Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

1.

He can smell your blood.

It isn't fair. How are you supposed to hide? How are you supposed to get away? Sticks snap beneath your shoes as you race through the forest. Branches tangle in your hair and skirt. Warm afternoon light winks through the leaves. You trip over a rock and sprawl to the ground but leap to your feet again, ignoring the pain in your knee. It's starting to get dark. Soon, you won't be able to see a thing—and his nose will have the advantage.

It isn't fair. Why do you have to be female? Why do you have to be fertile? The last thing you want is to be taken by the likes of him or by any male of your species; terrible and wild and out-of-control as they are. Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of his hideous roar. You turn back, see nothing, and charge on ahead. He's still far away but it won't be long before he catches up with you. His strength, stamina and speed easily outmatch yours. How you've managed to escape him so far is a miracle.

You're doomed. You know it. He knows it.

Then why keep running?

Instinct. Fear. That dwindling pinpoint of hope.

You clutch at a stitch in your chest. The air feels thick in your lungs. Your throat seems to clamp down on itself and you start to wheeze. Between your legs, you can feel the warm, wet betrayal of your menstrual blood. The only glean of hope you have is that when he manages to catch you, you have five days to attempt escape before he takes you; before he wrestles you to the ground, pins you down and penetrates you. You release a terrified sob at the thought.

At another roar you look behind again. You scream at the sound of something crashing to the ground. It sounds like a tree. He's knocked down a tree! You've never seen an adult male before, but you've heard tell of how big they are, how terrible and ferocious and wild they are. The other females don't hold back with their stories. You can hear the heavy thud of his pounding footsteps now; you can almost feel them vibrating up through your feet. They make the ground shudder.

You stumble, your knees bow, but you somehow manage to keep your balance. Your energy is spent. You're hungry and thirsty. You've been running all day. Then you see something up ahead that makes your heart swell. You can hear it too, in between the thrashing and smashing of your male predator close behind. Could it be?

At a sudden surge of energy, you crash through a wall of thick, green foliage, the forest suddenly opens up and you stagger as you sink into cold water. You gasp at the rush of ice up your spine but don't slow down, clawing back to your feet as the stream rushes around you. It's hip-deep and noisy, concealing the loud splashing of your mad dash for escape while submerging the scent of your blood.

He's coming! He's coming!

You manage to throw yourself behind a large pile of rocks just as your pursuer crashes into the open, and for the first time you put a face to the terrifying stories. You heart thunders and your stomach tightens into a knot as you peer between the rocks. You had always hoped that the other females exaggerated with their descriptions, or better still—downright lied. But they hadn't. They hadn't! Not even a little bit.

Somehow, the truth is worse.

He seems more beast than man: a great, lumbering figure of muscle and hair, hunched over, hands fisted in front of him as he searches for you, sniffing the air and emitting deep growls within his throat. He's completely naked—he isn't civilised at all!—and you can't help but stare at the mass of hair between his legs. Your eyes widen. Your thighs tense. That thing between his legs is like a redwood amid the bushes. You've never seen one on a man before, only on little boys back at the village. Though the other women have spoken of their size, you've never really believed them. He wants to put that into you? Your hips ache at the thought. Surely, you don't go that deep.

He turns away from you as he continues to search, revealing a hairy arse and the hard muscles packed in his back and shoulders. His biceps bulge to a size you can't believe. Hard ropey muscle bunch in his thighs. He turns again, eyes swivelling everywhere, nostrils flared, and you can't get over how hairy he is. He's like a bear with his long, knotted mane; the field of it on his chest trails down to the thicket that's his groin, where it then spreads darkly down his thighs. He even has hair on his face! He raises an arm to scratch his head and you see another big clump in his armpit.

He disgusts you. He's nothing like you. How could you and he be the same species?

You shake your head. You're safe for the moment but you start to tremble from the cold. Your teeth chatter. When will he go away? When will he give up?

Fortunately not long. After sniffing the air fruitlessly again, he gives a little whine of disappointment. He moves on, splashing through the water before disappearing into the trees on the opposite side of the bank. You release an anxious breath and look down at yourself—you're soaked through: your shirt clings to your breasts; your skirt is plastered to your thighs.

