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PWFKF - Chapter Two
The cave was still.
Too still.
She sharpened her ears, straining past the slow drip… drip… drip of water echoing from unseen depths. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and stagnant air, cool against her bare skin. A faint rustle stirred somewhere in the distance—small creatures scurrying along the rocky terrain, unseen but present. Her own breath, shallow and uneven, was the only other sound.
She held herself still. Waiting.
Nothing.
Her muscles, locked in anticipation, began to loosen. The fear that had gripped her since the moment she’d entered this place slowly ebbed away, like the tide receding from the shore. The monster was gone.
She exhaled, slow and deliberate, trying to convince herself it was over.
Then—footsteps.
A sharp, sudden sound. Too clear. Too close.
Her stomach clenched, a fresh wave of fear snapping through her, raw and electric. Her limbs refused to move, still trapped in the lingering remnants of terror. She barely managed to turn her head toward the sound, her movements stiff and hesitant.
The shadows at the mouth of the cave shifted.
Something moved—a figure emerging from the black.
She trembled, the tension in her muscles coiling tight once more as it grew closer, clearer. But she still couldn’t make it out.
What was it?
And more importantly—why was it coming this way?
Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Then—a torch flared to life.
The sudden burst of flame sent warm light flickering against the jagged cave walls, chasing the darkness into the corners. The fire crackled softly, its glow reflecting off damp stone, filling the cavern with the scent of burning wood.
She blinked against the brightness, her vision adjusting.
He stepped forward, the torchlight licking at black leather and silk, the fire catching in the sharp angles of his face. He did not look afraid—he looked like he belonged here, like the darkness bowed to him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His clothes, black leather and silk, looked far too fine for someone wandering the wilderness. The flickering glow cast sharp shadows over high cheekbones, a strong jawline, the slight curve of a knowing smirk. His dark hair framed his face in a careless cut, His dark hair fell in a careless cut, the strands framing striking green eyes that gleamed with something unreadable—something dangerously amused.
Her breath caught.
Human.
The fear didn’t vanish, but relief flushed through her system, raw and overwhelming. It wasn’t a monster. Not some mindless beast. The sheer, suffocating terror that had gripped her moments before eased, unraveling at the edges.
And that was enough for her body to relax.
Too much.
As she exhaled, her muscles loosened all at once, her body sinking into the sensation—warm, dizzy, thoughtless.
Every muscle.
Heat spilled down her thigh, seeping into the previous puddle of shame, warming the damp stone beneath her. Her ears burned as the realization hit—this time, someone was watching.
She wanted to flee. Wanted to hide. But this time, it wasn’t fear that held her down.
It was relief.
Her body had let go all at once, sinking into the weight of exhaustion. The tension that had kept her coiled, trembling, on edge for so long had snapped—leaving her heavy, drained, boneless.
She might have laughed at the irony—if she didn’t also want to cry from the shame of it.
“So, come here often?” he joked, calling her eyes to him. Her ears still burned, but she forced it from her mind. She needed to focus. He was still a threat. In fact, humans were often more terrifying than monsters or animals.
She wasn’t safe. The danger had just changed.
This was confirmed as she saw him in the torch light. The way he stood, unrushed, unconcerned, the torchlight making the dark silk of his shirt gleam faintly with each breath. The way his head tilted slightly, studying her.
The way his gaze trailed over her, slow and deliberate. Each time his eyes washed over her body, it made her skin prickle.
It wasn’t the look of a man who had found someone in danger and come to help. Rather, it was the glint of something predatory. Not hostile, not yet anyway, but it wasn't friendly. If she wasn’t already freezing, his gaze alone would have given her goosebumps.
Her arms snapped tighter around herself, fingers pressing into her skin, knuckles turned white as her nails dug into her own skin, the bite centering her; Allowing her to breathe, grounding her in the moment. The cave's damp chill seeped into her bones, her exposed flesh prickling beneath the weight of his gaze.
Still, she glared up at him, "Who the fuck are you?" The words tore from her throat, harsher than she intended.
But what else could she do? Her body was a useless, trembling mess, her limbs heavy, unresponsive. Cold, exhaustion, shame—everything had drained her.
She still couldn’t feel her legs.
Still had nothing.
Literally nothing.
Not even a rag to hide her shame, she was a crumpled mess for all to see, secrets kept hidden only by her hands. Yet, somewhere beneath the burning embarrassment, beneath the crawling shame that made her press tighter into herself, there was something else. A rush—hot and unwelcome, curling low in her stomach.
