Page 64 of The Wild Man
For instance, I’ve been meaning to start a diet to shed some of the extra weight around my middle. I’ve always wanted to be the type of woman who could sit in a bikini and not have that little roll in my stomach that pushes out past the bottoms of the bathing suit. Unfortunately, I’m not one of the types who can eat anything and still pull that off. I have to work hard at the gym and count calories. I hate counting calories. I love food too much.
Living with Wild Man in the wilderness, I still don’t count calories, but I don’t need to because the food we eat doesn’t contain many. I’ve finally accomplished that flat stomach, and I didn’t even have to work for it.
I look down at my midriff and rub my hand over it, snickering in glee to myself. The lack of rope doesn’t escape my notice. It’s been several days since I was released from that cursed thing. I’ve been half expecting Wild Man to leash me again, but so far he hasn’t.
Another benefit of living in the wild with no rules and societal expectations, you don’t have to worry about what anyone will think of you. I’m a people pleaser, and I like to be liked. Not because I want to be noticed—I actually don’t like to be the center of attention—but because I want people to be happy when they see me. I like for everyone to be happy, and when that doesn’t happen, it stresses me out. It’s exhausting to try to please everyone. Out here, I only have one person I need to keep happy, and it takes almost nothing to achieve that goal.
Wild Man is a simple man.
He eats. He hunts. He cares for me and fucks me. He sleeps. All with a few variations of other things thrown in between those top things.
He also makes me happy.
I never thought I could be happy in a place like this with a man like Wild Man, but I am.
I miss my old life. My family and friends the most, but also modern conveniences like a toilet and toilet paper, fresh brewed coffee, a soft bed, electronics. Clothes should be one of the top things on my list, but surprisingly, I’ve gotten used to walking around naked. It’s kind of freeing not having material constantly rubbing against my body. I’m not saying I would shun clothes if they were presented before me, but not having that option isn’t as irritating as it used to be.
I’m pulled from my ruminations when Teeja, who’s trotting ahead of Wild Man and me a few feet away gives a small yelp at Drefan, the rambunctious one of the siblings.
Teeja and his family have visited us several times since I was first introduced to them. I love having them around. The wolf family has become my entertainment over the last couple of weeks. The way Teeja is with Vena and their pups kind of reminds me of the way Wild Man is with me.
Protective and willing to do anything to keep them safe.
It’s strange to compare a man to an animal, but it’s also not so strange. Wild Man grew up in the wild surrounded by wild animals. It’s not so unusual for him to have picked up on some of the wild life’s mannerisms. Like marking my urine with his own to mask my scent. While it won’t keep humans away, it would animals.
Teeja stops in front of us. He lets out a low growl and the hair along his spine stands up. His head jerks to our right, but I don’t see what’s alerting him. He gives a deep snarl before he yelps in the direction of Vena and their pups. Then the six of them take off in the opposite direction.
Wild Man, who’s been next to me, steps in front of me, his back ramrod straight with tension. His hand tightens around the spear he’s holding as he faces the direction where Teeja sensed danger.
I grab his arm and peek around his body, curious to know what’s out there.
Without looking at me, Wild Man hisses, “Stay.”
I’d bristle at the command if my nerves weren’t currently being frayed. There are any number of predators that it could be. Some Wild Man could handle, some I’m afraid he couldn’t.
What comes through a thick briar of bushes is the last thing I expect.
An old man, probably in his late sixties, dressed in tattered jeans and a green and black plaid shirt, topped with a ratty straw hat.
I’m even more surprised when I see the tension leave Wild Man’s shoulders. I would have thought the opposite would happen.
This man could equal my escape.
He could also be more dangerous than an animal. He looks like a stiff wind could blow him over, but looks can be deceiving.
The man’s hair that’s sticking out of his hat is completely gray. He’s tall and nearly skin and bones. It’s a good thing Wild Man doesn’t view him as a threat because he could easily break him like a twig. He has straps over his shoulders from what looks like some kind of pack he’s wearing on his back.
“Boy,” the man says in a smoker’s roughened voice. The hint of a smile can be seen through his thick unkempt beard.
When Wild Man starts walking toward him, I cling to his back. He stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “No threat,” he says. “Ben safe.”
I still don’t let him go. I peek around his arm before lifting my eyes back to Wild Man.
“I’m naked,” I say, keeping my voice low.
He looks at me like he doesn’t understand the problem with me being unclothed in front of another man.
It’s sort of funny if you think about it. Only in the wild would an alpha and possessive man like Wild Man be okay with other men seeing his woman naked. If he grew up in civilization, he’d be spitting mad and raging.