Soul Bound

by Ella M. Lee

  “Yeah, humans like to pour their problems into art,” I said. “That comes out different ways for everyone.”

  Ren sat back.

  He studied his work, and I blushed as his eyes roamed over me. He smiled softly, exposing the tiniest bit of his pointed canine teeth.

  “Beautiful,” he said, and his playful expression told me the words were for me.

  I shook my head and looked away, irrationally pleased, wondering if he’d felt like this when I’d called his demi-form beautiful.

  “My turn?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Since you can’t write in my language, I’m going to guide you. Feel free to pour your problems into this painting.”

  His playful tone forced a slight laugh from me.

  Well, if he insisted.

  He shifted closer. Tenderly, he took my right hand in his, extending my index finger. Gingerly, he dipped it into the bowl. With careful, slow motions, he guided my finger over his skin in the shape of his words. I had no idea how he did it without seeing his work, but he managed to help me cover his skin in gold, occasionally murmuring a direction to me that would help him form the design.

  The medium—that viscous syrup—was weird, but it did feel nice to draw the designs, even if it wasn’t my original work. There was something powerful just in the act of producing, of making a mark.

  It hadn’t felt like I’d made a mark on anything in ages, yet Ren was allowing me to leave a mark on him.

  It took longer for us to do the work together, but eventually his face and shoulders and arms were also covered in a design that mirrored my own.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him, magnificent in a mantle of gold like stardust.

  “Beautiful,” I said, because my staring was getting awkward.

  He laughed. “Final step. Hold onto me like this.”

  He reached his left hand out and placed his thumb in the circle on my left forearm, indicating that I should do the same, then he repeated the gesture for our right hands, so that our arms were crossed and our thumbs were both firmly planted in the circles on each other’s skin, making a sort of intertwined loop, an infinity symbol.

  “I’m going to ricochet some power through us to tighten the magic and engage the bond,” he said. “I don’t think it will hurt, but I’ll admit that I don’t really know what’s going to happen. Ready?”

  His skin had warmed, and his grip was making my heart race. “Ready.” The word sounded steadier than I felt.

  Ren’s power ripped out of him and into me, making me lightheaded. It bounced all the way through me, lighting up the pattern of the design, tingling and burning and leaving echoes of itself inside me. Something pulled against me, tugging, narrowing.

  A thread appeared between me and Ren, golden and shining.

  Both of us gasped as it went taut.

  The thread tightened, pulling us together, then it disappeared and the tingling magic evaporated with it.

  But it lived there now, within me, invisible. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. I could feel the draw Ren had on me, could feel the tension between us, could feel the path that had opened between him and me. It drew me closer.

  When I looked into his eyes now, I saw his core, and I recognized it as mine.

  You own the handsome demon, the tiny voice said sarcastically. But it did feel quite a lot like that. Like he owned me, and I owned him, but in the best way possible.

  I wondered if I wore the same expression of rapture as I saw on his face.

  I let my eyes wander across his frame, studying his rapid breathing, the exact cut of his attractive muscles, his posture as it curved toward me, the crisp color of his deep eyes. Our hands were still locked around each other’s arms, and I studied his grip, finding I didn’t mind its eager possessiveness, that I didn’t mind his hands on me in the slightest.

  He was studying me in return, as though he’d never seen anything like me. He leaned in toward me, and I mirrored him, our faces drawing together. I felt strange contentment looking into his eyes, counting his breaths, touching his skin.

  I unlocked my hands from around his forearms. I reached up to cup his chin, unable to help myself, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He exhaled, tilting into my touch as though he couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t help the pleased pinging that rang through me when he did. I touched his hair; it was as silky as it looked. He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat, taking in the lovely curve of his pale pink lips and his pearly fangs.

  He took my actions as permission and touched me in return, running a gentle hand up my neck. His foggy eyes were a predawn forest of affection. He looked amazed, his lips parted and his brows up. Heat crept into my cheeks as he studied me.

  Mine, mine, mine. We were both thinking it; the idea reverberated between us down our thread.

  Gently, he wound his hand in my hair and pulled me closer, laying his cheek against mine. I closed my eyes.

  My heart pounded, telling me over and over again that we weren’t close enough, even cheek to cheek, with our souls connected.

  In a daze, I shifted, sliding my hand through his hair again and letting my fingers linger on the back of his neck. I pressed our foreheads together—

  And then I pressed my lips to his.

  The lightest touch.

  He gasped. His lips closed on mine and pleasure clanged like a bell within me—both his and my own. Warmth washed over me, making me tremble. I’d never experienced a kiss like this one. I’d never wanted anyone’s lips on me so much before.

  What are you doing? the tiny voice asked incredulously.

  I inhaled sharply, breaking away, pulling back.

  Ren let go instantly, and our strange trance was broken.

  Cuddling with the demon? that voice taunted me. Kissing the demon?

  “I…” I started as my brain turned on again.

  Ren held his hands up in front of himself warily, like he was afraid I was going to attack him. He looked focused again, his eyes sharp and bright, but he was still smiling as though genuinely happy. He cast his gaze down at our spent ingredients, the scattered bowls and jars, and then back up at me.