She swallowed hard, hating the way her skin prickled not just from the cold, but from something else, something deeper.
Her breath came fast and shallow, a trembling rhythm that betrayed her far more than she wanted. The firelight flickered against the damp stone, sending long shadows crawling across the cavern walls.
And there he stood—unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Silent.
He was enjoying the view, the slow dance as she could only wait for him. She clenched her teeth, understanding now what kind of a man he was.
Pathetic. She told herself, barely able to believe it. Given just a little bit of power and this is how he acts, it's obvious. She took a breath, more sure of herself now than ever before, the feeling in her legs came back as she managed to steady her breath.
I'll play his game. I’m at a disadvantage, but all I need to do is bat my eyes and look pathetic. Easy enough—hell, my tits have never been this hard from the cold. She blinked hard, shifting uncomfortably. The cave was cold, outside was colder. Monsters, unfamiliar location.
Yeah fine, she almost scoffed at the thought, hiding it as a small sneeze. She was determined now however. Accept his fucking ‘kindness’ and stroke his worthless ego. It would be safer with him for now. She nodded internally at her thoughts, it was a good plan. Even then, he stood in silence, staring a little too hard at her left hand, the only thing hiding her special place, trapped by the odd warmth of her body and the small puddle growing colder by the second, but she couldn’t move it no matter how cold it got.
She wouldn't give him the pleasure, ever.
Draped in dark silk and black leather, he loomed over her, his presence filling the space. The heat of the torch flickering between them like an unspoken threat.
And thats what it was.
That's why she had to play his game, he wasn't dangerous right now, not yet.
So long as he had a chance.
So she lay curled on the cave floor—helpless, exposed, trapped. Playing for him, she lowered her right hand, giving him a peek at her bare chest. The action would seem like a mistake, an unconscious loss of covering herself, but she saw the delight circle in his eyes, dancing in the fire light.
She forced herself to keep her breath steady, Subtly pushing out her chest as she felt a little more control from the action itself.
That's right, it's not his game. She thought, smiling in her head, it's mine.
His smile widened.
Slow. Amused. Like a predator that had just found something interesting to play with.
"Rescue, apparently."
Those were good words, he decided, at least for now, he had a chance. When a man thought they had a chance, there was nothing they wouldn't do for a woman. Someone could use that to their advantage, control a man just enough but it was a razer edge. Men were beasts. Animals without reason. And when they thought it wasn't worth it, or that they didn't have that chance… if there was nothing to lose… there was nothing that would be too low for them.
She took a breath swallowing the last of her fears. The discomfort remained, he might have been a little good looking but with the way he leered at her, it did him no favors. Instead she would try something she never did before.
She could pretend. Men liked that. If she let him think he had power, let him believe she was pliable, she might just get what she needed. And when the time came—she’d make sure he never saw it coming.
Weihen did that all the time, it worked for her, she hoped. Though she couldn't really remember which was annoying when she was sure she just thought of her name. Still now is not the time to think about that.
“It’s a good view,” he remarked, dragging her thoughts back to the moment. His voice was smooth, unbothered, like he was merely commenting on the weather. "Not much I can do about that, though."
Her breath hitched, a sharp prickle running down her arms. Asshole. Her hands tightened around her body, nails pressing into her skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground herself. He wants a reaction. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"Then stop looking, asshole," she bit out, her voice steady despite the heat creeping up her neck.
For a second, she registered her own words—Yeah, that was sexy. She chided herself, every man wants to help the woman calling them an asshole. This was not her game. She had never flirted with a man before. Never played a damsel to get what she wanted.
His chuckle was slow, lazy—savored. That was good, right? She didn't know but maybe he liked that sort of thing? Disgusting. Cute and weak she told herself. Trying to get back into character, shifting her body, giving him another glimps, another little treat to tease him, just enough. Not to far.
A ripple of amusement danced in his obnoxiously perfect green eyes, the torchlight catching hints of gold beneath the emerald.
She forced a stranded smile—small, helpless. Let him think she was pliable.
"Fair enough," he mused, reaching into his satchel with casual, almost bored ease. "I suppose I can offer a solution."
She tensed as he pulled something free, a bundle of fabric—worn, practical, but mercifully decent.
"Clothes," he said, offering them with one hand while effortlessly flicking a thin golden coin between his fingers. The metal caught the firelight, spinning with practiced ease. "1000 gold."
Her stomach clenched.
1000 gold?!
