Feral

by Teagan Kade

  “Secrets are kind of our thing, aren’t they?” he says drily.

  I roll my eyes and do as he tells me, feeling foolish in the process. The ferns under me are slick. I pick up a lot more speed than I’m comfortable with.

  I let out a totally graceless. “Ahhhh!” as I thump into his legs. “Ow!” I wince, pulling a sharp stick out from the opening of my shorts where it was digging into my thigh.

  He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to Deric about you literally having a stick in your ass.”

  There are splinters in my hands and my head is pounding again, but I let him help me up and we move towards the stream. Water cascades over gnarly fallen logs and massive boulders are stacked haphazardly like a child’s blocks. We scramble over a few logs, our boots splashing in the cold stream. I’m about to ask what we’re doing when I see the opening in the hillside ahead.

  “Wait here,” Dean says, stepping forward, grabbing a few rocks and lobbing them into the darkness. Minutes pass and nothing happens, so he inches closer and closer until he’s at the short opening and disappearing.

  “Dean!” I hiss, not wanting to make too much noise for some reason, but it’s not like there is anyone to disturb.

  He pops back out an instant later and jogs to me. “Okay, nothing’s inside. We can sleep here.”

  I sag against him as he leads me into the cave, relief flooding my system. It’s a tiny alcove and it’s freezing, but it’s dry. I suppose that’s the most to be hoped for.

  “Stay here,” Dean says, laying the pack down and lowering me against it.

  I’m too tired and quickly becoming too cold to fret as he leaves. I don’t even know which direction we’re facing because the sun has fully disappeared from sight, but Dean is so sure of himself that his confidence chases away the fear and doubt.

  I tuck my legs against my chest and try to stay warm now I’ve stopped moving. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to untangle my limbs to look through the pack for food.

  Before I know it, Dean is already back with an armful of logs, most of them wet-looking. I watch, dubious, as he scrunches up moss. He reaches behind me and into one of the pockets of the backpack, pulling out a small cardboard box of matches.

  To my surprise he gets a fire going in no time at all. It’s small, mostly smoke, but even that is better than nothing. I watch in awe as he tenderly nurses the fire to life.

  “There,” he says, sitting back beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulders as the warmth radiates into the small cave.

  I curl into him, soaking in the heat of his body, as we watch the flames dance.

  “Do you think they got back okay?” I ask.

  “Hard to say. The route back was downhill, so it shouldn’t have been too difficult, but single track is hard to follow after dark and they didn’t have lights. Honestly, I don’t know. If they didn’t make it back, at least they’re together. Safety in numbers…”

  “Yeah, I guess. They were pretty kick-ass women, so they’ve got that on their side,” I smile even as my voice cracks.

  Dean’s stroking my arm. Maybe it’s to keep me warm, maybe it’s to comfort me. All I know is it feels good as I relax against his chest.

  “They were pretty incredible, that’s for sure,” Dean says.

  “You got that right. I wish I had the courage to live my life like those ladies. Pearl’s lived on every continent, you know. Violet was an extra in Brigadoon and apparently had a fling with Gene Kelly, and Doris has been skydiving fifteen times. All of them, they’ve done incredible things and here I am scared just to go on a bike ride.”

  “Yes, but you still came,” Dean points out.

  “Yeah, but there are a lot of things like that, things I’ve been too afraid to do. Did you know I wanted to be a singer when I was little?” I close my eyes and let the memories slide through me. “My mom’s always been a big Janis Joplin fan. She used to play that CD every Sunday morning. My dad worked several days in a row at the fire station, but he was always home Sundays, so my mom would play Piece of My Heart and make him hotcakes. I can still hear my parent’s voices laughing and talking over it as they caught up on the days they’d been apart. I used to think there was something magical about her music. I wanted so badly to be able to sing like that, to make people feel like that.”

  “I remember you had a guitar. I never heard you playing it, but I remember Deric saying he’d hidden it from you because you pissed him off,” Dean says.

