How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things

by A. Wilding Wells

  “It was big, yeah. All of it was…is,” she says in a torn, thick voice. “I guess since it’s been almost two years and I’ve gone through lots of healing, it’s not something I talk about. I don’t need to dwell on it even as big as it was.” She blows out a long drawn-out breath. “My dad doesn’t know, I was going to tell him, but I never even told Cort’s parents we were engaged because, well, they wouldn’t have been happy.”

  I take her hand in mine and we mosey down the barn aisle. Matilda scoops one of the kittens up and cuddles it alongside her face. “I loved Cort, but I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. That had to have happened for a reason, not that I’ll ever know what it is. But odd as it sounds, I find comfort in knowing that I was able to heal, that I moved on. I’ll always have love in my heart for Cort. I’ve done a lot of growing up in the last two years, I may not know myself fully, but I know more. I like where my head is, and my heart,” she says as a small curve lifts on her lips.

  “Those are some pretty mature thoughts for a twenty-two-year-old woman who went through that kind of loss. You’ve got an old soul in you, love. And for the record, I like where your heart is too.” I brush my fingers over her jaw then touch my nose to hers. “Have you had a relationship since Cort?”

  “No. I mean…a few dates here and there. Nothing serious,” she says as she sinks her hands into her coat pockets.

  I place my palms on her shoulders, then slide them to her face. Holding her chilled, pink cheeks in my hands, I say, “I’m going to keep telling you something over and over.” I hope to hell she eats my words. “You are the furthest thing from invisible. Do you hear me?” I wait for her eyes to say yes.

  She nods the tiniest bit, until the right side of her mouth curls up and her eyes sparkle, effectively melting me.

  “The furthest damn thing. Hell, come on. You’ve got more sparkle than a thousand stars. You’re that lovely.”

  “Yeah?” She bites her lip. She must know. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  She, Matilda Independence Pearl, is beyond lovely, and I plan on doing everything I can to convince her of two things. One, that she’ll be mine. Two, that she’ll stay. As sad as I am for her loss, maybe she really won’t want to go back to Paris, back to where she must live in a cheerless bubble. Now, to convince her dad that I can have her and the farm. That she can have her trust to fulfill her dream. Everit Pearl, so fucking help me God. He needs to let this girl shine, see her for once in her damned life.

  19

  Matilda

  What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten?

  Cards

  Balthazar stayed out in the barn all night with Dump Truck, while I camped out with the boys in the house, made dinner, then read and tucked them into bed. What I didn’t tell him is that Cort and I never would have made it, I know that now. Evil as it sounds, I’m pretty sure I’m right about it. Cort wanted to make his own life choices, things his parents never would have agreed with. There was too much money at stake and too many layers of societal bullshit for them to let him take the reins on his life. I was a chess piece in his game. Somehow it was okay for me because I was practically doing the same thing. My father was going to be the last to know my plans, there was never going to be any choice for him either. As for now? I’ll be just fine if that trust is not released to me. What I’ve come to realize, is that I won’t be fine without Balthazar and the boys. There is no trust that could replace the love I feel for them. Losing them would be too much to recover from. Cort was one thing, they on the other hand, are an entirely different life-changing thing for me. Where does that leave Paris? Good fucking question, because if I lose the trust, Balthazar will likely lose the farm as well. We are a package deal, that is supposed to include a wife. Not me.

  At the crack of dawn, Balthazar is crawling into my bed, spooning me, with his freezing hands sliding under my T-shirt.

  I yelp.

  “Are those bullets on your chest or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Oh my gosh!” I grab his hands as they land on my breasts. “Your hands are ice!” He groans against my neck. “Is he alive?” I flip over to face him, praying for a miracle.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Oh thank god!” I slam a kiss on his mouth. “That’s amazing! I’m so happy. I thought for sure, well…Oh man…this is great news! Thank you for staying out there with him…keeping him going, keeping him alive!”

