Bound

BOUND:

A Post-Apocalyptic Love Story

By

Amanda M. Holt

© copyright by Amanda Holt, December 2010

Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, December 2010

ISBN 978-1-60394-473-1

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Dedicated to:  “This novel is dedicated to the wild women in my life: the woman who co-created me and goes by the handle Princess Mim of late, Theryl, Kay Kay, Krista, Krystal, Ashley N., Ashley B., Desirea & Dory sisters always, Michelle, Nancee G. & Nancy P., Bunny, Barbie, Sabrina, my Harrison Aunts (Carol, Donna, Sherry, Rita and Sharon), my Holt Aunts (Gayle, Virginia, Debbie, Nadina R.I.P., Ellen R.I.P., Lisa and Shirley), the 2009-2010 Res Rats (Mon Cheri Sherri, Carmen, Kellie, Erin, Caitlin, Brinley, Carina, Meron, Danielle)…the Riblets Donna, EJ, Alanna & the aforementioned Kay Kay, and a certain welder named Karen whose last name used to sound like poo-hatch.  This one is for you ladies, as there is a little Ana in all of us.”

Chapter One

It was as she was washing her hair that she heard the snap of a twig beneath a heavy foot – a snap that was louder than any a Watabi woman might make.  Cursing herself for having turned her back on her spear, Ana spun around in the water, ready to defend herself, a sound of surprise escaping her lips as she made eye contact with her threat.

The intruder was taller than her – she knew this from the height at which his strong hand was casually grasping her spear.

He was big, too, wide in the shoulders and well muscled throughout.

Topless, the sweat on his pale chest gleamed in the sunlight.  There were hairs there, on his chest, as golden as the hair on his head – and the hair on his strong, shapely forearms.  The hair of his head was long and as golden as the morning sun, worn in a tight braid that hung a few inches over his shoulder.

What manner of man had hair on his chest – and gold hair, at that?

The hair on his chest shaped a trail that led even lower, marking a path all the way down to his abdomen, to his navel and below, to his loin cloth – a long garment marked with symbols that were as strange to her as the color of his pale skin and light hair.

There was a large leather bag at his feet, covered in more of the strange symbols that she had seen on his loincloth.

She wondered if perhaps this was one of those men from beyond the mountains…The ones rumored to have strange ways and a guttural, unintelligible language.

If that was the case, though, if he was from beyond the mountains, how had he made it past the Tanago tribes without injury?

The Tanago men did not take lightly to competition from men of other tribes – they did not, in fact, take kindly to other men at all.

This one, this golden haired man, seemed to be in no hurry so he was not being chased.  Nor did he appear to be injured, or fearful.

Ana wondered at that, as well.

Ana had heard of light skinned men before, had heard of their spying behavior and ghost-like appearance, but she had never met one, had never seen one before.

She found herself wondering, despite her alarm, where this light skinned man had come from.

Was he perhaps lost?

Had the Tanago not attacked him because they were not yet aware of his presence?

His eyes were on her, never once leaving her face, his gaze locked on to hers.

His were strange eyes, eyes the color of the jungle, from what she could tell at this distance – the color of emeralds.  They were set widely apart in a face that, though strong and angular, wore an appealing smile of white teeth and good will.

His lips, though masculine, were as full as hers. Suddenly, Ana found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him … what he would taste like.

What he would smell like.

Ideally, not like the Tanago and their rotten meat concoction.

The stranger broke eye contact with her to look instead at her spear, still clutched in his hand.

He ran his strong thumb against its sharp edge, surprising her when he said in halting Tanago, “You make this?”

If he spoke their language, he had to be a Tanago ally.

The Tanago had not mentioned having any sort of relationship with a stranger like this one.  The Tanago and their secrets! It wasn’t the first secret they had kept from the Watabi but it was a big one.

Ana found herself annoyed with the Tanago for their secrecy but more annoyed with the stranger for touching her weapon.

Being naked and up to her breasts in water she was at something of a distinct disadvantage.  It would be foolhardy to berate him for the insult of touching her weapon – he indeed had the advantage over her.

With his poor knowledge of Tanago, she wasn’t so certain he would even understand her if she did choose to berate him.  Instead, clenching her teeth she decided to force a smile and try to be polite to the intriguing stranger.

As a Watabi woman, a friend of the Tanago males was a friend of hers – wasn’t that the accepted code of conduct?

“Sister made spear,” Ana replied, uncertain of the extent of his command of the Tanago tongue.

He said nothing, but turned his green eyed gaze back on her, a slight smile playing on his full lips.

For a long moment he did nothing but stare into her gold flecked brown eyes.

Impatience flared within her, making her cheeks heat as he gazed unabashedly at her breasts, her shoulders, her hair.  His gaze returned to hers and then lingered for a long while on her fine boned face, her full lips.

Again her jaw clenched.

“What you want?” she asked in Tanago, offended by his long silence and his intense stare.

He broke her suspicious gaze to fumble with the wineskin on a leather strap slung across his chest.

Water,” he said simply, approaching the river’s edge.

It was then that she saw the swell at his groin . . .