Feral

by Berkeley, Anne

  “Or anything resembling them, obviously.”

  “It’s inbred.” Biting back a laugh, he dipped his head and smelled each, picking the riper of the two with a grin. “That’s good to know, but the boys will never eat it,” he said. “They never eat anything healthy. It’s against their principals.”

  “Perhaps that’s because I’ve never cooked for them before.”

  “Cocky, aren’t you?”

  “Confident.”

  “They still won’t eat it.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, placing them in the cart. I picked through the fruits and vegetables, pointedly sending Icarus for some alternate items like potatoes and onions while I picked through the phallic varieties like cucumbers and carrots in peace. He was right. Men were such children when it came to boobs. Then again, coming from him, I felt quite surprised. I didn’t think he had a sense of humor. Moody, yes, or even bossy, but boyish I hadn’t expected.

  In any event, Icarus stepped up when we reached the meat counter. He and the butcher seemed to have a small tête-à-tête before the butcher turned and disappeared behind a set of plastic flaps that led to the freezers. Close to a half hour later, he came back with half a cow, a slab of bacon, four chickens and a large paper wrapped bundle marked liver.

  The butcher’s name was Boris, which he pronounced with a long Russian drawl, and he insisted we come every Thursday and he would have the best cuts set aside for the newlyweds and doubly insisted that I needed to eat lots of liver.

  “You vant babies, you eat liver. Boris knows. Six healthy sons, I haf,” he boasted, his gray whiskery eyebrows meeting in the center with vehemence that dared me to doubt him. “Liver give you sons. Big sons, strong like bulls.”

  “Oh no,” I corrected him hastily. “We’re not married. No.”

  Boris smiled at this. “Then vut you need is,” he said something that sounded like “yaĭtsa” and pounded Icarus on the back with his meaty hand. “They make you strong like bull! Then she marry you!” Chortling, he withdrew behind his counter again. “I get for you, yes?”

  “What is yaĭtsa?” I asked innocently.

  Boris touched his index finger to his lips, searching inwardly. “How you say…testi-culls?”

  “What!” I choked.

  “Testi-culls,” Boris repeated, talking animatedly with his stubby hands. “They’re delicacy. And medicinal. Make your man virile. You vant, yes?”

  My eyes impulsively flickered to Icarus, my face going red. He raised an eyebrow. Mind numb and half-blank with shock, my eyes drew—on their own accord—to his groin.

  I heard him chuckle lowly. “I’d think you got a good look the other day.”

  I gasped indignantly. “The wonder twin’s told me that it was their room! I didn’t know you would be in there! And you should’ve locked the door!”

  Icarus flashed a row of dazzling white teeth. “You still looked. That makes twice now.”

  “Two,” I told Boris, holding up the equivalent number of fingers. “He needs aaalllll the help he can get.”

  Boris bellowed loudly, a rolling belly laugh. “If dis does not vork, you come see Boris. He still haf four eligible sons.” Disappearing behind the plastic curtain, he continued bellowing.

  “I should warn you that if you expect me to eat these,” Icarus hedged, “I’ll hold you responsible to accommodate any effects they may have on my virility.”

  I stared, striving to determine his angle. He was flirting, but there was gravity behind his words, and that worried me. I didn’t need serious when it came to men. Especially Icarus.

  “Fine, let’s go before Boris comes back,” I said, beating a quick retreat down the closest aisle. I began grabbing things from the shelves and throwing things in the cart, adding nearly one of everything in the store. Icarus’s cupboards were bare and with six men and two girls eating, I felt confident that nothing would go to waste.

  “Is the prospect that unappealing?” Icarus asked with mock insult. When it didn’t elicit a response, he grew visibly disappointed. “I thought we were starting over, Thaleia.”

  “We are.” I’m just not interested.

  “Then lighten up. I don’t bite. Usually.” His mouth quirked, fighting a smile over his own lame joke. This only provoked my frown to deepen. He did bite. He hurt me, dominated me with his entire family standing outside the door, and I didn’t see the humor in it.

  “You,” I said, turning on my heel, “are supposed to be my guardian. The next best thing after a parent. Try acting your age. Whatever that might be.”