Her scowl deepened, her glare snapping between the bundle and his infuriatingly smug face. Her fingers twitched, the cold biting harder into her exposed skin, but the heat rolling through her veins had nothing to do with the temperature.
His smirk widened, like he already knew the answer. Of course he did. She didn’t have a single fucking coin to her name. Where the hell would she keep it, and gold? Who the hell even carried gold?! Prick.
"Discounted," he added smoothly, "since I’m being nice."
She bristled.
Nice?
Right. Like a wolf was nice when it decided to play with its food before the kill.
This was his game. His rules. She didn’t know them, didn’t know the stakes. She was just a piece—something to toy with.
Then, with a thoughtful hum, he reached into the satchel again. Another option.
Something thinner.
Something black.
The moment she realized what it was, a sharp, unwanted jolt ran down her spine.
A collar.
Her throat tightened as she swallowed. A small, involuntary twitch ran through her limbs, something other than the cold.
"Of course," he murmured, voice dipping into something almost mockingly kind, "if you're short on cash… this one’s free."
Her breath stopped.
For a moment, she forgot how to think. How to breathe.
The torch crackled. The damp air pressed against her skin. The weight of his gaze settled on her, slow, deliberate.
Her stomach twisted so sharply it made her physically sick.
Oh.
Oh, she hated that.
A hot, unwelcome thrill curled low in her belly—foreign, sharp, and completely fucking wrong.
An image flashed in her mind—herself, in nothing but that, the weight of his stare drinking her in, that slight, satisfied curl of his lips as he watched, entertained, amused.
No.
Fuck. No. Absolutely not.
Her jaw locked, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Her fingers dug harder into her skin, forcing down the heat, the shame, the tangled mess of things she didn’t even want to name.
She scoffed, twisting her features into disgust, pushing it outward—burying whatever the hell that feeling had been.
"You’re joking," she snapped.
No longer playing. No longer pretending.
She was done.
And she could run now.
She had feelings in her legs now, the conversation, the slow pull of power and tension. Fear no longer held her and her body was no longer overly relaxed. It was tense now, ready to move. If she needed to.
His grin didn’t waver.
"I’m not."
He twirled the collar between his fingers, like he was offering a perfectly reasonable trade.
She swallowed hard, afraid not of him, but what would happen if that small but of leather ever wrapped around her neck.
Tightened just enough so she would always know it was there…
Too still.
She sharpened her ears, straining past the slow drip… drip… drip of water echoing from unseen depths. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and stagnant air, cool against her bare skin. A faint rustle stirred somewhere in the distance—small creatures scurrying along the rocky terrain, unseen but present. Her own breath, shallow and uneven, was the only other sound.
She held herself still. Waiting.
Nothing.
Her muscles, locked in anticipation, began to loosen. The fear that had gripped her since the moment she’d entered this place slowly ebbed away, like the tide receding from the shore. The monster was gone.
She exhaled, slow and deliberate, trying to convince herself it was over.
Then—footsteps.
A sharp, sudden sound. Too clear. Too close.
Her stomach clenched, a fresh wave of fear snapping through her, raw and electric. Her limbs refused to move, still trapped in the lingering remnants of terror. She barely managed to turn her head toward the sound, her movements stiff and hesitant.
The shadows at the mouth of the cave shifted.
Something moved—a figure emerging from the black.
She trembled, the tension in her muscles coiling tight once more as it grew closer, clearer. But she still couldn’t make it out.
What was it?
And more importantly—why was it coming this way?
Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Then—a torch flared to life.
The sudden burst of flame sent warm light flickering against the jagged cave walls, chasing the darkness into the corners. The fire crackled softly, its glow reflecting off damp stone, filling the cavern with the scent of burning wood.
She blinked against the brightness, her vision adjusting.
He stepped forward, the torchlight licking at black leather and silk, the fire catching in the sharp angles of his face. He did not look afraid—he looked like he belonged here, like the darkness bowed to him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His clothes, black leather and silk, looked far too fine for someone wandering the wilderness. The flickering glow cast sharp shadows over high cheekbones, a strong jawline, the slight curve of a knowing smirk. His dark hair framed his face in a careless cut, His dark hair fell in a careless cut, the strands framing striking green eyes that gleamed with something unreadable—something dangerously amused.
Her breath caught.
Human.
The fear didn’t vanish, but relief flushed through her system, raw and overwhelming. It wasn’t a monster. Not some mindless beast. The sheer, suffocating terror that had gripped her moments before eased, unraveling at the edges.
And that was enough for her body to relax.
Too much.
