Chapter 11

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."

He abruptly turns, and I barely catch myself before I slam against his chest.

"Quiet," he says, his voice a deep, grumbly growl.

"I don't want to be quiet," I retort. "The silence is killing me."

He tilts his head to the side like people do when they're trying to understand something. "Not killing you."

My eyes roll heavenward before settling back on him. "Not literally. It's a metaphor." A line appears between his eyes. "I'm just saying, this silent business sucks."

"Sucks?" His eyes drop to my mouth, and I swear, I could slap myself for using that word. Of course, he's a man, so his mind goes immediately to the gutter.

I snap my fingers in his face and his gaze comes back to mine. "Eyes up here."

His lips form a firm line as he scowls.

"Quiet," he says again. "Hunt."

I throw my hands on my hips like an immature teenager getting ready to rant. "If you wanted quiet, then you should have left me at the tree hut."

"Tree hut?"

"Yes. Tree hut. Camp." I try another word. "Home."

I don't say his home because technically, although temporarily, it is my home at the moment as well.

"No."

My brows jump up. "No, what?"

"You stay with me."

Frustration has my back teeth grinding together. "But why?"

I need him to take me back to the tree hut and go hunt by himself so I can work on the stupid knots again.

"Mine."

I want to shove that godforsaken word down his throat and choke him on it.

"I already know you think I'm yours," I say in exasperation. "What does that have to do with taking me back to the tree hut?"

"You stay," he says stubbornly.

I throw my hands in the air and let them slam back against my sides. "Fine. Whatever."

He eyes me for a second before he spins on his heel and resumes walking. I watch my steps, but I don't keep them light like I was before. If he wants me with him, he can deal with me making as much noise as I want.

We walk and walk and walk. By the time we come to a stop, I've lightened my steps. Not because I'm trying to be quiet, but because all the stomping was starting to hurt my feet. Or that's what I tell myself. It's definitely not because the jostling was reminding me that I'm actually hungry and my noisy steps could ultimately harm our chances of getting food.

I lick my dry lips. I'm thirsty too, but I refuse to ask for the water pouch that's hanging from Wild Man's side.

My stomach rumbles loud enough for him to hear and he glances at me over his shoulder. I keep my lips sealed, but don't look away from him. His eyes move down my chest to my stomach, and it feels like a light caress.

He moves to a leafy bush. Squatting down, he begins plucking the purple berries. They aren't any that I've seen before. After he has a handful, he stands and holds out his hand.

I'm hesitant to take them. "What are they? They could be poisonous."

"No. Good."

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.

His expression is fierce when he says only one word. "Protect."