The Wild

by K. Webster

  I clench my jaw. Getting lost in her stare is easy. She looks at me as though I’m everything she’s ever wanted out of life. “It’s illegal.”

  A small chuckle escapes her. “Maybe you should turn yourself in.”

  “Smartass,” I growl and tickle her ribs.

  She squeals and then we’re wrestling in our bed. I tickle, she screams. This goes on until the blankets are kicked to the floor and I have her pinned by her wrists to the bed. I fixate on her crimson cheeks and parted pouty lips. We stare at each other. She’s different from the way she was back in California.

  Wild.

  Free.

  Uncaring of consequences.

  Oh, to be young.

  “Are you still sore from last night? My question comes out as a rasp.

  She nods. “But I like the sting.”

  My dick thumps against her flesh. Triumph glitters in her brilliant blues.

  “I want to watch as you slide inside of me,” she breathes.

  I close my eyes. She’s learning how to drive me straight into madness. Easily. With few words. She makes them count.

  “Baby…”

  She lifts her hips and wiggles her thighs. Like the brainwashed bastard I am, I allow her to slide her legs out so she can wrap them around my waist. My dick is throbbing against her soft pubic hair. I’m aching to slide inside of her but my brain is still at war this morning.

  “Just rub it against me,” she says coyly. A wicked gleam dances in her blues.

  And because I’m finding it increasingly difficult to deny her a thing, I grip her wrists tighter and start rubbing myself against her sensitive pussy. She whimpers and moans and fucking begs. I have to close my eyes because she’s so goddamn hot I feel like I’ll nut all over her just from looking at the way her lips move to say my name.

  “Fuck me, Reed,” she orders, her tone bossy as hell.

  I snap my eyes open and glare at her. “Don’t say words like that. Your mouth is too pretty to let dirty things like that come out of it.”

  She licks her pink lips and taunts me more. “You could always put something in it to shut me up.”

  Her words have me going mental. I start rutting against her, rubbing the outside of her pussy raw with my stone-hard dick. She whimpers and pleads for more.

  “I want your big cock inside of me. I like the way you stretch me and fill me with you. It feels good. It feels like I’m whole. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuuuuuck—”

  She doesn’t get to finish her words because I slam into her so hard she screams at the top of her lungs. Her hands struggle beneath my grip but I hold her still as I fuck her like she wants. Nothing soft or gentle about this.

  I’m an animal.

  She fucking provoked the beast.

  Her eyes are feral as she stares me down while I own her with my cock. I’m still not used to her tight little body because the need to come is overwhelming. I release one of her hands so I can grip her jaw.

  “Make yourself come, Devon,” I growl. “I’m about to come all over your flat stomach but I want you to get off too. I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

  She nods and forces her hand between us. I groan as she works herself up while I tear her still so pure body apart from the inside out. It’s only fair as she’s the one who ripped my mind right from my skull and fucking fed on it.

  With my fingers digging into her jaw, I lean forward and kiss her like a savage. As though I’m trying to eat her mouth. I bite her. I make her cry out. I taste blood. She’s killing the man that I’ve grown to know and freeing the beast inside. When she comes with a jolt and bites my bottom lip, I explode. I should be pulling out but I’m too wrapped up in the way her body contracts around mine and the trembling of her orgasm seems to vibrate through my dick. My heat surges deep inside her. And when I spend the rest of my release, I collapse on her thin body.

  Our hearts are hammering together as one.

  She’s mine.

  The only one who ever could reach inside me and free the wild.

  We are one now.

  More than family.

  Everything.

  “I love you,” she purrs, her lips kissing the top of my head.

  I love her more than words can fucking express. I don’t understand this love. It’s some brutal smash of history and past ground into raw, feral need. It’s man and woman with the connection of two best friends bound together by tragedy. It’s confusing as fuck and I don’t even want to try to comprehend it.

  I just want it.

  I just fucking want it.

  * * *

  * * *

  I follow behind Dad—er, Reed—as he carries the heavy oven from the RV. The reason it was so cold last night is that we had our first heavy snow. We’ve bundled up but the wind is brutal. We need this to work desperately. As we walk, my mind drifts to last night and earlier this morning.

