Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
TUCKER
Forest stands in a black pair of briefs at the bedroom window as the bright sun pushes through the last moments of night. Like clockwork, he stands at that same window every morning, staring out into the distance as if he’s plotting his escape route.
But he never runs. Not yet. He’s running out of time, though.
It’s been seven days since we locked his father’s corpse in the tombs beneath the manor.
Seven days of sharing a bed in silence. Seven days of holding him in my arms when he grows too tired to argue.
Seven mornings of waking up to him staring out that window.
Seven mornings of him giving me just enough.
“Why are you still here?” I ask.
“I keep asking myself that same question.” He turns, eyes fixed on my upper half and paying no attention to what I’m doing in the bed.
“I finally worked up the strength yesterday. I made it halfway down the mountain before I blacked out and ended up right back here. So, to answer your question, I don’t fucking know. ”
“It’s the pull of the Wilds.” My toes curl into the sheets on the bed. I shift my head against the pillow. “The fog that keeps us all here, protecting us from our instinct to run just a little bit too far.”
Then, his eyes are on my hand, on my cock as I pump slowly, deliberately. The shaft is slicked with pre-cum, greasy and throbbing, purple at the head.
He swallows a lump in his throat but doesn’t look away. Can’t look away. I reckon it’s his subconscious trying to remind him of who we were. Seven mornings and it’s always the same. He fights off the hunger until he feels like he’ll starve without feasting on my seed.
His lips part, just a little, just enough for me to imagine it’s my finger pressed against them.
I fist myself to the base and stay there, holding firm as I fight off the urge to bust. The veins in my cock throb, my cockhole winking as a bead of translucent precum breaks free.
It rolls over the hill of my head and down my shaft, pooling in the crease of my pointer finger.
I gesture with my finger for him to come hither.
Like a man possessed, he does so without further hesitation.
He climbs onto the bed hands first, the coils in the mattress crying out beneath his weight.
His knees sink around my calves and he juts his head forward to take my cum-slicked finger in his mouth.
Good fucking boy.
The velvety texture of his tongue smooths over my finger as he pulls back, ending with a plop.
Then, he bats away my hand from my cock and takes it into his own.
Smooth, unworked hands, squeezing my shaft first and then stroking.
He darts out his tongue, swiping once over the head of my cock before taking it into his mouth.
It takes him no time to swallow to the base, lips pressed against his own fingers.
Boy is fucking blessed, and I’m fucking blessed to have this heavenly sinful mouth back in my life again. I comb my hands through his buzzed hair and find nothing to grab onto, so I make do with grabbing him by the ears, being careful not to latch onto any of the ten piercings in them.
I guide him by his ears, pulling him up and then pushing him back down on my cock.
Every time I think I’ve found the deepest part of his throat, I tunnel a little bit further.
He’s at his best like this, when he’s not giving orders.
When he’s taking them. He might have been born the chosen one, but he has never been a leader. Never will be.
Obscene sounds filtered through his mouth—glucking and glacking—as he bobbles on my cock.
I’m ashamed to say I only make it about thirty seconds before I tug him by the ears all the way back down so his mouth presses against my balls.
I shift my hands to the back of his head and still him in place as I empty my load into the back of his throat.
Feeding him.
Sating the hunger.
In the end, we’re only animals.
Forest and I are the first to arrive at the sanctuary.
It’s a small clearing in the wilderness about two miles west of the village.
Nine large stones serve as seats, all of them situated around a rotted reliquary fashioned out of oak and with nine names carved into the wood: Forest, Tucker, Zeva, Bash, Darius, Jediah, Miles, Tannis, and Leon.
Forest searches the area, seemingly flooded by the memories of this place. All the stupid shit, all the scary shit, all the shit we shouldn’t have done. I wonder if he remembers the time he sucked my cock on the westernmost stone.
“This place has haunted my dreams for years,” he says, scraping the fallen debris of the pines from the stone he used to claim as his own. “It’s all coming back to me now.”
Everything?