  That seemed to strike a nerve, because for the next few aisles, he remained broodingly silent. I almost preferred the flirting. Almost. Surely there had to be a happy medium. We just had to find it. Unfortunately, that was difficult, if not impossible since we weren’t speaking.

  Occasionally, Icarus added items to the cart, anything boxed or bagged and could be quickly and easily prepared for those that were unskilled in the kitchen, but I had to put my foot down when he began loading his arms with cans upon cans of Hormel chili.

  One at a time, I took the cans and began placing them back on the shelf, labels facing outward. “I have everything I need to make chili if you want chili. Except chili powder. If you go back to the spice aisle, it’s dark red. The jar is usually fairly large so you can’t miss it.”

  Picking up the cans I just set back on the shelf, he began loading them back into the cart. “Cans are good for days we don’t feel like eating out.”

  Again, I began plucking them from the cart and set them back on the shelf. “How many days a week is that?” I inquired. “One? Two? If it makes you feel better, I’ll make a pot of it and freeze it. You guys can reheat it whenever you want. Besides, mine’s better.”

  Icarus’s jaw muscle twitched. “I don’t expect you to do the cooking. I’ve managed to keep everyone fed up until now.”

  “I won’t have to do it forever,” I dismissed. “By the end of each day, one if not two of your cousins will each learn a thing or two.”

  Slowly, I could see him softening. “My cousins? You think you’re going to teach them to cook?” he said skeptically. “They hate working in the kitchen.”

  “That’s because they’ve never worked in the kitchen with moi,” I said fluttering my eyelashes and accompanying it with an ingenuous smile.

  “And when the novelty wears off?”

  “Then I turn into Frau Blücher.” Pushing the cart up the aisle, I giggled as Icarus whinnied behind me. I think I had broken the ice and found our medium.

  “I can’t believe you know who Frau Blücher is.”

  “It’s a classic. Don’t be so surprised.”

  “I pictured you more of a romantic comedy kinda girl.”

  “Sci-fi, horror, classic comedies. Every Saturday night, Bennie and I pop a big tub of popcorn loaded with salt and butter, and sit on the couch watching movies. We’ve been doing it for like the past…I don’t know…since I can remember.”

  Preoccupying myself with kidney beans and tomato sauce, I hid the frown that formed on my lips. I supposed I wouldn’t be having family movie night with Bennie anymore.

  It was all so surreal. My world had just turned upside down and I was out grocery shopping. Part of me was still expecting to wake up at the snap of someone’s fingers, strapped to a gurney in a locked and padded room.

  Keeping busy. That’s what I was doing. Otherwise I’d fall to pieces. In my mind, I wasn’t only listing ingredients; I was planning a week’s worth of meals. But everything seemed to circle back to my family. Kidney beans. Tomato sauce. Chili, Bennie loved chili night. He’d stink bomb my room so that I’d walk into a wall of noxious fumes when I went to bed. Boneless chicken breasts. Mushrooms. Mom loved chicken marsala. Dad pretty much anything you put under his nose, except pistachios.

  Noting my change of mood, Icarus placed his hand over mine. “Thaleia.”

  “Chili powder,” I reminded him, sucking a ragged breath. “By the time you
find it, I’ll have finished the last two aisles. I only need a few more things. Then we can go.”

  “Ok,” he acquiesced, allowing me my space. By the time I turned the corner, he hadn’t moved, but watched until I was out of view. Probably wondering what in the hell he got himself into. My mood swings were off the charts. If he were smart, he’d leave right now. Skedaddle while he had the chance. I certainly wouldn’t hold it against him.

  I guess he was a glutton for punishment, because as I reached the registers, he was holding a space in line. No sooner than I reached him, he began tossing things indiscriminately onto the conveyer belt, regardless of their shape, size or weight. Eggs, bottles of cola, loaves of bread, laundry detergent. I nearly had a heart attack, envisioning the carnage.

  “Stop! Stop, please, allow me,” I intervened. “Just step back.”

  He did, looking puzzled.

  Quickly, I pulled back a few items from the conveyer so that soda and detergent didn’t crush the bread and eggs. God, I was so domestic it was sad.