  “Not just alive. He’s eating and pooping…and if he was anywhere near you right now, feeling what I am, well… I’m pretty sure he’d give you another pearl necklace.”

  “That’s disgusting.” I chuckle. “I don’t need a repeat.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I was kind of hoping…” he says with an I-want-a-blow-job smile.

  “Well, now that’s another story. You deserve something very nice for staying out there all night long.”

  Balthazar’s tongue floats along my bottom lip, making me hope my morning breath is magically minty. Fat chance.

  “I do deserve something special, don’t I?” He groans.

  I slide my hands under his shirt to feel his warm chest as he slips his tongue into my mouth. Ah, this man. With one hand, he yanks his shirt off as I work on his jeans.

  “Help me out, big guy.” I tug at his pants with little progress.

  He takes them down easily, along with his briefs.

  “This right here.” I take hold of his thick erection. “This is beautiful.” Sliding my thumb over his tip, I drag pre-cum down his length as I kiss his nipples.

  “Fuck, Matilda. This’ll be too fast…God, to have you touching me.”

  “Not a chance. You’re blowing in my mouth, ’cause I’m the blower. C’mere.” I slink down his body, under the covers, kissing the hard planes of his stomach as I travel. Relishing the feel of his skin and the salty taste and smell of his sweat, I lie between his legs.

  “This needs to come off,” he whispers, tugging my T-shirt. “This too.” He throws the duvet to the side. “I need to see what you look like with your lips wrapped around me for the first time.”

  A cocky smirk forms on his face as he shoves another pillow and one arm under his head. “Matilda,” he says in a husky whisper as I fix my eyes on the bulge of muscle wrapped in tattoos. It’s an undeniable turn on. “God, you’re sexy. You have no idea what you look like right now.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I look like. It’s you I’m enjoying.” He groans as I suck his tip while I grip the root of his cock with one hand.

  “Fuck yeah…Matilda… Oh, love,” he hisses as his hips buck.

  “You like?” I ask, smiling up at him.

  He nods and bites his bottom lip. “Like?” He groans. “You’re paradise in the female form. Fucking paradise.”

  Balthazar Cox has one gorgeous cock—and it’s in my mouth. I want to sing it, but my mouth is abundantly full, so I just think about it instead. He must see the smile in my eyes and how much enjoyment this is giving me, because a string of words start flowing from his mouth and his free hand lands on my neck in an encouraging grip.

  “That’s it, love… Matilda… Jesus….” He sounds pained, but it’s the opposite as he releases himself into my mouth seconds later.

  He’s not quiet when he lets go—not anything close to it, and a small proud giggle escapes my lips. And in the same second I consider that he might have been loud enough to wake the boys. I nervously laugh hoping the door is locked.

  “Are you laughing?” he asks.

  “Sorry, yeah… Not at you.” I drag my mouth over his hipbone as I crawl up to his neck. “I was picturing the boys walking in, seeing me with my mouth full of their daddy. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “Don’t worry. I locked the door,” he says in a low, satisfied tone. “They’ll learn how to knock. No more cock blocking.”

  “Why, Balthazar Cox…what is it you’re trying to say?” I nuzzle against his neck, appreciating the feel of his sweaty body under my
arms and against my cheeks.

  He kisses the top of my head as he pulls me alongside him. “I was thinking we could share a room, and they could share a room—of their own.”

  “You want to move in together?” My heart thuds.

  “Matilda.” He tucks an errant piece of hair behind my ear. His hand runs down my neck, brushing my nipples, trailing along my belly, then stopping at the lace band of my underwear. “You want your own room still?” He steals his fingers under the edge of the lace.

  “You don’t want to fall asleep next to me? Don’t want me climbing all over you every night…every morning?”

  “Hmm. Well…” I toy, baiting him.

  “Do you seriously have to think about it?”

  “I’m trying to make you work for it, dummy.” I roll my eyes at him then flick his nipples.

  He twists my fingers in his. “Fine by me, pretty eyes. What do you want?”

  “To know what makes you tick.”

