Page 36 of The Wild Man

Just because he says they’re good, doesn’t actually mean they’re safe to eat.

When I don’t take them, he tilts his head back and pops a few of them in his mouth. My breath catches, my first thought going to the possibility of him dying from poison. The ridiculous notion soon leaves my head. He’s lived in the forest for years. Surely he’s eaten them before.

I cup my hands together and hold them out. He drops the berries in my hand, waiting until I pop a couple into my mouth before seeming satisfied. I’m surprised at how sweet and tasty they are. Before I know it, I’ve eaten them all. Wild Man watches me the whole time.

He pulls the water pouch from his side and holds it out to me. Reluctantly grateful, I take it and swallow back several mouthfuls. When I give it back, he takes his own drink from it.

After he’s reattached the pouch to his hip, he pulls the rope and we start walking again. My stomach is satisfied for now, so my mood has improved slightly.

After a while, we stop near a tree and he winds the rope around it.

“Stay,” he grunts before walking off.

Jerk. It’s not like I can go anywhere anyway.

I find a relatively soft spot near the tree and sit down. Drawing my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs. The position reminds me of yesterday and what I willingly let happen. I not only didn’t fight Wild Man, but after the initial shock of what he wanted, I actually enjoyed it. My mind may have been screaming at me to stop, but my body apparently has a mind of its own, because it went along with everything Wild Man demanded.

Sitting close to him with my legs spread open, playing with myself while he touched his cock was the dirtiest, naughtiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m no prude, but I know my limits, and doing that, I would have thought, would surpass those limits. Not just the act itself, but the person I was doing it with.

And what he did with his hand….

I close my eyes at the memory. I never would have thought what he did would be possible, but I guess the body is more pliable than I imagine.

Afterward, I wanted to hate him for what he did to my body, but I only ended up hating myself. The tremors of my orgasm had barely faded, and I was already anticipating the next time he would do it again. All of it. Us taking our own pleasure while the other watched and him stuffing his hand inside me.

Why can’t I feel disgust toward the man who’s holding me against my will? My head knows right from wrong, but my body wants to play. I hate myself because Wild Man makes me feel things I never knew I could feel. He plays my body expertly, like he’s perfected the art of seduction. This coming from a guy who was a virgin until I came along. How is that even possible?

Something rattles several feet away from me and instant chills form across my arms. I know that sound well and it sends terror through me.

I was seven years old when one of my brothers was rushed to the hospital after being bitten by a rattlesnake. Thankfully, he was given the anti-venom in time and there were no lasting effects. I remember crying so much it made me sick. I thought my brother was going to die. The summer before, there was a boy who was bitten by a rattler and he wasn’t as lucky as Spencer. His body was found two days after he went missing.

Without making any sudden movements, I slowly turn my head. Sure enough, five feet away from me is a huge fucking diamondback rattlesnake. The biggest part of his body has got to be the size of my forearm. He’s coiled with his thick head sticking up, his tongue slithering, and his tail rattling its death beat.

Fear has me freezing, which works in my favor, because the best thing to do if you encounter a rattler is to stay still. What sucks is that I’m sitting down and can’t even attempt to move away from it if given the opportunity. Sudden movements could startle the thing and it could strike.

Shit. I’m so damned screwed.

My nails bite into my thighs when, after several tense moments, the rattler uncoils and starts slithering toward me, not away like it’s supposed to.

Despite trying to stay as still as possible, my body begins to shake and my heart pounds so loud I’m sure the snake can hear it. There’s no need to worry about getting away from Wild Man, because it won’t matter anymore. I’m going to die from a snake bite.

That or a heart attack.

The snake is only a couple of feet from me now. If he so chooses, he’s within striking range.

I stop breathing when he inches forward, the end of his split tongue slithering as he opens his mouth and shows me his long deadly teeth.

I’ve come to terms with my fate and am sending up my last prayers when two things happen at once.

The snake suddenly strikes, but it’s not me that it sinks its teeth into. Right at the last second, a thick, tanned arm snaps in front of me and grabs the snake. Unfortunately, Wild Man’s aim is off and he grabs it too far down its body to hinder it from attacking. The rattler twists around and sinks its sharp fangs into the meaty part of Wild Man’s bicep.

Wild Man doesn’t react to being bitten. He grabs the snake with his other hand just below its head and wrestles it to the ground. He snatches his stick, where he must have dropped it, and presses the pointy end to the top of the rattler’s head. He jams it downward into the ground, puncturing the snake’s skull. It twitches for a moment before going still.

I scramble on my knees and practically fall at Wild Man’s side. Grabbing his arm with shaky hands, I lift it to look at the two puncture holes. They’re about two inches apart and blood and a clear-ish liquid seeps from them both.

My stomach turns to knots and the back of my scalp prickles. I jerk my head up to look at Wild Man.

“Why did you do that?” I shout the question. My vision clouds as my eyes fill with tears.