Page 9 of The Wild Man

I tip my head back, the fear from before growing tenfold.

His face is only inches away from mine. The warmth of his steady breath fans across my cheeks, heating them further. The long strands of his ebony hair surround us as he glares down at me.

He drops his face closer and bares his teeth, growling out a single word.

“Mine.”

four

Everlee

“Mine.”

That’s the only word Wild Man says.

That one word, along with the intent written all over his face, has true terror filling my veins, freezing the life-giving blood flowing through them.

Up until this point, I didn’t truly fear the situation or Wild Man. One look at him, and I knew he was capable of harming me, but I didn’t get the sense that he would. I felt more like an unusual nuisance to him. An inconvenient tolerance he would deal with until I was gone.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

With the straight line of his lips, the flaring of his nostrils, narrowed eyes as dark as night on a starless sky, and the hard bulges of his muscles as he stands over me, I realize I was stupid. So fucking stupid. I made a colossal mistake coming here, and an even bigger one finding this untamed man. Thinking back, how in the hell could I have ever thought this was a good idea?

This man is uncivilized. He’s never been in society or around people. Aside from when he was still a young child, memories that have probably faded over time, he’s never been taught right from wrong. He doesn’t know what a person should or shouldn’t do. He has no laws to follow and no morals he was taught. He’s going on pure animal instinct.

“Mine.”

His growled voice saying that word echoes in my head over and over again.

What does he mean? Surely he’s not saying I’m his. That would be ridiculous, and if I’m honest, frightening as hell.

Knowing it’ll be a fruitless effort, I still test out his strength and willingness to let me go. His grip doesn’t lessen even a fraction.

What in the hell do I do now? The gun and taser are my only chance, but he has to let me go long enough for me to get to one of them.

As if sensing my thoughts, Wild Man pulls the gun from the holster, looks at it for a moment with his jaw clenched, before he tosses it somewhere behind me.

“Wait!” I yell, pulling hard against his unforgiving hold.

He does the same to the black taser.

His free hand latches around my throat at the same time his eyes jerk to mine. I tremble at the deadly look he gives me.

He tilts my head back by his grip. “Mine,” he growls again.

I suck in a deep breath, barely able to get air in my lungs, trying to not let the panic that’s quickly filling me show on my face.

“No, I’m not yours,” I reply firmly.

His expression darkens and the bite of his fingers around my wrists digs against the bones.

“Mine,” he grits out, baring his gleaming white teeth.

Is that the only word he knows? Something tells me he knows and understands more, but he probably so rarely talks—if ever—that he doesn’t like to.

I open my mouth to protest again, but my breath is cut short when his fingers tighten around my neck. Terror stops me cold when I can’t even pull in a breath.

Wild Man puts his face so close to mine that our noses touch.