Victoriously Yours,

Spurning Yours Truly

River played with the stew made of meat and vegetables that lay in her clay bowl and on its side, what looked to be a cut up loaf of hard bread.

Somewhat like a sourdough that was placed in front of her on a clay plate as she sat on the ground inside the huge four wall tent.

All the Iborians were eating and talking in their language, uncaring of how they spilled broth here and there. Chunks of bread flew around in the air. She almost felt like she was trapped in those army riots.

Chris was by her side, talking to a beautiful Iborian woman. The tribe seemed to have welcomed him with open arms but they still maintained a hostile distance with her.

No doubt making her feel worse than ever.

This wasn't the first time she had been cast aside like this. Her parents so involved in their own pretend lives that it had emitted her away when she needed them the most. The friends she been with never came to her when crisis called for a companion.

She had been alone that fateful night too. No one there to help her. She had only herself to rely upon.

River looked around and she spotted Yisrael in the higher end of the tent with a gorgeous woman by his side, who kept petting his muscles and whispering somethings that made him smile.

They were sitting on the ground like the rest of them except they were on huge silky rugs that denoted of wealth and rich. A broad table in front of them and neatly piled stacked of food lay at their disposal.

It was a line between the privileged and the rest of the common ground.

The woman seated by Yisreal had a beautiful leopard print dress that reached till her knees. Her wrist covered with bangles and she wore handmade dangly jewelry that moved as she spoke.

When River noticed how the woman gave a squeeze to those mouth watering muscles of his arm, her stupid heart gave a painful lurch.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like eating. Her mind was still occupied at what occurred in the cave.

She had given into that man's touch and somehow enjoyed it. Fucking lost her mind to it.

Now, she felt dirty.

The fact that she had managed to get up and put on her clothes without feeling the distant taste of old stale vomit was a miracle.

It was not him as much as it was her. She couldn't explain it. She was in between. She liked his touch but it also gave cold reminders.

No one has ever touched her face. Especially like that.

When his hand had stroked her, his eyes looking into hers asking her that dreadful question. She felt a whisper inside her mind. Somebody cares.

He had told her that he wouldn't hurt her. Weirdly, she believed him on spot. He meant the words he spoke. He had no facade.

Something she found so avant grand.

Unfortunately, he also knew how to set her body on fire with his animal touches. So, she decided she was going to ignore him.

It was only the best damn near solution to his problem. He seemed to think around the box of his oath and so when she would tease him, he would bloody retaliate. Hence, getting into her red zone.

A zone now slowly giving a green signal. How could she have let this happen? Not a man had touched her and he had single handedly cruiser through it.

Like a giant lothario. He always looked at her like he owned her or something. She wanted to smack that look so badly away.

No one fucking owned her. Never will. She was her own master and slave.