  “Yeah, my lovely brother,” I say, sarcastically. “I did play it, though. I’ve just always been too afraid to perform in front of anyone. Drove my dad crazy I didn’t pursue it. He said I needed to trust myself, to…” I stop short, suddenly emotional.

  “It’s not too late,” Dean says gently.

  Somewhere in the darkness outside, a cougar screams, bringing the full weight of the danger we’re in back to mind.

  “If we get out of here… but Dean, what if we don’t?”

  “Hey, look at me.” Dean tilts my chin up to face him, wiping away the track of a tear on my cheek. “I’m getting us out of here, okay? I promise you. Do you trust me?” he asks, urgency in his voice.

  “I do,” I answer, but the words sound unconvincing, even to me. Dean’s so strong, so brave and I want to believe he can overcome anything out here, but he’s still a man and outside there are creatures, forces that are simply greater than either of us.

  My eyes pool with sadness and regret that the worst really could happen. We’re safe in here right now, but what about tomorrow morning?

  “No, you don’t, but I wish you would,” Dean whispers into the last inch of space between us before our mouths meet.

  My heart beats loudly in my ears as I close my eyes and our lips brush. The kiss is eager but gentle. I relax into it.

  We could be dead, but we’re not—not yet, anyway. We’re here, together, clinging to each other in the darkness. It means something, perhaps, but my mind is too caught up in the immediacy of my body’s response to his. At least in this moment, I know we’re safe. It might be the last time I feel that way, so I savor it.

  His hand is gripping my skull, pulling me closer. I put up no resistance. It feels so good, so right to let him drag me into his lap, to feel his hard arousal against me.

  All my emotions today have worn me down. Between the anger, the fear, the shock, the sadness, and now this, this heat between us, I’m raw, exposed.

  My hands go to Dean’s arms. He’s rocking, grinding into me as I cling to him to hold on and balance. A need builds in me with a swift force I didn’t expect. We’re trading breaths, wrapped around each other, neither of us willing to spare an inch of contact until all this want starts to become insatiable. The wet, damp fabric of my clothes chafes my sensitive skin as I start stripping.

  Dean stills my hands and pulls back to lift my top up and over my head. There’s a tenderness in his movements he’s never shown before. As I watch him surveying me, he swallows and touches me with such gentleness that anything I felt before is fully chased away.

  The air between us seems to expand and contract with our breaths.

  “Lay down,” he murmurs.

  I obey.

  Dean is naked kneeling between my legs. He’s blocking the entrance of the cave and the moonlight behind him makes him seem suddenly so much more than a man. He’s some kind of mysterious creature I dreamed up for my own wicked desires. I couldn’t be any more wet than I am right now, watching his naked form in front of me.

  I can’t make out the details of his face except for the faint flicker of light reflecting in his eyes. He’s watching my face as his fingers part me at my center, exploring, stroking.

  Pleasure builds, pulsing in waves from where he’s touching me. The tiny space fills with the sound of my voice, coming out in little incomprehensible sounds.

  I’m nearly there when he grips my thighs, bringing both my knees up and setting his mouth upon me, his tongue laving and stroking me int
o a mindless kind of oblivion. His hands are kneading the flesh of my thighs, then moving lower, stroking and massaging. I feel one wet finger slip lower, brushing and caressing the sensitive spot where I’ve never let anyone touch me.

  I buck involuntarily at the surprising, foreign contact.

  “Shhhh,” he whispers against my clit, the vibrations of his voice stoking my pleasure even more, drawing a tortured moan forth from my lips.

  “But I’m vanilla,” I hear myself say, before flushing with embarrassment and hoping Dean doesn’t ask what I mean.

  “You taste like perfection, baby. Just relax,” he says. “Do you trust me?” he asks, as his other fingers thrust into me and his tongue flickers over the tight bud of my sensation.

  To hell with vanilla.

  I nod, eager for release. “Yes,” I manage to gasp.

  “Tell me, baby,” he murmurs again, his tone deeper as if he knows what it’s doing to me.

