Body of Chaos

Book 1 Body of Chaos By Nicolette Beebe Copyright © 2023 by Nicolette Beebe All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Dedicated to my readers. Content Warning This book contains explicit sex scenes, violence, strong language, abuse, suicidal thoughts, gun violence, and is intended for mature audiences. CONTENTS CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Want more of Ripley and Fletcher’s story? Other Works by Nicolette Beebe Acknowledgements CHAPTERONE The magic swirling in me needed to be removed—contained—no matter how grueling the process. My head hung forward with dizziness, shoulder-length hair falling over my face in a curtain of silky, black ink. The upper part of my back peeled off the leather seat with a smacking sound from the stickiness of my sweaty skin. Beneath the thick straps that secured my forearms to the arms of the chair were two needles that dug into my veins. Two tubes connected to the needles collected my blood and stored it in the machine that reverberated in a never-ending monotonous pattern of swishes. Everything slowed. Time. Organs. Vision. Without much blood in my body, the tips of my fingers drained of warmth. Iciness wrapped around my limbs. My tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth while bitter saliva pooled at the base of my lower teeth. My glowing hands dimmed from their cerulean hues of aqua and pastel skies—a sign that my magic was fighting back. And when my magic faded completely, I brought forth every ounce of energy to look at my right palm because I knew what would happen next. Surfacing was what felt like my little secret. A sparkling lilac energy. It pulsed in the center of my palm like it finally had space to show itself after being buried under my magic for too long. This beautiful light hid somewhere in my body, and I only ever got to witness it momentarily. But, for that one moment, I watched its brilliance and its beauty. When the purple light winked out, dragged under the storm of my magic, a twenty-one-year-old sadness sent me diving back into the pain digging at my arms. All I sought were answers to what it was and what it could mean. The desperation to understand this unknown grew like a twisting spiderweb. Without the shimmering glow beneath my skin, the blank walls of the tiny closet disappeared into a deeper darkness. Spine curving. Muscles aching. Oblivion approaching. “M-m-mother,” I called in a breathless whisper. Stars drifted into my vision, veering in all directions like flies. I had no blood left to give. But the machine kept taking. It had a manual shutoff I couldn’t reach. Even if my arms weren’t strapped down, I was too weak to do anything about it. My head drooped farther, unable to control the small trickle of saliva dripping off my bottom lip before it fell to my lap. In the dark, I couldn’t tell if my eyes were straight forward or rolling to the back of my head. The machine took more blood than I had to give. It took and took and took. Until my skull felt like it was expanding to all the spaces of the closet and snapping back with a nauseating bang. My breath shallowed. It took every effort to remind myself to breathe. The door creaked open, and a slim ray of light washed over me. She came. Mother hadn’t forgotten. Joy ripped through my sensitive body in waves of sanctioned relief. I was done for the next two days. “M-m-mo—” A raspy gasp of an unfamiliar voice came from the door ahead of me. Using the small fumes of energy left in my body, I tried lifting my head to peer at who was standing there looking at me. But, it was like lifting a wrecking ball. I could only continue to stare at the carpeted floor. “Holy hell!” A buzz of terror lashed my insides. A male stranger. Everything in me squirmed to the sound of his husky timber. Danger ignited the secretion of adrenaline. With every last drop of blood I had, I wiggled my shoulders feebly in an effort to get away. To find some unnatural strength to rip through these straps, unhook myself, and run. His muddy boots stepped into view as he dared to lay a hand on my shoulder. Fear exploded at his touch, forcing a cry to ripple through my chest that resulted in me shaking uncontrollably. My toes curled, knees bouncing to the point of ruin. Then, his hands landed on my bare thighs, pressing down to keep them from shaking. My frigid skin soaked in every ounce of warmth his touch graced me with, which had me both weeping in comfort and in paralyzing fright. His knees were folding, as if preparing to kneel to better inspect me. One large hand remained on my thigh while the other pushed my shoulder back gently, relieving the ache in my spine. A loud bang clanged through my ear before his hand released my weight, and my