You make your way out of the water as fast as you can without making any noise. Your shoes are ruined. Your feet squelch inside them as you hasten along the riverbank back east; back towards the women's village. Despite the cold and your fatigue, you feel elated. You've escaped him! You've beaten him! You imagine what you might say to the other women as you return home unscathed.

Despite what they've told you, it can be done. They can be defeated!

You stop at the sound of a growl. The skin on the back of your neck prickles and suddenly all your elation fizzles into a deep and terrible dread.

He's found you.

2.

You jump back with a scream and make to scramble away but he seizes you around the waist and hauls you off your feet. He's so strong! The sheer force of his grab throws your head back and kicks your legs into the air. Screaming again, you scratch at his forearms. With a grunt, he drops you back to your feet. Your knees bow and you crumple into the mud and wet leaves. Not daring to look up, all you can see are his big, flat feet and his hairy legs. With a moan, you claw at the soggy earth as you attempt to wriggle away. Your terror has completely sapped your strength.

He doesn't let you get far. His big flat feet step in front of you, halting your feeble progress. 'Let me go,' you moan. The cold and wet seeps into your shirt and you start to shiver. He moves quickly. You don't even have time to shriek when he suddenly rolls you over onto your back. Now you have no choice but to face him. You stare up at him as he stares down at you.

'Please,' you say.

He has a strong nose and high cheekbones. His eyebrows are thick and dark and hang low over his gleaming eyes. And how they gleam—all over you. And for the first time you understand what it means for someone to devour you with their gaze. His eyes fasten onto your chest and you realise how you must look with your wet shirt clinging to your curves. You hastily fold your arms over your breasts but not before he physically responds. That trunk between his legs, which has sagged since the last time you saw it, slowly rises again, lengthening, thickening, the skin pulling back until it tightens into a shine.

'You keep that thing away from me!' you scream. You try to sound fierce but it's hard when your teeth won't stop chattering. He steps towards you and you clamp your knees together. You can feel mud all up your skirt and in your underwear. 'Keep back!' Your teeth clack again.

He pauses, looking down on you, as though considering, and for a brief moment you feel hope that he is more than just a beast controlled by his perverted urges, that he is more than just the big, swinging log between his legs.

You're a desperate fool.

He pounces, you scream, and you hardly know what's happening as you kick and scratch and bite. He goes for your shirt first. Buttons pop off. The fabric tears. More tearing follows as he rips it to shreds, grunting and snuffling all the while. He thrusts you onto your belly to do the same to the back of it, your cheek in the mud, your heartbeat roaring in your ears as he completes his task with wild zeal. There's nothing you can do. You try to roll back over and swipe at him but all he does is sit heavily on your arse and pushes you back down. You gasp as he snaps apart your bra with one hard tug.

Then he's at your skirt.

The fabric is thick and tough, but it means nothing; it almost seems to fall apart in his big, wild hands. The backs of your thighs feel the cool rush of air. Your underwear is still on. It's heavy with mud and sticks to your rounded cheeks and along your crack—but not for long. You shriek as he rips it apart like it's little more than tissue paper.

Then everything turns quiet. You can hear his long, steady breathing. Birds are chirping in the canopy above. A solitary frog is croaking somewhere by the stream.

Though the attack was terrifying, the silence is so much worse. What is he doing? What is he thinking? Does he think? You suck in a breath, thrashing out your arms, as he throws you onto your back. Parts of your clothes still cling to your privates. You grab at them fruitlessly as he reaches to yank them away.

'No!' You kick out at him as you clutch the useless remains of your shirt against your breasts. You shriek as he rips away the last of your skirt and underwear. You clamp your knees shut. He emits a long, low growl that makes you quiver in terror. Snapping your eyes shut, you turn your face away as he hovers above you. He growls again. Something hard and hot brushes against your hip and still you cling to your ragged shirt like it's a shield, like it's going to do any good against something like him.

You whimper as you feel the heat of his breath against your neck. You cry out as he fights away your hands and snatches away that little torn piece of useless shirt. You clasp your breasts with your bare hands. You're completely naked now and utterly at his mercy. The coldness of the wet forest floor against your back makes you shiver.

