Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

24.

Your knees burn in pain against the ground but you ignore it. Finally, he slides out of you and you feel his hot, sticky seed trickling down your thigh.

You can't believe this is your life now. You can't believe that this is how you're going to spend your evenings. How could you have ever thought that marking school work gave you pleasure? That it gave you purpose?

Holding you more tightly, he rocks you from side to side as he continues to nuzzle your throat. He grunts in your ear and you pull away to look at him in surprise.

You grunt back: You think?

He nods, then releases one of your hands to pat your belly.

Tears fill your eyes. A baby.

A baby.

Your chin wobbles and your throat aches as joyful tears wet your face. Smiling, he grabs your head and gently licks them away before lapping at your mouth. You try kissing him back but give a little sob instead, followed by a whine, which he echoes. Grabbing your hand, he enfolds it into his and grips it tightly between your chests.

He looks into your eyes, firm and serious. Partners. Allies.

The tears still falling, you nod.

You press foreheads together.

The next morning you wake up in each other's arms. Without opening your eyes, you smile against his throat. Your legs are entangled. His arm is draped over your waist. He's awake; you can tell by his breathing. You open your eyes and look up, and you see he's watching you. Pressing his hand to your abdomen, he rubs his face in your hair.

Excitement coils in your stomach. A baby. His baby.

He pulls away and sits up, stretching out his arms as he yawns. Admiring his physique, you massage your hand along his smooth, muscular back. He grunts and shakes his head. The sun has barely risen, soft yellow light gleaming into the little shelter. A few monkeys are already squealing in the trees. Everything is the same as yesterday and yet it's all so utterly different. Your whole situation has changed. This is your life now.

It's all a blur. It's hard to believe.

A baby. Him. Yours.

The torches are cold. The fire is now coal and ash. You can smell the smoke. You can smell the forest. You can smell him. Pressing your nose to his back, you take a big whiff.

He turns, his cock swinging between his legs as he kneels beside you. He takes it in his hand and you relax in the pelts as he begins his morning ritual. You smile at him as his eyes sweep over your body. His shoulders tense, he grunts and you feel the hot, sticky swirl of his essence spill onto your belly. Resting your hands on top of his, you both smooth it into your skin.

For breakfast, you eat what remains of the deer, licking your fingers as you swallow the last of it. Is it your imagination or does it taste better? Where it used to be barely edible, now you lick and smack your lips, wanting more. The wooden board is covered in blood—you can smell it. You can almost taste it.

You pick it up and your tongue is against it before you understand what you're doing. Halfway through your licking, you pause, suddenly realising. You lift your eyes to his. He's smiling at you, looking satisfied.

A desperate, high-pitched voice in the back of your head tells you to stop! and that you're losing yourself.

Shaking your head, you go back to licking it clean.

While you finish, he commences marking his territory. You lift your nose at the smell. No longer does it just smell like urine. It's something else. It's him. Like the semen on your belly, you recognise his urine as his. You like the smell. It makes you feel happy. It fills your chest with warmth. It's a curious thing. If it has this kind of effect on you, what effect does it have on his rivals? As a learned woman, you've always understood the purpose of why an animal marks, but now you truly understand, not just in your mind but somewhere deep and primal inside you. It's a feeling. A sensation in your pores.

It frightens you—the way you're changing.

Pulling your legs to your chest, you shiver. The last of what makes you you is slowly fading away. An ache grips at your chest as you suddenly think of your mother—and Annie. How must they be feeling? How can you leave them in the lurch?

He must sense your distress because he turns to look at you with a frown. He approaches and crouches in front of you, hands dangling between his knees, awaiting an explanation.

You shake your head and turn away.

He touches your knee.

Your lips tremble. With a growl, he takes your chin and makes you look at him. Tears patter on your cheeks as you explain in a series of grunts. You've left those you've loved behind. You need to make an end to that part of your life.

He releases your knee and looks at you hard for several long moments. He isn't happy. And you know he doesn't like the thought of you going back there. If you do, there might be a chance you'll leave him behind.

You touch his knee: Never.

His eyes bore into yours and you begin to despair he won't agree. Then he lowers his gaze with a nod. You give a little squeal and throw yourself into his arms. He falls back onto his arse with a grunt, clasping you against him as you lap enthusiastically at his ear.

You leave that very day, taking almost nothing except a woven basket, a skin of water, a pelt and his spear. You'll have to hunt and gather along the way.

For the first little while the journey goes well enough. You're strong. You're happy. You're eager. And your mate seems content.

Then your feet begin to ache. You bear through the pain for as long as possible but soon you're hobbling. He notices, of course, and seizes your arm, stopping you. He holds out his hand for the half-filled basket of food.

You shake your head, knowing what he's going to do.

Baring his teeth, he snarls at you.

With a sigh, you hand it over and he crouches in front of you, holding his spear in one hand and the basket in the other. You climb onto his back, hooking your legs firmly around his hips and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He straightens. 

Throughout the rest of the day, you get off and on, giving him a break while training your feet. You're hoping that by the end of the week, you'll be able to walk where you will without pain and you won't have to burden him again. For the time being, however, you'll have to suffer being a nuisance.

You've journeyed a long time before you finally settle down for the night. It's darker so deep in the forest. You look around in surprise. Despite the darkness, you can see so much. It's not just your hearing and sense of smell that are improving. Your sight is too.

You turn at a flash of orange as he lights a small fire. He relaxes with his back against a tree and you snuggle in beside him. He rests his hand on your thigh. You rest your hand on his groin. He snorts. You laugh.

Then you turn serious. He's doing so much for you. Taking his hand, you entwine your fingers through his while gently tugging at his earlobe with your teeth. He gives you a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, no doubt still worried about what lies ahead.

You need to take his mind off things. You need him to understand how much you appreciate him. Releasing his hand, you wriggle down towards his lap.