Savages: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  I stare up and meet the most brilliant blue eyes I have ever seen. They flash with as much fire as the bear’s. They lock on me only for a fraction of a second, but I feel my body light up with an energy I have never felt before.

  He turns away from me, faces the bear, and runs toward it. He is not alone. I sit in the dirt as three other men rush after him. They are wearing leather pants and tall boots that protect all the way to the knee, but their upper bodies are bare and muscular. They gleam with oil, shining in the shafts of light that makes its way between the leaves above. Their skin is tattooed heavily, marked across their shoulders and chests. No two tattoos are the same, but the bright blue markings are consistent across their bodies.

  Four of them face the bear, spears held at the ready. It is not an even battle. The bear has twice as many claws at least, and teeth besides.

  Surely they cannot best such a beast. Surely we will all fall to its fury. I am too terrified to move. I cannot take my eyes from this scene. This is violence as I have never seen it before.

  The bear halts its charge, several hundred pounds skidding to a halt in a cloud of soil and leaves. It rears up, standing eight feet high and it bellows rage to the skies. My innards reverberate with the sound. I am frightened to my very marrow.

  The men are not.

  They roar back, four full-throated expressions of pure animal rage.

  The bear stops and falls back to four feet. It seems confused. There is an almost comical moment as it staggers back a step before remembering that it is a bear. It charges again, swiping with its great paw. It catches the leader, the man who first looked upon me. I scream as its claws slash through his flesh as if it were butter. All four men deploy their spears into the bear’s face and throat. There is blood absolutely everywhere.

  The altercation is over in seconds. The bear turns and runs into the forest, crashing away with two spears still hanging from it. They have wounded it, and it has wounded at least one of them. The leader. He staggers a step or two before being grabbed by two of the others. I hear him growl, then see him push them away, refusing their help.

  “Get the girl,” he growls, his voice deep and rough.

  They all turn to me. Suddenly I pity the bear. As their dark eyes fall on me I feel their primal power. These are men unlike those in the city. These are men so different from any man I have ever seen before that I barely recognize them as men at all.

  They are so much bigger, so much stronger. Their muscles ripple and they have barely any fat on them at all, which makes their faces hard and their bodies utterly incredible to behold. Looking at them, I can see how a man is made, thick slabs of muscle attached to one another in sinewy bands.

  There is silence between us, broken only by my panting in fear. The leader is bloody, his flesh hanging like cured meat from the left side of his chest and arm, but he barely pays attention to it. He approaches me, his dark hair hanging about his face, framing ice blue eyes.

  He has to be in pain, but he doesn’t show it. Not a bit of it.

  “Are you injured?”

  “No. But you are. Let me help you.”

  I climb to my feet, reach down and tear at my clothes, ripping the silk from my skirt to bind his wounds. “Please, let me help you. You’re hurt.”

  He blinks as I reach up to his arm, then slaps my hand away.

  “I do not need your dress scraps, girl. Name?”

  “I’m Riley,” I say. “Riley Jones.”

  “Clan Jones?” He addresses the others. “I know no Clan Jones.”

  “It’s a city name.” The man who answers him has short hair. He speaks with an accent like mine. It does not have the rough hard intonation of the leader, who sounds foreign in the most delicious way.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m from the city. I just came out for a walk and this bear attacked me. I don’t even know why.”

  “She came out for a walk,” one of the others laughs. “A walk!”

  Chapter Three

  My first impression of the four muscular blue-tattooed men is starting to become a little more specific. There is the leader, he with the bright eyes and the long dark hair. He is the tallest, with the hardest jaw. He is built powerfully, his body is lean, and there is little in the way of fat on him. I know that because I can see the layers of his flesh thanks to his wounds. If I had to guess at his age, I would say that he is around thirty.

  The one who spoke, the city man, is the shortest, but he is still a good foot taller than I am. His body has a limber strength to it, and his tattoos look the freshest. He does not have as many as the others. He is perhaps a couple of years older than I am. He has reddish brown hair and the kind of brown eyes that go with it, deep amber. Unlike me, he does not have the freckles of a true redhead.

  The other two are unique in their own ways. One has long dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He has sharper features, high intelligent brows that seem almost permanently raised in a skeptical way. Something about him makes me shiver as his silver-gray gaze finds mine.

  The other has curling brown hair. He is broad chested and his face is perhaps the most handsome of them all. His eyes are almond shaped and deep brown, surrounded by long dark lashes, his nose is flatter and broader than the others, his skin is of a deeper hue. The blue of the tattoos flashes against the caramel tones to impressive effect. He has the most tattoos of all of them. They run down over both his arms and across his chest. His smile is broad as he catches my impressed gaze. He winks and a little thrill rushes through me.

  “I am Maverick,” the leader introduces himself. “These others are Hans, Ice, and Stryker.”

  Stryker is not a city name, but the city boy wears it. I wonder how he got it. I wonder how he got out here. He piques my curiosity more than any of the others. They belong here. He doesn’t.

  Hans is the one with the darker skin and the tattoos. His smile is all that is keeping me from panicking. His eyes hold a kind of dancing mischief that lightens my mood.

