Bronto's Revenge: 2 (Barbarian Lust) (3 page)

Wisteria’s eyes rolled upward from her food. “Will you spend
the night there?”

“If he’ll allow me to.”

Wisty smiled meekly. “Good night, Ivy.”

“Good night. I love you, Wisty.”

“Love you too.”

Vulcan stood beside Ivy and walked her to the door. “I’ll be
right back, sweetheart. I’m going to walk with Ivy.”

Wisteria nodded while taking a bit of her slosh.

After Vulcan left Ivy outside Bronto’s hut she cautiously
pulled the flap aside and quietly entered.

Bronto was by the fire, the firelight dancing over his skin
as he lay asleep on his stomach, wearing only a loincloth. Her breath caught
and her mouth dropped open at the power he displayed. His arms were folded
beneath his head and muscles bulged on his back and thighs. Large black
pictures of insects with claws and a curled tail were drawn on both shoulders
and along his biceps. They were creepy looking yet so detailed they intrigued
her in a strange way.

She couldn’t hear him breathing but his broad back slightly
rose and fell. His dark hair was held together by some type of a string, and
the thick, black tail lay draped down his spine.

She snapped her lips closed and swallowed, drawing air
through her nose. Then she closed her eyes. She’d never imagined he’d hidden
such a refined, masculine body behind his full-length furs.

She shrugged and opened her eyes to the comforting visual.
Her belly flipped in circles as she soaked up Bronto’s body once more.

She squeezed her hands into fists, fighting the urge to
reach down and touch his muscles. She dropped to her knees near his waist,
studying the definition along his spine. His body heat radiated close to the
ground and it embraced her legs. Little by little she lowered herself to the fur
he lay upon. Would it upset him if he woke to find her lying beside him?

Why would it? It wasn’t any different than sitting snuggled
on his lap or standing in his arms.

She curled onto her side, tucked her hands beneath her head
and closed her eyes. In fear of waking him, she left a short distance between
their bodies. The darkness behind her lids heightened her senses and she became
keenly aware of his warmth and scent. The scent of a man. Even his shallow
breaths reached her ears.

She sighed and relaxed, her body sinking into the thick,
soft furs. It’d been a long time since she felt such comfort. At home in the
stone cave nothing separated her skin from the damp, clay ground when she’d
slept. Even after Sledge gave her father a stack of pelts and hides as payment
for a future unity with Wisteria, Ivy refused to sleep on them. She’d not enjoy
the solace they were intended to provide while her sister was facing a horrible
life with the foul, filthy man. Wisty was worth so much more than that.
Thankfully he’d met his demise and no longer posed a threat to her sister.

She yawned, her eyes watering behind her lids. Then she
drifted into the haze that consumed her before falling sleep.

“Ivy?”

Were her dreams calling to her?

“Ivy?” a whispered voice repeated.

She opened her eyes and came face-to-face with Bronto. His
hand lay on her cheek, his thumb stroking the area beneath her bottom lashes.
“Hi,” she said. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

He smiled. “It’s fine.”

“I wanted to come here instead of spending the night with
Jade.”

“Ivy-love,” he said, leaning forward and kissing the tip of
her nose, “I said it’s fine. You don’t need to explain.”

Oh how she wished his lips would travel to her mouth. Was it
wrong to wish that? Unfortunately she’d never been kissed. She blamed her momma
for the inability to experiment because she’d sheltered and clung to her and
Wisteria while they should’ve been exploring life.

“Your sister may murder me but I’ll take the chance,” Bronto
said, grinning.

“She knows.” She also knew Ivy’s feelings for him and would
never interfere. “I’m a grown woman. She didn’t question my actions.” Wisty
actually tried explaining what happened between a man and a woman to prevent
Ivy any embarrassment when the time came. She’d not care in the least what
would transpire between Ivy and Bronto, if anything. It wasn’t as if Ivy came
to his hut to mate, though. That wasn’t her purpose at all.

