Page 3 of Feral
A storm is coming.
I hope it pours. I can’t bear this heat.
I walk into the kitchen slowly and disentangle myself from my backpack stuffed with groceries. A ray of sunlight peeks through the clouds creating a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the room when it hits the chandelier hanging above the oak table.Mamanliked for things to be just the way she wanted them. Fireplaces in every room. Chandelier in the kitchen. You name it; this place had once been the epitome of glamor. Now, it's a shell of the elegant luxury it once was.
Mamanwould be horrified to know her beloved home has turned into a shell of a house. My mind races back to my childhood days, running around the grounds for hours on end, only settling down when it was time to eat. I can almost hear her gentle voice as she summoned my brother and me to lunch, her quiet, steady footsteps as she walked briskly towards the wrap-around balcony to shout out our names. Letting out a sigh, I think this place could definitely use a woman's touch.
But then again so could I.
I can’t even remember the last time I’d been with a woman.
Was it a year ago? Two?
My mother’s gone.
My brother is gone, too, lost to his addictions.
The only family I have left is my son and the last time I saw him…
A vaguely familiar sound jolts me out of my reverie as I put the cans of food and the loaf of bread away and I strain my ears to listen better.
There it is again; that unmistakable rap on my front door.
Someone is out there.
Someone unwelcome.
Someone uninvited.
Slowly, I make my way back to the front of the house, and when I fling the door open, what I see knocks the wind out of me.
She is young.
And beautiful beyond belief.
Thick, dark hair, a wide, expressive mouth, and a luscious, willowy body that could turn a saint into a sinner.
I swallow hard before I speak, holding her hypnotic cat-like green eyes as she stares into mine.
“I don’t want it,” I growl, and if my looks are not menacing enough, I make damn sure my tone of voice is. She’s too young and too beautiful and I’m too fucking depraved not to pull her inside and keep her here with me until all my wicked desires are sated.
“Hmm…hey,” she stammers. “How do you—”
Annoyed, I glance past this intruder and see Tom, one of the localpiroguedrivers, talking on his phone over by my dock.
I slam the door in the girl’s face and pray she’ll be gone when I open it again.
She knocks on it a second later.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
An eternity passes and we both wait on either side.
She knocks again and I wait still, wishing her away.