  We had sex.

  Last night we made love and this morning we fucked.

  There is a huge difference and I love them both equally.

  But dear God am I sore. While he worked on pulling the oven out of the RV earlier, I packed some snow in my glove and held it against my sore sex.

  “If we get this thing made, I want to make some stew,” I tell him as we trudge along.

  He looks over his shoulder and grins at me. It effectively chases the chill from my bones, replacing it with heat. “Rabbit?”

  “And before it snowed, I found some edible plants that I put away in the cave.”

  “Sounds good, baby.”

  My cheeks warm at the endearment. He calls me baby more and I don’t think it has anything to do with me being his daughter. Back when things were good, he used to call Mom “baby.” It’s how he shows affection for the woman he loves.

  He loves me.

  I swear my heart flutters in my chest like a bird in a cage. I don’t want to free it. I love how it goes crazy inside my rib cage any time he looks my way, smiles, or touches me. He owns that little bird and I’ll be damned if I let it go.

  Once inside our cabin, he gets to work. I try to assist but he’s happy doing all the grunt work himself. And then I get a show when he gets hot and strips down to his jeans. My sex stays wet because I can’t stop thinking about him pressed against me and inside of me.

  “I’m going to go scavenge since you don’t need my help,” I tell him, my voice breathy. Really, I just want to cool off before I get too weird and start touching myself on the bed while he works. He grunts his approval but doesn’t look up at me. I run my fingers through his sweaty hair before slipping out of the cabin.

  On the way back to our old campsite, I wonder where I’ll look this time. He’s picked a lot of the RV apart to use for stuff but there are still parts inside of the mangled covered trailer that we haven’t been able to get to. I’m sure there are things we could use if we could just get access.

  I’m smiling when I hear it.

  Snorting.

  Loud and feral.

  And so close.

  When I look up, I’m staring down the path at a giant grizzly twice my height not a hundred yards away. He has to weigh six hundred pounds easily. All the crap I learned from the brochure flies out the window. It’s hard to remember the rules when you’re staring down a beast with claws as long as your hand.

  I take a step back and the crunch of my boot has the bear jerking his head toward the sound. A guttural growl rumbles from its chest as it rises to its full height. It makes a sound that echoes off the trees and chills my bones.

  Please go away.

  It growls again before falling back down to all four paws. I stay incredibly still hoping it will turn and walk away.

  But it doesn’t.

  It trots toward me, not a full run but certainly in a hurry, and all I can think of to do is screech. “Daddy!”

  As soon as it nears, I crumple to the earth and roll into a ball protecting my neck with my hands. A heavy paw swats at my back and the fabric of my coat rips. My
heart is sputtering in my chest and I’m afraid it will give out. The bear seems to grab at my side and his claws puncture my coat poking right through my flesh. A gut-wrenching scream escapes me.

  And then I mentally check out.

  “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like Dad,” Drew tells me, a wide smile on his lips.

  “Me too.”

  He snorts and throws a twig at me. “You can’t be like Dad. You’re a girl. You have to be like Mom.”

  I frown. I don’t want to be like Mom. She’s quiet and sleeps a lot. When she’s happy and smiling, she’s pretty. But when she’s sad, she ignores all of us. One time I asked Dad what she’s so sad about. He told me life. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it.

  “I don’t care. I’m going to be like Dad. He’s strong and funny and is good at cheering us up,” I tell my twin brother with a huff.

  “But you have boobs,” he argues.

  I gape at him in horror and cross my arms over my chest. “I do not,” I grumble.

  “Do too.”

  “Do not.”

  He reaches up into the tree to break off another twig. When Dad is working and Mom is sleeping, Drew and I like to hang out in our treehouse.

  “You’re mean,” I say, my lip pouting out.

  He grins at me, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m just kidding. I’d rather be like Dad if I were you too.” His features fall and he stares at me sadly. “Does Mom not like us?”

