Stolen by Milana Jacks

No male in the tribal lands would stoop so low as to steal a prize instead of winning her fair and square.

Nar:
There’s a reason I’m standing knee-deep in mud, my body pelted with rain that annoys me to the bone. I’m hating on the rival tribe, and I’m entering their games only to eliminate their Earl. I’m not here for the prize.
The moment I spot the female—who’s shivering, miserable, but still managing to spit at her captors—I forget I’m not competing for her. My heart thumps in my ears, and the hunter steers.
I wanna win her.

Michelle:
Once upon a recent time, I traveled on a ship bound for a sun-and-sea vacation planet. Until it crashed, and the natives captured and threw me in a hole—then dragged me in front of a couple hundred warriors who’re here competing for breeding rights.
I hate them all. Except for the one who seems not quite like the others. Oh, he’s pretty much like them, but some instinct within me tells me if I stop throwing my inner pity party and do as I’m told, I just might survive…
Nar
Ask me how I feel about stealing the prize now.