He goes quiet again. He emits another deep growl which ends in a whine. You feel a rush of relief as he pulls away from you. Then his big hot hands grab at your knees and everything comes to a head.

'No!' you scream, sitting up and swiping out with your nails, but he just pushes you back down and thrusts open your thighs, and then his hairy face is between your legs. You jerk against the feel of his breath and the warm, excited snuffling of his nose as he sniffs you out. Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! What is he, a dog? Then he licks you and it's like fire racing up your slit—and it's not pain. It's like nothing you've ever felt before.

Horrified, you clamp your knees around his outstretched neck. He roars and tries to pull back but you won't let him, clamping down harder. He thrashes and squirms without effect. Finally, he grips your knees and manages to thrust them apart. He staggers backwards.

He's hunched over and panting, his face red, the big muscles in his chest rolling under his skin. His lips are wet, his eyes wide. At his sides, his hands are opening and closing in and out of fists. The hair between his legs is wet and matted and what was once a blushing redwood is once again wilted and wrinkled and flops harmlessly between his thighs.

Still, it does nothing to curb his urge for you. You can see it in his eyes. He bares his teeth into a hungry snarl. The muscles in his shoulders bunch up. Those big ropey ones in his thighs tighten. You suck in a breath but he's already upon you before you can scream.

3.

You wake up with a groan. What's happened? Where are you? Why are you so sore and wet? Why are you upside down? Slowly, it comes back to you in fragments: the attack on your village; the mad chase through the forest; the river, the mud, seeing the terrifying face of your predator for the first time; your capture. At a rush of horror, you try to pull yourself up but your body feels too heavy and your position doesn't lend itself to any real movement.

You give a little whimper as you watch his feet stomp through the leaf litter. His hairy arse is right by your face. Your hair falls around you in a tangle. His arm is like a chain around your waist as he carries you like a sack over his shoulder. It's dark now. Frogs croak. Crickets chirp. You can no longer hear the rushing stream. How long had you been unconscious? How far are you away from the village? Worse still—what terrible and disgusting things might he have done to you since you fainted?

Remembering how he licked you like a dog, you shiver.

Though he probably won't understand you and it's doubtless a big waste of time, there's nothing else for it—you speak: 'Let go.'

He grunts and repositions you slightly but doesn't answer.

'I said, let go!' Your voice rings through the forest. 'Take me home! You have no right!'

No response. You try to raise yourself up again, only to slump back down. His feet crunch loudly through the leaves. How much longer before you arrive at your destination, wherever it is? How long before he steals your virtue and leaves you abandoned and pregnant in the forest like the unwilling mothers back in your village?

The thought sweeps away your fear and suddenly all you feel is rage. How dare he? How dare he! Your cheeks fill up with heat as the blood rushes to your face. The muscles in your thighs harden into rock as you prepare yourself.

He will not take you!

He continues his steady walk, completely oblivious to the danger. You don't hesitate. The world lurches as he stumbles with a roar, but you don't stop your attack, digging your fingers more deeply into his arsehole. You grimace. Your throat swells with vomit. This is certainly not how you thought you'd be spending your Thursday evening.

His grip loosens from around your waist and your eyes widen as the forest floor rushes to meet you. You land hard on your arms, tumble once, twice, then stagger to your feet. You try to get away but you're weak and tired; the world tilts to the left and you follow it, crashing to the ground again. At a second roar, you scream in terror. His feet thud against the earth and before you can do anything but roll over, you're back in his arms again.

He lifts you clean off your feet. The canopy arcs over your head as you scream, scrabbling at his long, muscular forearms. Then you're back dangling over his shoulder. You almost weep in despair. Everything's much the same as it was except that now he's walking at a much faster pace, your heart's thudding madly in your chest and your fingers stink like shit.

With nothing else for it, you reach for his backside again, only to snap your head up with a start as he smacks you on the arse. It's more startling than painful. Did he really just do that? This man-beast? It doesn't dissuade you; you reach out again.

'Hey!' you squawk as he smacks you again, harder this time.

