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

3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Monty

P ink’s magic is swirling in my soul, thrumming through my veins. I’m tingling with it. I feel as if I could walk on clouds.

It is early morning, the day after I had the pleasure of emptying him. My consciousness should be moving on. But my awareness of him has not faded. Not one little bit.

I’m lying in my tiny bed, but this may as well be paradise. All I can think about is Pink. His sad, sad eyes. His sweet, tentative smile. His gorgeous scent. And the feel of his body climaxing around me.

Oh goddess help me. I need to stop thinking about it. I’m like a man obsessed. I take back every condescending thought I ever had about people’s fixation with sex. It really is quite marvelous.

Though, I suspect it is not merely the act itself that has left me on cloud nine. It is Pink. He truly is extraordinarily lovely. I can literally feel it in my bones. Magic is a porous thing. It absorbs the attributes, flavors and notes of everything around it.

This magic that is flowing in my veins, was recently inside Pink. It is imbued with him. Flavored by his soul. Fragranced by his true being. I can all but taste the truth of him. Pink is a shining light. A kind and gentle being.

I wish I could undo everything he has been through. Nobody deserves the suffering he has endured, but especially not him. It is unfair. It grates against my innate sense of justice. But the past cannot be rewritten. What is done, is done. No matter that it is an absolute tragedy.

Who knows, perhaps in another life, Pink and I are married. Our parents could have come to an accord. He could have been given to me on his eighteenth birthday, and I could have been blessed with the honor of keeping him safe and protecting his innocence.

Or maybe, in an adjoining reality, the Pink I met yesterday might be interested in dating. Courting him would make me the proudest man alive.

I sigh heavily. In this life, and this reality, none of that is meant to be. It is more than understandable that Pink has had enough of men. Our interactions are going to be transactional. Nothing more. It is precisely what I agreed to. More importantly, it is what Pink wants. It is what he needs. He recently escaped from sexual slavery. He requires a life as free from complications as possible.

The terms of our arrangement are that I do not intrude on his life. And I am nothing, if not a man of my word.

So, I need to cast all thoughts of Pink from my mind, get out of bed and go on my morning run. It always clears my head, and oh boy, do I need that now more than ever.

I climb out of bed and throw on my running gear. A few minutes later and I’m in the fresh air. It is not long past dawn and summer is slowly fading, but it is already warm.

I hurry through my warm-up, then I run. Glorious freedom. Nothing save for my legs pumping, my lungs inhaling fresh air. My heart beating fast and strong. All of it reminding me that I am alive. Corporal. My body is in its prime and blessed with good health.

The miles pass. Disappearing under my feet. I’ve circled back and am very near Pink’s house and my van. Technically, we are in the suburbs of the city, but this feels like a country lane. Narrow, winding, and with tall hedges on either side.

I round a corner and come face to face with Pink. My feet stop in their tracks. Pink and I stare at one another. He looks beautiful. There is color in his cheeks. His hair is soft and gleaming. His brown eyes are bright.

The shock of seeing him is exhilarating. It is wonderful. My heart is truly pumping now, fast and strong. But my mind has gone utterly blank. What do you say to someone you were intimate with just the day before?

“You run?” says Pink, sounding very surprised. But at least he has broken the awkward silence.

“Yes!” I exclaim far too vigorously. “A healthy and active body fuels an active mind!”

Pink smiles softly and nods as if my answer was a missing puzzle piece that he needed and now everything makes sense.

“You walk?” I ask. I’ve never seen him before, but perhaps he usually exercises at a different time.

I lift up my top and use it to wipe sweat from my brow before it drips into my eyes. Pink hasn’t answered my question. I lower my top and look at him.

Oh my. He has gone as pink as his name and his gaze seems fixed on my chest. Is he okay? Suddenly, he shakes himself and licks his lips.

“Um…sometimes. Actually, not very often. I just…felt the urge today for some reason.” He pulls his eyes from my chest and gives me a puzzled look.

That’s interesting. Could his magic be drawing him to me?

“May I?” I ask as I hold out a hand towards him.

He nods. He is clearly pursuing the same theory as I am. Clever and beautiful. What a deadly combination.

I gently place my hand on the top of his head. His soft hair tickles my palm. I am barely touching him, but my body remembers, and now it is flooding my mind with all sorts of recollections. I’m vividly reliving how it felt to sink into him. The soft noises he made. The way he arched into my touch, seeking more of me.

I swallow thickly and ignore my stiffening cock. I reach out with my magic senses and gently probe Pink.

There is only a little magic in him. A sleepy kitten of a thing. No where near a raging panther yet. I did empty him well yesterday. I did take enough of his magic. I wasn’t slack in my duty.

“You are empty,” I say as I reluctantly remove my hand from his body.

He nods his understanding. Us bumping into each other like this is merely coincidence. His magic was not driving him to seek me out. It wasn’t looking for more of the same. Yet.

In a few days, it will be an entirely different story. His magic will rage. It will demand my attentions. Pink will be driven to seek me out, to submit to me. He will give me his stunning body and his gorgeous magic.

I cough heartily and angle my body away from Pink. My running leggings leave little to the imagination and the last thing Pink needs is to see the evidence of another man leching over him. He has had enough of that for one lifetime.

I peer at Pink cautiously. Has he noticed my arousal? Have I hidden it well enough?

He is looking at his feet as if they are fascinating. And the tips of his ears are red. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was rather flustered himself. He seems very uncomfortable in my presence.

“Are you well?” I blurt abruptly. “Did I um…Are you sore?”

Pink shuffles his feet and doesn’t look up. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Relief flows through me. Thank heavens. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I had hurt him. Or scared him. But if he is unharmed, why does he look so ill at ease?

Oh goddess! I’m such an idiot! Running into me has to be all kinds of awkward for him. I have to be the very last person he wants to see. I’m supposed to just be at the bottom of his garden, for whenever he needs me. I’m not supposed to intrude on his life. The poor boy needs to be able to forget that he is a vessel and all that it entails.

He deserves to lead as normal a life as is possible. Reminders that his body will never truly be his own, are not at all helpful to his recovery.

It is imperative that I am mindful of my place and what Pink requires of me.

Discreet. Unobtrusive. Convenient.

That is what I agreed to. I’m doing an atrocious job of upholding my end of the bargain. Pink submitted to me. I am glowing with his magic, and in return, here I am pestering him on his morning walk.

“Better continue my run before I cool down too much!” I say, with far too much forced glee. “Enjoy your walk!”

I run away before poor Pink has a chance to say anything. I run as if the hounds of hell are on my heels. If only they were. That would be an easy thing to outrun. A thing I could escape.

Whereas, staying away from Pink? That’s going to be hard.

It is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.