“I’m just speaking from a brother’s perspective. If my
younger sister snuck into a man’s room, I might be tempted to beat him to
death.”

Ivy laughed softly. “If anyone would beat you, it would be
my momma. She’s very protective.”

“That explains a lot.”

“About what?”

He smiled. “Your innocence.”

“I guess so. Momma held on to me and Wisty too tightly. She
lost eight of her twelve kids.” Since Boar’s demise it was now nine children
Momma lost. But she didn’t know that yet. Neither Ivy nor Wisteria had the
heart to tell her the other night that aliens had captured Boar and used him as
an experiment. Sadly they’d done the same to Ivy’s father. How could they ever
explain to their mom both men had died? “Her heart is broken.”

“Understandably so.”

“Most women my age already have children but ever since the
Mountain Slayers shredded my older sister Lily to pieces, Momma wouldn’t part
with me and Wisty. She set limits and wouldn’t let us wander far.” She sighed
and curled her knees farther against her tummy. “She only recently agreed to
let Wisteria unite with Sledge because our clan needs to grow. When the Flesh
Eaters stole our home in the meadows, they killed a lot of our people. That’s
how I lost most of my brothers and sisters.”

“I know,” he replied, gently stroking her brow. “Our tribe
wanted to chase them away and reclaim the land for you but we were prohibited
from taking action because of our governmental rules.”

Again she yawned. “I don’t know why they gave you rules to
follow,” she stated rather than asked.

“They don’t want us to interfere with any tribal cultures.
They see it this way—what happens between primitive people, happens. Unless it
personally involves our tribe we have to let it go. Even if the bloodthirsty
tribes are being cruel and causing death to the peaceful clans.” He paused and
studied her face as if checking whether or not his words upset her. “Now that
Vulcan and I are residing here permanently, those rules no longer apply to us.
If we had decided sooner to stay behind, we would’ve killed Sledge the night he
beat your sister.”

Ivy still couldn’t stomach the visual of Wisty tied between
the stoning trees while Sledge whipped her until she bled. Nor could she
believe her own father ordered the punishment. Yes, Wisteria deserved
retribution for deceiving their clan by kissing Vulcan, a man not of their
blood, but deception was punishable by stoning, not a whipping. And because
Wisteria had been promised to Sledge as a mate, he’d acted harsher than
necessary when he delivered the blows. Being rescued and taken captive by
Vulcan that night was the best thing that could’ve happened to Wisty.

Gosh, Ivy wanted to cry just thinking about it. If her clan
discovered she had feelings for Bronto, a man from a forbidden tribe, she’d
endure the same punishment. Maybe not now that her father was gone, but
nonetheless, she didn’t plan on returning home. Ever. Until they apologized to Wisty
and welcomed her back, Ivy would not step foot into their territory.

Ivy’s eyelids grew heavy. She smiled meekly at Bronto while
fighting to keep them open. “So, if me or Wisty are threatened by the Flesh
Eaters or Mountain Slayers you’d kill them?”

“In the span of a heartbeat.”

“What about another Barbarian?”

“You bet. We’d fight them to the death.”

We’d fight them to the death.
Those were the final
words she heard before she fell asleep.

“Get everyone out of here. Now!” a male shouted.

Ivy bolted upright.
What’s going on?
She gazed around
Bronto’s hut, darting her eyes from one side to the other. She was alone but a
lot of commotion took place outside. Men’s voices and women’s cries of panic
overshadowed the sound of stampeding footsteps.

The flap flew open. “Ivy,” Bronto yelled, rushing inside
fully dressed in his furs. Only his muscular arms and handsome face were
visible. “Come with me.” He didn’t stall as he grabbed her arm and assisted her
to her feet.

She shook off the fuzzy aftereffects of sleep and rubbed her
eyes. “What’s happening? Where are we going?” she asked. A loud
boom-boom
,
boom-boom
echoed in the distance. Her tummy lurched and she fully awoke.
“Is it another tyrannosaur?” she asked, alarm rising to her chest.