  I scrunch my nose up. “She loves us.”

  He blinks and reaches up to grab at another twig. “There’s a difference, Dev. She loves us because she has to. But she doesn’t like us like Dad does. She doesn’t play with us.”

  I don’t like talking about it so I change the subject. “Want to go ride bikes?”

  He grins at me with his hand reaching up. “Yeah—ow!”

  His hand jerks down and he inspects his wrist. “I stabbed myself on a stick!”

  Laughing, I stand and hold my hand out to him. “That’s what you get for destroying Mother Nature’s pretty tree.”

  “It’s hot,” he complains and ignores my offered hand. “We’ll go in a minute.”

  With a frown, I plop back down and pick up my book. He curls up on his side. We both grow quiet for some time as I read and he rests.

  “What book are you reading?” His voice is a whisper as he lies on one cheek and stares at me with droopy lids.

  “The Boxcar Children. They are homeless and live in a boxcar. I like how they scavenge for things and take care of each other.”

  “Devon,” he rasps out. “I don’t feel so good.”

  His skin is pale and he’s sweating.

  “Get up and we’ll go back inside.”

  He closes his eyes. “I…”

  “Drew?”

  I toss my book down and crawl over to him.

  “Drew?!”

  Everything happens so fast. One minute he’s fine. The next he’s sleepy and pale.

  “Are you sick?” I demand, clutching his hand. I frown when my palm touches something wet. When I look at his wrist, I don’t think it looks like he was stabbed at all. It appears to be a snake bite.

  A quick glance into the tree Drew had been messing with, and I see it wrapped around the branch.

  I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs because I’m afraid it is going to bite me too. Letting go of my brother, I scramble to the hatch and hurry down the ladder to go find Dad. Guilt consumes me because I left him up there with it.

  With tears streaming down my face, I scream again.

  Pop!

  I’m dragged from my horrible memories of the day we lost my brother by the sound of a gun shot. I’m no longer in the hot treehouse but instead curled into a ball in the cold snow.

  The animal grunts but it crunches away from me, a roar escaping it.

  “Devon!”

  I start sobbing and sit up on my knees. I watch in horror as the bear runs full speed toward my dad.

  Pop!

  Pop!

  Pop!

  He’s holding out a handgun and unloading in the bear. Each hit makes the bear stagger. It’s moving so quickly still though. And when it lunges at my father who is wearing nothing but jeans since he ran straight from the cabin, I scream.

  A disturbing cracking sound has bile rising in my throat. I’m going to be sick. The bear is on top of my dad. I scramble toward him, ignoring the searing pain from where the bear’s claws got me, and look for a big stick to hurt the grizzly with so he’ll get off my dad. When I approach, I can see Dad attempting to move but the bear is too heavy. At least the bear isn’t moving though. Blood is everywhere and I pray it belongs to the grizzly.

  “H-Help m-me get th-this th-thing off m-me,” Dad rasps.

  I grab onto the bear’s massive arm and start pulling. Tears stream down my face as I exert all my strength to pull the bear.

  “He’s too heavy!” My voice is shrill and panicked.

  Dad doesn’t respond.

  Oh, God.

  What if the bear bit him? What if he’s bleeding out as we speak?

  I abandon the bear and find Dad’s leg. With all of my strength, I tug on his leg. Over and over. He moves little by little but it’s better than nothing. My entire body is trembling from the cold and fear but I can’t leave him under that thing. I can’t be alone. I can’t. I need him. Eventually, I free him with one last hard yank. I go flying back and hit my head hard on a tree trunk. It dazes me and I have to blink away the urge to sleep. When I crawl back over to Dad, he lies there with his eyes closed. He’s covered in blood. A sick wheezing sound is coming from him.

  “Daddy!”

