Page 55 of The Untamed

Guilt gnaws at my gut, making the meager breakfast of jerky sour in my stomach.

As good as last night felt with Ryder, especially when I could calm him down from being so angry, it can’t happen. We’re family. It’s just not right. And as thrilling as kissing Logan was, that’s wrong on a whole other level. He’s married. None of these scenarios are good or something to be proud of.

I’m destined to be alone.

My chest aches at the thought of spending my days lonely and without a companion. I may prefer the touch of a man, but if I had to make a choice between no one and a woman, I’d choose a woman.

I want to love and be loved.

I want to have my own family to care for and protect.

Ryder keeps glancing my way, but I avoid his stare. What does he see when he looks at me? A fucked-up brother who’s drowning in shame? A young man he must protect from his own actions?

Why can’t I just be normal?

My gut churns with disgust. I hate that my brain seems to be wired completely wrong. In all the books I’ve read, not one of them talks about being in love with your brother and having a sexual relationship with him.

Not. One.

And the magazines Wild slips us?

Men and women together, but it damn sure doesn’t speak of them being siblings.

No, all the fantasies and sick, twisted dreams I have are all of my own making. I’m no genius, but I can almost guarantee if my parents knew my desires, this would have the power to destroy my family. They already run a tight ship, making sure to keep our alone times with Raegan at a minimum. The knowledge of what I want to do with their son could be enough to not only fracture our family, but to have them hating me.

I would die if my family hated me or sent me away because of my sick fantasies.

Fantasies I acted on. Fantasies I encouraged to become real by pushing Ryder. Sure, maybe it wasn’t exactly intentional, but my actions led us to this moment. I kissed Logan and let him touch me, and then left Ryder to deal with the aftermath.

I did this.

If my parents send me away, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.

The thought of living far removed from those I love with my entire being makes my stomach tighten with unease. Bile creeps up my throat and my head spins.

I wouldn’t make it a week without them.

Not that I don’t have what it takes to survive, because I absolutely do thanks to Dad’s constant teachings. No, I’d die from loneliness.

My heart would crack right down the center, split apart, and I’d bleed out until I was nothing.

All the thoughts inside my head are chaotic and loud despite the near silent trudging of our boots through the underbrush. Occasionally, Rowdy, who’s ahead of us, will hold up a fist, meaning for us to stop. He cocks his head, seemingly listening past the chirping birds and whispering wind as if to uncover the true location of Kristen’s assailants, only to lower his hand back down and continue his trek.

Before I’m once again caught up in my mental trap where I’m bouncing back and forth between berating myself or imagining a horrible life alone, I hear it.

Voices.

Hushed but frequent.

Then we hear a laugh.

Rowdy unslings the rifle off his shoulder and holds it at the ready. Ryder and I both carry knives that we’ve unsheathed as we prowl toward the sounds of men.

“…fourteen or not, I still want to tap that.”

I immediately recognize Jace’s voice. CJ smothers a laugh, but it’s still loud enough to scare away a bird. Rowdy points to a clearing up ahead. The two guys are sitting on a log, a plume of smoke between them. I recognize the smell as marijuana. Wild’s smuggled a joint out here a time or two and convinced us to smoke with him.

“Who says she’d even be into you?” CJ asks, passing him the blunt.

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