Born to Be Wylde Read Online Free PDF Page A

washing plates in his kitchen, but he paused, his dark eyes going to the trees on the rise above, as if searching for someone.
    The little slanty-eyed prick! He should have left well enough alone, not gone digging around in business no other cop had ever cared about before.
    W YLDE sat up in his cave, wide-eyed, panting.
His heart was pounding with fear, as if someone,
something had chased him through the woods…. Still disorientated from the depressed sleep he’d fallen
into after forcing himself to leave Ken behind at his home, he
reached a shaking hand toward Ken’s place on their bed, but
his palm touched cool sheepskin, not warm, firm body. I had to let him go.
Once, maybe when Josh and the others had first found
him living alone in the woods, he might have kept Ken, made
him stay with him, but he knew better now. He had to try to
be civilized, not be such a freak.
He put his head on his knees, trembling.
Wylde’s sanctuary smelled of Ken. The bowl he used for
tea reminded Wylde of how he’d first nursed him, holding
him when he’d been frightened, making him drink stew and
water to keep hydrated.
But saving him, touching, and pleasuring him probably
meant nothing to Ken. In order to woo him, he was supposed
to do normal shit like talk easily to him, charm him. But no
matter how hard he tried, Wylde couldn’t be normal, as
much as he ached to be that way for Ken.
Wylde suddenly grabbed his crudely carved teacup and
threw it against the cave wall. It shattered, and he stared at
the splinters dully.
    K EN rubbed the back of his neck, pacing his spartan cabin restlessly. Everything was neat and in order, exactly as he’d left it, yet he couldn’t seem to lie still, relax. His mind picked up different thoughts, like pebbles from a stream. His body was sore and he was exhausted. This insomnia wasn’t helping!
    After he’d been checked out by a doctor, he’d talked to his fellow deputy, Marty Grimble, who had covered his patrol when he’d disappeared. The man had been so relieved Ken had returned relatively unharmed, yet he hadn’t seemed that interested in Ken’s theory his attack was linked to the disappearances of people on his patrol route. It was frustrating! The cops out here seemed content to do their jobs, take care of things under their noses, and not stir the pot.
    Of course when Ken had been missing, there had been a search for him, but Ken had been safe in Wylde’s cave, oblivious, healing.
    Safe….
Ken frowned, wondering why he felt so uncomfortable in his home. Every time he closed his eyes and tried to let go, he experienced fear. When it happened with Wylde, the other man had soothed him—or plain ordered him—to sleep. And it had worked, lying in muscled arms, lost, far away from the real world.
He’d felt almost the way he did when he lost himself for hours creating something in his studio.
Ken closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to understand the source of his disquiet. He couldn’t go back and hide in Wylde’s cave. He had to get his life back. He knew that despite the reluctance he’d sensed in the enigmatic Wylde at setting him free, even he’d understood that.
Now Ken walked into the hallway between his open living room and his kitchen. He kept his eyes closed and reached out with his senses the way he did sometimes while creating his clay sculptures, large vessels, light fixtures….
A dark note, almost like a discordant thrum from a tuning fork….
It was the same feeling Ken had experienced when he’d found Andrea’s body—which was missing again. Someone had removed it from where Ken had stumbled on it while Ken had been recovering from his attack.
His eyes snapped open.
The killer, the man who had beaten him… he’d been here in Ken’s cabin. Ken was sure of it! If he’d cleaned up the scene where Ken had found Andrea, the next step would have been to come here.
Ken felt icy threads trickle down his spine as he stared, wide-eyed, at his living room. The