  “I didn’t realize there was a right or wrong way.”

  “Well there is, unless you don’t mind paying for squished bread and broken eggs. Heavy things go up first, so when you load them back into the cart, they’re on the bottom. Freezer stuff goes together so that you can get it to your freezer quicker before it defrosts. Eggs, bread and perishables go last so they aren’t crushed. It’s all about efficiency, see?”

  Icarus stared dubiously. Questioning my sanity, I’m sure.

  “Keep loading,” I told him, “and I’ll start bagging.”

  Doubtful, but accepting my logic, he began loading things onto the belt, glancing every so often in my direction for approval. He looked aghast when reaching my tampons, dithering for a moment before giving up and throwing them on the belt. Typical male reaction.

  You’d think periods were contagious by association.

  ΑΒΩ

  “Six hundred dollars.”

  “I offered to chip in,” I said for the third time. “Besides, it won’t cost that much every time we go. You do realize you don’t even have ketchup in the fridge, don’t you? And the salt and pepper had weevils. Gah!” I shivered with the heebie-jeebies.

  “I’ve never spent six hundred dollars on groceries. Not once in my life.”

  “Well maybe if you didn’t buy half the farm…”

  “I have five growing lycan boys to feed. You stick a plate of birdseed in front of them and their gonna scoff at it.”

  “I didn’t buy birdseed.” I bought sunflower seeds, shelled, for the salad I was going to make. Before he could reply, I threw my store of cash at him and jumped out of the car, grabbing an armful of groceries from the trunk.

  Max came trotting outside and reached to take the bag from my arms, but when he took in my expression, he held door for me instead. “Still biased?”

  “That depends on which way you’re leaning. You might want to help him. There should be a trailer pulling up shortly to drop off a small petting zoo.”

  Lucius was in the kitchen, nursing a cold slice of pizza. Upon my arrival, he vacated his stool and began helping me unload the bags. “Man, I haven’t seen this much food in…I can’t even remember! You can actually cook all this stuff? What the heck is cream of tartar?”

  He stared at the jar of said spices as if it contained sea monkeys.

  “I don’t want your money,” Icarus said, his arms full of bags. Dropping them onto the counter, he dug in his pocket and pulled out my crumpled wad of cash. “Take it.”

  “You keep it,” I refused. “Use it to pay the doctor; maybe he can pull that bug out of your ass.”

  Lucius and Max chortled, rustling through the bags.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Icarus growled at them. “There’s more stuff in the car.”

  Without warning, I found myself wedged between the shelves of the pantry and Icarus’s rigid body. His chest swelled against mine, crushing my ribs. He peered down at me, his eyes hard, unbending. Peeking over his shoulder, I could see he had pulled the door closed behind us. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he was about, and wondered if he was going to kiss me again.

  “I don’t know what it is between us that we can’t get along, but if there’s one thing I won’t tolerate, it’s you disrespecting me in front of my cousins. Do it again and I’ll take you over my knee. Understood?”

  My eyes narrowed, matching his. “Try it,” I said defiantly. I hadn’t meant it in the literal sense. I think every teen said it to their parent at least once or twice. So I hadn’t expected him to take me up on my challenge.

  Nonetheless, next thing I knew, I was being heaved through the air. Instinctively, I reached my arms out and caught purchase on one of the wire shelves. It was to no avail, because the shelf collapsed, sending its sparse contents to the floor. I think I got beamed in the head by a can of Dinty Moore. Before I could utter a peep of protest, I felt a loud thwap against my backside followed by a sharp sting, and another, and another until I could barely feel it anymore. Each strike seemed to blend into one burning ache. Somewhere along the line, I found my voice, which by the end, became hoarse and almost nonexistent before I stopped screaming altogether, saving myself a shred of dignity.

  When at last, Icarus had spent his ire on me, I got the impression that he forgot there was a wrathful woman attached to the rosy backside slung over his lap, because his palm glided once over me, massaging the sting. He was panting as hard as I was from the altercation, but as his callused fingers rounded the globe of my ass, his breath caught in his throat.

