Free Untamed by Emilia Kincade

at me. Instead, he turns around and continues talking into the car. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I don’t care. I’m eagerly trying to look past him, trying to glimpse Duncan.
    I see a head of neatly trimmed dark hair. Then, from inside the car, I see those eyes. They seem to shine, reflect the waning sunlight. I’m taken aback. They’re sharper than ever, and again I’m reminded of a wolf’s eyes, and when he climbs out of the car, I gasp.
    He’s grown… so much. He towers over Dad, and Dad is an even six-feet, and his shoulders are so broad he makes Dad look small. And I would never have described Dad as being small.
    Duncan looks at me, and as I drag my eyes up his body to meet his again, I’m jolted, shocked by electricity. It’s a zap that forces me to instantly break eye-contact, look at a spot above his head instead, and I feel that hurricane acutely now.
    He’s so good looking. His jaw looks cut from steel, and his lips are full, generous, untouched by the last of the winter dryness. His cheek bones are high, giving him an angled, almost pretty look.
    I see a smudge of pink. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. I’m taken back in time to Thailand. He did that then, too. It must be a habit.
    He’s wearing jeans like me, with black boots, a white t-shirt, and a faded leather jacket. He looks… great, if in a timeless way.
    “Deidre, come here,” Dad says, beckoning me impatiently with his hand. His gold watch catches the setting sun, beams it straight into my eye. I feel like it’s a spotlight. Everybody is watching.
    I chew on my lower lip, walk toward them, take my steps carefully. Knowing me, I’ll probably trip on nothing and make an ass of myself.
    My eyes are on the ground, but Duncan’s eyes are on me… I know it. I feel it. They sear me.
    “I think an introduction is in order. This is Duncan Malone.”
    I look up, and sure enough Duncan is looking right at me, nowhere else. Not at the big house behind him, probably bigger than any he’s ever seen. Not at the fountain, or the gardens that you can spy from the front. He’s looking right at me.
    “Hi,” I say. My voice is just a shaky whisper.
    He puts out a hand; I see the beginnings of his tattoos on his wrists. I slip my hand into his and shake it. He makes me feel physically tiny. His palms are soft, hot to the touch, as if he’s been holding them against a fire.
    It’s just like when we shook hands in Thailand. I think it’s so absurd, that we’re shaking hands again. I want to grin, laugh even, but in front of Dad I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know how he expects me to behave.
    And Dad has many expectations for me.
    “Duncan,” he says. “This is Deidre Marino, my daughter.”
    “We’ve met,” Duncan says, not turning to Dad. “I remember.”
    “Oh, yes,” Dad murmurs. That memory has obviously escaped him.
    Now I smile at Duncan, and when he returns it, it only makes mine grow wider.
    God, Thailand two years ago! We stood together and watched Dad make an ass of himself. Watched Dad bully the village people, argue over money.
    My smile fades.
    “Yeah,” I whisper.
    Duncan’s eyes don’t leave mine. I feel like he’s looking straight through me, like he can see exactly what I’m thinking, see how attractive I find him… how drawn to him I am. How nervous I am.
    “You look great, Dee.”
    I laugh at the out-of-place compliment, but the tension only grows thicker. I can feel my cheeks burning.
    I only catch it a moment later that he called me Dee . Nobody has called me that, not even at school.
    “Thanks.”
    My heart is racing so quickly, and I tug my hand from Duncan’s, watch as his long fingers close around empty air.
    Dad is oblivious to our exchange. He claps Duncan on the back, grips his neck and guides him around me. I watch as they walk into the house.
    Dad is announcing that he’ll give Duncan the grand tour, that this is his house now, too. I hear him saying something about them leaving for