A Selection of Excerpts from The Bound Trilogy 

Bound for Hell

When we reached the apartment, I ran straight for the shower, leaving Ethan in the kitchen to start on the pancakes. I needed time to compose myself, cleanse my body and mind of the conversation which had seemed to sully the morning. Leave it behind, forget it. It was the first time I’d ever shared my shit with anyone, and it would teach me to leave it where it belonged. In my poisonous past.

When I finished, I dressed quickly in jeans and a top, and padded barefoot toward the kitchen, squeezing droplets of water from my hair with a towel.

Ethan had his back to me, unaware of my approach, and was slamming about in a rage, anger radiating from every pore of his body. As I came within a few feet of him, he seemed to lose it all together, and raising a bowl in the air, smashed it down violently into the sink.

“E, what are you doing? What’s happened?” I gasped, stunned by the vehemence of his demeanor. 

My presence startled him and he swung around to face me, his eyes dark, nostrils flared with seething rage. Seeming to war with himself, he opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed, as if they’d already begun to evaporate before he could form them. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes dark and intense with emotion boring so deeply into mine that they seemed to reach inside my very soul.

Suddenly he moved, striding swiftly toward me and without a word, flung his arms around me, squeezing me so tight it stole the breath from my lungs.

“What is it?” I asked, fear gripping my heart with the frightening possibilities raging through my mind.

As if the physical contact with me offered sustenance, he relaxed his grip, his face angling to look down at me through glistening eyes. A profound sadness seemed to have engulfed him, a helpless, angry veil shrouding his usually poised mien. Then, as if to dispel the emotion that even impeded his speech, he shook his head and closed his eyes. As he did, a solitary, angry tear escaped from the corner of his eye and spilled on to his cheek.

“E, please tell me. What’s wrong?” I pleaded.

When his voice finally emerged it was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You.”

Me? I was causing him this apparent agony?

“Why? What have I done?”

Bound for Salvation

 Ethan paused at the foot of the steps to be sure I was shadowing him, and with one hand in his pocket, casually ascended the stairs. I followed at a distance, the way he’d followed me on the first night we met, and as I reached the summit, I caught sight of him disappearing into a room at the end of a wide corridor. The noise from the music and chatter faded into a distant hum as I made my way down the hall, my heart hammering rhythmically against my chest as excitement built up inside me, just as it had that night. The door to the room stood slightly ajar and tentatively, I reached out to push it open.

The room was in darkness, but the brightness from the hallway cast a muted light into the room, enough so that I could just make out a large, silver, Las Vegas pool table. It was a games room. Suddenly, the chrome lights above the table flicked on, drawing my attention to the high quality, smooth, black cloth covering the table. Wilde was scrawled in gray writing across the middle. The rest of the room remained in the shadows.

I entered the room slowly, a quick glimpse revealing, among other things, a foosball table, a pinball machine, and several vintage arcade games. A proper boys-with-toys room. I couldn’t see Ethan, but his presence was indisputable, like an electrical force field charging the space around me, exerting his force without any tangible contact.

Behind me, I heard the sound of the door closing, the key turning in the lock. A combination of apprehension and exhilaration sped through me, a shiver chasing a trail up and down my spine, continuing down and under to my naked, clenching sex.

Suddenly, there was a noise from behind me, somewhere to the left in the corner of the room. The sound of a dime being pushed into a coin slot and the whirring of mechanics—a jukebox.  I didn’t turn around. Ethan’s imprecise location, the unfamiliar surroundings, the uncertainty of what was about to happen, all seemed to exacerbate my arousal beyond reason, and everything south of my navel began to pulse.

Bound for Nirvana

“Angel?” Ethan’s low, husky tones startled me.

He stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, faded jeans, the sight of him inciting my taste buds to drool desirously, like chocolate melting on my tongue.

“Come here,” he instructed.

Obeying instantly, I unfurled my legs and moved across the room toward him. He gazed at me, his expression still inscrutable, and then slowly he moved around to my back.

“Close your eyes.”

Again, I complied without hesitation. I felt something soft brush gently against my eyelids, a smooth, silky fabric blocking out all remaining light as it tightened against my skin. He was blindfolding me.

My heart struck my chest wall with a sudden instinctive foretaste of what was to come. The blindfold, his insistence that I wear my red shoes, his near-naked form in the doorway, suggested only one thing. But his talk of my needing to learn a lesson, his tone, and impenetrable mood hinted at something different. Nonetheless, my skin prickled with eager expectation as I waited for my next instruction in the darkness behind my eyelids.

Suddenly, his voice startled me. He was closer than I’d imagined, his breath warm against my ear, his smell … exquisite. “How does that make you feel?”

Misreading the question, I nodded to let him know I was okay.

“No, Angel. Tell me how it makes you feel.” His voice was slightly harsher than before, more demanding.

I thought about what he wanted me to say, trying to tune in to the sensations I was feeling, but struggling. “Restricted,” I said finally.

“Anything else?” He’d shifted, his lips grazing the lobe of my other ear now.

“Dependent.”

“Think beyond the blindfold.”

My mind searched for the answer, and then after a beat I whispered, “Aware. I feel more aware.”

“Of what?”

“You.”

“What is it about me you’re more aware of?”

“How close you are … Your scent.”

“My scent? And what does it smell like?”

Hesitating, I scrambled for words to try and describe it, eventually arriving at, “You.”

I felt him smile briefly against my cheek and then he was gone.