“We’re not sure.” He retrieved his bow, situated it over his
shoulder then tucked numerous arrows inside a sheath at his side. “Whatever it
is, it hasn’t arrived yet but it’s close.”

She gulped, latched on to his hand and flew out the door.

“Run to the underground weapons shelter,” he ordered,
remaining close at her heels.

She raced past the huts, noticing she was the only woman
left in the camp, then she fled into the forest. Bronto briefly yanked her to a
stop then he took the lead. His furs protected his body while he cleared a path
for her. Suddenly he halted. To the left side of the shelter near the marking
stick lay a cave lion. It appeared to be guarding the closed door. The fur on
its neck stood up. As it eyed Bronto it licked its mouth. Blood was caked
around its snout and on its large, curved teeth.

Ivy gasped. Her heartbeat thumped her breast. She squeezed
Bronto’s hand hard.

“Back up,” he said, sliding her behind him. “Slowly.”

She tempered the urge to run and very
slowly
backed
between two large pine trees, glancing past his arm at the huge animal. The
lion didn’t move, nor did it remove its gaze from their bodies. It was one of
the most feared animals in the land, capable of killing bears. Though she’d
only seen one once from a distance, it was scarier and larger than she’d
remembered. Now she wished she hadn’t laid eyes on it at all.

She gulped, anticipating it to lunge and attack, but it
yawned and laid its head on the ground between its large, matted paws.

She held her breath while continuing the backward trek. Once
they were confined and hidden within the trees, Bronto loaded an arrow in the
bow and squatted, gazing through an opening between branches.

Ivy shrieked and dropped to her knees beside him. “Don’t
shoot it. What if it doesn’t die? It’ll be mad.”

“I have no choice. It’ll attack the first person who climbs
out of the shelter.”

Oh gosh, she couldn’t imagine that happening. It would be a
horrid, gruesome, painful death.

The cave lion lifted its head at the sound of their voices
and peered in their direction. Dark, hungry eyes bored into them as it raised
its back end, preparing to lunge. Bronto took aim and released the arrow,
plugging it into the animal’s throat. The lion roared. Then sprang forward. And
charged.

Ivy screamed and jumped to her feet.

“Run, Ivy,” Bronto shouted. “Go. Go!”

There wasn’t enough time to decide which direction to flee,
so she spun and ran for her life straight ahead. No way could they outrun a
cave lion. No way possible.

Oh gosh! Oh gosh!

The hair on the back of her neck stood. Air sawed in and out
of her lungs and her chest felt as though it were on fire. Large and small
twigs cracked under her feet, pricking her soles, but she was too frightened to
feel actual pain. Then she hit a patch of briars or thorns or thistle. She
yelped when something punctured her skin. It hurt badly but she couldn’t stop
running to pluck it free. The lion was still on their trail. Its paws loudly
pounded the ground. It was close. Too close.

What if it reached Bronto?

She fled deep into the forest to an area she’d never been.
The layer of ferns covering the ground grew denser, to the point she couldn’t
see beneath the leaves. Anything could be hiding under them. Anything. Small
animals. Snakes.
Eek.

She ran faster. And faster. To where it felt as if her feet
barely touched the ground. She ducked under branches large enough to knock her
down and shoved others aside, hoping they wouldn’t spring back.

Her chest was ready to explode. Blood rushed to her ears,
obstructing her hearing. Sweat poured from her forehead, dripping into her
eyes. They burned and her vision blurred. She tried rubbing them to clear the
haze but it worsened.

“Ivy, stop!”

The deep undertone broke through the muffled sounds in her
ears. She halted and spun around. Overexertion hit her instantly and she nearly
dropped.

Bronto caught her by the waist before she hit the ground and
he tugged her close to his chest, supporting her weight. “It’s down,” he said,
panting between breaths. “It’s dead.”

