Page 32 of Wild Life

Chapter 17

Kiss of Breath

Aleki

Screech Owl had inserted herself into every part of my life, and it was overwhelming. I couldn’t visit my parents’ graves without her following me. She was messing with my head. And my body wasn’t spared either, much to my dismay. They kept teaming up to coerce me into acting on the urges that rushed through me. All she had to do was cough and my blood would pump furiously, as if I were hunting.

I had messed up the night I held her. All the distance that I’d carefully imposed between us had disappeared. My resolve was weakening, and if her supple lips fell into one more pout, I’d cave to the pressure and do something stupid like surrender my hut and all my belongings and follow her around on all fours, much like Poaka did.

My pig had betrayed me, preferring to stick by her side instead of remaining by mine.

First, she couldn’t stand the animal, and now, she couldn’t go without calling for him anytime my inattention was too much. He’d even started answering to “pig,” completely ignoring my use of his name when we were alone. I would catch him gazing off into the sky as if waiting to hear, “Come, pig!”

And don’t get me started on the new sleeping arrangements. After the one night we slept together, the lusty haze that had robbed me of logic had worn off and I had decided to never allow it again. Of course, she was oblivious to my inner dialogue because I’d stupidly pretended I couldn’t speak, so she’d slid into my bed again…and again…and again…until it became our new bedtime routine.

Every night, her warm body would nestle into mine as if I were her mate. Instantly, my skin would light on fire from the attraction. And my dick? It throbbed to find a home inside anything it could fit into.

The temptation was far too great; it was a miracle I’d yet to take myself in hand and release the tension she’d infected me with right next to her in bed. It was like an illness, one that started in my groin and spread to my whole body, overtaking every part of me. Maris wasn’t a screech owl, she was a disease. A deadly one that wouldn’t stop until it conquered me.

She had full control of not only my bed and my pig, but my body, too.

Pretty soon it would be the whole damn hut.My hut.The one I’d made with my bare hands, back before I’d had the distraction of long legs, shapely hips, and skin fair enough to bruise easily if I grabbed her too hard.

Unwillingly, I pictured dark-blue marks on her thigh left by my fingers. My erection shifted my loincloth out of place.

Damn it.I needed her gone.

She was going back to the beach, even if I had to drag her there.

No more missing her. No more pesky feelings. No more thinking.

I wished for quiet again—for peace—and for my body to stop pressuring me to discover more of her.

I could see her from the treetop on the other side of the pool, the waterfall cascading between us. She had found some string from my shelves, and in her high-pitched voice as bouncy as her breasts, asked to use it to make some sort of contraption.

Her attention was stuck on whatever it was she was creating. Something about using it to study bats. Poaka chased the end of the string while she worked, making her project his own.

I broke branches off and dropped them below to prepare more tinder for fire, but my gaze was glued to a patch of skin on her leg revealed when she had sat down and her shirt had ridden up. Her thighs were still new to the blazing tropical sun, unlike the rest of her, which had turned cherry red before settling into a light-rosy color.

Splinters embedded into my fingers as I grasped the wood hard because all I could imagine was gripping her silky skin. Her complexion reminded me of the cold glasses of strawberry milk I used to devour as a kid.

A whole body of water and a waterfall separated us, and I could still somehow smell her soft hair and yearned to bury my nose in it, filling my lungs with its spicy-sweet scent. It was so real that my mouth watered for it. I would have bet her skin tasted just as good, too, like cinnamon candies.

She abandoned her string project and slapped her leg with her hand. The smack was loud, but my ears registered it at a near-deafening volume that somehow masked the rushing downpour from the rocks. It rang through my ears, the sound carving itself into my brain. The sound of her flesh made my insides scorch hotter.

Another slap.

Fuck.

I yanked hard at the branches. I needed to get a hold of myself. She was only a woman, and although I was now old enough to qualify as a man, I couldn’t spend my day gaping at her like a hormonal teenager. I had real problems to worry about—like survival—and Screech Owl was too much of a disruption.

I was done thinking of Maris.Done.

Until she let out a scream that pierced my ears with the sharpness of a blade. I snapped my attention in her direction to find her on her feet, her body twisting into strange positions like she was trying to crawl out of her skin. The screaming didn’t stop. She clawed at the back of her shirt, desperate to put more space between herself and the fabric as she leaped away from the spot where she’d been sitting.

Poaka started to his hooves and screeched wildly, matching her screams.

My entire being sprang into action, and I scaled down the tree. The second my feet thudded onto the soil, I bolted around the pool so fast that I thought my legs would fall off.

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