The untamed, p.1
The Untamed, page 1
The Untamed
Copyright © 2023 K Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I live in the Alaskan wild with my family because it’s where I belong.
Safe. Loved. Protected. Happy.
Beyond our home is a violent, ruled society I don’t ever care to encounter.
My oldest brother already went that route, and it ruined him.
Being around strangers means heartache, pain, and misery.
I’ll stick with what I know because that doesn’t hurt.
All I need are my siblings.
They’re my best friends.
Life is fun with them.
Together, we’re free in the wild.
But the wilderness is also the home of predators.
Bears, bad weather, sickness.
Other people.
We thought we could live alone and unmolested by the latter.
We were so wrong.
With their sudden presence, everything about our lives is challenged.
Loyalties become twisted.
Hearts get tangled in the chaos.
Feelings and urges cross impossible lines there’s no coming back from.
Bewildering. Depraved. Perverted. Dark. Vile.
My secret desires are wrong.
They threaten everything I hold so dear.
I could fight against it if I were alone in these forbidden thoughts.
I’m not.
We’re in this together.
Our love is untamed.
And we are the unruly.
***The Untamed is a second generation forbidden romance in the Wild World taking place on the timeline after The Wild and The Free. While it’s not necessary to have read the other two books, please note these characters are the children of Daddy Reed from The Wild. You’ll see all of the characters from The Wild and The Free in The Untamed. Please read trigger warnings before proceeding.***
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Content Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
About the Author
CONTENT WARNING
Please be warned that this story contains incestuous relationships, voyeurism, sexual assault, and domestic violence of a side character, murder, and other scenes or themes that could be triggering to some readers. Read with caution.
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Run faster.
He’s going to catch you, Rae.
Tears burn my eyes from the chill of the early fall Alaskan air that also makes my breath come out in white-clouded puffs. My lungs ache and my calves are on fire.
I won’t let him catch me.
I won’t.
My determination to outrun him has another shot of adrenaline surging through my veins. New resolve to beat him has me darting off the pathway between the trees into the thicket. Branches lash out at me, seemingly accomplices on his side. A particularly sharp one snags at my hair. I strangle the cry of surprise in my throat, not eager to give away my new location.
Snap.
Too late.
“Raegan Abigail Jamison!”
He only calls me by my full name when he’s pissed. This thought fuels me faster, ignoring the painful whip of icy wind and cruel branches, each taking their turns to punish me for him.
The snarled way in which he says my name feels closer. Too close. If Dad were here, he’d save me.
But he’s not.
I’m all alone with no one to intervene.
I could stab him. The thought has me cackling, unable to suppress the crazed sounds slipping past my lips. It could be defeat that has me sabotaging myself and giving up my location.
He won’t hurt me.
He can’t.
Dad would whip him into next week.
Another bubble of laughter bursts out.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Twigs break under his heavy boots right behind me. So close. There’s nowhere to run. He’s going to catch me. I grip the hilt of the too-big knife tighter than before. Even though it’s cold, winter promising its annual return, my hands are slick from sweat inside my thick gloves.
“Got you!”
The words are hissed half a second before strong arms encircle my waist. I shriek in surprise, stumbling over my own feet, and go down hard, taking him with me. We hit the cold, unforgiving earth with a thud that probably scares off any game within a hundred-mile radius. Pain assaults me from every direction—elbows and knees quickly bruising, the sting of my lip that must’ve been pierced by a tooth, and every single muscle on fire from exertion.
“Get. Off. Me!” I bite out my words as I attempt to wriggle out from his massive frame. It’s unfair, really, how he can have all the height and weight and muscles. I’m skin and bones beside him. I hate how strong he is despite our close ages.
“Give it back to me, Rae, so fucking help me.”
His threats don’t work on me. I’ve heard them a million times before. Though I may be smaller, I’m not afraid of him. I just hoped I’d be faster. Once again, I’m proved wrong.
He struggles to take the knife from my grip, but I manage to keep my hold on it. After seconds of not being able to take it from me, he takes another tactic, choosing to flip me over onto my back. His large hand easily covers my wrist, pinning it to the cold ground.
Ryder.
My brother.
Big, arrogant asshole.
I attempt to spit at him, but his other hand crushes my mouth, already keen on my underhanded tactics having been on the receiving end of them for as long as I can remember.
“Give me my knife back,” Ryder growls, blue eyes burning bright with rage.