He circles the reliquary, coming to a stop in front of Leon’s seat that is still stained, but the reds have turned to dark browns with the passing of time.
The world we build must be maintained, otherwise nature always takes it back.
At once, this was a lively place where laughs were had and secrets were buried.
Now, it might as well be a tomb for a library of memories best locked away.
A shrine to all the things we did that we shouldn’t have.
Bash and Darius arrive next, in lockstep as their boots crunch over twigs.
Both of them go straight to their respective seats, brushing them off before sitting down.
Zeva arrives about five minutes later, announcing her presence with a stern huff as she emerges from the wilderness.
She says nothing, no apologies for being late, as she takes a seat on an empty stone between her brothers.
She’s sullen and pale, still reeling from that which was violently ripped away from her.
I’m surprised she even showed up at all, but the beckoning was not optional.
I stand in front of the reliquary in the center of the circle, prepared to give the long speech I had spent the better part of the night prior memorizing. Unfortunately, when I stand before the small gathering, I forget everything.
I guess I’ll have to improvise.
“The Wilds give and it takes, but lately, it’s been taking more than giving,” I say, making sure not to look anyone in the eyes. I don’t want them to think I’m accusing them of anything before I actually start pointing fingers. “I’ve gathered you all here to find out why.”
“Why bring us here?” Darius gestures with both hands. “I haven’t been back here since…” He trails off. “Well, it’s been a long time.”
“I think you know damn well why I chose this place,” I scowl. “What happens here doesn’t leave here. Or have you forgotten that important detail about why we built this place?”
“Cut to the chase, Tucker,” Bash demands. “I’m supposed to be on wall duty, so I really can’t be gone for too long before people start noticing.”
His brother shoots him a glare. “Who cares? This place is lawless until the choosing ceremony.” He shifts his gaze to Forest. “No offense to you, of course.”
Forest purses his lips but says nothing.
“My daughter is dead,” Zeva says deadpan. Camila must have doped her up with a light dose of Nirvana. “And you brought us here to find out why?” She peels her eyes upward. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
I grit my teeth, reach for the revolver hidden in my waistband, and display for all to see. Once I’m sure everyone has seen it, I place it atop the reliquary.
And all fucking eyes are on me.
“Where the fuck did you get that?” Forest asks, but he knows the answer to that one. “Did you go through my shit?”
“Is that…” Bash stands up to get a better look at the gun. His throat tightens as he takes a measured step back and then another, backing past his assigned seat. “We can’t go back. We can’t open that box. Whatever this is, I want no part in it. Ya’ll are on your own.”
He waves at me and turns on his feet.
I grab the revolver, cock the hammer, and aim it squarely at his back. “I promise you it’s loaded.”
“Tucker, what the fuck are you doing?” Forest yells. “Put the gun down.”
“I’ve never actually fired a loaded gun, but I have great aim with a bow,” I continue. “Do you want to take that chance?”
Bash raises his hands in defeat and turns in a slow circle. I wave the gun at his seat, and he sits back down.
“Now, the last time any of you, except Forest, saw this gun was the night Leon died.” I drop my arm to the side. “A particularly nasty game of The Wilds Chooses. Have I refreshed all of your memories?”
I get four nods. Excellent.
I step sideways, grab Forest with my free hand, and hold him still. “Now, my dearly beloved stepbrother here has recently told some wild stories. He’s convinced ya’ll killed my mother.”
I watch people. That’s what I do. I’m a watcher. I notice things.
Zeva jerks to the side, staring at the ground. Bash and Darius share a look.
I chuckle under my breath and whisper to Forest, “Go have a seat.”
He does as told. See? Not a leader at all. Needs direction. Needs someone to tell him what to do and when to do it. He gets off on it. That’s one of my favorite things about him. One of my least favorite things? The lying.
“It seems we have a problem with the truth.” I spin the chamber outwards, smack the gun against my hand, and a single bullet falls into my palm.
I load the bullet back into the chamber, give it a few spins, and jam it closed.
“So, today we’re going to play another game of The Wilds Chooses.
