Chapter 29: Hungry for More Than Meat

The murmur that rippled through the crowd was like the rustle of leaves in a storm—curious, skeptical, watchful. Heads lifted, eyes locked onto me, some narrow with assessment, others wide with intrigue.

The weight of their gazes pressed against my skin, but I stood tall, my pulse steady, my expression calm. This was my moment. My introduction. My opportunity.

Hina’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, firm and commanding, leaving no room for doubt. "He is under our protection now." Her dark eyes swept over the crowd, her tone leaving no space for argument.

"Under my protection." She turned to me then, her expression softening just enough to make it clear—this wasn’t just words. This was a vow.

"Dexter, from this moment on, you are family." Her voice dropped, lower now, just for me, but still carrying the weight of her authority. "And in this tribe, family takes care of each other."

I nodded, my throat tight with something that wasn’t quite gratitude and wasn’t quite triumph—but something close.

Then Kerry stepped forward, her hand finding my shoulder, her voice warm but carrying across the firelit clearing. "Hina... I forgot to tell you..." She glanced at me, her dark eyes glinting with something knowing—something proud.

"My Dexter... he’s also a healer." The words hung in the air, and a ripple of surprise passed through the crowd. "His grandfather was a healer. He taught him all his skills..."

Hina’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with excitement—with hope. "That’s great..." Her voice was breathless, almost disbelieving, as if she’d just been handed a gift she hadn’t dared to wish for. "Now we also have a healer in our tribe!"

I hesitated—just for a second—before I shrugged, my expression false with modesty. "But... Aunt Hina..." I let my voice drop, just enough to make sure everyone was listening.

"I only learned how to heal women’s diseases..." I paused, letting the implication sink in. "Before my grandfather could teach me about men’s diseases... he passed away."

The crowd stilled. A beat of silence. Then—

Hina laughed. Not in disappointment, but in delight. "That’s also fine, Dexter..." Her voice was warm, assuring, her hand clapping my shoulder with approving strength.

"I am happy that we have you..." She turned to the tribe, her voice ringing out, proud and commanding. "Now... we will become a stronger tribe!" Her gaze swept over the gathered faces, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

"And you heard now—we also have a healer!" She raised her voice, her words carrying over the crackle of the fire. "If any woman... has any sickness, she can come to Dexter!"

A murmur rose again—this time, different. Excited. Hopeful. Hungry.

I smirked inwardly.

Oh, they’d come.

And when they did?

I’d heal them all right.

In ways they hadn’t even dreamed of.

The words still hummed in my mind, a dark promise lingering beneath the surface of my thoughts. Hina’s voice cut through the haze, pulling me back to the present.

She reached into the pile of roasted meat near the fire, her calloused fingers selecting the largest piece before turning to me. The firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that made her sharp features look even more imposing.

"Here you go, Dexter." She pressed the meat into my hands, her grip firm, her tone maternal but laced with something else—pride, maybe, or the satisfaction of having secured a healer for her people. "You should eat a lot. As you’re growing up."

I took the meat, the warmth of it seeping into my palms, the scent of charred flesh and smoke filling my nose. But I didn’t bring it to my lips. Not yet.

My gaze flicked over the meat—dark, glistening with fat, the edges blackened from the fire. There was no salt, no seasoning, nothing to mask the raw, primitive taste of it. And worse—hygiene. Had they washed it? Cleaned it? Or had they simply butchered the animal and thrown it over the flames, blood and dirt still clinging to the flesh?

My stomach twisted.

I glanced at Hina, her dark eyes watching me expectantly, waiting for me to take a bite. The tribe around us was already eating, tearing into their meat with teeth and hands, juices dripping down their chins, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire. They didn’t care. They didn’t know any better. This was life here—raw, unfiltered, survival in its most basic form.

But I knew.

And the thought of biting into something that might still be tainted—something that might rot in my gut—made my throat tighten.

I forced a smile, my fingers tightening around the warm, greasy meat on the bone—still steaming, the scent of spices and roasted fat clinging to my skin. "Thank you, Aunt Hina," I said, my voice smooth, practiced, dripping with false gratitude.

My stomach twisted, but not from hunger. I didn’t eat. Not yet. Instead, I turned the meat over in my hands, pretending to inspect it, my thumb brushing against the charred edges as if judging its perfection. The juices glistened under the flickering torchlight, but my mind was elsewhere—calculating, stalling, buying myself just a few more seconds.

Then Kina’s voice cut through the hum of conversation like a blade.

"Dexter... come." Her fingers curled around my wrist before I could react, her grip firm, possessive. "I’ll take you to meet the others."

I glanced back—just once. Kerry’s eyes were on me, dark and unreadable, her lips parted as she took a slow, deliberate bite of her own meal. Hina laughed at something, her voice bright, oblivious, but Kerry’s gaze lingered, heavy with something unsaid.

The firelight danced across the faces of the women gathered around, their laughter and chatter weaving through the crackling flames. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and sweat, the warmth of the fire pressing against my skin. Kina’s hand was still clasped in mine, her fingers warm and possessive as she pulled me toward the group.

"Dexter," she said, her voice bright with excitement, "meet Ruth."

Ruth looked up, her white hair catching the firelight like spun silver, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. She was young—around Kina’s age—but there was something otherworldly about her, something that made my pulse quicken. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the flickering light, a stark contrast to the bronze tones of the other women.

The hide wrap she wore clung to her body, the material stretched tight over her full, round tits, the nipples—pink, perky—peeking through the gaps in the leaves.

My gaze dropped lower, to the white bush between her thighs, the curls soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the darker hair of the other women. The thought of spreading her thighs, of seeing that pale, soft flesh up close, made my cock twitch in anticipation.

"Hello," Ruth said, her voice soft but not shy. Her eyes lingered on me, curious and assessing, as if she could see right through me.