Storm Unbound

by Leo Hull

  Lydia’s eyes shifted, a brief dart to the side that lasted less than the time it took to blink. Osred turned as he spoke, flaring light out reflexively, but this time he couldn’t drive back the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tristan shuddered and stumbled forward from the effort of punching his knife into Osred’s neck. The Gleam’s head rocked to the side, held only by a few scraps of skin and muscle. Air rushed out of the bubbling wound, blood spraying into the air and coating Tristan as his momentum sent him crashing into Osred and Serana.

  They tumbled to the ground, Tristan gasping as his injured arm caught beneath him. He rolled off and stared up into the night sky. Lydia’s worried face popped into view, but she went right past him and started working to tug her half-brother’s body off of Serana.

  Tristan had pushed himself too hard. The fight with Talek had taken him to his limit. Making his way out of the compound without drawing any unwanted attention had shoved him past his breaking point. The glow of determination that had filled him upon escaping the dungeon had dwindled with each faltering step. Finding Osred holding Lydia’s lover hostage had sent one last shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he was done now.

  Tristan closed his eyes.

  He’d tried, which was more than he could say for anything else in his life. It felt good to admit that, even with the pain that every labored breath brought. Maybe not worth dying for, but at least he would perish on the street after a heroic rescue attempt rather than a heroic binge. He’d finally found some part of himself to be proud of. That was worth something, even if it had taken being forced across an ocean and stranded to get there.

  Too bad Annik had gotten dragged into this. If she’d had a real Bolstered with her, she’d never have gotten ambushed and lost the communication crystals, never have been captured and strung up by that freakish, gull-voiced monster.

  He wished whoever was arguing would stop and let him die in peace. A soft muffled voice scolded someone harshly, though Tristan couldn’t make out any words. He groaned and tried to pull away as gentle hands pulled at him but resisting took energy he didn’t have.

  He was walking.

  How he had gotten upright and who supported his weight, he had no idea.

  “Let me go,” Tristan muttered weakly, his head swinging from side to side with every lumbering step.

  “We will do no such thing,” a clipped feminine voice snapped at him so brusquely Tristan shrank back inside himself.

  “He says it’s okay,” a second woman added. “We can still get on a ship leaving with the morning tide.”

  “Lydia Teague, if I hear one more word of protest out of you…” The woman left the threat unspoken and one of his helpers flinched. The women lapsed into silence, Tristan stumbling along between them.

  By the Fallen, he just wanted to lay down.

  Tristan blinked awake, surprised to find himself tucked in bed in his rented room. He remembered bits of the retreat from Talek’s compound, but after he’d nearly decapitated Lydia’s half-brother his recollection was fragmented. He remembered Lydia’s lover, Serana, berating Lydia for trying to flee to the docks, but not much else beyond pain and a weariness that dragged at his soul.

  Sunlight streamed in through the window, but what had woken him was the soft sound of laughter and the divine smell of baking bread and cooking fat drifting into the room from downstairs. He sat up, wincing at the soreness in his body. His arm had been splinted, and while it still hurt, he had full movement in his wrist and fingers. The bone seemed to have healed. He must have been out for days.

  He’d also been cleaned up, the blood that splashed from Osred’s severed neck washed away. Tristan’s stomach rumbled, a deep vibration that rose in pitch alarmingly as it stretched on. The food smelled heavenly, and Tristan would kill for something to drink. His mouth felt sticky.

  Tristan’s outfit had been washed and left folded in a pile by the door. As he bent to slide the pants on, he learned that while his arm might have been his most obvious injury, the damage to his ribs and chest from Talek’s kicks had been far worse. Bending his torso sent pain lancing through his side and made breathing difficult.

  Tristan eased his way downstairs, each step sending bursts of fresh agony up his side. The smell and sounds from downstairs grew louder, as did the answering rumbles from his stomach. A soft voice admonished Lydia in an unbroken stream of reproach that would have made Tristan’s mother proud. Occasionally Merouda, the older widow who owned the house, would chime in adding her own disappointment to Lydia’s burden.

