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The Savage Chief's Coveted Modern Bride Novel Cover

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 5

Eleanor backed up slowly until her spine hit the rough bark of a massive ancient tree. There was nowhere left to run.

The wolves were slightly smaller than the monster Jace had killed, but they were still the size of lions. Saliva dripped from their jaws in long, thick strings.

A sharp hiss sounded directly above her head.

Eleanor jerked her chin up. A snake as thick as her forearm, covered in vibrant, toxic-looking scales, was slithering down the trunk. Its triangular head was pointed straight at her face.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Trapped.

Eleanor ripped her backpack around to her front. Her mind flashed through countless hours of wilderness survival courses, panic threatening to override her logic. She forced her trembling hands into the main compartment, desperately fumbling for the two specific items she had packed as an absolute last resort. She pulled out her windproof lighter and a small spray bottle of 90% isopropyl rubbing alcohol from her first-aid kit.

The alpha wolf let out a low bark and charged.

Eleanor flicked the lighter. She aimed the spray bottle at the wolf and squeezed the trigger repeatedly.

A three-foot jet of roaring orange flame erupted from her hands.

The fire caught the alpha wolf straight in the snout. The beast shrieked, a high-pitched sound of pure terror. It twisted mid-air, crashing into the dirt, and scrambled backward, the smell of singed fur filling the air.

The sudden burst of heat and light made the snake recoil instantly, slithering rapidly back up into the dark canopy.

The rest of the pack flinched away from the fire, whining, but they didn't leave. They widened their circle, pacing nervously.

Eleanor knew the alcohol wouldn't last. She dropped to her knees, keeping the lighter lit, and frantically swept dry leaves and dead twigs into a pile in front of her. She sprayed a tiny bit of alcohol on the pile and ignited it.

A small, crackling campfire flared to life.

The wolves hated the light. They stayed just beyond the edge of the illumination, their green eyes glowing with predatory patience.

The temperature dropped rapidly. Eleanor shivered violently, her teeth chattering. She kept feeding the fire with whatever twigs she could reach without stepping away from the tree.

Within an hour, the fuel within her reach was gone.

The flames began to shrink. The circle of light tightened.

The wolves noticed. They stopped pacing. They lowered their heads, creeping forward inch by inch as the fire died down to glowing red embers.

Eleanor pulled a collapsible metal trekking pole from the side of her pack. She snapped it out to its full length, gripping the rubber handle with both hands. Her palms were slick with cold sweat.

A faint rustle sounded behind her right shoulder.

The snake had returned. It launched itself from the brush, aiming straight for her calf.

Eleanor caught the movement in her peripheral vision. She threw her weight to the left. The snake's fangs grazed the fabric of her pants, leaving two streaks of clear venom on the nylon.

Eleanor swung the trekking pole like a baseball bat. The metal shaft cracked against the snake's body, sending it flying into the darkness.

But the violent swing threw her off balance. Her boot slipped on the damp moss. She fell hard, her left hand landing directly in the hot ashes of the dying fire.

She screamed, yanking her burned hand back to her chest.

It was the opening the wolves were waiting for.

The alpha howled. Three wolves lunged simultaneously, leaping over the smoking embers.

Eleanor swung the pole blindly from the ground. She caught one wolf in the shoulder, but the wolf on her right clamped its jaws around the metal shaft.

The beast yanked its head back violently. The force ripped the pole from Eleanor's grip, tearing the skin off her palm.

She was defenseless.

The alpha wolf was right on top of her. Its jaws opened, aiming for her face. The stench of rotting meat washed over her.

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arms over her head.

A roar tore through the forest.

It wasn't an animal. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated human rage, so loud it vibrated in Eleanor's chest.

The wolves froze instantly. The alpha snapped its jaws shut, its ears pinning flat against its skull. The predators looked into the darkness, their eyes wide with sudden, absolute terror.

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