Free Born to Be Wylde by Jan Irving Page B

morning Ken was treated sleepily to honey and early berries on a slab of bark. He drank Wylde’s tea, thinking he might grow to like it as he leaned against the larger man. Wylde had an arm around him.
When Ken had eaten his fill, Wylde produced one of his leather laces from his pants. Ken watched, a little dazed as Wylde used it to tie his wrists together. “Hey!”
But then Wylde pushed Ken on his hands and knees, and Ken felt slippery fingers, very gentle, at his entrance.
It was a love game, but he knew to Wylde, it was also a statement—that he would tie Ken’s wrists and that Ken would accept it.
“Uhhhh.” Wylde was…. Ken sweated through two heartbeats of adjustment. Wylde was solid, inside and over him. He fisted one hand in Ken’s spiky hair.
“Kennnn.” When he began to move, Ken pushed back, white hot, mating hot. They slammed together, and then Ken trembled, coming, and Wylde pushed his head down and used him, deep, until he stiffened and cried out.
    M UCH later, they were sitting in Ken’s official SUV, Ken tapping the wheel while Wylde watched him, seeming okay with waiting all day while Ken mulled. “I looked at the mailman, but he’s married with two grandkids living at home. He was home having a barbecue when Andrea went missing. I looked at the local library guy who delivers books along this stretch. He has another part-time job farther south. He travels a lot to Europe to take photographs….”
“Not them,” Wylde said.
    Ken chewed his bottom lip. “No.” He took a deep breath, readying himself. “Okay, show me what you found.”
They got out of Ken’s SUV, and Ken followed Wylde down a rough deer track off his patrol route.
    S ICK , Ken used a pen to poke through the plastic bag, which held some women’s clothing. It was spattered with brown stains. Blood. His eyes pricked with tears as he imagined Andrea’s last moments. He’d been lucky. She hadn’t.
    “This will help, Ken?” Wylde asked, kneeling nearby but not too close, since Ken had asked him to stay back.
“It should finally bring other law enforcement in,” Ken said. “They can’t ignore it anymore, say it’s random.”
“Why did no one look into it before?” Wylde asked, raising a brow. “Strange.”
“The guy who had the route before me, Marty Grimble, he was more into fishing and hiking, I guess. He used to tell me to let it go, to just enjoy having such an easy patrol.” Ken stilled and looked up at Wylde, his stomach doing a sick flop. “Oh.”
Ken came to his feet, rubbing his belly. Cold sweat coated his back, the same as it had when he’d first found Andrea and felt a residue of the killer. “I never looked at one of us. He beat me and he left me…. He works part-time now, so he was just starting his shift that day. He must have had some kind of call to answer that interrupted him before he could finish the job,” Ken theorized. “But he was coming back for me….”
“I found you.” Wylde looked frustrated, like he wanted to come to his mate but was blocked by Ken’s imperative about protecting the evidence.
“Do you think there is any chance you can find Andrea for me again?” Ken asked. “I promised her sister I’d try to bring her home.”
“I can try. The trail goes deeper into the woods. Last time, I ran out of daylight.”
“Wylde.” Ken watched his lover fading into the trees. “Please don’t take any risks. You said he was watching you last time.”
Wylde pulled his long hair back, tied it with leather cording. His face was still and grim, and Ken was reminded that this man had grown up in the forest. Somehow he’d survived, found shelter, food…. He didn’t think the way Ken did. He was impatient with social niceties. He went his own way. He was basic, pared down.
He was a hunter.
“I want him to watch me, Ken,” Wylde said. “Then I know he’s not following you.”

Chapter Ten
W YLDE wove himself into the cool breath of the forest.
    He could almost feel Ken’s concern