  His hand moves smoothly under the lace band of my panties, then out. “To know what you see in me. To know if I’m strong enough to handle who you are.”

  A thoughtful smile forms on his mouth as his tongue peeks out at the edge of his lip. His palm feathers across my underwear then lands on the soaked panel, until he moves the lace aside and strokes me. Just fingertips and his breath on my neck. Everything about him seduces me. From the way he changed my reality to the way his one eye looks at me as if his heart is choosing mine. As if he’d informed the universe to create the chaos in our lives for the last few years just to be able to get to me.

  “Christ, you’re wet,” he mutters. His palm caresses my inner thigh and forces my legs open. He pulls my right knee up high, pinning it against him. “Do you think I’m someone to be afraid of or someone to love?”

  “Someone to love,” I pant out in response as his fingers slip inside me.

  “I’m someone to love and you’re someone who deserves love.” His lips hit mine. Then he grips my hips, lifting me to his face and spreading my legs over it. His jaw floats between my legs when he grabs handfuls of my ass and pulls me against his lips. I dig my hands into his hair while I look down to watch his handsome face positioned perfectly—oh lord—so perfectly between my thighs.

  “Matilda, Christ, yes. So fucking sweet.”

  The vibration of his groans rumble through me, adding a layer of sexy to his movements as he licks and opens me, sliding his tongue and his fingers across and inside every inch of my need. Maybe it’s him or maybe it’s that this is new to me, but I don’t think I last a full minute before my toes curl, my knees buckle, and I’m uttering all sorts of noises and senseless words that point to one very obvious direction and overwhelming feeling. Holy fucking orgasm.

  “That’s a solid start.” I roll onto my back next to him.

  “Just wait, love,” Balthazar says as he rolls up on his side and drapes an arm over me. “You’re fucking amazing. From your heart to your soul…and every little thing in between.”

  “Thanks.” I blush, which is funny considering what he just did to me. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. And I really mean that. I like that you want to give us a go and that you’re fighting for me. You make me sort of dizzy in that crazy-for-you way, not to sound like a complete fawning dork.”

  “You’re not a dork. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever been with. You make me feel like there are possibilities, things…that, to be honest, I’ve turned my back on for a while.” His eye falls to my lips. Then he rests his face against my jaw. “I want you to be a part of us,” he says softly against my neck as he kisses it.

  I wonder if he can hear how he’s just cleaved his way into my heart—deeper. Part of us… How that line he’s just made will exist from here on out just for him, regardless of what happens. Anyone who can make that sort of engraved line in your heart is worth loving. We could be an us. A family. A family I adore and want to pour all of myself into.

  I don’t care that he was Lavinia’s. That the boys are hers. For once in my life, Lavinia isn’t outshining me. I close my eyes in disbelief. I need to forgive her. I need to let my past feelings about her go. We both do.

  “Do you want that?” he asks.

  Doors open all over inside me, all around me. Possibilities hit me hard. I could have this. We could. I loved Cort, I can’t deny there was love between us. But Balthazar… He’s a man like I’ve never known. Maybe we got off to a rough start, or maybe I was too thin-skinned about everything. I’m clear, I was intimidated that he was hers, but I’m not competing with my dead sister. He’s putting himself out there. This is something to grab on to; one hell of a brass ring.

  “I’d like that, yes. I’d like to be a part of you guys.”

  “You’ve already changed me in the few months since we’ve met. That’s not an easy thing to do to a beastly, stubborn brit like me. I wasn’t expecting to meet you. Not anyone close to you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to meet you either.” Ever.

  20

  Balthazar

  Iron roof, glass walls.

  Burns and burns

  And never falls.

  What am I?