  “Are you done?” I inquired, averse to being groped after the indignity of being spanked. Finding his lungs, he sighed and released my arms from his grip. I turned as I stood and tugged my pants up, denying him the full frontal. Gravity had played part and jostled my boobs from my bra so it took me a minute to put myself back together. Yet, when I turned back around, he was still standing there. With much effort, I bit off the urge reply with some sassy retort.

  This pleased Icarus indubitably, because he turned and left the pantry.

  On his way out, I caught a glimpse of Hailey’s smug grin through the crack of the pantry door. If not for that small provocation, I might have sulked in the pantry for a few hours, but it grew increasingly irksome. I wanted to slap the smile from that eerie little imp’s face. Instead, I combed the tangles from my hair, smoothed my clothes and squared my shoulders then went out to face the world. Mentally belting a few verses of Tub-thumping, I fixed my expression to mild indifference and opened the door.

  “You ok?” Lucius asked.

  “Icarus went out.” Max added. “If you want to talk about it.”

  “I’m fine.” Busying myself, I immediately set to putting the groceries away, ignoring their troubled stares.

  “What the heck happened while you were out?” Max pressed. “Icarus never gets that upset…well…not since—”

  “Last Sunday?” I interjected. “We don’t get along. That’s the bottom line.”

  “He’s really not—”

  “That bad,” I snapped at Max. “I’ve never been so affronted in my life. Since I’ve met him, he’s bitten, molested, dominated, threatened, poisoned, kissed, flirted, spanked and groped me. Now tell me, what impression would that leave upon you?”

  Confounding me, Max’s expression grew crestfallen while Lucius grinned smugly. This wasn’t something you’d see from someone who was disappointed with discovering the true morals of their highly respected alpha. It was more like they’d lost their most prized possession in a game of cards. Or at least that held true for Max. Lucius looked like a grinning loon.

  “Dude,” said Lucius with a growing smile, “you owe me fifty bucks.”

  “That was an unconfirmed bet.”

  “Bullshit! It was fair and square and everyone was there to witness it. Now pay up.” Shoving his outstretched palm in Max’s direction, he wiggled his fingers.

  “What are you guys talking a
bout?”

  Gloating, Lucius could barely spare a glance in my direction. If he had, he would’ve seen my humorless expression, my pale face, or the way my knuckles whitened around the bag of russet potatoes.

  “Icarus is in lust with you. It’s plain as day. Why anyone doubted me, I’ll never understand.”

  “So what,” I said, my voice quivering with anger. “You made wagers on me and Icarus?”

  Finally, Lucius’s smile wavered. “Well, it wasn’t necessarily about you. It was really over Icarus, and how long he would hold out.”

  “Hold out for what?” It wasn’t like I didn’t know the answer. I wasn’t born yesterday. But I wanted to hear it all the same.

  “Not that,” Lucius denied, but I could see it was a lie. “Not technically. Geez, shit, damn, don’t cry. It’s not like that…it’s…you have to understand…”

  “No, you need to explain!” I shouted, slamming my hand down on the counter. “Was I or was I not involved in a bet that had any relation to Icarus’s lust?”

  “Yes, but—”

  My palm cut off his answer with a loud slap across the face. “Would you like to bet that some stranger’s out there fucking your mother right now?”

  I shouldn’t have said it, but I wanted to make a point. I was torn from my world, where I was safe and happy and thrown into this hell that I didn’t understand, or accept. And they were placing wagers, inconsiderate to my thoughts or feelings. I was a fucking person, not a conquest.

  But deep inside, I wanted to hurt him too. Because unlike Mike Dougherty, I could. Mike was untouchable.

  Back in my sophomore year, I had been euphoric when Mike asked me out. He was star quarterback at the time. Before Rock East and West split. He had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. And the typical build of a determined athlete. I overlooked that I was an inch taller.

  We dated for almost a year. Forever, by a sixteen-year-old’s standards. I thought he was the one. It was only natural. His parents owned a chain of steakhouses. My parents founded O’berries. We planned to attend the same college as business majors with plans to follow in our parents footsteps by opening a chain of restaurants. We dithered on what type of restaurant, but that was trivial. All that mattered was that we were together.