  I would feel safe, but for Ice. He makes the hair rise on the back of my neck. He is well named. When I look at him, I feel chilled to my soul.

  These men, they are more rare and incredible than the bear they just ran off. These are the savages we whisper of in the city. Quite literally, the men my mother warned me about. Their names are foreign and yet familiar. They come from the long ago, before we fell into history.

  I have not skimped on my education. I know of these savages. I have studied them since I was a child. Their strength and handsome visages are due to the fact that they are the survivors of all nations, a genetic mix of all human lineages that braved the encroaching wilds even as history came to an end.

  I am smaller, paler, and of the red and blonde coloring of the city. It’s hard to believe we are of the same species, but they and I are the same animal.

  The city has become inbred over time. There was talk, once or twice, about bringing in some savage blood to reduce the risk of diseases that come from inbreeding, but then it was decided that it would simply be easier to stop breeding altogether. Most young women, including myself, are fitted with a device that suppresses fertility.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, my niceties feeling hollow and shallow out here. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Maverick says, his voice heavy with judgement. “It’s fall. The bears are hungry. The game is scarce. That means you are the game.”

  Not just to the bear, I think. These powerful muscular men are looking at me with a range of expressions that all amount to one thing: hunger.

  “I’m sorry,” I tremble. “Please, let me help you. You’re bleeding.”

  Maverick shrugs. “It’s nothing. Women lose more on their moon time.”

  “But not usually all at once, and our flesh doesn’t get ripped open.”

  “These are just grazes.”

  He is cut to ribbons and he doesn’t care. I stare, the fabric in my hand, wanting to help him as he he
lped me. Instead he bleeds and glowers at me, as if I have done something wrong.

  “They need spirit and fire, not silk from a runaway.” He glances at his men and then nods toward me with a jerk of his head.

  “Ice, Hans. Take her.”

  The two men advance on me. I back away, not knowing what they have in mind for me, but sensing that I will not like it. Maverick has given the order as if I am nothing more than an inanimate object.

  “Come here, girl,” Hans encourages me. I’m distracted by his rippling muscles, the soft lilted accent of his voice. He must be from far, far away. Each of these men seems to be of quite different origins. They are all built differently, in the formation of their physiques and the features of their faces. To my eyes, used to the pale slim men of the city, they are like wild gods.

  I back away from them, sensing that I can’t let them touch me. Part of my mind hearkens back to the ancient story of Persephone in the underworld. She wasn’t trapped in hell until she ate the fruit there. The fruit in this situation isn’t food, it’s these men. They are the produce of this wild world, and I can sense they want to claim me for their own.

  It is too much for an innocent like me to handle. My mother’s hysterical warnings rush in my ears. What will they do to me if they capture me? Terrible things, I am sure. Savages do not follow proper laws or city customs. They do as they please.

  “No, wait. I have to get back home, my mother will be worried about me…”

  Ice, the one with the pale eyes, lunges forward and takes hold of me by the wrist, pulling me close with a powerful motion that leaves me stumbling into his chest. My body makes contact with his and I feel the hard lines of his unyielding form pressed hard against my soft curves.

  He looks down at me, his lips curled into a smile that holds some cruelty I don’t understand.

  “There’s no going back, girl. You’re ours now.”

  “What? No! Why?”

  “We bled for you. We defended your life from the bear spirit. We have sacrificed flesh and forest soul for you. You are ours.” Ice’s voice is gravelly and husky, incredibly compelling. His eyes are like two silver discs, locked on mine. I can’t walk away. My feet become rooted all over again.

  “Yours? For what?”

  “For whatever we please.”

  “No, I have to go.” The panic rises and I begin backing further away. “My mother is waiting for me. I told her I would be back by dark.”

  “There is one hour until the dusk comes. When it does, bears will be the least of your problems. The big cats are already stirring. They will not begin eating you immediately as the bear would. They will break your spine and play with you for hours before you die.”

  Ice’s soft words detail horror unlike I could ever have imagined.

  “Take her already! My wounds need the fire,” Maverick growls.

  Hans grabs my other wrist. His hand is massive and closes around my arm entirely.

  “Come,” he says, his broad smile a welcome relief from the terror of Ice’s words. “We have food.”

  Food. At least that’s an invitation of some kind. It makes this feel a little less like abduction.

  Held between two savages, I have no choice but to head further into the woods. I know my mother will be fretting, but there is nothing I can do about that. Hans has his hand wrapped around my arm and though he smiles when I look at him, I am as firmly secured as I would be if I was shackled and chained.

  Maverick walks swiftly with Stryker by his side. Ice flanks me, as if he is concerned that I will somehow break Hans’ hold and disappear into the woods. After what I just saw loom in the form of a bear, I have no intention of throwing myself back into the wilds. I am as frightened as I have ever been.

  I press closer to Hans’ side. He is massive and I feel protected in his shadow. There is still threat around me. I’m not safe with them. Ice said it: I am theirs. For whatever they please.

