. He didn't take his eyes off her. His gaze dragged over her pale face, down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the windbreaker. The air in the cave grew thick, suffocatingly hot. He swallowed the meat. He tossed the rest onto the floor. Before Eleanor could blink, Jace lunged. His massive hands clamped around her ankles. He yanked backward. Eleanor screamed as she was dragged flat onto her back, sliding across the pelt until she was pinned directly beneath him. His weight was crushing. The heat radiating from his skin sank into her bones. His heavy, ragged breathing fanned across her neck. Jace grabbed the collar of her windbreaker. He didn't know how zippers worked. He simply closed his fists and ripped his arms apart. The heavy nylon tore with a sickening sound. "Get off me!" Eleanor shrieked. Her right arm whipped out from her sleeve. She jammed the tactical flashlight directly into Jace's face and slammed her thumb down on the tail switch. Three thousand lumens of blinding white light erupted in the dark cave. The strobe function pulsed at a dizzying, high-frequency rate. Jace let out a deafening roar of pure agony. His pupils, dilated for the dark cave, took the full, unfiltered blast of the tactical strobe. He dropped her jacket, his hands flying up to cover his eyes as he reeled backward. Eleanor didn't hesitate. She gripped the flashlight with both hands. She aimed the jagged, crenelated strike bezel at the side of his head. She swung with every ounce of adrenaline in her body. The heavy aluminum smashed into Jace's temple with a hollow thud. Jace grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head. His massive body swayed for a second before collapsing sideways onto the stone bed like a felled tree. Eleanor dropped the flashlight. Her chest heaved, pulling in jagged breaths. She stared at his motionless body, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt. She waited thirty seconds. He didn't twitch. She scrambled off the bed, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell. She grabbed the flashlight, clicked it off, and plunged the cave back into shadows. She grabbed her multi-tool, sliced a strip of fabric from her ruined jacket, and wrapped it tightly around her bruised wrist. She slung the backpack over her shoulders. She crept to the cave entrance. Night had fallen. The camp was dotted with small fires, but most of the tribe was asleep. The two guards at the bottom of the path were sitting on the ground, their heads nodding in sleep. Eleanor pressed her back against the rock wall. She slid down the path, placing her boots carefully to avoid kicking loose stones. As she passed Greta's hut, a loud mumble came from inside. Eleanor froze, her blood turning to ice. She held her breath until her lungs burned. Silence returned. She slipped past the sleeping guards, keeping to the deep shadows cast by the fires. The moment her boots hit the soft, damp soil of the forest edge, she broke into a dead run. She plunged into the pitch-black woods, running until her lungs felt like they were bleeding. She had no GPS. No stars visible through the canopy. Within twenty minutes, she was completely, hopelessly lost. The forest grew eerily silent. The crickets stopped chirping. A foul, musky odor drifted through the damp air. A rustling sound came from the bushes ahead. Eleanor stopped dead. In the darkness, a pair of glowing, sickly green eyes opened. Then another pair to her left. Then two more to her right. She slowly turned in a circle. There were five of them. Giant prehistoric wolves, their lips curled back to expose jagged, yellow teeth. They had her completely surrounded.

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