I’m going to ask each of you a question, and if I get an inkling you’re lying to me, you’re going to point this gun at your head and pull the trigger. ”
“Stop it,” Darius scowls. “We’re not doing this again. We’re not kids anymore.”
I step forward, my boots crunching over the debris of the wilderness. I come to a stop just in front of Darius and inch the gun towards his lips. He ducks away, so I grab him by the head and hold him still.
“What do you want to know?” Bash asks, always playing the part of savior for his cowardly brother. “We’ll tell you. Just get that gun out of his fucking face.”
“Okay Bash. You go first.” I nod with a sideways grin and pass the gun to Bash. He takes it into his hand. “Now point it at your head.”
He huffs, but does as he’s told. He’s steady, too. The bravest of the bunch.
Now, any other person might be worried that the person holding the gun could turn it on me. I’m not any other person. I’m Tucker fucking Wilde and I am protected by this place.
“First question is an easy one.” I narrow my eyes on him. “Did you kill my mother?”
He blinks twice in quick succession. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Pull the trigger,” I sigh the words.
He shakes his head, defiant.
“Now!” I scream full-throated, my rage echoing off the nearby hills.
Click.
He exhales sharply, his lips quivering.
“The Wilds favor you today.” I gently pry the gun from his hands and pass it to Darius. “You get a really easy question. Did you kill my mother?”
“Please…” he sobs, holding the gun in both hands between his legs. “He already told you.”
I squat to my knees before him and guide his hand upwards so the barrel of the gun is aimed at the base of his chin. “He told me a lie. Are you going to tell me the truth?”
His eyes squint at the corners, tears crawling out. “We didn’t do anything.”
I bow my head, disappointed but not surprised. “Pull the trigger.”
His sobs turn into a quiet wail, but he does as told.
Click.
I rustle a hand through his hair and kiss him on top of his head. The gun drops to the ground, and when I go to pick it up, I notice a wet trail of piss has leaked down the side of his jeans.
“Guys, I don’t know why this is so hard,” I say.
“Two men attacked us the night Filo was murdered. One of them is dead, but the other one is still out there somewhere. He wants you all dead.” I shake my head.
“I’m just trying to save you all and you’re making it very fucking difficult because everyone wants to lie. ”
Nobody says a word. Not even Forest, the one with the mouth of a fucking hurricane.
Zeva’s turn. She peels her gaze upwards as I approach, shaking her head when I attempt to hand her the gun. “Please stop.”
I click my tongue. “Wish I could, but unfortunately we’re not getting anywhere.”
“It was a joke,” she whispers. “A stupid joke.”
The truth for once? Music to my fucking ears. I squat back down in front of her. “You wrote a letter to my mom?”
She wipes her sniffling nose with the side of her palm. “There were rumors she was stepping out on your father. So we sent her a letter and things just went sideways so fast.”
I rise to my feet, scratching the side of my head with the gun.
“I already told you all of this,” Forest says.
“Yeah well, I needed to hear it from the rest of them because your memory is absolutely fucked,” I respond without taking my attention from Zeva. “Zeva, was I there the night she died?”
Forest dives in front of her, extending his arms out like shields. “Tucker, this ends now!”
I cock the hammer, my finger dancing on the trigger. “Do you want to take her turn?”
“We both know you’re not going to shoot me.”
He’s fucking right, but how the fuck does he know that? “Get the fuck out of my way.”
He walks forward until his forehead meets the barrel of the gun. “You were there.”
“You’re fucking lying,” I scream. “What did I tell you about lying?”
“You left right before she died. You said you weren’t supposed to be there, and you left. That’s the fucking truth. So if you’re going to pull the trigger, fucking pull it and stop pretending.”
I pucker my lips and nod.
Click.
His eyes widen, mouth drops open. He’s as shocked as I am that I’d actually pull it.
I drop the gun on the ground and stumble backwards. “I… I’m so—”
The words don’t come out, and for the first time in my life, I run.
Away from them.
Away from the sanctuary.
Away from whatever it is that made me pull the trigger on the only person I’ve ever loved.