He grunts something and gives you a little shake. You pause in surprise. Did he just speak? Did he just say 'don't'? Impossible. Males don't speak. You're making things up, seeing and hearing things that aren't there to give you some hope; if you can speak with him, if he can understand you, then you can reason with him.

'Let me go.'

No answer.

You change tactics. 'What's your name?'

No answer.

'I can walk. I promise I won't run if you just put me down.'

No answer.

With a sigh of defeat you sag against him, gazing in a daze at his pumping arse and thudding feet and the rolling ground beneath. Your body aches. Your brain is tired.

He begins to slow and suddenly stops. Bending over, he eases you to your feet. You step back in surprise, quickly wrapping your arms around your breasts as you stare up at him. So he can understand you. His eyes gleam in the darkness. He looks as tired as you feel.

'You can't take me. You have no right.'

No answer.

You swallow. 'I know what you want but you can't have it. I don't want to mate with you and you can't make me.'

His face is blank. Maybe it's just a coincidence that he put you down when you asked him to. Maybe he doesn't know what you're saying at all.

At a sudden surge of desperate courage, you step towards him and touch his wrist. 'You won't make me.'

He looks you in the eye. And for the first time you see that his eyes are hazel. You don't know why that surprises you. Those hazel eyes drop from your gaze, looking over your body, and you know all is lost. Wrapping your arms more tightly around your breasts, you try to cross your legs in an attempt to conceal your lower parts—but all it does is put you off balance. You fling out your arms as you stagger, trying not to fall over like an idiot, and that's when he grabs you, his big hand firm around your wrist.

'Let go!' you shriek.

You try to kick at his shins but all it does is make him angry. With a snarl, he wraps his arm around your waist and you realise he's about to hoist you back over his shoulder.

'Wait!' you cry, throwing up your hands. 'I'll be good.'

He glares at you distrustfully, his arm still wrapped around your waist, his hips pressed up against yours. His groin is unexpectedly hot. You feel a sudden, hard twitch against your pelvis and don't want to think about it. You wrinkle your nose at the smell of sweat and wet, unwashed hair. So much hair.

He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip. Releasing you, he grabs your wrist again and drags you after him as he continues with his journey.

'Where you taking me?' you say.

He grips you so hard your wrist burns in pain. You stagger after him, trying your best to keep up. Your wet shoes squelch against the moist earth, and you're thankful for small mercies that he hasn't torn them apart like the rest of your clothes. How he manages to walk barefoot upon the sharp and prickly forest floor confounds you.

You don't know how long you've been walking for but it's long enough that your eyes begin to droop and your legs ache. Your arm has gone completely numb in his careless grip. You begin to stumble more than walk. The only thing that stops you from dropping to the ground and falling asleep is the biting cold. Your skin is covered in goose bumps. You shiver and shake, your teeth chattering. Your feet feel frozen in their soaking socks.

It's still dark by the time you reach your destination.

Blinking wearily, you hardly notice the little wooden shelter with the torn animal-hide for a wall, though you notice the pile of pelts quickly enough. They look so warm and soft and wonderful. He releases you, and without invitation, you stagger into the shelter, collapsing straight into their cosy embrace.

Your eyes slip shut and the darkness sweeps you away.

4.

You wake slowly and it's like you've never been so warm or comfortable in all your life. Usually you wake up with an aching back and a headache. Your mattress isn't the best and you're generally not a good sleeper. Why last night was so different, you can't explain. You roll onto your back with a contented moan, stretching under your blankets, unwilling to get up to start your day. It's Friday. Only one more day of teaching and the weekend is all yours.

It must be late—the sun beats hotly through your window—but your friend, Annie, has never failed to wake you before.

Nevertheless, a little voice inside you demands you get up—just in case.

'Just a little longer,' you moan to yourself as you roll over again, kicking off the blankets.

You promptly fall back asleep, waking some time later to your own snort and a sharp pang of hunger that makes you sick to your stomach. Birds are chirping. Branches creak and rustle in the breeze. You're sweating now. You can feel a bead of it trickling down your spine. Opening your eyes, you sit up with a start, and suddenly it all comes crashing back.