The Free

by K. Webster

  The Free

  Copyright © 2019 K Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo: Adobe Stock

  Editor: Emily A. Lawrence

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Warning

  About this Book

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About Author K Webster

  Books by K Webster

  * * *

  * * *

  To my husband,

  Thank you for loving the wild within me.

  To my wild readers,

  Your unconditional love for forbidden romance, specifically The Wild,

  has inspired me, changed me, and driven me to keep writing from the heart…

  even if not everyone understands, likes, or approves.

  It’s easy to be brave when my readers are even braver.

  For your fearless willingness to explore the wildness in my mind, I’ll be forever grateful.

  “Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed.

  Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

  —Carrie Bradshaw

  Warning:

  The Free is a taboo story. Extreme sexual themes and violence in certain scenes, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. If you are sensitive to taboo themes, then this story is not for you.

  He took me from the wilderness.

  I was all alone and death was near.

  His plan was to heal me and then let me go.

  A reprieve from my harsh reality.

  Food. Warmth. Safety.

  Just us.

  It’s temporary and one day I’ll be forced to go home.

  But I don’t I want to go back.

  I want him to keep me. To tame and love me.

  Freeing the wild comes with grave consequences.

  He thinks they’ll cage him for being with me.

  Our love’s not right.

  They won’t understand it.

  Forbidden. Immoral. Perverse. Vile.

  I don’t care what they think.

  It should only matter to us.

  We are innocent and beautiful and worthy.

  Love is wild.

  And we’re going to set it free.

  * * *

  * * *

  The Past…

  My eyes well with tears as John and Ezekiel dig a hole for Esther. My sister wasn’t but three years older than me and we were close. The boys—Ezekiel, John, Solomon, and Nathaniel—all had Papa. Mama passed on two winters ago when illness struck. So Esther and I only had each other.

  Ezekiel took the only thing I had in this world away from me. I knew it was him. He’s the only one who could make her scream that way. As if he could reach inside her tiny body and steal her soul. My brother stole everything from her, including the light in her eyes.

  “You’re the woman of the house now, Eve,” Papa tells me, his squeeze on my shoulder gentle. I’d seen him touch Esther in ways I never wanted to be touched. I’ve always been the baby. The one nobody ever paid any attention to. I don’t want to be the woman.

  The moment Esther began bleeding between her thighs, the men in our family started stalking her much like the mountain lions do when they’re hunting. Papa began teaching her how to be a wife. She never shared what those teachings were, but they took place in his bedroom and she cried the entire time.

  I’m all alone.

  It’s my turn to cry.

  Ezekiel doesn’t appear to be upset as he rolls Esther’s cold, stiff body into the hole. This is all his fault. Had he not carried on his own teachings, she’d still be alive. His teaching had been too brutal and he’d somehow hurt her inside of her body. All I know is the blood was coming from someplace it wasn’t supposed to. She and I’d sobbed until she turned pale. Until she stopped moving. Until she left me.

  “I’m going hunting with the boys,” Papa tells me, his voice gruff. “Since you’re the woman of the house now, you get to sleep in my room. Tonight, we’ll begin your teachings on how to become a wife.”

  A hot tear rolls down my cheek and I nod.

  Once Esther is buried, they take off with their weapons. The wind is brutal and unforgiving. I shudder and walk into our home. It’s quaint—only the two rooms—but the fireplaces are warm. I remember being a little girl and curling up beside Mama in her room she shared with Papa. She’d show me pictures of her and Papa. When they were small too. Back when they lived in town with my grandparents. Mama and Papa were brother and sister too. But Papa wasn’t ever cruel to Mama the way Ezekiel was to Esther. I’m worried Ezekiel will hurt me too.

  I slip into my new room and worry about what Papa will teach me. Esther was never happy about it. My heart aches because I miss her terribly. Sometimes I wish I could just run far, far away from here. That a nice bear would befriend me and let me live in his cave. I smile as I pull out the pictures of my parents when they were kids from the small tin can on one of the river rocks on the fireplace.

  My brown eyes are the exact shade of my mother’s. Esther had her mouth. Mama was pretty when she was younger before her teeth began falling out. I can’t help but run my tongue over my teeth. I’ve lost them over the years, but mine always grow back. I wonder why Papa’s and my older brothers’ teeth never come back.

  After I’ve looked through all the pictures, I stuff them back into the tin. I’m just dozing off when I hear voices. Heavy footsteps thunder my way. When Ezekiel pokes his head in, I glare at him.