  “I do… I trust you, Dean. I trust you,” I manage to ground out as he picks up pace and slips one finger inside my puckered muscles, shattering my reservations and expectations of what this strange, uncharted sensation would be like.

  The cave is black, but even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to see anything through the sheer wave of pleasure that blankets me. His mouth leaves me and is quickly replaced by the wide girth of his cock stretching, filling, thrusting into me.

  Rather than ebbing, the burst of sensation settles into a simmer and then bubbles up again, never fully retreating as he rocks into me, bringing it back with the almost torturous, languid rhythm of his thrusts. It’s like he’s dragging out every frisson of friction, every stroke feels like a test of will power… a test I’m bound to fail with him.

  The sensation ricochets through my body like a scratch on a CD, playing one moment over and over. Suddenly, it feels like he’s somehow deeper, fuller inside of me and the rising moan of my release is eclipsed by his voice as he groans.

  Dean falls forward onto his arms, bracing himself over me. Our skin is pressed together, but he’s protecting me from the full weight of him. The hot gust of his breath tantalizes the skin at my neck as we recover our senses.

  I close my eyes and melt into the moment as his voice fills my head, my heart. “Damn it, baby,” he says, “why can’t I get enough of you?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DEAN

  Chattering teeth startle me awake. It takes a moment before I realize they’re my own. It’s fucking freezing.

  Ava is wrapped up in my arms asleep, both of us faintly trembling from the cold. I crane my neck and look outside to see the sky is just barely streaked with light. We should get moving soon. The idea isn’t appealing, though.

  The sound of Ava’s breathing and the pressure of her curving back against me makes me want to stay right here, like this, forever. I look down at her and brush a curling lock of hair from her face. The sight of her, so vulnerable in her sleep, stirs me. My throat feels momentarily constricted, my breath stills in my chest, and the realization I care for her, really care for her, slams into my consciousness with all the subtlety of a landslide.

  It’s been creeping around the periphery and sending me warning flares I’ve been too dumb or too distracted to heed. It was always going to end badly, but I guess, foolishly, I was more focused on the external damage—the issues with our business, with Deric, and maybe even whether I’d hurt Ava. I never really considered the possibility of being the most damaged one to walk away from this, but it’s suddenly on the table.

  Whatever I had with women in the past didn’t freak me out like this. Even with Stacie, what I felt for her was never this visceral, this overwhelming. With her, it’d just been about having a good time, being comfortable. Nothing about this feels comfortable. It’s new and alarming as all fuck.

  Damn it, what have I gotten myself into?

  Whatever this mess is, it’s not for right now. Ava’s shivering form reminds me that. For now, I need to get her out of here in one piece.

  I’ve broken frames on rides before, been stuck out in the woods and had to hike back out plenty of times. I used to think it was just in my blood, being half-Chinook, that I was just part of the land. Deric and Dex proved that wrong. They’ve both got about as much native blood in them as Johnny Depp’s Tonto, so whatever magical connection we’ve got to this mountain, to this forest, it’s something else.

  I know my way around here, but I’ve never had to worry about tending to someone else’s injuries, especially someone I’ve cared about like this. Her sprain is pretty severe, and though she showed no signs of a concussion, I can’t help but worry. We won’t cover the miles between here and safety quickly, and with the unexpected presence of bears in the area, for the first time ever, the danger feels truly real.

  “Hey,” I rub her arm softly, trying to wake her.

  No response.

  “Ava,” I say a little louder by her ear, but still nothing. I rub her back, then her legs, but that awakens a part of me we don’t have time for, so I go back to my initial strategy. “Baby, we gotta get going,” I tell her, nudging her. She’s cold to the touch and shivering. She can’t be sleeping this soundly.

  Alarm sets in and I give her another shake, this one more jolting. “Hey! Wake up!” I shout.

  “Oh!” Ava says, startled. “Oh, no! Am I late?” she asks, groggily, and I have to stifle a laugh.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call your boss and tell him you’re on your way,” I reassure her, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

  Her eyelids look heavy and when she speaks it sounds like she has cotton in her mouth. Who knew she was such a heavy sleeper?