  His eyes crack open but he doesn’t say anything. Just reaches for my hand. I clutch onto it as I sob. It’s too cold out here for him to be in the snow shirtless and hurt. I have to get him back inside. When I stand and grab his arms, he lets out a raspy groan of pain. He’s injured and dragging him back to the cabin won’t work. I don’t want to hurt him worse. With a choked sob, I abandon him and run all the way back to the cabin. I rush inside and rip a piece of the metal RV sheeting from the wall. Then, I run back. Getting him on the metal is tricky and at one point, I slice my hand right open but adrenaline fuels me on. Once he’s secure on it, I start dragging the metal with him on top along the snow-covered path.

  Twenty long minutes of this and I get him to the cabin steps. I can’t figure out a way to move him without hurting him. So with a deep breath, I grab him under the armpits and pull him up the steps. He moans in pain and it breaks my heart but I need to get him inside. I manage to pull him in and shut the door behind me to keep the elements out.

  “I-I need to s-see where you’re hurt,” I chatter out. Blood drips from my hand as I rake my palm over him. His breathing scares me. It’s noisy and rattled. I attempt to calm down and assess him. Before this trip, I read up a lot on first aid. With the bear’s weight landing on top of him, there’s a good chance he broke some ribs. My stomach bottoms out. If one of those ribs punctured his lung, he’ll die out here.

  Please, God, don’t let him die.

  “I’m going to clean you up,” I tell him, my voice firmer than before. I can’t break apart. I need to keep my head about me so I can look after him. Running back outside, I poke at our fire and boil some water. Then, I fetch a recently cleaned rag and settle back beside him. Cleaning him will allow me to take stock of his injuries. Carefully, I wash him from head to toe. He has no actual cuts or bite marks that I can see which is good, but his awfully loud breathing means something happened inside of him which feels worse. I can’t see inside of him to fix him. Quickly, I clean up my own hand that hurts and pour some alcohol into the wound. Then, I use some gauze from the first aid kit to wrap it tightly. The pain on the side of my back from the bear’s claws niggle at me and needs cleaning but it can wait.

  “Wake up,” I urge, my voice soft. “I need you to promise me everything will be okay.” Hot tears spill down my cheeks and splash o
n his chest.

  He doesn’t speak but he does wiggle his pinky. I sob as I grab onto it. It’s a promise.

  I wake with a start, groggy and confused. I’d managed to cover us with a quilt as I curled into his side. His breathing is still rattling and noisy. But when I look up he’s staring at me.

  “Reed!” I promised I’d call him by name in our cabin. I don’t break my promises either.

  He attempts to smile but then winces. It shatters my heart.

  “Shhhh,” I coo, my fingers running through his beard. “Let me take care of you. Can you sit up? I want to move you to the warm bed.”

  He nods.

  Progress.

  Pushing away the quilt, I straddle his waist careful not to hurt him. Then, I hook my arms under his armpits and struggle to stand. He’s super heavy and is now cursing like a sailor in a hissed voice, but then his feet work with me and he goes up the rest of the way. The trip to the bed isn’t far and I manage to get him situated on the soft mattress. The rattling sound is louder than ever and it scares me.

  I set to bundling him up with covers. Then, I stroke his long hair from his eyes and kiss his mouth. “Tell me what hurts.”

  He groans. “I think I cracked my ribs.”

  My heart rate quickens. “Okay, so we can do this. Cracked ribs are better than the horrible scenarios running through my head. Those can get better with rest. Remember the time Drew cracked one of his when he fell out of the treehouse?”

  His lips quirk up on one side at the mention of my brother. “Rowdy.”

  I smile too. “He was.”

  His eyes find mine. “Are you hurt?”

  Lifting my bandaged hand, I nod. “The metal got me,” I admit, shame in my tone. “I haven’t looked at the bear’s damage on my back yet.”

  “Take your coat off and let me see,” he rasps.

  With shaking from my cold fingers, I unbutton my coat and toss it away. My hoodie gets pulled off next. Dad lets out a sharp exhalation and then starts coughing. It sounds awful.

  “Are you okay?” I ask over my shoulder.

  His gaze is on my back and tears are in his eyes. “It hurts to breathe deep but I remember the doctor telling us to make sure Drew took deep breaths every hour when he was hurt. Help me remember.” His fingertips touch my spine. “Baby, your back is fucked up.”