MatingRitual by Ruby Storm

the need to eat ragweed to keep her belly from
swelling.
    Kella shot straight up, her hair wild and heavy against her
bare skin. Her slim fingers brushed across the flat of her stomach.
    She needed to find the magic weed! If not, her belly would
swell and she most likely would become an outcast for all to torment, both
within the Stonemen boundaries and her own tribal laws. If she could
even escape to get back to her homeland. Her swollen lips parted and the tip of
her tongue darted out to wet them. She needed water. Her stomach growled and
Kella realized how long it had been since she had eaten. She and the other
females had not been allowed to partake in any sustenance before the
Purification Rite.
    Her brain swirled. Yes, she needed to eat. She needed cool
liquid to quench her parched throat. Those two things would give her strength
to make an escape. Without them, there was not much of a chance Kella could
find her way back to her clan.
    Memories of the night before flooded her swimming brain and
she tossed them away as her gaze settled on a high window in the room. Quickly,
she shoved aside the furs, dropped her feet to the cold stone floor and hurried
across the room. Even stretching on her tiptoes, she could not reach the window
ledge with her fingertips. Her blue gaze cast about in search. Within seconds,
she dragged a wooden chair near the window. Before climbing atop the rickety
piece of furniture, Kella raced back to collect her torn sarong. She slipped on
the still-damp garment and grabbed a longer piece of leather thong hanging from
a hook. It was enough to hold the torn edges together.
    With a fortifying breath, she climbed onto the chair’s seat.
Now she could reach. Outside the window lay freedom and Kella had no choice but
to take it, even though she had no clue how high off the ground she was. She
had been chosen only days earlier, something she had waited a lifetime for, so
she needed to do something! She grabbed the rough-hewn window ledge and hung on
for dear life as she struggled to balance her body weight and pull herself
upward. Her tired and sore muscles protested and her bare feet found the top
rung of the chair as she rested and searched the outside of the building.
    Suddenly Jaggar’s voice boomed loudly from somewhere in the
house. She cast a quick glance at the exterior of the wall, noting a way to
drop from the window and not be hurt. She could not give herself away by being
discovered immediately. Surely he would see her from the window and her only
chance would be gone. When his voice resounded more closely in the upper hallway,
she made a decision. Leaping to the floor, she dragged the chair back to its
original spot and plunked down on top of it just as he entered.
    Jaggar’s huge frame filled the doorway. Kella’s fingers
clasped the edges of her sarong and she forced herself to remain still as he
stepped into the room and used an elbow to slam the door behind him. In one
hand, he balanced a flattened vessel. The other held a waterskin, no doubt for
drinking. He crossed to a thick-legged table and tossed his possessions on the
flat surface without taking his gaze from her. Retracing his steps, he reached
up and pulled the wooden latch into place.
    “You are awake,” he noted while crossing his arms over his
wide chest.
    Kella straightened in the chair, remaining mute and
struggling to keep her senses about her when he approached.
    “Stand up. Bring the chair to the table.”
    She lifted her chin, ready to do battle, but suddenly he
grabbed her arm and yanked her upward and hard against his chest. He breathed
heavily as he stared down into her wide eyes.
    “Who said you could clothe yourself?”
    Kella swallowed, refusing to back down. “I was cold.”
    “Then you should have covered yourself with the furs on the
bed.”
    He uttered the word “bed” and Kella’s stomach jumped in
remembrance of what happened on that very surface. “I was sitting on the chair.
I wanted my