Drip. Drip. Drip.
I'm lulled awake by the sound.
Drip. Drip.
What is that?
Drip. Drip.
I'm aware of the smell first. Earthy rich. Like warmed soil beneath my fingertips. I want to dig my hands into the aroma. Taste the deliciousness of it.
I'm lying down. Face up. But it's too dark to make out any surroundings. I wonder if I am back in the underground room. But why would that horrible creature of a man bring me back there? There's nothing but mud and moss.
My fingers sink into a thick fur that's stretched out beneath me. It's warm to the touch. I revel in the softness. It's can't be the skins of a normal animal. Their fur is much too coarse. But this, this is something I could bask in forever.
My tongue is dry as I open my mouth and try to swallow. I need water. Cool, moist water. Is that what the dripping noise is? And if it is water, where can I find it?
I blink open my eyes. They're as dry as my mouth, and tiny pieces of salt grate against my lids. The sting burns my eyes and I roll to my side. It's in that movement I realize I'm naked. I gasp and grab for the fur, pulling it up to cover me. To my horror, it's stuck, somehow attached to whatever cushion is beneath. I tug at it to no avail.
Fine. Nudity it is. Not like anyone can see me in this black abyss anyway.
"Hello?" My voice is even more hoarse than it was the last time I spoke. I didn't know that was possible, sounding like a pinched frog.
Humidity washes over me. A fine sheen of moisture clings to my bare skin. A faint touch of air tickles my nose.
I take a deep breath and hold it. Listening. Waiting. The drip is my only answer.
As I swing my legs over the side of the raised makeshift bed, my feet connect with a dirt packed floor. I move them side to side, checking for holes or sharp objects. Nothing assaults me. I risk the standing position.
My limbs are numb. Shaky. They tingle as circulation pounds through my veins, bringing them back to life. I feel like I've died. Been drug behind a horse for days. Bruised. Broken. Held together by pins and needles.
I wish I could see.
Shapes start to become discernible in the darkness. I squint and rub at my eyes. There. A table pushed against the side of the...dirt? Is that a dirt wall? I truly am stuck back in that room. My body shivers with the thought. But wait. This room is different. Larger. The rounded ceiling higher, carved with large wooden roots entwined overhead. And there, a hollowed spot where some recently burned logs are turned to ash. A small flue opens above it. That must be where the air movement is coming from. And there, on top of the table that has two chairs seated on opposite sides of it, a bucket. The dripping noise is coming from that direction. It has to be water.
My legs propel me forward. My thirst driving me like a drunken lunatic toward the bucket.
As I tip the bucket back, I realize the color is all wrong for water. Instead of clear, it's brown. Like rust. But it's too late to pull back now. The contents flush over my mouth and down my chest as I barely close my lips before the sticky liquid gets inside.
I drop the bucket. It makes a loud clang as the handle hits against the metal side and bounces away.
I wipe at my face. The brown muck doesn't want to come off. It's sticks like honey to my skin. Now the stickiness is all over my arms, my hands, and tangled in my hair.
I stop and hold my arms out, taking a few deep breaths. I must look like a scarecrow. Though it's not a post that holds my back in position. Maybe a risen corpse, standing there with my arms held out, my shoulders hunched forward.
I stare down at my body. Long streaks of whatever carve dirty rivers down my skin. Now what?
Another glance around the room. A wooden doorway is on the opposite wall. Do I chance getting out of here? Or stay put?
Since I have no idea where I am, who I am with, because clearly, someone has been with me, note the lack of clothes, I should probably either find that person, or get the heck out of here.
I stumble toward the door. Another object catches my eyes. It's a long mirror. It appears to have a latch on the side. Like a door.
I brush my fingers against my leg to try and dislodge the goo as best as I can. It proves to be much worse that I thought. The goo is drying and starting to get hard.
The mirror opens with a creak. A wardrobe is behind it. Full of long dresses in muted tones that match the landscape of an autumn forest. The material is heavily woven, made for durability. And some of the pieces have very fine stitching. I notice a strange looking belt hanging from one of the pegs. It's elegant with some sort of fine gems attached to it, enough to pin a person down to earth.
