by Iona Strom
I watch, fixated, as he frees his hip-length hair from its metal confines. The bands look to be made of bronze with intricately etched designs. After wetting his hair, he gives the bottle a squeeze and makes a creamy lather between his broad palms. Cleansing his scalp and hair, he’s careful to wash around his horns that curve with the shape of his head.
I’ve never been so glad to see shampoo in my damn life. Taking the bottle when he offers it to me, I make my own lather and scrub my matted-up mess of hair. Conditioner would be a bonus, but I find the soap is milky with a luxurious cream that loosens my tangled tresses.
More lather and I mimic Natu as he washes his body from the same bottle.
Finished, I feel reborn, and squeaky clean as Natu hands me a sheet of material from inside a cabinet he reveals with a swipe of his hand. It’s an exact match to the piece of cloth I was using as a garment. Taking one for himself, he dries off quickly, rubbing the material over his wet hair, so I do the same.
Replacing the metal bands around the thick length of his dark hair, I let my eyes travel down the rock-wall that is his back. The swing of his incredible hair, held together in a single tail, brushes across the small of his back with every movement. I’m going to make it a point to run my fingers through the length of those incredible locks the next chance I get.
Natu doesn’t redress, leaving his clothing where he dropped them. Taking a dry sheet from the stack, he wraps it low around his hips.
I follow suit, taking a dry sheet and rewrapping mine in the same toga style as before.
Natu demonstrates a few more necessities by swiping select panels, showing me a weirdly shaped sink and a cylindrical container with a type of pinkish mouthwash inside. I was skeptical at first, but the swish and rinse routine seemed to clean my teeth better than any brush ever has. Everything in the room appears to be embedded in the walls, accessed by swiping a hand over select panels.
I learn that privacy is a thing of the past as I make use of an oblong-shaped bowl—I would never have guessed it was the alien’s version of a toilet. Looking for paper to wipe, I squeal from the blast of water that splashes my crotch. To my right are more of those sheets of material that are cut into small squares, so I use one to dry myself from the alien bidet. Odd how that same material is used for everything.
Seated on the bed, Natu pats the empty place next to him. I’m happy to join him, exhaustion outweighing the wave of adrenaline I’ve been riding.
Forcing my eyes to remain open, I take note of the panel I never noticed and how he dims the lights in the room. The indentations delineating them from the wall are so paper-thin, and being the same color, they are difficult to find.
Just a touch of his finger swiping down the panel and the luminescent walls and ceiling no longer glow a bright white but dim to the nil wattage of a nightlight. With a full belly and clean skin, I settle into his warm embrace.
My savior. The male I’m plotting to endear myself to will return me home. He’s proving to be too much of a gentleman to hold me against my will. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.
Natu settles in behind me. Shame sends my self-respect on a landslide. My father’s voice the echo of a past when I was convinced I was less than nothing. I cringe from how easily I spread my legs for this stranger, becoming the slut my father loved to accuse me of being, but the musk of the male snuggled in behind me was impossible to ignore.
I didn’t ask for any of this, and it isn’t as if I was given a choice. I know that if I don’t perform for these males, then I will be for some other. Given the monsters I’ve seen, I may not live through their raping. Better to be owned by the most human-like beings rather than broken and dead at the hands of a monstrosity. The only way I can make it back to Earth is to be alive to get there.
Steeling myself for what I must do, I take a fortifying breath. Pulling deeply of the air, Natu’s musk tickles my senses. The warmth that settles in my belly is a balm that soothes my dignity, giving me the strength I need to pull myself out of this tailspin.
I will not pass judgment on myself for trying to survive in the bizarre situation that was thrust upon me. I am not dirty for what I’ve had to do with these males to ensure I outlive my captivity.
I am not a slut.
I am a survivor.
I am Ivey.
Bound: Nomadican Mates Series 2
Bonus Excerpt
Vex: Mythical Ink Series (book 1)
Paranormal Romance
Copyright © 2018 LS Anders
Realm of the Dead
Vex roamed the dimly lit passageways, navigating through the complex maze that the multitude of enclosures created. Set side-by-side and stacked one atop the other, the small cubes formed a labyrinth of interconnected, narrow corridors that all led to a single point, serving as exit and entrance into the elaborate prison. He could have wandered these halls with his eyes closed, having walked this route thousands of times before.
Occasionally, he would spare a glance at one of the souls who inhabited the tiny, transparent cubes, his lip curling back in disgust from the ugliness of their bruised auras. Some moaned and writhed in pain, reaching out to him as he passed. Others shrank back from him in fear, cowering into the farthest corner of their cells.
He had been told he possessed a menacing presence. Good. Anything to make their eternal stay more horrific was fine with him.
Vex held not a single ounce of pity for the specters housed within. In life, they had unknowingly been constructing their own cells, prisons of their own design. Every misdeed that caused harm to another living soul, be it animal or man, was transformed into the crystal-clear building blocks that made up each structure. All the evil, nasty deeds were accumulative to where they found themselves now.
He'd bet if they knew the old saying, “you reap what you sow” was going to come to pass after death, these folks would have lived quite different lives.