Since he won’t let me spit—or speak—I glower at him, my nostrils flaring. His body, tight with fury, is substantial against mine and we both breathe heavily from our jaunt through the woods.
It was my knife first.
If he’d let me speak, I’d remind him of that. This battle has been going on between us for two straight years. Ever since Uncle Atticus brought it to us. The hilt is made of elk bone and has stars carved into it. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. But, before I could claim it, Ryder snatched it up. He stole it from me.
To punish him for taking what was supposed to be mine, I spend a good portion of my days stealing it back. Some days, I win and have it in my possession before Ryder discovers it’s missing. Other days, he catches me in the act and chases me down until he gets it back.
It’s an infuriating game between us.
If he’d just hand it over for good, I’d leave him alone.
I mumble words that don’t escape the confines of my mouth, hoping he’ll relent on his hold on me. He narrows his eyes but eases up his hand that covers my lips.
No gloves.
His hand should feel like ice, but it’s surprisingly warm. He’d been inside the big house, helping Mom with Declan, when I’d seen he’d left my knife on the kitchen table. Pouncing on the opportunity, without much thought, is what makes me a good hunter.
I just wish he weren’t a better hunter.
I’m tempted to bite my brother’s hand, but that’ll only anger him further. At this point, I have to accept defeat. Our eyes lock and his expression, contorted into one of fury and exasperation, softens slightly. When he’s not fired up and pissed off, he typically wears an easy smile that lights up his blue eyes.
I lick his hand to see if his boyish grin will make an appearance, forgiving me long enough for him to release me.
He doesn’t smile.
His body tenses and his lips tug into a frown. Something hardens between us. My eyes widen as crimson floods his cheeks.
“Fuck,” he snarls, pushing away from me as though I’m diseased.
I sit up on my elbows, amused by the way his penis makes his jeans bulge. Just wait until I tell Ronan about this.
“You got hard,” I say with a laugh. “What’s wrong with your penis?”
He winces, turning his back to me. “Shut up, Rae.”
“Why is it hard?” I demand, amused at his unusual behavior. “Is it broken?”
“I said be quiet!” His angrily spat out words echo in the forest.
“Does Dad know your penis is broken? Maybe he’ll take you into town to a penis doctor!” I crack up laughing, enjoying the way he shudders in horror. “Is it contagious?”
“Stop being a bitch.”
His words are a punch to the gut. Usually, he waits around to see my response whenever he says something mean, because he obviously enjoys taunting me. Not today. He storms through the thick brush away from me as though I’m the one carrying the broken penis disease.
“Come on, Ryder,” I call after him. “I was kidding. Don’t be a baby.”
He doesn’t respond. I sit up and turn the elk bone knife over in my hand. If he left his knife without any more fight, it means I won this battle. For some reason, I don’t feel like it was a fair fight, though. Like my teasing words had more of an impact than I realized.
Maybe his penis is broken.
What if he really is sick?
My stomach tightens. Once, Mom got sick with pneumonia when she was pregnant with Destiny. I thought she was going to die. Where we live, there aren’t any doctors. Luckily, both she and Destiny pulled through.
What if Ryder doesn’t?
He may annoy me every day, all day, but the thought of losing him forever makes my blood run cold in my veins. A ball of emotion forms in my throat. It takes a lot to make me cry. I especially never cry when it comes to Ryder. So why do I feel like I might burst into tears any second.
Ugh.
Screw Ryder. He’s probably fine and I’m worrying over nothing. Tomorrow he’ll be back to bothering me like usual. In the meantime, I’ll do what I always do when I need cheering up.
I’ll go see Ronan.
The gate to our three-acre homestead stands wide open, which means Ryder’s around here somewhere. I quickly scan our fenced-in land, pausing to admire our home. Everyone, over the years, has pitched in to make this place pretty spectacular.
Straight forward, the circular firepit is the focal point. Dad and Ryder spend a lot of time handcrafting the wood bench seating into two C shapes with the pit in the center. The details they put on the woodwork are intricate and impressive.
To the right, the massive equipment barn looms as the largest structure aside from the big house. Dad stores in it all the machinery he needs for building and keeping this place going. He also keeps the riding mower and extra gasoline there. The large garage bay is closed, which means no one’s using any of the machines today.
In front of the equipment barn is a small smokehouse where Dad smokes any fish or game we kill. Beside that is his workshop where he welds or builds furniture. Out in front of the workshop is a play area for the kids, including a treehouse that me, Ronan, and Ryder hung out in a lot of time up until they got their own cabins. Dad spends a lot of time in the workshop as the little kids love playing on the swing set or in the treehouse while he works.