  “I’m sorry?” I said quietly. It was a question because I wasn’t sure I was sorry. That had been…well, amazing.

  “That was interesting,” Ren murmured in his perfect purr, his eyes drinking me in.

  That was an accident, that’s what that was. But it had been a nice accident. An accident I sort of wanted to do again, with more of our skin touching.

  Stop, the tiny voice told me sternly. That’s an idiotic idea.

  I twisted my hands together, trying to fight down the tumult of confusion and guilt and ringing pleasure in me. “Nice to meet you, temporary soulmate,” I said, forcing an awkward laugh.

  He chuckled. “I couldn’t have picked better. It is…very nice to know you, Ari.”

  Heat rushed through me again, filling me and spilling over. I needed to calm down, before I did something really dumb.

  “Can I, um, wash this off?” I said, indicating the gold paint.

  “Yes,” he said. He hesitated. “Can you read it now?”

  I looked at my arms, at the curvy designs, trying to make sense of them.

  Something tugged within me, and Ren flinched. I looked up. “What?”

  “I felt whatever you just did,” he said.

  “Did it hurt?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Just…strangeness.”

  I looked back down at the design. I tugged again on that invisible thread, on Ren. The designs resolved into words, like zooming out on a field of dots and finding that it showed a picture.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I can sort of understand what it means. I could probably read it aloud if I…tugged more.”

  “Interesting,” he said again.

  I looked into his eyes and felt a glimmer of his curiosity flash through the thread, followed immediately by some sort of pleased appreciation. For me? He seemed to sense what had h
appened.

  “Well, this will take some getting used to,” he said.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to take a shower. Don’t, you know, spy on me or whatever.”

  His soft laughter followed me as I wobbled toward my bedroom.

  Chapter 23

  I hid in my bedroom for nearly an hour, trying to figure out what to do with myself.

  Why, why, why had I kissed him? And why, why, why was I trembling just thinking about how much I wanted to do it again?

  But I guessed the answer to that was obvious. The thread that now bound us together was drawing me to him. Or maybe it was just showing me his feelings and my brain was agreeing with them? I had no idea.

  Either way, the tiny voice in me was right. This was a job for me, and for him. It had been wrong of me to kiss Ren, although he hadn’t seemed too displeased by it, so I didn’t think I’d need to do too much apologizing. We’d just been…surprised by the bond.

  That was all.

  But when I closed my eyes and remembered his lips on mine, it did feel nice to be wanted. To be admired as more than blood or sex or amusement. Ren’s eyes on me had meant something much deeper than that.

  I knew that, because now I knew him.

  I could feel Ren.

  The intensity varied, but that tether was always there, orienting me to him, bringing my mind to him, pressing me to recall him.

  If I forced my mind to focus on something else, he was almost ignorable. But if I brought up an image of his lovely eyes, he ricocheted within me. I could sense the direction he was in, the general tenor of his mind, the vague idea of his movements and emotions.

  And if I tugged on that thread between us, I could get so much more. I could feel his knowledge, his power, the slight oddness that told me he wasn’t actually human. I could push even further. I could turn that tug into something much more tangible, and I wondered what would happen if I did. Would I be able to read his thoughts? I imagined he’d push me to experiment, but for now, I didn’t want to overstep again.

  Kissing him unexpectedly was enough.

  He tugged back here and there, responding to my prodding, sending along feelings that seemed vaguely like questions.

  Primitive communications between two very different creatures.

  Did I feel as weird to him as he felt to me?

  Just as I was drying myself off and making sure every trace of that gold paint was gone, he’d done something I could only liken to stroking that thread between us. The resulting tumult of feeling had pulled a strangled cry from my throat and nearly sent me jumping out of my skin. I didn’t know if I actually had anything like a soul, but that gesture touched it, painful and pleasurable in ways I’d never felt before. It disappeared quickly, leaving me trembling and aching, and I knew he felt my response because a glimmer of shock reverberated through our connection.

  I was left standing in front of the bathroom mirror for minutes, trying to calm myself, when I felt another soft tug.

  Come? it seemed to ask. Be with me?

  Would the thread would always interpret our emotions in the most dramatic way possible? Ren didn’t strike me as someone who would say something sappily romantic like “be with me.”

  I opened the bedroom door and went back out into the great room. Ren had turned on the gas fireplace, and the pale walls and shiny windows flickered with warm whispers of light. He was seated on the stone hearth, and when I saw him, the thread ordered me to go to him. I resisted it, stalling at the end of the hallway.

  The gold paint on him was gone, and he’d put on a shirt again, although he didn’t seem like he’d taken a shower. He could snap his fingers and make matter disappear, so maybe he’d just done that instead.

  “Hey,” I said nervously.

  He smiled. “Ari.”

  “I’m really sorry about earlier.” I twisted my hands in front of myself.

  He blinked at me. “I’m not.”