As she exhaled, her muscles loosened all at once, her body sinking into the sensation—warm, dizzy, thoughtless.
Every muscle.
Heat spilled down her thigh, seeping into the previous puddle of shame, warming the damp stone beneath her. Her ears burned as the realization hit—this time, someone was watching.
She wanted to flee. Wanted to hide. But this time, it wasn’t fear that held her down.
It was relief.
Her body had let go all at once, sinking into the weight of exhaustion. The tension that had kept her coiled, trembling, on edge for so long had snapped—leaving her heavy, drained, boneless.
She might have laughed at the irony—if she didn’t also want to cry from the shame of it.
“So, come here often?” he joked, calling her eyes to him. Her ears still burned, but she forced it from her mind. She needed to focus. He was still a threat. In fact, humans were often more terrifying than monsters or animals.
She wasn’t safe. The danger had just changed.
This was confirmed as she saw him in the torch light. The way he stood, unrushed, unconcerned, the torchlight making the dark silk of his shirt gleam faintly with each breath. The way his head tilted slightly, studying her.
The way his gaze trailed over her, slow and deliberate. Each time his eyes washed over her body, it made her skin prickle.
It wasn’t the look of a man who had found someone in danger and come to help. Rather, it was the glint of something predatory. Not hostile, not yet anyway, but it wasn't friendly. If she wasn’t already freezing, his gaze alone would have given her goosebumps.
Her arms snapped tighter around herself, fingers pressing into her skin, knuckles turned white as her nails dug into her own skin, the bite centering her; Allowing her to breathe, grounding her in the moment. The cave's damp chill seeped into her bones, her exposed flesh prickling beneath the weight of his gaze.
Still, she glared up at him, "Who the fuck are you?" The words tore from her throat, harsher than she intended.
But what else could she do? Her body was a useless, trembling mess, her limbs heavy, unresponsive. Cold, exhaustion, shame—everything had drained her.
She still couldn’t feel her legs.
Still had nothing.
Literally nothing.
Not even a rag to hide her shame, she was a crumpled mess for all to see, secrets kept hidden only by her hands. Yet, somewhere beneath the burning embarrassment, beneath the crawling shame that made her press tighter into herself, there was something else. A rush—hot and unwelcome, curling low in her stomach.
She swallowed hard, hating the way her skin prickled not just from the cold, but from something else, something deeper.
Her breath came fast and shallow, a trembling rhythm that betrayed her far more than she wanted. The firelight flickered against the damp stone, sending long shadows crawling across the cavern walls.
And there he stood—unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Silent.
He was enjoying the view, the slow dance as she could only wait for him. She clenched her teeth, understanding now what kind of a man he was.
Pathetic. She told herself, barely able to believe it. Given just a little bit of power and this is how he acts, it's obvious. She took a breath, more sure of herself now than ever before, the feeling in her legs came back as she managed to steady her breath.
I'll play his game. I’m at a disadvantage, but all I need to do is bat my eyes and look pathetic. Easy enough—hell, my tits have never been this hard from the cold. She blinked hard, shifting uncomfortably. The cave was cold, outside was colder. Monsters, unfamiliar location.
Yeah fine, she almost scoffed at the thought, hiding it as a small sneeze. She was determined now however. Accept his fucking ‘kindness’ and stroke his worthless ego. It would be safer with him for now. She nodded internally at her thoughts, it was a good plan. Even then, he stood in silence, staring a little too hard at her left hand, the only thing hiding her special place, trapped by the odd warmth of her body and the small puddle growing colder by the second, but she couldn’t move it no matter how cold it got.
She wouldn't give him the pleasure, ever.
Draped in dark silk and black leather, he loomed over her, his presence filling the space. The heat of the torch flickering between them like an unspoken threat.
And thats what it was.
That's why she had to play his game, he wasn't dangerous right now, not yet.
So long as he had a chance.
So she lay curled on the cave floor—helpless, exposed, trapped. Playing for him, she lowered her right hand, giving him a peek at her bare chest. The action would seem like a mistake, an unconscious loss of covering herself, but she saw the delight circle in his eyes, dancing in the fire light.
She forced herself to keep her breath steady, Subtly pushing out her chest as she felt a little more control from the action itself.
That's right, it's not his game. She thought, smiling in her head, it's mine.
His smile widened.
Slow. Amused. Like a predator that had just found something interesting to play with.
"Rescue, apparently."