At the far-right corner, there’s a goat house with a chicken coup to its left, both complete with their own pens, and a small man-made pond behind them. The ponds on our property have been here for as long as I remember. Uncle Atticus and Dad made them not long after they built the big house.
The big house runs from near the chickens all the way along the south fence to the orchard that sits on the west end of the homestead. Behind the house is a root cellar and kitchen greenhouse, the big playground for the kids, and several clotheslines where Mom can do laundry while keeping an eye on the littles.
Our orchard is one of the best places to disappear to when avoiding chores. You can sit under the shade of an apple tree and eat your belly full until you’re bursting.
On the northeast corner is the food jungle. Really, it’s just two large sections of grains with several thinner rows of small fruits and another section for all the vegetables. There are small ponds near both the orchard and the food jungle that allow us to easily water the vegetation.
And finally, to my left, on the north side between the food jungle and the gate, are the two neighboring cabins that belong to Ryder and Ronan.
It really is beautiful here.
I should probably go to Ryder and maybe apologize for giving him a hard time, but I don’t exactly want to. He’s probably sitting in his hammock in his little house, playing his guitar, and sulking. As much as I love hearing him strum and make music, I’d rather see Ronan.
Ronan’s my best friend in the whole world.
I set off on the path toward the twin cabins. All three of my older brothers have their own homes. It’s not fair. Dad says it’s because when a man turns eighteen, they should have their own home so they can start making a life of their own. Rowdy lives in the old cabin by the river. When Ronan and Ryder each turned sixteen, we all pitched in to help build them their own places.
Sixteen and seventeen came and went for me.
Still no home.
Heck, I can’t even go up on the roof alone to have three seconds of peace without the whole family losing their minds with worry. I’m fragile and something that always needs protecting according to them.
All thoughts of our property and its beauty turn dark.
It’s so unfair. It’s probably because I’m a girl and my parents think I need extra protecting. My mood sours considerably by the time I reach Ronan’s porch. Since both his and Ryder’s houses are next to the food jungle and on the north side of our property, it allows them the privacy I don’t have being that I share a room with my fourteen-year-old sister Destiny at the big house.
I start to knock on Ronan’s door but remember I don’t have to. Only Ryder demands we knock before entering. God, he’s so weird. The front door creaks open and my gaze sweeps over the small space. His room smells like peaches and cinnamon. My stomach growls for a snack, though dinner will be ready at dusk, which will be soon.
“Hey,” I grumble in greeting, pushing the door closed behind me.
Ronan lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading. I’m immediately warmed by his welcoming, brown-eyed stare. His glasses are slightly askew and I can’t help but grin back at him.
“Uh-oh,” he says, setting the book on the end table and patting the bed beside him. “What’d he do now?”
The fact Ronan knows me like no one else does fills me with pleasure. I untie my boots, pull them off, and then pad across his wood floors to his bed. He studies me as I climb into bed next to him.
This is where I want to be.
Not sharing a room with Destiny, but sharing one with my best friend. My favorite sibling. My Ronan.
“Can I come live with you?” I blurt out.
His eyebrows furl together and a frown tugs at his full lips. “Mom said no, remember?”
I roll my eyes, irritated at the reminder of that argument. It was only last month that I told Mom I was going to live with Ronan. She flipped out and yelled at me. We both ended up crying by the end of the fight. Dad diffused the situation, but the answer was still no.
No reason as to why not.
Just no.
Again, so unfair that my brothers can do what they want, but I have to follow Mom and Dad’s dumb rules.
“I hate everyone,” I tell him with a huff. “You’re the only one who gets me.”
“You don’t hate everyone.”
I ignore his comment because I do hate them. He smiles as I reach up to brush away a dark blondish-brown lock of hair that falls into his eyes. His hair is always messy and overgrown. I love the way it looks on him. Just like I love his silly black-rimmed glasses. I’ve put them on a million times since he got them a couple of years ago and still don’t understand how he can see through the blurry glass.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Ronan takes hold of my hand that’s fussing with his hair and squeezes it.
My heartrate quickens. He’s the best cuddler. “Ryder.”
He smirks, patting the sheath on my belt at my hip. “You still have your knife.”
“He was acting weird and gave up.”
“Our brother gave up?” Ronan chuckles. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