  Tristan stopped in the doorway. Lydia sat at the table, staring blankly at the floor while Merouda scurried about the room laying food on the table. In the small kitchen area, a third woman that Tristan didn’t recognize busied herself with pots and pans, effortlessly tending to the bevy of cooking dishes with practiced ease while berating Lydia.

  His memory of the escape was fuzzy, but it had to be Serana. He could see why Lydia chased across the Sea. The smells and sounds of Serana’s culinary creations were enough to pull at the strings of Tristan’s heart, and that was before he considered her ample curves. She was tall, nearly sharing a height with Annik, and brown wavy hair the color of acorns fell down her back, bouncing lightly as she moved between her stations.

  She wore an apron over a simple dress that clung to the swell of her hips and ended mid-thigh, showing off a pair of calves shaped by hours spent each day standing in front of simmering pots. Her breasts, like two soft pillows big enough to smother a man, swayed as she turned, unfettered beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

  “What are you doing up?!” Serana cried. She advanced on him, her round face pinched with worry and her brown eyes wide with concern. Even her walk oozed femininity, her hips rolling with each step as she swiftly crossed the kitchen, spoon in hand. “No, no—stay right there. I’m not sure how you even made it down the stairs on your own! A broken arm, broken ribs, and an ankle the size of a grapefruit, and you’re trying to walk? You’re lucky to be alive the way you were coughing up blood!”

  Tristan didn’t know what a grapefruit was, but he shared the sentiment about his luck. “I’m fine—”

  “You are most certainly not fine!” Serana slipped under his arm, her soft body molding against his as she offered her support. Tristan might still be recovering, but it seemed to him that sharing her warmth might be just the thing to help speed him along. “Lydia, don’t just sit there! Get a chair for him. Really, I can’t believe you. The man saves us both at great injury to himself and you not only try to leave him but now won’t even offer a chair!?”

  Lydia scrambled to obey, her face turning bright red as she helplessly looked at Tristan. “Here—”

  “Now, we weren’t expecting you to be awake,” Serana continued, talking right over Lydia. “I made a small brunch for the three of us, but of course you are probably very hungry after being in bed for three days.”

  “Three days?” Tristan wondered aloud as Serana helped him into the chair, her breasts nearly enveloping his head as she bent to help him. He sighed at Serana’s prepared and natural bounties, too content to even feel a flash of guilty when he was caught by Lydia. Strangely, she was the one to look away with pink cheeks.

  “Yes, three days. Eat. There will be a casserole coming out soon. Do you drink orange juice? Tea? Merouda would you be a dear and pour some of both?” Serana asked sweetly before rounding on Lydia. “Why are you just standing there? Get him a plate.” Lydia scrambled to obey, meek before her lover’s take charge attitude.

  In short order Tristan ate in silence, his attempts to join the conversation met with a sharp rebuke from Serana. Lydia pulled over a stool and sat with her own small plate of food, nibbling and staring at Serana like a lost puppy. Occasionally she would glance at Tristan with strange looks of guilt and admiration, but she always turned away when he tried to hold her eye.

  Serana and Merouda were like kindred spirits, and the two women—
one just a few years older than Tristan and the other old enough to be his grandmother—doted over him. Merouda had been very insistent that he not have guests, but Serana had somehow managed to win her over even after showing up before sunrise with a bloody, nearly dead tenant.

  They heaped food on his plate, each bite he took seeming to be replaced with two or three more. If this was what Serana considered a small brunch, he hoped to one day see her prepare a feast. The two women chattered, and Tristan grinned and shared a helpless shrug with Lydia. The small Shade seemed happy and despite Serana’s aggressive mothering, the two women exchange furtive glances and somehow their stools drifted together.

  Serana’s cooking continued, but the spread before Tristan shrank. He had to eat slowly, but the women soon grew silent as Tristan put away plate after plate. The food was fuel for his Gift, and his aches faded with each mouthful.