Little by little the pressure in her chest eased and the
blood rush completely vanished from her eardrums. She rubbed her eyes on
Bronto’s furs but her vision didn’t clear as quickly as she’d hoped. She
blinked. Then blinked again. Finally the burning subsided and she could clearly
see. She glanced past his upper arm. The lion lay on its side with a
brownish-pink tongue hanging out the side of a mouth full of sharp teeth. Blood
was splattered over the animal’s tan fur and spurted from the hole where the
arrow still protruded.

“I’m sorry, love,” Bronto said against the top of her head,
his breaths rustling through her hair. “I didn’t have a clear shot to its
heart. I’ll never put you in that type of situation again.” He tightened his
embrace. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You did what you had to.” She stepped from
his arms and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. A purple haze glowed
beyond a thick row of oak and conifer trees, their tops and upper branches
barren. The calming sound of a waterfall rose from the same direction. “Where
are we?”

She took Bronto by the hand and walked toward the haze. The
throbbing, burning pain in the bottom of her feet reached her brain and she
winced. She halted and sat down. Amazingly, though, with her feet no longer
bearing her weight, the pain disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” Bronto asked.

Genuine concern filled his eyes and she smiled. “I feel as
if I’ve stepped on a porcupine.” She grabbed her ankle and draped her leg over
her knee to inspect her foot. It wasn’t so bad. A few barbs were partially
stuck in the skin. One at a time she pinched them between her nails, pulled
them out and tossed them into the brush.

She stood, brushing her bottom off, then grabbed hold of
Bronto’s upper arm, snuggling her cheek against his bicep as he headed toward
the sound of rushing water. When they breached the row of conifers and oaks
they stepped into a paradise of bright colors. Her breath caught. Bronto
whistled.

“Wow,” she said in disbelief, eyeing the beauty. It was even
more beautiful than the yellow lake, which was hard to believe. “Wisty would
love this place. Where are we?”

“I’ve never seen it before,” Bronto replied.

A pink fish with a yellow, long, snakelike tail jumped from
a small pond where purple water flowed from the edge of a tall cliff. Another
fish emerged. Then another. They frolicked, jumping high out of the pond, and
bumped bellies. After they submerged into the pond they sprang from the water
and bumped tummies again.

Ivy giggled. Beyond them were four columns of lily pads.
They stood on either side of the waterfall. Orange, spiked flowers sprouted
from the top of each column. Between a span of shallow forest and the cliffs, a
golden hue glowed from the entrance of a cave. “It’s so beautiful, Bronto.”

Slowly they approached the pond. She sat down on the border
of blue, flat, sparkling rocks. The fish swam to the inside edge and lingered,
their nearly transparent fins swaying back and forth. If Wisteria were here
she’d reach into the water and pet them but Ivy wasn’t as bold. She’d rather
visually admire things than touch them and risk getting bitten. “I would love
to remain here and explore but we should go. Your people are in danger.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Can we come back sometime?”

“Absolutely.”

Just as they neared the forest wall, the sound of whining
animals breached her ears.

She glanced toward the waterfall. Near the cave entrance
many baby animals, partially buried in the ground, struggled to break through
the dirt. Her eyes widened and she halted. “Br-Bronto?”

She must have spoken too softly because he didn’t respond
and continued walking. “Bronto?” She raced beside him and tugged him to a stop.
“Look,” she said, pointing toward the babies.

He whipped around. “What?”

“By the cave.”

He retraced their steps and squatted near the pond, where he
examined from a short distance many brownish-gray heads with dark, beady eyes.
“Unbelievable.”

The babies made chirping sounds as their necks stretched to
and fro. “What are they?” she asked in disbelief.

“They look like baby dinosaurs.”

She gulped. “They do? Are they tyrannosaurs?” Her voice
squeaked. “Why are they growing from the soil?”

“Some dinosaurs bury their eggs. It appears they’ve
hatched.”

“You don’t know what kind they are?”

