But she hadn’t always been thus. If Valynda closed her eyes, she could still see herself as she’d once been. Tall and thin, with lush, dark hair and perfect skin to rival Mara’s. While not as pale, it’d still been clear enough to cause the local poets and dandies to write odes to her. Her only flaw had been the nose she’d inherited from her father. Yet not even that had been enough to detract completely from her looks. At least not as much as the fact that she’d been impoverished.
While her uncle had been Midasarianly wealthy, her father had not. Fool that he was, he’d spurned the trappings of his wealthy youth and turned his back on his family’s fortune, forcing her and her mother to live in poverty. She’d tried her best not to resent him for it.
But that had been easier said than done. Especially as she’d grown older. For she’d been a girl of many wants. Like her friends, she’d dreamed of fancy gowns and shoes. Jewels to adorn her neck, wrists, and ears. Pretty hats and elegant balls. Of dining amongst the elite.
Petty things, true. Yet they had seemed immensely important to her at the time.
Until Nibo … or Xuri as she and a precious few knew him. He cared nothing for fancy trappings, unless it was to lure others or trick them.
Closing her eyes, Valynda still remembered the night he’d whispered his name in her ear. His coarse whiskers had tickled the flesh of her lobe, spreading chills all over her. He’d held her close to his heart while he was buried deep inside her body. His breathing ragged, he’d tensed ever so slightly as he caressed her cheek. She’d moaned out his name in a desperate cry. “Nibo.”
“Call me Xuri.”
Startled, she’d stared up at him with a frown. “Xuri?”
“My real name … known by only a few.”
It was only later that she’d learned how precious a gift he’d given her. By calling out “Xuri” she could summon him. Anywhere. Any time.
He had made himself hers. The elusive loa who had sworn to never be held down by any, who swore fealty to none, had bestowed upon a mere mortal the key to command him any way she wanted. It was a rarity that was unheard of in his world, and something never given lightly.
Most mortals would have bragged about it.
Valynda had never told a soul that she had the ability to call for him. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she respected him that much. He was a private loa, and for it to be known that he’d given a human such authority would make him a laughingstock among the others of his kind. And she would never hurt her Nibo.
No matter the cause or reason. Because he had always been there when she needed him.
Most of all, because he was there when she didn’t.
“Valynda?”
She flinched as Mara’s voice lured her back to their dank, dark cell. “Aye?”
“What are you thinking?”
That she wanted to be back in Nibo’s arms so that she could show him how much she loved him. Most of all, she wanted the ability to taste his lips and feel the warmth of his skin sliding against her own. Small things really, but Lord how she missed them now that she couldn’t have them anymore. “How much I loathe being made of straw.”
Besides the fact that it itched constantly. Why couldn’tthatsensation have been taken away, too?
Mara stood and took her hand. Because Valynda wasn’t made of flesh, she could barely feel it. Her straw body lacked nerve endings. It was hard to describe to others how she felt, though they’d often asked her. Curiosity being what it was, everyone wanted to know how it felt to be something living that wasn’t human.
Though if you asked her, there were many in the world who wore the guise of humans wrapped in flesh who didn’t qualify for that title. The man who’d trapped her into this damnable state was most definitely one of them.
Wretched bastard.
And for what? To make her love him? He certainly hadn’t thought that one through, had he? In what realm had the beast thought that taking away her free will would make her fall madly for his lack of masculine wiles?
Drugging a woman to force her to do a man’s bidding was no way to win her to his side, or gain anything more than her eternal hatred. If she lived to be a million years old, she’d never understand Benjamin Sparke’s twisted logic. Or why he’d done what he’d done when it’d benefitted neither of them in the long run.
“We’ll get out of this. You know we will.”
She wanted to believe that. But she was running a bit low on optimism. Unlike Mara, luck had never been her friend. Rather, it was a fickle bitch who teased and abandoned her at the worst moment possible.
Hence her current stint where she was trapped as a living Voodoo doll. Well, not quite, but it certainly felt that way most days.
Valynda covered Mara’s hand with her own and tried not to notice the difference between Mara’s smooth flesh and her pale straw extremity. While she wasn’t technically a Voodoo doll, she was definitely an abomination.
Why? Because she’d dared to fall in love and trust the wrong man. She’d let her guard down and this was her punishment for trying to be happy. For attempting to have the one thing that others had all the time without punishment.