  “I’ll go to the market for more,” Merouda said with a chuckle when it became apparent Tristan’s appetite was only growing. Neither she nor Serana had eaten a bite, and Tristan guiltily gestured to some of the dishes in offering. “You need it more young man. And don’t worry about coin either. Your Bound are very sweet. I’d thought vulta like you had died with my Cengor.”

  Tristan raised an eyebrow at that, but Lydia kept her face turned away and Serana just smiled reassuringly. The widow took down a woven basket from above the cupboard, then softly sang to herself as she went to secure more food. Tristan knew better than to try and speak and finished the food under Serana’s watchful gaze.

  “Feel better? A good meal always helps,” Serana said sweetly as Tristan sat back.

  “I really do.” He tried out a stretch. His ribs ached, but the rattle in his lungs with each breath had already eased.

  “I’ve never seen a man eat like that. Not even Talek. Is that from your Gift? Lydia told me all about it, but I guess it takes a lot of energy.”

  “It does, but that meal was incredible! I don’t know what half those dishes were, but each new one seemed to try to outdo the previous, something I’m not even sure is possible.”

  Serana went bright red, her eyes round as she glowed with pride. “Thank you.”

  “Careful” Lydia warned, the first words she had spoken since being scolded. “Compliment her cooking like that and you’ll never get rid of her. That’s how I got stuck with her.”

  “Lydia Teague!” Serana cried, reaching out and lightly slapping Lydia’s arm. Despite her outrage, somehow Serana ended up with Lydia snuggling in her lap, her breasts split and resting on either side of Lydia’s head. “If you didn’t want to be stuck with me, you wouldn’t have rescued me.”

  Lydia flushed but didn’t say anything. She looked supremely content, her grey eyes half-closed like she was about to drift to sleep.

  “Saving you was all she cared about,” Tristan offered. “I’m just glad I could help, even if things didn’t go quite how I wanted.”

  “Yes, Lydia told me all about her little contract with you,” Serana said icily. Lydia squirmed as if trying to disappear. “You don’t need to worry about Annik and Nessa. Lydia will help, won’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lydia agreed dourly.

  “I still can’t believe you would do that to him,” Serana clucked. “I thought you were better.”

  “Do what to me?” Tristan asked.

  “That contract was awful. A binding should have protections for both parties, but Lydia took advantage of your newness to our culture. I’ve already spoken with her, and she will be correcting that, won’t you?”

  Tristan gawked and for the first time noticed that Lydia still wore the Sliver around her neck. He rubbed the matching piece of metal around his own. Lydia mirrored his action, her delicate fingers playing at the chain draped around her slender collar.

  “I’m really sorry. I just—I was so scared! When Osred showed up, I just couldn’t think of anything other than getting away,” Lydia said sorrowfully. Tears were forming at the corner of her eyes. “I just wanted Serana back so badly, but Serana is right. My previous behavior was unworthy of me, and I want to show you that I’m better than that.”

  “Which is why the two of us are going to help you find Annik and Nessa,” Serana continued, clutching Lydia to her chest and stroking her hair. “When you’re healthy enough, we’ll do a new binding—this time, one that fairly represents what we all need.”

  “All?” Tristan asked in confusion.

  “Yes, I think that’s best, and besides, Lydia and I are a package deal. If you want her, you’ll have to bind me,” Serana stated matter-of-factly as if they were bartering over a shipment of grain, but her eyes flashed and the slightest grin played on her lips. “I have to say, from Lydia’s description I’m more than a bit excited. I’ve never been a Bound but Lydia claims binding with you was like nothing else.”

  Tristan gawked at Serana’s innocent blush. Lydia peered eagerly over Serana’s cleavage, only her eyes peeking out. Tristan was at a loss for words, his pants suddenly feeling tight. Thankfully Merouda returned with more food, providing both a distraction and fuel for his recovery. The way the two women were eying him, he would need it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tristan sighed as he bent from the hips, letting his head and torso fall as he stretched out his tender muscles. He ached, but in a satisfying way like after a hard day’s work. Even he was surprised at the speed of his recovery. Serana had kept him full, cooking almost around the clock the past day and night and sending Lydia and Merouda to the market together when it became apparent just one or the other couldn’t bring back enough to fill him.

