Page 12 of Wild Life

“And take him, too,” I called out. As a biologist, I loved animals, but not when they seemed eager to eat me alive.

Cryptid stared back at me, irritation wrinkling his golden forehead, like I had demanded one too many things.

Perhaps a little sugar would make the creeper and his sidekick go away faster. I swallowed my pride and offered a fake smile. “Please?”

The man whistled, and the pig trotted merrily to him on command. He turned around, and I was greeted by a perfectly sculpted ass.Lord, have mercy on me.The man was ripped.

The door creaked closed, and I finally let out the breath I had been holding, before collapsing onto my back.

Where the fuck am I?

Chapter 6

The Screech Owl Has Risen

Aleki

I didn’t remember humans being that noisy. My head pounded from all the shouting. For such a scrawny person, she was loud. Her voice grated my ears like the cries of a screech owl in heat. To top it off, she had wide, round eyes and brown hair exactly like an owl.

I couldn’t stand her chaos. That was why I had grabbed her throat. To stop her so my mind could have a moment to think. Strangely enough, her pulse vibrating against my fingers had soothed me, like butterfly wings flapping on my skin.

I would have expected that a person with a voice that large would be bigger in size, but she barely had any meat on her. Her arms and legs were long and thin…delicate when compared to my solid limbs. I bet they’d snap off if a harsh gust of wind ever hit her. Actually, she was the windstorm, violent and unpredictable.

Her ability to fight had surprised me. It was nothing I’d have expected from the frail and lifeless figure I had found lying face down on the beach yesterday after the storm had passed. Her skin had been so pale, yet after having seen her awake, I realized it was naturally that nearly translucent shade of the inside of a lychee. It was interesting to see how quickly it turned red when she was at a loss for words. Like when I had handed her clothes back.

I had seen women’s underwear before, but never had I been tasked with removing them from an actual woman.

I blinked, remembering the moment I had found her.

I had been nervous to touch her—to touch another human. No one ever came to this island. The surrounding seas were so fierce that no one would intentionally wish to make the voyage.

I had assumed she was already dead when I’d found her. No injuries had been visible at first glance, but to my surprise, she had roused and managed to cough up water, her eyes remaining shut, too tired to wake.

With her thin body cradled in my arms, I’d carried her back to the hut. I’d had no choice but to remove her wet and sandy clothes. The fabric had clung to her body like glue held it in place as I’d pried pieces of clothing from her cool skin. Her bra and panties, as I had learned they were called from the boys in grade school, matched. They were black, like the color of midnight, and a deep contrast to her light complexion. My throat had tightened at the image that lay on my dinner table like a feast for my vision, and my insides had rumbled with something I could only describe as hunger. Not for food. For something else I couldn’t begin to explain.

My fingers had instinctively brushed the tops of her bra where fabric met flesh. Little bumps had broken out, following the path my finger traced. Curiosity had nagged at me, so I pushed the garment down.

Until then, I had only seen breasts in the nude magazines conveniently hidden away in my trunk of books. Those images couldn’t compare to the real thing. Two perfectly symmetrical globes, swollen bigger than my own chest, like ripe fruit with how plump they were. My mouth had instantly filled with saliva. Dark-pink peaks had stood at attention in the center of each fruit, so hard that my fingers had itched to touch them.How would they feel if I pinched them…rolled them between my fingers? Soft? Hard? Would they change shape? Could I make them soften in my hands? What would they taste like?

As badly as I’d wanted to find out, it hadn’t felt right to touch them while she was unconscious, so I let them be.

Plus, the next distraction had beckoned me. Her panties. I’d slid them down her legs, an inviting V greeting me. A sprinkling of dark hair—the same color of Christmas gingerbread cookies as on her head—covered the part that had intrigued me the most. Or perhaps I had only wanted to see it because it had been hidden away from me like a present, begging me to unwrap it.

My blood had thrummed in my ears as I’d leaned in, examining the glimpse of peach flesh peeking out through her hair, and suddenly, my tongue had been too large for my mouth. I hadn’t been able to look away. She had smelled sweet and musky. Like juice that could never satisfy your thirst, no matter how much you drank.

It had all been too much for me to handle. Confusingly beautiful. I had to shake away the cravings so I could proceed with my task without faltering. With the last of her clothing removed, I’d dried her and wiped the sand from her skin, then I untangled the seaweed that had woven into her hair.

When I had cleaned her enough, I carried her to my bed and covered her with a blanket I had stitched together using fabric I’d found on shore with a needle made from a splinter of wood. I didn’t know who this woman was, but she was clearly not a threat. So, I’d let her rest.

Any interest I had in her had vanished when she had opened her mouth, screaming like some hellish creature without so much as a thank you for taking her in so the vultures wouldn’t attack her sack of bones. Who was this demon, and more importantly, when would she leave? My days of wishing for visitors were long gone—except right now, I was hoping another human would show up to take her home and leave me in peace.

I took out my frustration in the dirt I shoveled away, clutching the giant clamshell I used as a hand trowel so tightly that the rim dug into the flesh of my palm.

Behind me, the hut door creaked open slowly.The Screech Owl has risen.Her uneven footsteps, conveying her uncertainty and fear, gave her away.

One step. Then two.She shuffled, as if rethinking having come outside, then as if she had turned to go back in.

Pause.

---