I relatch the door before beginning to hobble toward door. It is indeed, a hobble now. For my skin is held in a crusted shell. It feels like my skin is being pulled away from my muscle. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
I cup my hands around my breasts for some semblance of modesty in the darkness and continue on my way. The crunch and crinkle of my movements against the dried glue the only sound in the darkness.
By the time I reach the door, the back of my neck prickles. The feeling that comes with being watched.
I spin and collide with a solid wall. How did that get there?
It takes me a moment to realize that wall is actually a man. Towering over me.
My jaw drops, making a popping noise as the glue cracks.
"What are you doing?" The man's voice is curious, amused. His eyes fall south of mine.
I lurch toward him to attack, my goo ridden skin making all sorts of noise as I shift under it. Some breaks off in bits and falls to the ground, others suck at my skin and tear off hair. I register the surprise in his eyes before we connect.
The impact catches him off guard and he stumbles backward. My fingers jam into his hair as I grab and get ready to snap his neck if he does anything against my will. My legs now wrap around his arms, pinning them to his sides. My face, inches above his as I tip his head back to look at me. A lesser man would've fallen, but he somehow caught his balance, and he now stands with me attached to him. Literally.
My breathing is heavy from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline. I can't believe I caught him so easily. Usually my face tells of my plans before I act on them. I must be getting even better at my attacks.
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
His eyes. They're his eyes. The man I'm bonded to. A glacial calculation held within.
"Shouldn't I be asking the questions?" He lifts an eyebrow. It's annoying and I tighten my grip in his hair, pulling a few strands from the scalp.
He tries to lift his hands as if in surrender, but I don't loosen my grip, only clamp down harder. My muscles are cramping from the sudden effort, but I tell them to shut up and obey.
"Why?"
"Because this is my hideout. And you're the one who's in my care."
"Yeah because you knocked me out, then stole my clothes. How do you think I feel waking up with nothing on, and a mouth as dry as a desert?"
He tries for a shrug. "Must've been pretty bad from the looks of it."
I register that he's smirking. Looking at me like I'm some sort of wild animal he intends to kill slowly. That's not going to happen.
I move his head back further and to the side. A necklace encircles his neck. The chain falling beneath his shirt that's...heaven forbid...I realize I'm naked, and my bare breasts are pressed up against his ample pectorals, bubbling up like two rounded hills. If he were to look down, he'd come face first with...And my legs, wrapped around him like a rope, my nether regions flush against his abs. My legs tremble. What was I thinking? Stupid. Stupid girl.
He seems to read my mind. Curse my honest face. The realization must be written all over. He takes advantage of my pause, somehow yanking his arms from beneath my legs and grabbing my forearms. I have no doubt that he can break my hold. After all, he just broke my leg hold. But now he's the one hesitating, as if he knows that by pulling me off, he will be exposed to my full nakedness. But why should that affect him, if he's the one caring for me.
"Why am I naked?" The question pops out before I can reel it back in.
He tries to tip his head to the side, but my hands hold fast. So he squints like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. "Because you were filthy, and your clothes were covered in blood and sweat. Took me two days trying to clean them before I gave up and threw them into the fire. My sister, Annaleigh, rummaged up some clothes for you. They're in the wardrobe. You could've put them on, but I see you've dirtied yourself again." He pauses, considering. "Is this some sort of habit of yours?"
A growl grows in my throat. Two days? I've already lost two days. I have no idea where I am or how I can get back to my friends. I begin to chalk up a list in my head of questions that need answering, pronto.
Now what? Should I unleash him? Tell him to close his eyes while I'm doing it? Yeah right...that's not at all cowardly. But if he hasn't hurt me yet, that means he won't hurt me, right? I shake my head, trying to come up with the right solution to my predicament.
I look down at his face, considering him. Does he look malicious? Should I fear him? Of course I should, he's knocked me out and taken me captive. I have no idea where I am. Who he is. Anything.
His fingers tighten on my arms and I stiffen. "Are we going to stay like this all day? Because if we are, I'd like to know now."
My cheeks warm. I know I'm blushing but I doubt he can see it under the brown mess.
"Not all day, but I'm not going to release you just yet."
A smile forms on his lips but doesn't quite open over his teeth. "You, release me?"
