Feral Read Free

She pointed again. "I work in the park." She waved her hand vaguely at the trees. Did he even know he lived in a park? Doubtful, of course.
    She prattled on and on about Brooklyn and Montana and Yale, until he reached over and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Julianne nearly fainted again, as his touch sent a shock that burned straight from her mouth to the pit of her stomach. He caressed her lips for a moment, then opened her mouth and rubbed a finger over her teeth, as if testing their sharpness. He tasted of apples and smoke. He pulled his finger out and traced the outline of her lips again. He made that barking noise again, only this time softly whispered. Julianne wondered what he was trying to say. She looked at him apologetically.
    He spread out his palm and cupped the side of her face as if he were blind and trying to see her through his hand. Her eyes closed and she surrendered to the feeling of his skin against hers. With his free hand, he traced a light trail over her brow, her cheekbone, her fine straight nose. Julianne's breathing grew ragged. This was the most sensual thing anyone had ever done to her. No one had ever just touched her face like this, explored its every curve and bone. The boys she had slept with in college never seemed to have a second glance for her face, once they realized they were about to get laid. They all rushed to get her clothes off, her bra unhooked, her underwear down around her ankles.
    Suddenly, his hands left her face and plunged deep into her long chestnut hair, tugging sharply at the roots, leaving Julianne gasping for air. She let herself fall into the exquisite pleasure of it, of his fingers weaving through her silky strands, testing the texture between his thumb and forefinger. Blood rushed in her ears, her pulse pounded in her neck, bringing back the delicious memory of her breasts pressed against his hard back as he carried her on the trail.
    Her eyes flew open when he nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. He seemed fascinated by her hair. With the benefit of shampoo and a comb, hers had a much different texture than his. Julianne couldn't help herself. She touched his hair in return. It was too tangled to run her fingers through, but she longed to feel the coarseness of it.
    His hands froze on her scalp.
    She could no longer hear him breathing; he was holding his breath. He leaned away from her, causing her fingers to slip from his head. A low, guttural growl came from deep inside his throat and his eyes dropped to his lap. Julianne's gaze followed. The animal skin slung around his hips was tented with his erection. He looked back up at Julianne, his face twisted with alarm and confusion.
    Julianne smiled. "That's okay—" she started to say but he had already jumped up and loped off into the trees.
    Julianne sat there patiently and waited, expecting him to return when his body was under control. His innocence was appealing, and it made Julianne want him. She wanted him that very minute, and—god—there must be something wrong with her. She wanted this strange, wild man.
    She waited hours, but he didn't return.
    V
    Her daughter was fifteen now, and wild. The wildness that ran, barely checked, through her veins terrified everyone. Teachers. Schoolmates. Herself. It always had. Ever since she was a toddler, she'd been the problem child in school, the one other mothers tsked tsked about. They tried to work medication into every conversation with Julianne. Only Julianne understood her daughter's wildness, and she hadn't the heart to tame it or medicate it or therapy it away.
    VI
    Julianne rose at dawn the next morning and filled her backpack with bread and cheese, grapes and chocolate. She dressed in jeans and a yellow blouse patterned with tiny blue and green flowers. After hours of hiking, she found the lean-to empty save for the skins piled in the back corner. Disappointment swelled in her chest. She looked around the wooden structure, trying to determine