People had their own various beliefs about what happens to the soul after death. The most common destinations were either Heaven or Hell which was close to the mark. However, the reality of it was nearly inconceivable in its simplicity. The afterlife was what you made of it, depending upon what kind of life you led in the Realm of the Living.
Once a person departs their Earthly body, they are transported to the Realm of the Dead. If the soul remained free of any serious transgressions, the spirit is assigned to a leisurely existence, sent to Utopia, a place of the person’s own imagination—their own personal nirvana.
If the soul was tainted in some way, the spirit was sent to Vex for processing into Netherworld, then ushered to an eternal prison with no hope of escape. The more blackened the aura, the more horrific the confinement. No one knew what went on inside the cube of another, only that each one had its own brand of torture, depending on the soul who had created it.
He was on his way to usher in another influx of the newly departed, to categorize each damaged soul and ensure they were assigned to their proper sectors. Netherworld was not for the weak-willed. Reading auras was nauseating work—deciphering between the varying shades of gray—a talent that took a great deal of practice and being first sentry was a position Vex took very seriously.
Working his way up from custodian to head of his own sector and finally as lead warden had taken him a great deal of time. How long, he didn't know. There was no way to mark the passage of time in the Realm of the Dead. Only Earthly beings were familiar with that custom as the sun and moon traded places in the heavens on a regular schedule. Here there were no blue skies filled with cottony clouds or twinkling stars.
In Netherworld, where he spent the majority of his time, the only illumination came from the glow of oblong shaped orbs embedded in the impenetrable walls at regular intervals.
Here there was only solid rock, hollowed out by some unseen force, a forever expanding cave that made room for the ever-growing cells that would eventually house their evil creators once their essence departed from their Earthly b
odies.
Reaching the entry point of Netherworld, he paused to observe the fresh souls already being ushered into the holding arena. The large, circular room which separated Netherworld from Utopia, awash with soft, white light, was the first and only stop before reaching whatever end was a soul’s destiny.
The transporters were already separating the brilliantly colored souls of the good from the gray of the damned. Angels were what the living commonly called them. Angels indeed. By definition, they were anything but. Some were the most proficient of pranksters. Always fucking with the sentries for sport, but he supposed it kept them on their toes.
Transporters were given beautiful features and glorious wings. It was said the more appealing their appearance, the less likely the spirit was to run away once the essence left the body. The transporters only had a few seconds to capture the life-force and take them onto the next plane of existence where they were now. They had to be proficient at the capturing because retrieving a rogue soul was no easy task. Once they were loose, they quickly learned the tricks of ghosting, and the next haunting tale for the living was born.
Demons. That was what his kind were known as. Their appearance was terrifying. Huge in body and cruel of face, they had horns set wide atop their heads. The bigger the horns, the higher their rank.
He’d earned every inch of his horns, lengthening as he moved his way up through the ranks. Long and thick with deadly points on the ends, he was most proud of the rack he'd grown.
Despite the beliefs about demons, sentries weren’t evil, merely specially trained guards. They were custodians who kept what was too evil to exist from reentering the world of the living.
Slipping easily through the tightly woven bars of the gate, Vex lifted a hand in greeting to Lucian. That particular transporter had become a friend of sorts.
“How goes it in the Realm of the Living?” Vex stepped farther into the arena.
“Oh, you know. Fly down, visit the dying, collect their souls, and deposit them here. Same ole’, same ole,’” Lucian answered in a bored tone.
“At least you get a change of scenery,” Vex said, waving his hand through the air. “All we get to see are rough cut walls and this place.”
His irritation with his surroundings was a sham. Actually, he couldn't have cared less. All he needed was right here, and his purpose for being had been set. He was utterly content with his lot, but he did envy the transporters one thing. At least they got to bask in the splendorous beauty of the good souls instead of the stomach-churning dismal grays.
“Is it my imagination, or is the number of bad souls growing?” Vex questioned, scanning the cluster of newcomers.
“Numbers are definitely growing,” Lucian answered, dropping his head. “Looks like you’ve got some nasty new inhabitants, but at least they can’t hurt anybody else if they’re here.”
“True, but there always seems to be another to take their place.”
Lucian chuckled. “So, you’re the glass is half-full kind of male? I never pegged you for a pessimist.”
“Well, maybe if I were as pretty as you, I would be in a better frame of mind,” Vex jested.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, Sentry,” Lucian poked back. “Besides, you’ve got those kick ass horns.”
“I do, don’t I?” Vex smirked, running his hands the length of the cylindrical projections adorning his skull.
“Cocky bastard.” Lucian winked before taking flight in the direction of the entrance to Utopia.
Vex proceeded forward, taking in the translucent remnants of the newly deceased, measuring the nimbus of each spectral being. Retaining the likeness of the flesh and bone body they once inhabited, the ones being sent his way ranged from the palest gray to a ghastly black of the most demented. He already knew which sector each apparition belonged, having watched the cubes being constructed by unseen hands as the people lived out their wicked lives.
