Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

18.

There's no time to lose. I only have once chance and this is it. I try not to think how badly she's hurt you as I claw my way to my feet and stagger away from her. You're not moving, your face mashed into the ground. There's blood everywhere.

Now that you're unconscious—or dead, she turns her attention back to me, snapping over her head at the sound of my lurching footsteps. All she has time to do is widen her eyes and suck in a breath before I jam your spear deep into her guts. It goes in surprisingly easy.

I thought it would be harder.

With a scream, I throw all my bodyweight against it, making her stagger backwards until she's backed up against a tree and there it sinks in ever more deeply as I lean into it with all my strength. It sinks in slowly. She gurgles and spits. Her eyes roll in her ugly face as her bloodied hands slip and slide helplessly around the wood.

I push again until my way is stopped by the trunk the tree. I've pierced her right through. She coughs and gags and splutters. Blood drips down onto her chest and trickles down her thick throat as she bobs her head. She collapses to her knees, her eyelids fluttering. Then drops to her side. And there she gazes up at the trees, her eyelids hooded and unblinking.

For a moment all I can do is stare. I'm still gripping the spear, still leaning against it as though afraid she'll suddenly waken and somehow attack me. I'm panting. My heart is pounding madly. I'm so numb I feel disconnected with my body. It's so quiet. How can it be so quiet after all that has happened? None of this feels real and I can't help but wonder if I'm dreaming.

No. The pain is very real. My head throbs. My face is on fire.

When I can finally absorb that she's gone and that I killed her—I killed someone!—I turn back to you. My feet seem to move by their own volition. I suddenly find myself on my knees beside you. Resting my hand against the back of your head, I speak your name.

No answer.

With the remaining strength I have, I roll you over. You're as heavy as hell but I manage it. My heart clenches in my chest at the sight of your mangled face. There's so much blood it's a wonder you're even able to breathe. But you are breathing. I can hear it! You're not dead! But my fear is far from placated—your breath rattles in your chest. What if you don't wake up? What's going to happen if these women discover that I've killed one of their own? Worse—what if they think I killed you both? It's plausible. It's an easy thing to blame the stranger.

But then you stir, and my heart leaps. Your breath catches. You cough, then snort, then splutter. I pull back as blood and snot sprays everywhere. You sit up and roll over onto your elbows as you cough up mouthful after mouthful of dark, clotted blood. Then you take a long, gasping breath.

And it's then you notice me, your eyes gleaming through your hair. 'You okay?' you croak.

'You're kidding me right?'

With a grunt you pull yourself to your knees and stretch yourself out with a gasp. You look me over, then turn to my attacker, the spear still sticking out of her abdomen.

I feel a shiver. I'm a non-violent man. This is not something I ever thought I'd be capable of. I feel a wave of guilt and horror which I promptly shove away. What other choice did I have? Then I remember what she did to me. Her stickiness is all over my face. I can still taste her. I can still feel the weight of her against my hips as she swallowed up my cock.

I wince at at a sickening feeling in my upper abdomen. It seems to lodge there, unmovable. Then a sudden coldness pours through my body. My skin puckers into goose bumps. A terrible, overwhelming urge to get away propels me to my feet. Despite all my pain and injuries, I run. The humiliation is worse. The knowledge that I've been abused and violated is worst of all.

I manage to stumble upon a small stream. Without a thought, I drop to my knees and dunk my head into it until the icy, cold water drowns out the sounds of her laughter, the feel of her hands, the smell and taste and the sight of her pitiless face.

I scrub and I scrub. I take in mouthfuls of water and spit them out over and over again until my mouth turns numb from the cold and I'm left shivering. It's good for the pain too. My lip is the worst, though I throb all around my eyes, nose and cheekbones too.

She did a good job on me.

Next, is my cock. It looks so shrivelled and pathetic and sad. After all I've been through today, the thought of having sex again, even with the woman of my dreams, makes me sick. I sit in the stream cross-legged, letting the water rush over me for a little while before I reach down and rub myself clean. Though I doubt I'll ever be able to wash the memory of this day from my mind.

No matter how much I scrub, I know I'm still going to feel filthy.

I wash myself again as tears prick my eyes. I hate myself right now. I've never felt less like a man in all my life. I don't feel like a man at all, in fact. Any self worth I had has been taken from me.

I could remain in the stream forever but I reluctantly force myself back to my feet. I look over my shoulder. You haven't followed me, and I wonder if you might have passed out again.

I hurry back, only to find that there's nothing to worry about. You're sitting on a rock, attempting to clean up your face with a damp cloth. It's pink with your blood. You bend over to wash it out in a small puddle of water caught in the rock, then go back to cleaning yourself again. You hiss in pain.

You don't know I'm present and I'd like to keep it that way, just for the moment. I watch you quietly. You truly are a beautiful woman, even despite your beaten face. It's clear your nose is broken and the left side of your jaw is swelling up like a balloon.

My heart lurches in sympathy. I can't help it. Despite all you've done, you did save me. And despite all that you are, big and powerful and intimidating, I can't help but feel the instinctive need to comfort and protect you in your moment of vulnerability.

I walk over to you and place my hand on your shoulder.