"I choose not to be offended by that statement." Even though in the back of my mind I know he's in charge. That at any moment he could tire of me clinging to him and break my hold. I'm grateful he's being merciful in his own way, letting me cover myself, even if it is with him.
He takes a few steps over to one of the chairs by the table and pulls it out before sitting. The position puts me in an even more precarious situation, since I am sitting on his lap now, naked.
He seems to sense the frustration fighting for release in my eyes, because he lets out a breath like a huff. "Ready to move yet?"
"Not quite." I grit my teeth. "Why am I here?"
"Because we're bonded."
"Bonded. What does that even mean?" I lessen my grip on his hair so he can look at me.
"It means, you stupid little fool, that you drank my blood and became connected to me."
"I did not drink your blood!"
"Drank. Gagged. Same thing. It doesn't matter what you call it. It only matters what you did. And you did, swallow. So now we are together."
"How can swallowing," I make sure to emphasize the swallowing part to show him my skepticism, "your blood make us connected? I've swallowed plenty of blood in my lifetime and never had this happen. What's different about you?"
"I'm not human. Despite what you think or see. And neither are you."
My brain rears back like he's slapped me. "Not human? Yeah right. I'm the most human you can find, right down to the core. Emotions, flesh, blood. All of it."
He nods. "Right."
"So what, am I some type of vampire?" I scoff at the impossibility. This man is off his rocker. "Or, oooo...let me guess...a werewolf. Rarrrr..."
He sneers at me. "You're not some unrealistic being that's never existed, nor ever will exist. Humans make up some dumb, senseless tales to frighten themselves. You've been an unlucky recipient of their stories."
"Uh huh. And so what does that make me?"
"Something you've never heard of, nor will you, from me. If you want to find out, you'll have to discover it on your own. It's not something you can be told. It's something you become through learning our ways."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Right. And that doesn't sound crazy at all now does it?"
"And this is why I promised myself I would never be bonded to anyone. Not in a million years. And somehow I get stuck with someone like you. Someone who will jump first and think second. You, with no imagination. Nor any sense."
My blood boils. My veins steaming from the inside out, making my body hot like lava. How can he claim to know me when we've just met? And if this is really the way he feels about me, then how could he accept a bond with me? Didn't he yell at me for stealing his blood from him? It's not like I want this. If I would've known smashing his nose was going to bring such a terrible fate, then I would've saved us both the trouble and let him kill me.
The man's complexion pales before he sucks in a breath. I smell the burning flesh before I see it. Red blisters pop and blood oozes down his shirt from where my skin connects with his. I'm burning. My skin, red. The sticky substance sizzling on my overheated skin.
I yank my body back, trying to get away from him, but my fingers somehow get caught in his hair and sizzle the ends.
I gasp, thinking of ice. Cold, cold ice. My skin freezes over. I can't move. Can't breathe. I'm freaking out, but there's nothing I can do. My body is literally frozen. Stuck in place. Attached to this monster beneath me.
"Alright! Calm this madness!" His voice pierces my shock. His hands run up and down my arms, my back, soothing. "You need to calm down. Take a deep breath. Think of something good. A happy memory. Anything."
I clamp my eyes closed and concentrate. My mind struggles to find a path through the iceblock that's lodged in my coherent thoughts. Happy memory. Something good.
Lila and me playing outside under the wide open sky. Not a cloud in sight. Only blue. Endless blue. The air, so calm and crisp in springtime. The newborn grass under my feet, painting the hillside green. A tiny tulips popping up, readying to open their faces to the sunshine. It's peaceful. There's no war. There's no pain. No loss. Just the two of us. Stuck in that moment. Content. Happy to be alive.
I hold onto the memory like a lifeline. It warms my skin again. Tingles run down my arms, all the way to my feet. I feel hot after being frozen. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it's just the adjustment from the severe cold.
"Good. Now, open your eyes."
I do as he administers. His blisters are gone. There's nothing but smooth skin peaking out from his holey, roasted clothes. How he heals himself is a mystery. One I would like to know.
He runs his hands over my face. My hair. Until suddenly his hands are stuck in the knot at the ends where the brown stickiness has captured him. He stares at his hand, then brings it closer to his face as if to sniff.