  A Lantern

  Our first snow of the season smacks us in blizzard form. Wisconsin is one of those “blink-and-the-weather-may-change” kind of places. Matilda texts me from the road that she’s just heading into the storm but wants to keep driving. This amazes me considering the accident with her fiancé. Earlier today, she ran to a sewing store a couple of hours away for supplies she was hoping to find. I don’t think any of us were expecting what the weather folks had originally predicted to suddenly become what it is now. Naturally, she’s in what I call her summer car. It’s the sort of vehicle you might drive if you lived near the beach. Hardly suitable for this neck of the woods. Matilda can be stubborn, so my mentioning the truck was easily brushed off this morning. Now that it’s dark and indisputably blizzarding…fuck if I know what she’s thinking. But it can’t be anything close to thrilled.

  Hours go by with no texts or answered calls. I wonder if her phone is dead. Did she even take a charger? Then another twenty questions fly at me. Is she in the ditch somewhere? Is she scared? Is she wearing warm enough clothes?

  I pace around the kitchen, looking out at the ever-increasing sheets of snow every ten seconds in hopes that I’ll see car lights shining through the intensity. “Matilda, where the hell are you?” I mutter under my breath as I check the clock on the kitchen wall for the fiftieth time in the last hour.

  Sick to my stomach, picturing her lost out in the storm, I crack open a beer for nerve balm. Christ almighty, this woman has claimed pieces of me no one has. No one ever will. Pieces I don’t want back. In fact, I’d like her to keep them and take the rest of me while she’s at it.

  A truck pulls into the driveway twenty minutes later. I throw my down coat and boots on. Then I traipse through the drifts, toward Rowdy in his plow truck. Maybe he’s seen her car?

  A blast of heat butters my face as he rolls his window down. “I don’t want to assume anything, but Matilda’s here, right?” He pinches his nose bridge after he turns the music on his radio off.

  Snow settles on my neck, as I take the wool hat from my coat pocket and throw it on. “No. Hell, I’m fucking freaked out. She’s not come home yet. It’s been too long and I can’t reach her.”

  He spits tobacco juice in a mug then gruffly commands, “Get the boys. I’ll grab their car seats from your truck. Her car’s in the ditch ’bout five miles from here. She’s not in it.”

  My heart sprints into my rib cage. “You saw her car? What the hell?”

  I run back to the house then charge up the stairs to get the boys. My body is on autopilot, as my brain has vanished. The boys scream as I stuff them into their snowsuits and then car seats in Rowdy’s mammoth truck. Luckily it’s the sort of truck that makes a blizzard say, “Oh shit, not you again.”

  “We’ll just follow along slowly. You look out your si
de, I’ll search mine. I’m gonna go ’bout fifteen,” Rowdy says, gripping my shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll find her.”

  I swallow over a dry patch, hoping to hell he’s right. Rowdy uses his search light as I use a massive spotlight, looking for anything in the form of a snow-covered lump in the ditch. I’m not the praying type, which seems crazy since I was raised Catholic. But, inside, I’m begging and praying to any damn God or otherworldly saint that might help me get to her before she surrenders to this wretched storm.

  “Rowdy, stop!” I open the door while he’s still going.

  Hurdling from the truck, I charge toward a mound in the ditch. I grab Matilda, who’s face-planted in the snow. In seconds, I’m in the truck’s cab with her on my lap as she rambles deliriously. Her lips are bluish, and her eyes are iced shut, like the cows’ eyes get on those ten-below days. All I can do is hold her as Rowdy turns the truck around to take us home.

  “Matilda, you hear me, love?” I ask, not expecting any sort of coherent answer. I just want her breathing more easily, to thaw. To look at me. Her tiny body feels like an icicle in my arms.

  “What the hell do I do with her once we get inside? A hot bath or blankets? Fuck, what do I do?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll call the ER,” Rowdy says in a calm tone, but I can tell he’s as nervous about her as I am while he fidgets with the truck’s temperature gauges. “Would you rather I drive us there…to the ER?” he asks anxiously.

  “God, no. It’ll take us an hour. The farm—head there.” I continue blowing air onto her eyelids.

  Rowdy cranks the heat to sauna hot. My heart races as we round the hill on the farm’s driveway.