  Despite Merouda’s insistence, Tristan had slipped his remaining coin to Lydia for the last trip. The widow had refused the money before she realized feeding Tristan through his recovery would be like providing for a small squad of men. He refused to eat her destitute.

  Tristan stood, wedging his arm against the bed frame and twisting to open his shoulder and chest. The house was asleep, but he had done nothing but rest and eat and now he was full of restless energy. The Corp insisted on stretching after recovering from injuries, and Tristan sighed at the almost painful easing of tightness in his joints and ligaments. He wished he had Annik’s strength to help him work the kinks out.

  His mind drifted to Serana and Lydia. The former had refused to discuss any plans until he was fully recovered, and Lydia had meekly followed her lead. Seeing Lydia’s dramatic submission to Serana was unexpected, but even Tristan found himself ‘yes ma’am’-ing as Serana doled out instructions along with her cooking.

  Even though they hadn’t discussed the particulars, Tristan could tell the two were scheming. They exchanged knowing glances and furtive whispers, and Lydia had disappeared with the setting sun last night, leaving her clothing behind as she slipped out his window. She didn’t wrap herself in shadows before leaving, and she and Serana had both smirked at his helplessness before her lithe beauty.

  Serana had joined in the teasing as well. She had discarded her dress during the second round of cooking, claiming it was too hot for anything but an apron and a small pair of panties that her butt seemed intent on hiding between her round cheeks.

  If the two were flaunting their bodies to encourage his recovery, it had worked. Tristan certainly had Annik to thank for helping him retrain his Gift on their trek to Saeli, but with Serana’s promises in the air Tristan dedicated himself like never before.

  “Oh, you do recover quick,” Serana gasped from the door, her hands holding a bowl piled high with dumplings. Her eyes were wide and locked to the bulge in Tristan’s pants that had been summoned by his daydreaming. “That’s bigger than I expected! Let me go find Lydia.”

  She scurried away before Tristan could respond and never even bothered to lift her gaze from his crotch. Tristan wasn’t used to women showing such unbridled interest unless he’d just pulled out a fat purse. Unsure of what else to do, he continued stretching until Serana returned with a blushing Lydia in tow
.

  The small Shade’s eyes darted around uncertainly until they finally settled on Tristan. She looked eager but shifted nervously and almost seemed to hide behind Serana, a marked change from her aggression when alone with Tristan. Her interest in the show between the two women at the Baths made more sense now that he saw her dynamic with Serana.

  “Lydia filled me in on the terms of her binding and how she took advantage of you,” Serana began, making her way to the bed. She had on the apron still, which barely contained the swells of her cleavage and when she sat, it rose on her thighs just to point of exposing her.

  “Honestly, I don’t really understand the subtleties that well,” Tristan explained. “When I bound Nessa, Annik worked out all the terms for me.”

  “That’s smart. All the best vulta rely on their Bound to help with new members. Since Annik is the one that usually handles this for you, we’ll make sure to include terms that the whole contract is subject to her review and approval. As great as Lydia makes you seem, I’d hate to mess things up with your existing Bound.”

  Tristan arched an eyebrow in surprise, both at the assumption Annik was bound to him and at Serana’s casual mention of Lydia’s praise. The slim Shade had turned an even brighter red and studiously inspected everything in the room that wasn’t Tristan. Before Tristan could explain his and Annik’s relationship, Serana moved on.

  “The main terms will of course be helping with the rescue of Nessa and Annik, and we’ll also include all the usual language about mutual respect and consideration, protecting the health and dignity of the vulta and his Bound, and sexual exclusivity, but I think since Annik is your primary we’ll leave off the usual bit about existing Bound recommendations on new members and wait to add that if she agrees. Some heads like to retain veto powers.

  “I’d also like to include stipulations that Lydia and I won’t be joining Annik or Nessa or any other future Bound in bed. Vulta have different views on relationships between their Bound, but I’m afraid this is non-negotiable for us. We love each other and it’s been a long time since we’ve been together. We want a chance to reconnect before getting involved with other women we barely know.