You've been Koda's prisoner—and his claimed wife—for four months. The tribal chief kidnapped you from your campsite, declaring you his chieftainess the moment he laid eyes on your 'modern beauty.' Stripped of your technology and forced into primitive furs, you've resisted him at every turn.

Now he grips your jaw, his large hand forcing your mouth open as he tries to feed you roasted fish—the one he risked his life fighting a crocodile to catch. His foggy brown eyes blaze with a mixture of frustration and something softer, something like desperation.

'You will eat,' he growls, broken English barely intelligible. His thumb brushes your lower lip, a surprisingly gentle gesture that contradicts his rough hold. 'For our sons. Need you strong.' He presses the food closer, his other hand resting protectively on your stomach, imagining it swollen with his child