Taking charge, Vex didn’t waste time ordering the other sentries about. Separating the herd of damaged souls who were now under his charge, Vex began sifting through the crowd, sorting through the varying shades, assigning each to the appropriate sentry who would see to their confinements.
Thoroughly engrossed in his work, he flinched as Lucian began to speak.
“Hey, Vex, I think I have one of yours by mistake.” Lucian flew over and dropped the soul he’d been carrying in front of the male.
“Are you sure?” Vex leaned in closer to get a better look at the rare hue. “The aura is completely white.”
“Pretty sure. There seems to be a vague outline of gray just beneath the surface,” Lucian pointed out.
“Yeah, I see what you mean, the—”
The spectral cut him off, speaking frantically. The words jumbling together. “I’m not bad. I’m supposed to go with him,” she swore, pointing to Lucian. “I don’t belong in Hell. I belong in Heaven. I’m a good soul, pure…”
As the spirit continued to ramble, her aura began to glow a brighter white until it was as unspoiled as the artificial light in the holding arena. Her words were spoken with such conviction as she proclaimed her innocence, any doubts were pushed aside.
In adults, white auras were almost unheard of. Only the purest of heart possessed them which sadly meant most belonged to infants or children. It had been a great while since Vex had seen an adult in possession of one. Maybe his eyes had played a trick on him, making him see what Lucian had suggested.
Rolling back his muscled shoulders, the heavy material of his uniform stretched with him, displaying the corded muscles beneath. He didn't like his first experience with uncertainty, having never wavered from his first impression.
“... please, you must believe me,” the spectral finished, sharing a look between the two males.
Lucian looked to Vex for an answer.
Calling forth the closest sentry, Vex tasked him with watching over the soul as he and Lucian stepped away to speak in private.
“What are you thinking?” Lucian’s brow scrunched together with worry.
“I swear I saw the hint of gray, too. But, now? There is only white. I have never witnessed one that void of color unless it belonged to a child.” Vex shook his head in disbelief.
“Neither have I. So where does this leave us?”
Vex scrubbed a hand across his buzzcut. “I think we should set that one aside. Process her last. If she is as pure as she seems now, she should stay that way until we’ve finished with the others. If not, we should see the hint of gray return. If she is a trickster, she won’t be able to hold the pure white for a long period of time.”
“I agree.”
Moving off in opposite directions, the two males finished their work, reconvening where the soul in question stood, wringing her translucent hands.
Vex walked a lazy circle around the spectral, closely examining every aspect of the pristine glow. There was nothing of the gray he had seen earlier.
Lucian flew above, getting a bird’s-eye view before landing next to Vex. “I don’t see it anymore. Not a single trace of what I’d seen earlier. Must be a fluke.”
Considering Lucian’s words, Vex took another turn around the translucent being. He had to have been mistaken, there was no sign of anything malevolent, and none of the unoccupied cube-like prisons were calling out to him as belonging to this soul.
Stretching his arms above his head, Vex cracked his neck attempting to loosen the hesitation that was clinging tightly to him. Giving Lucian a hard nod, his decision finalized, Vex declared, “She goes with you, Lucian.”
“Agreed.” The transporter nodded in return and escorted the audibly relieved soul toward the entrance to Utopia.
Without warning, the spectral broke away from Lucian and darted to the portal where another transporter was just arriving from the Realm of the Living, knocking the transporter and the soul being carried aside.
“Hey!”
Vex’s head whipped around at Lucian’s alarming shout.
“What the…” Breaking out into a run, Vex made it to the portal too late to catch the spectral before she leaped up and dove through the circular void just before it closed with a snap.
Disbelief distorted the flawless features of the transporter.
Shocked to his core, Vex turned to Lucian—
A searing pain in his skull dropped him to his knees. Bone popped and crunched, a tremendous force twisted his head at a bad angle. Every molecule of air was suddenly sucked from his lungs as if he’d been slammed with a boulder.
He was vaguely aware of Lucian’s screams as the floor gave way. His body falling into nothingness as his vision dimmed into blackness. Flapping his arms around did nothing to slow his spiraling descent. His mouth stretched wide, making no sound. The absence of air made it impossible to force sound through his vocal cords.
Solid ground rushed up to meet flesh and bone, hitting with such force, he bounced once, twice before coming to rest on the rough surface. Something was brushing against his legs, groaning with the same agony he was feeling.
Afraid to move, every bone in his body felt fractured, the worst pain pulsing through his skull. When his name was spoken by a familiar voice, he cracked open his eyes. Finding his head cranked hard to the side, his mouth was smashed flat against unfamiliar ground. As his eyes began to take in his surroundings, he found he was looking down the side of his body, his legs splayed and tangled with Lucian’s.
“Vex, you alright?” Lucian croaked.
His lips twitched to no avail.
Starting with his arm that wasn't crushed beneath his weight, he planted a palm on the dewy, black surface and pushed. The giant muscles in his arms had never had trouble holding up his girth. Now they shook with such violence as he lifted his upper body a mere few inches only to collapse back to where he was.
Lucian proved to be in way better shape, crawling up to Vex’s head. “Let's get you turned over. See what kind of damage you've got going on.”