  I laughed uneasily, startled by his frank and open tone, but a part of me liked hearing those words. “We should talk, I guess.”

  His eyes in the firelight were something else entirely, burning with care and concern, as captivating as they’d been in the cave. “This is fun,” he said softly.

  “Yeah? Did you enjoy teasing me earlier?” I asked.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “But I was a little impressed by your visceral response.”

  “Oh, just wait. I’m going to figure out how to do that to you, and you’re going to regret those words.”

  He smiled. “I’m curious. Try.”

  I tugged on our golden thread to bring it to the forefront of my mind, but instead of stopping there, I reached out. I took what I could only call mental fingers and caressed the thread, starting at my end and working slowly toward him, first brushing gently then firming up my touch.

  Ren jumped to his feet, shuddering. Shadows played across his eyes and over his fingers, dripping off him like water. As I let go, his pleased surprise echoed in my mind.

  “Yes,” he said, after a long moment of staring at me. “We should talk.”

  It was almost funny to watch Ren as he turned into an awkward host. The calm competence he’d displayed all of last night and today was gone. He was twitching, unsteady on his feet, staring at me as though he’d never seen me before, holding things as though he didn’t know what they were.

  When he handed me a glass of water, he nearly dropped it in my lap.

  To make matters worse, his nervousness rebounded through me.

  “You have to stop,” I said, cringing. “You need to pull yourself together.”

  We were seated on the couch, and I’d been losing my gaze in the fire, trying to give that thread in my mind a wide berth. Ren’s eyes were wide and alarmed, and I was pretty sure he hadn’t blinked in a long time.

  “You’ve done bonds before, right?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “This is different. I’m not used to being so close to another living creature. Especially a non-demon.”

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend?” I asked.

  He gave me a withering look. “I told you, I’m young. Not a child in my kind’s lifespan, but…mating relationships in my world are complex, and I have good reasons not to have considered one.”

  “You’ve never even tried being in an, um, relationship with someone?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Was that your first kiss earlier?” I asked. “Does your kind even have kissing?”

  He gave me a shy glance, his eyes dark under his lashes. “Yes…to both.”

  “Well, um, it was a nice kiss, really.”

  He lifted his head. Relief pinged down the thread. “Yes, it was nice. Not your first kiss?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not my first, but…possibly my best.”

  I didn’t know if that was true because I could barely remember anything before Franklin. Could barely remember what it felt like to have a boyfriend or be touched by someone I cared about. Maybe kissing Ren had felt so nice just because I got to choose it. Or, at least, I sort of got to choose it. Some part of me, anyhow.

  Ren gave me a sheepish smile, and I was glad I’d said something kind, because I did feel a little bad for him.

  He didn’t deal with humans. He didn’t know much about us. He hadn’t been close to anyone before, and now he was instantly as close as possible to a complete stranger from another species.

  Hadn’t I felt as confused and concerned and helpless and angry and scared when I’d been suddenly thrown in with a vampire? When something that wasn’t my species was putting its hands on me and interacting with me and drinking my blood? When I was hurt and alone and no one had explained things to me?

  This wasn’t violating and disgusting, but I could see why he was so jumpy. It was almost funny that I had more experience dealing with a situation like this than he did.

  “Maybe if we figure this out a little, it’ll be less uncomfortable,”
I offered.

  I was eager for that, too. I didn’t like walking on eggshells in my own head.

  He swallowed, settling back against the couch.

  “Do you see a thread?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes. It’s golden. I feel it, too. Right here,” I said, pressing over my heart. “A direct line to you.”

  He smiled faintly. A tiny glimmer of understanding sank into me from him, and I knew he saw the same thing.

  “I can touch it,” I said. “That’s what I did earlier. Is that what you did?”

  He looked ashamed, his brow furrowed. “Yes.”

  “Um, it’s okay, you know,” I said. “I agreed to this. I get that it’s going to be weird.” I paused. “You know in the car, how I said I was scared, and you said you’d be lenient? We can be lenient with one another.”

  “Okay,” he said, but he still looked shaky.

  “Can you feel me tug on the thread?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, almost wistfully. “It feels like you’re calling my name. My real name.”

  “Say your name again,” I said.

  I laid a featherlight mental finger on the thread, right at my end of it, as he dutifully issued the string of syllables that was his name.

  I heard it, understood the word, its meaning, its feeling. I could probably reproduce it…

  I turned it over in my head, trying to wrap myself around it, and—with a hesitant pause—said it aloud.

  Ren’s brows drew together. “Close,” he said carefully. He smiled. “A good attempt.”

  “Sorry.”

  He laughed, his shoulders relaxed and thrown back, and I enjoyed the ping of his amusement that flitted through me.

  “We have a little time to get used to it before our next move,” he said. “There are some things we need to do to prepare you for your task.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like get you some practice with magic and get a little more vampire scent on you.” My eyes widened and he went on, “You need to look like you’ve been in vampire company for a while, so tomorrow night, we’re going to make a visit down in the city to cement our charade.” Ren must’ve felt the hesitation in me, because his next words were soothing. “It will be okay.”