“No, but I bet Tyran does. If I knew whether or not they’re
carnivorous I’d dig one up for him.”

“You can’t!” she yelped. “What about its momma?”

“I’m not going to, love. Not without knowing for sure what
it is.”

“Do you think the momma is who disrupted the camp?” Gosh,
they’d fled the dinosaur and might have ended up in its home.

“Possibly. If so, she’ll return.” He stood. “Let’s get out
of here before that happens.”

She clamped on to his hand and followed him into the forest,
where he guided her along their original path.

As they approached the cave lion she stopped. Bugs whizzed
circles around its face and ears and the blood beneath its neck had traveled to
a lower area of ground and formed a puddle. “Wouldn’t its fur make beautiful
garments?”

“Most definitely.”

“Wisty knows how to sew. She used to help my momma.”

“Ivy, if you want the hide, it’s yours. I need help to drag
the lion to the camp, though.”

“I do want it.” She couldn’t contain her excitement and
smiled. “I can help you.”

He grinned. “It’s going to take more than you and me to pull
a four-hundred-pound animal, I’m afraid.”

She snuggled her cheek against his arm. “Wisty has many
skills. I try to help her when she sews but my only talent is carving
pictures.”

She sensed his eyes on the top of her head as he led her
away from the lion and back onto the path. “So you’re an artist,” he said.

“No. I carve animals into ivory pallets.”

“That is art,” he explained. “Therefore you’re an artist.”

“Who drew the pictures of insects on your arms?”

“They’re scorpion tattoos, engraved by a tattoo artist.”

“They don’t wash off?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No. They were etched into my
skin with a needle and permanent ink.”

She cringed. “What’s their purpose?”

“Personal preference. It’s a form of body art. Your sister’s
jewelry craft is also an art.”

“Then she’s an artist too?”

“Yes.”

Ivy sighed as she stepped over a log. “Tell me about your
brothers and sisters. Do you have any?”

“I do. I have one sister who I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been a part of the Special Forces for a long
time. About nine years.”

Her brows scrunched. “How long is a year?”

“It’s… How old are you, Ivy?”

“I’ve lived through twenty seasonal harvests.”

“Each seasonal harvest is the equivalent of one year. So
you’re twenty years old.”

“Then why haven’t you seen her in such a long time?”

“After our parents died she moved away and got married,” he
said then paused to clear his throat. “I joined the Special Forces.”

“Your parents died? How tragic.”

“Yes, it is. My mother’s heart gave out. Shortly after, my
dad’s did as well.”

She didn’t know what she’d do if her momma died. Her father,
gosh… Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away. Sadly he’d appeared
dead long before the aliens killed him. He had existed but that was all. He
used to talk to only her mom and hunted as was expected of the clan leader but
when it came to his children his emotions were already gone.

She tightened her hold on Bronto’s arm, pushing thoughts of
death aside. It was too morbid to dwell on. She’d rather indulge in nice
visions like sleeping in Bronto’s embrace, or of him kissing her for the first
time. When would that happen? What was taking him so long?

“Ivy?”

She raised her head at the sound of Wisteria calling her
name.

“Ivy!”

The amount of distress in her sister’s voice alarmed her.
“Wisty?”

“Where are you?”

“With Bronto,” she hollered, trying to see through the
evergreen and pine branches. She vaguely caught a glimpse of the outline of
Wisteria’s white frock that Jade had given her a couple of days ago. “We’re
almost there.”

When Ivy and Bronto emerged from the trees she spotted
Wisteria standing in Vulcan’s arms at the back side of the supply hut. She held
Birmon near her chest and was toying with his spikes as she often did to expel
nervous energy.

“Where were you?” Wisteria asked. She broke from Vulcan’s
embrace and ran to the forest border to greet them. “I’ve been sick with
worry.”

Bronto and Vulcan exchanged glances. “We were chased away by
a cave lion when I took Ivy to the weapons shelter for cover.”