Unfettered Vessel (Found & Freed: The Unfettered #6)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Pink

I know something is wrong before I even fully wake up. Pain is swirling through me. Pounding at my skull. Pressing down on my thoughts.

This is not my usual brain injury headache. This is something more.

I’m ripe. There is no doubt about it. My body has decided that it has healed enough to start hoarding magic again, and now I’m full of it.

Sighing heavily, I force my eyes open. The plain white ceiling of my bedroom swims into focus. The house is quiet. Almost still. It feels empty and oppressive.

The urge to lie here listlessly is weighing down on me. I should get up. I should shower and get dressed. Have some breakfast. Then let a stranger fuck me and take away my magic.

It all sounds like too much work. All of it. Being fucked seems no more arduous than showering. I know that isn’t rational. My brain has knitted gray matter back together, but my mind is still broken. It has shut down and cut itself off from the outside world. For its own protection, for survival. I understand the logic behind it.

But I’m free now. Well, as free as a vessel can be. My friends are all safe. We are all living together. Our imprisonment is over.

It would be nice to be able to feel the joy of it. It would be nice to feel anything. Anything at all. Because this thick, bland nothingness is hard to wade through.

Brodie says I need time. He’s a brilliant enough healer to be able to glue my skull back together, so I should trust him. I need to have faith.

Time. Just give it time. It is not like I don’t have plenty of the stuff.

With a deep breath, I haul myself out of bed. Robotically, I go through the motions of showering. Preparing myself and inserting a butt plug feels only like a familiar routine. It does not cause any anxiety to spike.

Then, as I am toweling myself dry, I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause.

I look healthy. I don’t look like I was ever shot in the head, let alone only a couple of months ago. All the bruising and swelling under my eyes has long gone. I’ve regained some color in my cheeks. My hair has grown back from where it was shaved around the entry wound. I chopped the rest of it off a few days ago and now it is all more or less even.

Dark brown hair. Dark brown eyes. Pale skin. There is nothing striking about my coloring, but something about the arrangement of my features just works. I’m pretty. Pretty enough that my family were avaricious about marrying me above my station. They were even hopeful for a duke. But when Ritchie came along with his millions, my family were happy to settle for wealth over a title.

My reflection stares back at me. I will never understand why Ritchie wanted me. He was a mundane, he had no use for my magic. The other boys in his harem were paranormal. I can understand collecting an incubus, a vampire, a siren, a kelpie and a wolf-shifter omega. But me? Magic aside, I’m just a human.

I was barely eighteen, pretty, and trained from a young age on how to please and obey my future husband. But still just a human at the end of the day.

I run my hand over my fuzzy attempt at a beard. It doesn’t make me look manly. It doesn’t stop me from being pretty. Nearly getting my brains blown out didn’t stop that. It is unfair. I think I’d like to be ugly. It has to be safer.

My thoughts are interrupted by a wave of color dancing in front of my eyes. My magic is brimming. It really is time to go and get emptied.

I clench my jaw and pull some clothes on. Tee shirt, hoodie. No underwear, just a pair of dark gray sweatpants. Easy to pull down and get to business.

But I think I will have a nice cup of tea first. It is the best way to start the day. It is not just the taste, it is the whole ritual of it.

I grab my pair of baby blue Crocs and slip them onto my feet. If only my mother could see me now. Plastic sandals and casual clothes. She’d have a complete conniption fit.

With that image firmly in my mind, I head downstairs to the kitchen.

It is empty. Which is both disappointing and greatly relieving. If any of the other boys were here, they’d probably sense that I was ripe, and they’d know exactly where I need to go next. Their concern would be all kinds of awkward. So, this really is for the best.

I fill the kettle with water and turn it on. My hands aren’t shaking at all. I probably should be feeling something about the fact I’m about to be railed by a stranger. But then again, I stopped caring about that in the harem, a long time ago. I quickly learned to dissociate and send my mind far away.

Something the other boys never seemed to get the hang of. Blue was terrified. Ned was angry. Jade was ashamed. Gray’s mind was broken long before any of us met him. Lello became a textbook case of Stockholm syndrome. And Red didn’t think of himself, he only had concern for the rest of us.

So many different ways of dealing with being a sex slave. I have no idea if any of them are healthy or not. Not that it matters, it is what it is.

I don’t care about getting fucked. What’s one more man? Especially a man Brodie and Red chose for me. I trust them implicitly. So I know this man isn’t going to hurt me anymore than is absolutely necessary. I have nothing to fear.

I glance down at my mug of tea. Seems I made it on autopilot while lost in thought. I’m sure it will still taste good.

I take it over to the table and sit down. The first sip is very refreshing, and a gentle hum of contentment thrums through me. It is the small things in life that matter. A clean and calm kitchen. A nice cup of tea. I can still find enjoyment in these. I guess that means there is still hope for me yet.

Another surge of magic tingles through me. I grind my teeth. Not yet. I want a few more minutes, damn it.

Dark feelings of injustice whisper at me. Why can’t I be like Blue, Ned and Jade and get to be left alone in peace? They no longer need to give their body to anyone. Why can’t I be like that?

With a scowl, I push the stupid sentiment aside. Life has never been fair. That’s a ridiculous thought. Besides, Gray is in the basement right now with a scary and intimidating man because he is in a similar predicament to me. He needs sex to feed. I need sex to live. It all boils down to the same thing. And poor little Lello is going to need a mate bond to stop him from dying. It is not just me. At all. Nearly half of us are stuck in a cycle of needing to offer our bodies up.

There really is no need for self-pity. If anything, I should be grateful. My trauma response has made me numb. Imagine if I had been overcome by terror instead? I could very easily be like Blue, unable to cope with even a friendly touch on the shoulder. I could be terrified about this and still have to do it. I am lucky. I don’t give a shit that I’m about to traipse down to a campervan at the bottom of the garden and bend over for someone.

Moreover, it is only going to get better. This is the only time it is going to be a stranger. After today I will know him. So next time will be easier. And the time after that, even more so. It is all fine. It really is.

My mind sluggishly turns as I search my memories for what I know about the man I’m about to have sex with. I remember Brodie and Red trying to involve me in the selection. I also remember telling them that I didn’t care. A cock is a cock. But they did tell me some things even though I said I wasn’t interested.

I know his name is Montgomery, and like me, he is from a noble family. He is devoted to his alchemy studies and has never had a vessel before. He is twenty-eight years old, and according to Red, cute in a nerdy way.

I can deduce by the fact he lives in a campervan and is happy to park in the bottom of a garden in order to have use of a vessel, that he is a younger son set to inherit nothing and therefore would never be eligible to marry a vessel.

The fact he knows I’ve been used by a great many men, and he is still willing to empty me, makes me a little uneasy. But I trust my friends. This mage is likely so keen to obtain extra magic to further his studies, he doesn’t care where the source comes from.

The lack of a surname is puzzling. Does he not wish to share it? Has he been disowned?

A shudder wracks my body, strong enough to make my chair scrape against the floor. That was a strong surge of magic. Damnit. I guess all my questions are about to be answered.

It is time to meet my mage.