  I wonder what they will please to do with me? My mother says all men want is a woman to cook and clean and wash everything. I can’t imagine they have all that much to wash. Pants, maybe. How long could it possibly take to wash four pairs of pants? As for cooking, I’m hardly talented in that department. My mother never liked the kitchen being used. She said it would make it dirty. We mostly eat delivery food. I can’t imagine what kind of food they eat. Roots, perhaps. Berries, maybe.

  There are no deliveries out this far, that’s for sure. There’s nothing but endless forest and the monsters that lurk in it.

  “How far away is your house?”

  “Far,” Hans says simply.

  My feet are starting to get sore. I have been walking for two hours already and the longer we walk, the more tired and sore I get.

  “She is limping,” Ice says suddenly. “Get her up before her feet go out.”

  Hans scoops me up off my feet and hauls me into his arms. I am suddenly held against his strong body, his muscular torso moving against my body as he cradles me. I am so close to him I can smell his scent. He smells of the forest, and of man. He smells musky, like smoke and flame and fermented fruit. I draw in a deep breath, enjoying this scent that is unlike anything I have ever experienced before.

  After a few dozen paces, he swings me around onto his back. I let out a squeal as he propels me through the air, keeping a firm hold on my arms until I latch on behind him like a baby monkey on its mother, grabbing hold out of instinct. I wrap my legs around his powerful waist and he puts his hands back to my thighs, holding me up against his body.

  This triggers some faint memory very deep in my mind. I feel as if I’ve done this before, as if I’ve been carried this way. Not by my mother, for sure. I find myself snuggling closer to Hans, pressing my face into the curve of his neck, resting my chin on his shoulder.

  I don’t know this man, but he has protected me and made me safe. He has relieved me of the pain of my feet. I am safe with him. I know that in my very core. I’m not so sure about the others. Stryker must have left the city to live out in the wilds. The only people who do that, aside from my father, of course, are criminals. If you break the law badly enough you are given a choice: death or exile. There is something about Stryker that makes me think he chose exile. He hasn’t looked over his shoulder at me even once. He seems more interested in Maverick, concerned by the wounds.

  At least someone has sense. Maverick is leaving a trail of blood. Hans steps over the droplets without a word. The man’s wounds should be bound. He is bleeding on purpose, almost as if he is punishing himself for something.

  “Why won’t he treat the wounds?”

  “The open air is best for them,” Hans says. “Until they can be cleaned, bandages only trap dirt inside. They are not so deep. No arteries cut. He will survive.”

  His injuries are my fault. I feel deeply guilty. I should be the one who is hurt, but instead it is that handsome, brave man who bears the wounds.

  We walk until the light begins to fade. The woods sound different now. The birds stop chirping. Everything gets quiet. Ice lights a torch and so does Stryker. We keep moving through the gathering shadows. Hans’ motion beneath me is soothing and calming and after a while my eyes begin to close with exhaustion.

  “Here we are. Home.”

  I open my eyes to see where they live.

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this. It’s not a home. It’s just a bit of forest that isn’t as dense as the rest of it. There is a hut, of sorts. It is constructed out of bits of tree, branches woven and stacked together to form a small house-type structure with a dirt floor. There is no door.

  A fire burns a few feet away from the house. It is surrounded by mud and stones. And that is it. There’s no more to this place. There are some sharpened sticks stuck into the dirt around the perimeter of the clearing, some kind of way to dissuade the wild animals, maybe. But knowing there are bears and big cats out in these woods, I am not reassured by the camp. It’s far from secure. There is nothing
between us and the wild animals than a few twigs and that is not nearly enough.

  “You live here?”

  “When we hunt, we build camps as we go.” Hans slides his hands from my thighs and I slip to the ground.

  “This isn’t the city,” Stryker says. “You’re going to have to learn to live wild.”

  There is an edge to his voice. Something I don’t like. He’s not pleased I’m here. He doesn’t want me like the others do. Even Maverick is casting a heated glance at me right now as I stand there quivering between the three savages and the wild man.

  “Let me clean those wounds,” Stryker says, clapping Maverick on his good shoulder. “They will leave good scars.”

  He and Maverick move toward the fire. I watch, eyes wide as Maverick sits cross-legged next to the flames. His brawny body is lit so handsomely, but the wounds are too and I cannot look for long. I have to close my eyes and look away as my stomach twists with guilt and fear.

  “I don’t want to learn to live wild,” I say softly. “I want to go home.”

  “This is home now.” Hans is the only one who hears me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes gently. He seems to know precisely how to calm me. I lean back against him and close my eyes a little, feeling his strength.

  I should be at home. I should be getting ready for bed, drinking the hot chocolate my mother makes me every night. I should be checking my messages, sending others. I should be dreaming of these wilds. I shouldn’t be in them.

  Chapter Four

  “Come and sit,” Hans says. “You need water.”

  He leads me into the hut. As my eyes adjust to the darker interior, I see that there are no beds. There’s just a platform made from branches and covered in moss. Over top of that are animal furs and wool laid out in the shape of one big bed. It looks cozy to my tired eyes.

  “Sit.” He points to the platform. I sit down and look up at him. These men are all so tall.