Scott didn't stop. He kicked Varg in the kneecap, shattering the joint backward. Varg collapsed, howling on the floor.
Scott stood over him, breathing heavily.
He wanted to kill him. He wanted to stomp on his head until there was nothing left.
"You dare touch her," Scott whispered, grabbing Varg by his greasy hair and slamming his face into the dirt. "You used a whip on her."
"I... I..." Varg sputtered, blood bubbling from his nose. "It was just... she needed discipline... I—"
"Discipline?"
Scott grabbed the discarded leather belt from the floor.
He planted a boot on Varg's broken arm to pin him down. Varg shrieked, his other hand clawing uselessly at Scott's boot.
"Let's see how much you like discipline," Scott said, his voice devoid of any mercy.
He raised the belt.
CRACK.
He brought it down with all the force of his enhanced muscles, as it tore the leather tunic Varg was wearing and bit deep into the flesh of his back.
CRACK.
"This is for the drugs," Scott growled.
CRACK.
"This is for tearing her clothes and humiliating her."
CRACK.
"And this," Scott swung with a savage, backhanded motion, the buckle striking Varg's shoulder, "is for touching my wife."
Varg was sobbing now, curled into a ball, no longer arrogant as before, just a broken animal.
Scott raised his arm for another strike, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. He was ready to beat this man to death right here.
"Scott..."
The soft, pained whimper cut through the red haze.
Scott froze. The belt hung in the air.
He turned slowly. Elara was looking at him.
Her head was hanging low, sweat dripping from her nose. She was shaking violently, the cold air and the aftershocks of the drug racking her body.
"It hurts..." she sobbed softly. "Make it stop... please..."
The rage in Scott's chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a crushing wave of guilt and protectiveness.
What was he doing? He was wasting time torturing filth while she was still hanging there.
He dropped the belt.
He stepped over Varg's groaning body and rushed to Elara.
"I've got you," Scott said, his voice trembling as he reached for the ropes binding her wrists. "I'm here, Elara. I'm real."
He didn't bother untying the complex knots. He gripped the thick hemp ropes with both hands and pulled, his biceps bulging against his tunic, he snapped the ropes like they were thread.
Elara's body collapsed.
Scott caught her instantly, scooping her up into his arms before she could hit the floor.
Her skin was burning hot against his chest, her nakedness forgotten in the urgency of the moment.
She felt incredibly small in his enhanced arms.
She buried her face in his neck, her breathing erratic.
"You came," she murmured, her hands clutching his shirt weakly. Then, the drug surged again.
She squirmed, her hips grinding inadvertently against him as a whimper of pleasure-pain escaped her lips. "Hot... so hot..."
Scott gritted his teeth. The Siren Mushroom. She wasn't safe yet.
He looked down at the shivering woman in his arms, then back at Varg, who was trying to crawl toward the exit.
Scott's eyes narrowed.
"Don't think about leaving," Scott said coldly.
He grabbed his spear from the ground with one hand, holding Elara tight with the other. He walked over to Varg and kicked him hard in the ribs, flipping him over.
"Stay," Scott commanded. "If you move one inch before I come back, I will feed you to the dog's piece by piece."
Varg looked up, his eyes filled with absolute terror. He saw the white glow in Scott's eyes. He nodded weakly, too scared to disobey.
Scott turned and walked out of the cave, carrying his wife into the cool night air. He needed to get her to the water, to cool her down.
His Level 6 Fungal Acuity guided him through the labyrinth of roots, sensing the high moisture content of the underground springs that fed the Heartwood Tree.
He found it a hundred meters deeper, a secluded place illuminated by patches of azure moss, where crystal-clear water bubbled up from the earth, forming a natural, steaming pool.
"Almost there," Scott whispered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion.
Elara was delirious. Her hands roamed restlessly over his chest, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"Hot... Scott... it burns… I… I cannot control myself anymore…" she whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily against his side. "Help me..."
He reached the edge of the pool and knelt, gently lowering her into the water.
"Shh, I've got you."
The moment the cool water touched her, Elara gasped, her back arching.
The stark contrast between the icy spring and the boiling blood in her veins sent a shockwave through her.
She clung to him, refusing to let go, pulling him down with her.
Splash.
Scott didn't resist. He stepped into the waist-deep water, fully clothed, holding her close.
The water swirled around them, washing away the purple dust of the Siren Mushroom and the filth from the cave floor.
He tried to pull back to look at her face, to check her pupils, but Elara wouldn't let him.
"Don't go," she sobbed, her eyes flying open. They were dilated, swimming with a mixture of tears and a frantic, chemically fueled hunger.
She grabbed his face with both hands, her touch desperate. "He... he touched me... I feel dirty... wash it away... please..."
"He's gone," Scott promised, brushing wet strands of hair from her face. "You're safe."
"No!" Elara shook her head frantically. Her breath came in short, ragged pants.
She pressed her lower body against his thigh, the friction sending a visible shudder through her. "The poison... it's not stopping. It's eating me... I need... I need you."
She wasn't just asking for comfort.
The Siren Mushroom was a potent aphrodisiac, designed to break the will by turning pain into pleasure and need into madness.
But now, in the arms of her husband, that madness had a focus.
She didn't want the invisible hands of the drug; she wanted the solid reality of Scott.
"Scott..." She fumbled with the collar of his tunic, her fingers shaking. "Fill me... please... make the burning stop."
Scott's resolve crumbled, the desperate need to replace the memory of Varg's rough assault with something real, something possessed by love.
He grabbed the hem of his soaked tunic and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the mossy bank.
His new body, forged by the Level 5 Bull's Frame, was revealed in the soft blue light.
His chest was broad and sculpted with dense, corded muscle, scars from old battles stretching across his skin.
He looked like a statue carved from granite.
Elara's eyes widened, her gaze dropping to his torso. She reached out, tracing the hard lines of his abs.
"You're... different," she breathed, the heat in her belly flaring hotter. "Stronger."
Scott caught her hand and kissed her palm, then her wrist, right over the red marks left by the ropes.
"I am," he growled low in his throat. He pulled her flush against him, skin to skin. "And I'm yours."
He kissed her.
It wasn't a gentle peck. It was a claiming.
He devoured her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting the remnants of her fear and replacing it with his own intense flavor.
"Mmph!" Elara moaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck.
The kiss ignited the powder keg inside her.
She jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist, the buoyancy of the water supporting her.
Her bare breasts, slick with water, pressed hard against his muscular chest, her hardened nipples grazing his skin.
Scott groaned, the sensation nearly overwhelmed him. His hands slid down her back, cupping her buttocks firmly, lifting her higher.
He could feel her wetness against his stomach, a slick heat that the cool water couldn't wash away.
"You want me?" Scott asked against her lips, his voice dark and commanding.
"Yes... yes..." Elara begged, grinding down on him. "Now, Scott. Please."