Those were good words, he decided, at least for now, he had a chance. When a man thought they had a chance, there was nothing they wouldn't do for a woman. Someone could use that to their advantage, control a man just enough but it was a razer edge. Men were beasts. Animals without reason. And when they thought it wasn't worth it, or that they didn't have that chance… if there was nothing to lose… there was nothing that would be too low for them.
She took a breath swallowing the last of her fears. The discomfort remained, he might have been a little good looking but with the way he leered at her, it did him no favors. Instead she would try something she never did before.
She could pretend. Men liked that. If she let him think he had power, let him believe she was pliable, she might just get what she needed. And when the time came—she’d make sure he never saw it coming.
Weihen did that all the time, it worked for her, she hoped. Though she couldn't really remember which was annoying when she was sure she just thought of her name. Still now is not the time to think about that.
“It’s a good view,” he remarked, dragging her thoughts back to the moment. His voice was smooth, unbothered, like he was merely commenting on the weather. "Not much I can do about that, though."
Her breath hitched, a sharp prickle running down her arms. Asshole. Her hands tightened around her body, nails pressing into her skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground herself. He wants a reaction. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"Then stop looking, asshole," she bit out, her voice steady despite the heat creeping up her neck.
For a second, she registered her own words—Yeah, that was sexy. She chided herself, every man wants to help the woman calling them an asshole. This was not her game. She had never flirted with a man before. Never played a damsel to get what she wanted.
His chuckle was slow, lazy—savored. That was good, right? She didn't know but maybe he liked that sort of thing? Disgusting. Cute and weak she told herself. Trying to get back into character, shifting her body, giving him another glimps, another little treat to tease him, just enough. Not to far.
A ripple of amusement danced in his obnoxiously perfect green eyes, the torchlight catching hints of gold beneath the emerald.
She forced a stranded smile—small, helpless. Let him think she was pliable.
"Fair enough," he mused, reaching into his satchel with casual, almost bored ease. "I suppose I can offer a solution."
She tensed as he pulled something free, a bundle of fabric—worn, practical, but mercifully decent.
"Clothes," he said, offering them with one hand while effortlessly flicking a thin golden coin between his fingers. The metal caught the firelight, spinning with practiced ease. "1000 gold."
Her stomach clenched.
1000 gold?!
Her scowl deepened, her glare snapping between the bundle and his infuriatingly smug face. Her fingers twitched, the cold biting harder into her exposed skin, but the heat rolling through her veins had nothing to do with the temperature.
His smirk widened, like he already knew the answer. Of course he did. She didn’t have a single fucking coin to her name. Where the hell would she keep it, and gold? Who the hell even carried gold?! Prick.
"Discounted," he added smoothly, "since I’m being nice."
She bristled.
Nice?
Right. Like a wolf was nice when it decided to play with its food before the kill.
This was his game. His rules. She didn’t know them, didn’t know the stakes. She was just a piece—something to toy with.
Then, with a thoughtful hum, he reached into the satchel again. Another option.
Something thinner.
Something black.
The moment she realized what it was, a sharp, unwanted jolt ran down her spine.
A collar.
Her throat tightened as she swallowed. A small, involuntary twitch ran through her limbs, something other than the cold.
"Of course," he murmured, voice dipping into something almost mockingly kind, "if you're short on cash… this one’s free."
Her breath stopped.
For a moment, she forgot how to think. How to breathe.
The torch crackled. The damp air pressed against her skin. The weight of his gaze settled on her, slow, deliberate.
Her stomach twisted so sharply it made her physically sick.
Oh.
Oh, she hated that.
A hot, unwelcome thrill curled low in her belly—foreign, sharp, and completely fucking wrong.
An image flashed in her mind—herself, in nothing but that, the weight of his stare drinking her in, that slight, satisfied curl of his lips as he watched, entertained, amused.
No.
Fuck. No. Absolutely not.
Her jaw locked, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Her fingers dug harder into her skin, forcing down the heat, the shame, the tangled mess of things she didn’t even want to name.
She scoffed, twisting her features into disgust, pushing it outward—burying whatever the hell that feeling had been.
"You’re joking," she snapped.
No longer playing. No longer pretending.
She was done.
And she could run now.
She had feelings in her legs now, the conversation, the slow pull of power and tension. Fear no longer held her and her body was no longer overly relaxed. It was tense now, ready to move. If she needed to.
His grin didn’t waver.
"I’m not."
He twirled the collar between his fingers, like he was offering a perfectly reasonable trade.
She swallowed hard, afraid not of him, but what would happen if that small but of leather ever wrapped around her neck.
Tightened just enough so she would always know it was there…
