Page 9 of Forever Bound

What does he do in here? Who is this creature?

I keep exploring and next find a library stacked with books and ancient scrolls. My jaw drops open as I study the titles. They are mostly in Russian, though some are in a language I don't recognize. I do find a small section of English books, though they were written before there was any agreement on consistent spelling, so they're almost as hard to read as the Russian.

There's a desk in the corner that looks well used, and I berate myself for being surprised that the man who saved me would be well read. I had him pegged as a sort of barbarian monster, but none of us are what we seem, are we?

Anyone meeting me before my trip here would have thought me a kind, lovely person—albeit with a dark sense of humor.

Maybe now people will see me and know me for what I truly am.

I shove a book back into its spot and leave, still searching for a way out.

It's foolish to go back to the village, but I need answers, and I need to get out of here. Maybe I can steal a horse or something and ride until I find a sane town that won't try to feed me to its resident monster.

By complete accident, I stumble upon the sleeping form of my rescuer in what looks like a guest room. Similar to the room I woke up in, but simpler and smaller. He must have given me his room and slept in here.

The thoughtfulness sends a ping of guilt through me, knowing I'll be leaving and not coming back.

His body is so still he looks dead, and there's no movement in his chest.

I step closer, feeling the same pull from last night wash over me.

The desire.

The lust.

The need.

The connection.

What is this? Is it a spell? Magic? An effect from his blood?

I can't help myself as I put a hand over his chest, my body buzzing with the taboo of it all. The danger. The exhilaration and excitement.

Will he wake?

Will he bite me?

Will I make it out of here alive?

When my palm touches his chest, it is still. Nothing moves. No heartbeat. No breath. Nothing.

As I'm about to pull away, though, something happens.

A beat.

Just one.

But it's something.

Then another.

And then the man with the scarred face sucks in a breath, his eyes still closed, his body still inert, and his heart rate increases until it's a steady pulse under my palm.

My eyes widen, and I feel his blood inside me still, responding to his heart, pulsing with the beat, as if we are tied to each other.

I snatch my hand away and move quickly to the door, terror and arousal warring within me. My mind is clouded, my body covered in a sheen of sweat.

Before he can wake, I dash out of the room, closing the door softly behind me, and then lean my back against it as I try to catch my breath.

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