  “Papa spoke to me while hunting and he believes he’s too old to be a husband any longer. Since I’m the eldest, he wants me to teach you how to be a wife.” His dark brown eyes narrow to slits as he regards me. “You’re nothing but a kid, though. You haven’t even started bleeding yet.”

  “I hate you.” My hissed words seem to infuriate him.

  “Esther used to say the same thing and sounded just like you,” he snarls as he stalks into the room and leers at me. “Maybe you’re not a kid after all.”

  I hug my knees to my chest and
pray Papa will make Ezekiel go away. I start to shudder when he takes another threatening step toward me.

  “Ezekiel,” Papa barks out as he enters the room, his Bible clutched tight in his grip. “What’s going on in here?”

  Ezekiel has the sense to look shameful. “Nothin’, Papa. I was telling little Eve how wonderful it was that she’s a woman now.”

  Lies.

  Papa frowns at him. “Go on, boy. Eve and I need some time alone.”

  Reluctantly, Ezekiel leaves and closes the door behind him. I remain frozen in fear. Papa begins undressing until he’s naked. His manhood isn’t hard like I’ve seen my brothers’. It remains small and limp amidst a bush of white hair. Papa isn’t bronzed and sculpted as if from stone like my brothers. His skin hangs from his bones and brown spots litter his flesh.

  “Take that smock off and come sit.” His dark brown eyes flicker with anger as he sits and pats the furs beside him. “Our teaching begins with Genesis 3:16.”

  I’m afraid, but him educating us with Bible passages isn’t anything new. I tug off my garment and toss it to the floor. My skin burns with embarrassment. I don’t want him to see me like this. To my surprise, he doesn’t look. Simply holds his hand out to me. I take it and sit beside him. His soft, wrinkly skin is warm against mine as he hugs me to his side.

  “I named you after Eve in the Bible,” he explains softly. He begins telling me a story where she was tempted by a snake and lured Adam to partake in the forbidden fruit alongside her. “Soon you will understand your namesake,” he tells me and then begins reading a passage that makes my skin crawl. “I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; In pain you shall bring forth children; Your desire shall be for your husband, And he shall rule over you.”

  He sets the Bible down and grips my jaw, forcing me to look up at his bearded face that has white curls—that match the ones surrounding his manhood—mixed in.

  “I’m your husband now, Eve. There are no other wives left for me to take but you. And while you’re young and not ripe for childbirth, you’re still very much female. Soon, your body will change and adapt to satisfy your husband. To satisfy me.” His fingertips are brutal as they dig into my flesh. A tear leaks out, but he’s not bothered by it. “Tonight, I will begin my rule over you. To teach you how to please your husband.”

  I cry out when he easily pushes me down onto my back. Papa is giant in comparison to my small body. Like a mountain lion trying to mount a fox. It doesn’t work. It’s not right.

  “Papa,” I choke out. “Please. I’m afraid.”

  He wrenches my thighs apart despite my struggling and settles himself against me. His manhood is no longer soft. The wiry hairs that surround it tickle my bare flesh. I don’t understand what’s happening. Does it please him to rub his naked flesh against mine? Is that how females please males?

  My questions only seem to multiply when he spits in his dirty hand. I stare down in fright when he gets his hard length wet with his saliva. Over and over again he does this until it easily slides up and down in his grip. Then, his terrifying glare is on me. I’ve never seen Papa with such a ferocious look in his eyes. Like when a bear once attacked my brother Solomon. Hungry. Territorial. Fierce.

  “Your screams will lessen with time,” Papa tells me.

  That’s the only warning I get before excruciating pain assaults me. Papa is entering a place I had no idea existed. He’s ripping me apart with his manhood. Stabbing me the same way Ezekiel plunges his knife into the animals he attacks. Deep and unforgiving.

  My screams don’t lessen.

  They grow louder with each passing moment.

  Louder.

  Louder.

  Louder.

  Until I can’t scream any longer.

  * * *

  * * *

  The Present…

  I’ve gotten used to Reed and his family. At first, I was resistant. I’d wanted to get the police involved, but I’m not a fucking home-wrecker. Devon, while slightly brainwashed looking, was happy.

  Happy then.

  Happy now.

  And their kids…

  Jesus Christ, I love them like they’re family.

  I remember asking Reed not long after I discovered they’d had the accident and were surviving with the barest of essentials if they wanted to go back to town. “They won’t understand or approve of our love. Our only chance for survival is here. The love we have is wild and that’s where it belongs.” At the time, I’d been rather annoyed that he’d chosen to keep his daughter out in the wilderness, but I’d respected their decision to stay. It wasn’t until a few months ago when Reed and I had a little too much to drink that he blabbed about Devon not being biologically his. I wanted to slap that motherfucker upside the head for not telling me the minute I warned him of incest. I’m still a little pissed that he let me think the worst. He’s still technically her father as far as legalities go, and that’s still fucked up, but the possibility of birth defects evaporated and a weight lifted from my shoulders.