"What is this stuff?" He takes a deep breath. "Oh..."
I become aware of the heat radiating through his shirt. The way it warms my own body. How it makes me sort of breathless now that we're not fighting. And I realize I've pulled back, exposing my nakedness to him. He doesn't seem to notice or care, but I quickly cover myself as best I can.
There's a subtle dip in the middle of his top lip. And his full bottom lip is parted from the top from the last word he spoke. I'm mesmerized. I can't stop staring. It's like an invisible string is pulling me forward, urging me to take just one taste. What would he feel like? Like all the other boys I've kissed? Or something more? Like magic? Because I feel like there's some sort of magic going on here.
"What are you doing?" A female voice shakes me free from the trance. "Why are you out of bed already? You should be resting."
My gaze darts to the door where a tall woman with a braid over her shoulder is standing with her arms crossed.
Another man enters the room, leaning over the woman with an arm on the door frame. "Well darling, just take a look. It's not that hard to see. They've accepted the bond. Now she really can be everything, as he."
The woman shoots him a quizzical look before returning her gaze to us. "Huh. Doesn't look like that to me."
I don't know whether to move or stay. To correct his wrong assumption or not.
"Oh come on. You remember the way we were when we first bonded. Couldn't get enough of each other when we were left in a room alone. She's healed. Strong. Look at her. She's got him pinned, not the other way around."
"Then why is the bucket of mastic sap all over her and not him? And why is he still dressed? Well, kinda. What are those holes doing in his clothes? Do I even want to know?"
Don't these people have any revulsion to nudity? She says it as if it's just the time of day.
The man seems stumped at this revelation. He shrugs and pouts out his lower lip.
"Helam, explain." The woman is now staring at the man whose lap I am in.
I turn to question him. I want to know what just happened as much as she does. If not more. I became a beakon of fire. Then a block of ice. That can't be normal. Can it?
He's staring at me. At my eyes. Searching. Filled with their own questions. Instead of icy pools of death, they're warm summer skies. Cloudless. As if he can see me through eternity with their depths.
Again, I feel that pull. That yearning. It's deeper this time. Somewhere within my soul, not just my heart.
The room feels like it's holding its breath. So still that time doesn't dare move. Neither do I.
His hand slides up the back of my head. My hair goes with it, lifting and tangling into a bigger mess. He tips my head forward, angling it toward him. I'm so caught up in the moment, in his eyes that I barely feel his lips as they cover mine in a gentle caress. He stills for a moment, letting our skin warm against the embrace. My lips move to fit into the groove of his, the touch sending a ripple of energy through my skin, my muscles, the sinew that holds me together. Then he's pulling away, with a protest not only from my body, but also from the glue that wants to seal our lips together forever. His eyes hold mine. Still questioning. Beckoning.
"See, told you it's over. A sealed deal. They're off for eternity now." The man's voice is jovial.
"Ugh. That was a fast change for mister, 'I want to be alone for eternity.' You two can find us later." The woman sounds exasperated as she slams the door shut.
We're alone again. And the full awareness of our situation hits me again.
"Helam." I say his name, letting the word sink in.
"Jentry." He replies.
"How did you know my name?"
"Your friend. What was her name?" He pauses to remember. "Oh yeah, Remy. She shouted it as I knocked you out."
"Right before you stole me away to this hell hole?"
He smiles. The motion opens his lips over straight teeth. And his cheeks have deep parentheses plated in them. I stare, dumbfounded. Maybe I really am unimaginative, because I have never seen anyone so handsome in my life. I suddenly feel a strange urge to laugh. Or cry. Because what are the chances that I get caught up in this mess, and it is a mess, a huge one, where I can burn or freeze, and I can be bonded to someone like this? Whatever he is.
"Yes. Right before."
"Are you going to tell me where we are? Or maybe explain any of this?" I try to motion toward my body without releasing too much.
"With time."
And with that, he simply vanishes, leaving me straddling the chair, with the goo all over me, feeling hopeless and helpless. Completely incapable of navigating my life anymore.
The door opens again. This time the woman holds a towel and some soaps. "How about we get you washed up before supper?"
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