Page 34 of The Wild Man

I look up when my female moans. Her eyes are closed and she has a pleased look on her face. It makes me want to beat my chest and roar to the sky in triumph. I put that look on her face. Her male.

When her eyes slide open, they come to me. “Why do you do that?” Her voice is so low that I barely hear her.

I lean down and rest one of my fists on the ground beside her head. Two of my fingers are still at her opening, so I push them inside. I bend my arm until my face is close to hers.

“Mine,” I grunt and her eyes widen. “My female. My babies in belly.”

eleven

Everlee

The term ‘mine’ will always mean something different to me now. People use it with such simplicity to claim their possessions. But just because you claim something is yours, doesn’t actually make it so. Sometimes you have to fight, steal, barter, and connive to truly own it. And even then, someone else might come along and try to take it from you to claim for themselves.

People are not supposed to be possessions. They aren’t meant to be owned by another.

The way Wild Man uses the word ‘mine’ gives it a whole new meaning. It makes me feel like a ‘thing’, not a living, breathing person. Not someone who has feelings and has the right to choose whether I want to be claimed.

But it also makes me feel something else. Important. Relevant. The center of someone’s world.

It’s not a good feeling to have in my current situation. I have a suspicion that when Wild Man calls something his, he’ll fight to his very last breath to keep it. He’s already said he would kill my family if they came for me, and I have no doubt he’d follow through with his threat.

And I know with certainty that if I did become pregnant, his possessiveness will only strengthen. Unfortunately, time is not on my side. I’m on birth control, but it’s the stupid fucking pill, not the shot. It’s been days—a week maybe? I’ve sorta lost track of time— since I took my last pill, so for all I know, I could be cooking a mini Wild Man inside me right now. I very well might be on my way to becoming a mother.

I shudder at the thought.

What in the hell am I going to do if I do get pregnant? I’m firmly against abortion, so that’s out of the question. I can’t imagine giving my child away, so adoption is a no. But raising a child who was created from a nightmare? I would love any child I birthed under any circumstances, but they would be a constant reminder of my time spent in the wilderness with a crazed man.

I need to get away from him before any of this becomes a reality.

A twig snaps to my left and the sudden noise jerks me from my thoughts. My head swings in that direction, only to see Wild Man stepping out from behind a tree.

He’s wearing the cloth that covers his junk again, something I’m grateful for, but it also irritates the hell out of me. I’m still naked as the day I was born. Why does he get to cover his most private parts while I’m left flaunting mine for all the creatures in the forest to see?

“Asshole,” I mutter quietly to myself.

It’s not quietly enough, apparently, because Wild Man jerks his head my way, his eyes narrowing.

Oops. I forgot that I’m supposed to be quiet while the asshole hunts for food.

I don’t know why he didn’t just leave me at the tree hut. It’s not like I’m helping him. Certainly not while I’m tied to another fucking tree.

The rope chafes the skin around my waist, so I adjust it a little, shooting Wild Man a glare as I do so.

He ignores my look as he walks on silent feet toward me. He has a long stick in his hand. Both ends have been shaved down to pointy tips.

He goes to where the rope is tied to the tree and within seconds unties it.

How in the hell can he untie the rope so fast when I’ve been working at it for what seems like hours?

When I get out of here I’m Googling every knot known to mankind.

Using the rope, he leads me through the woods, thankfully going slower than his normal gait. I have to watch the ground to make sure I’m not stepping on anything spiky. Wild Man doesn’t. It’s like his feet are made of stone and can withstand anything.

“Where are we going now?” I ask because I’m sick of the silence. Screw him.

His answer is to jerk on the rope until I almost lose my footing. I don’t let it deter me though.

I grab the piece of rope in front of me and give it a hard pull. “Hey. I asked a question. It’s rude to not answer.”