  “Rowdy,” Devon hollers from upstairs. “Can you bring Mommy Ryder’s blanket?”

  Rowdy—the kid lives up to his name, I swear—continues to throw punches at me like he’s some tough little badass. At three and a half, he has more energy than all the adults combined. Reed smirks at me. Ronan, around a year old, is passed out in his arms.

  “Boy,” Reed finally grunts. “Better go help your momma.”

  Rowdy whines but runs off.

  “When I get ready to build again,” I tell my friend, “your old ass better be ready to help me.”

  He snorts. “City life getting boring?”

  “I hardly call where I live city life.”

  He rolls his eyes and kisses the top of his son’s head. My chest aches. I’m almost forty and I’ve yet to find a good woman to settle down with. The ones outside of the city are too wild. The ones in the city aren’t wild enough. But Devon and Reed have me longing for what they have—aside from the creepy father-daughter shit.

  “Have you seen Eve lately?” I ask as I pull my overgrown hair into a man bun that Reed likes to give me shit for.

  His brows furrow together. “Ran across her before winter when hunting. Gone by the shack a few times, but she wasn’t there. I don’t know where she’s gone to.”

  We’re both somber for a few moments. If she’s out there away from her shack, there’s no way she can survive the elements. Eve reminds me of my sister Judith. Our family almost lost Judith under my watch. I was twenty and she was ten. I’d been stalking a fox when I heard the splash. She’d fallen into the river and got swept off. It happened so quickly and had I been near her, I could have snatched her right up. Instead, it took my family and me almost two days to find her. We were sure we were looking for a body. Eventually, I found her in a small crevasse in the mountain on the brink of death. She doesn’t remember it to this day, but Mom, Dad, and my two brothers all remember.

  And me?

  It haunts me.

  Fucking plagues me.

  All it took was a second.

  “Devon’s pregnant,” Reed says abruptly, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shake my head at him. Those two fuck like bunnies and keep pumping out these damn kids at every turn.

  “She just had Ryder like three months ago!” I exclaim.

  He smirks and shrugs. “When you live in the wild, you don’t have birth control.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “I put a box of condoms in each of your Christmas stockings.”

  His laughter is infectious. “Rowdy uses those as water balloons.”

  “Ridiculous,” I grunt.

  We launch into a discussion about a treehouse he wants to build for the boys, when Devon tiptoes downstairs. She’s all smiles as she kisses Reed and takes the sleeping toddler.

  “You guys keep it down. I got both boys asleep upstairs.”

  I tip my head at her and Reed winks. Once she’s gone, he rises and heads over to the kitchen. E
verything is rustic in their home, but I brought them real shit to use. Couches. Beds. Sinks. They don’t have running water, but Reed makes the painstaking journey each day to fetch it for them. Devon, the brilliant chick she is, has been reading up on water retention and purification. She’s convinced by next summer she’ll have figured out how to recycle snow and rainwater so Reed doesn’t have to haul it in so much.

  He snags a bottle of Jack—another Uncle Atticus gift—and fetches his coat. I grab mine and follow him outside. The winter air is frigid, but it doesn’t bother us as we sit on the porch swing. We pass the bottle back and forth.

  I’m about to take a swig when I hear crunching.

  My eyes dart to Reed’s in the darkness and he rises, pulling his .45 from his jeans pocket. I stand too and search the darkness. Despite the fence we built, it doesn’t mean bears will stay out. It’s always in the back of our minds.

  We both suck in a sharp breath when the gate creaks open.

  Familiar messy brown hair is what I notice first. I bolt from the porch and charge through the snow to get to her.

  “Eve!”

  Something’s not right. She limps and a terrifying moan rips from her chest. And the blood. Fuck, there’s blood all over her.

  I jerk her into my arms and scoop her up. She won’t tell me how old she is, but I’m guessing she’s around sixteen now. The girl is short and nothing but bones. I think Rowdy weighs more than her. She sobs against my neck as she clutches my coat. Her tattered clothing hangs off her brutalized body. Once I get her inside, I carry her to the floor near the fireplace. Reed storms in behind me and I can hear him rooting around for the first aid kit.

  “Look at me, Eve,” I order, my voice tight with emotion. It’s like when I found Judith. On the brink of death. Helpless. Broken. “Eve. Look at me.”