  “Thanks… Wait, what?”

  I grin. “Nothing, you’re just cute.”

  She looks over at me, her amber eyes suddenly sparkling. “Cute?” Her hand slides over to my crotch, to the hardness there that’s all for her. She’s rubbing me through my pants. “Let me show you how not-cute I can be.”

  I can’t bring myself to push her away, and when she pulls my cock out, warming it with the scalding heat of her mouth, resistance is futile. But then, why argue? There are definitely much worse ways to start the day.

  Seeing her over me like that, watching her take me into her mouth, her lips closing over my throbbing length… It’s fucking hot.

  I don’t last long.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” I grind out, warning her, but she doesn’t move away. Even as I feel my release sweep through me and spill out, she’s there, taking it all.

  She sits back and smiles. “You may call me sexy, hot, exquisite—anything but ‘cute.’ Got it?”

  “What’s wrong with cute?” I ask.

  “’Cute’ is for little girls and puppies, not for women you have sex in a cave with,” she says, gathering her hair back into a braid.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I laugh. If anything, I think she looks even cuter now, with her dimples and braid, scolding me about what terms of a I may or may not use, but I can hold my tongue.

  “Good. Now, let’s get going, because I’m freezing and I could really use a stack of hotcakes soon.”

  My stomach clenches as she hobbles to a standing position, looking gorgeous even in her crumpled clothes and mussed hair.

  Fuck, I’m in way over my head.

  *

  Progress is even slower this morning, but at least it’s light out. The terrain has gotten steeper. I’ve never followed the stream all the way up before. The waterways have always been Dex’s thing.

  Ava is struggling. I want to be gentle with her, but my gut and the excess of tracks I’m seeing are telling me we need to hurry, so I push her.

  “I can’t go this fast,” she complains, losing her footing for the tenth time this morning.

  “You can and you have to,” I remind her.

  “What’s the point in rushing if I fall and sprain the other ankle?” she asks, mild irritation in her voice.

  I feel bad. I don’t want to be a dick,
but if there is a mother bear and cub out here, we’re sitting ducks. Ava can’t run, not that you should with a bear necessarily, and I don’t have a weapon, not even my bike frame to hurl at it.

  “It doesn’t do us any good to dwell on every possible bad outcome, okay?”

  I see another set of bear tracks as I’m saying it, these ones much larger than the previous ones I noticed. What the hell is bringing bears out here? They usually stay south, in the protected areas. Their numbers are so slight that, frankly, it’s a surprise seeing one out here at all.

  For that, we can give a big thank you to the hobby hunters and black-market traders who come out here to bag a trophy animal like it’s some kind of accomplishment to shoot something from hundreds of yards away. You want to kill an animal? Face it on its own terms and make good use of it. Don’t just rip out its gall bladder and paws and leave it behind like some pussy. That isn’t the work of a man, but maybe that’s simply the native blood in me speaking.

  Whatever the reason, these tracks are fresh, and I have no interest in hanging around long enough to meet their owner. If there are bears in the area, given the time of year, they’ll be fresh out of hibernation and looking to fatten up, or they’ll have cubs who are also looking to fatten up. Either way, they’re hungry and neither Ava nor I are going to be on the menu.

  Ava is powering through, but I can tell she’s hurting. From the huffy tone she’s taking I can tell she’s irritated with me as well. She probably thinks I’m being a hard ass for no reason. Better that she thinks that than I tell her the pile of mud she just avoided was actually bear scat and less than a day old.

  “Fine, if you’re going to force me to limp to exhaustion, then at least tell me something,” she says.

  I glance over. “What do you want to hear?”

  “Tell me what it was like being a bigshot. I’m sure you can surmise by the fact I took this job to begin with I haven’t exactly met with all the success myself. What was it like being a ‘pro’?”

  What was it like indeed. “It was okay. I mean, it was lonely at times, exciting at others, and there was no shortage of people who wanted something from you.”