Soul Bound

Soul Bound An M/M Fantasy Shifter Romance Cari Z Warning: this book contains adult language and themes, including graphic descriptions of violence. It is intended for mature readers only, of legal age to possess such material in their area. This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, events, and locations are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher. Soul Bound Copyright 2023 by Cari Z. Cover Art by JV Arts Editing by Lisa Lakeland All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. About This Book Magic has faded out of everyday life. Only in the darkest corners of the world, or the richest coffers, does the power of magic endure. Everyone says it’s for the best. When rogue magic lashes out, though, there’s only one place the afflicted can go to solve their problems—the Marvel. Whoever is chosen to enter the Marvel has to endure a trial unlike any other—a trial that most people fail, leaving their hopes and their bones behind to feed the wild magic of the place. When two people are chosen, soul bound, to endure the trial simultaneously…well, either the gods have a sense of humor or the magic is angling for a feast. Can warrior Caz and courtesan Lias, men with wildly different magical problems, survive the trials if they work together? Or will the magic feed on two souls instead of one? Chapter One The first cut of teeth into flesh doesn’t feel as bad as it should. It’s not good, the sharp canines biting in, submerging in Caz’s muscle, blood flowing around them like a warm bath. Not good but not the worst he’s ever had until— The magic follows the wound, starting as a trickle and becoming a flood, and it burns. He’s screaming or trying to scream—his throat hurts desperately but not as bad as his arm, oh God, how can anything hurt this bad? How can anyone survive it? He’s being immolated, he’s burning to charcoal, and as the red of his arm seeps up and into his eyes and his body begins to shift, all Caz can do is think that perhaps instead of following his grand plan for redemption, he might just die right now and save himself the trouble. This wasn’t the fate he’d envisioned for himself when he began this hunt a week ago. *** Hunting down a monster was hard when it lived in a land he wasn’t familiar with. Cazimir had been moving southwest for weeks, out of the cold, blasted deserts and into tropical mountains, where the plants were lush enough to grab and hold onto you even without magic, and the air was filled with the sound of birds and the thick scent of flowers. Most of them smelled sweet, but a few were foul enough that he’d thought they were monsters themselves before he’d learned better. What kind of plant found it advantageous to smell like a week-old corpse? What was the advantage of perfume the same color and scent as blood? A guide would have been a great help, but this close to the source of the calamity, there was no one willing to take him further. None of the locals were interested in drawing the attention of the beast that roamed these hills, but plenty of them were willing to spin so many tales about it that Caz felt like he’d fallen into a fairy tale every night at the inn where he was based. “Are you sure it’s not a jaguar?” he’d asked the first night he was there. Caz was a monster hunter, not a beast killer—he didn’t have anything against natural predators and wasn’t about to kill one just because some farmer couldn’t handle losing a head of livestock now and then. “Or a lion? You get the black lions down here, don’t you?” “I’ve seen it with my own eyes!” the loudest—and drunkest—man at his table insisted, pounding a fist against the wood. His brown skin was marked by a strange white scar that ran down his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. “I know the difference between the big cats and this creature.” He indicated the scar with one hand. “I’ve been this close to a black lion. I know their eyes, I know the way they breathe, and the sound of their calls in the darkness. This was nothing like that. For three moons now, this creature has hunted the foothills here. It started with the odd lamel here and there, dragging it off still bleating, but it’s gotten worse and worse.” “And it only shows itself during the full moon,” another man added. “That’s a sign of magic for sure, isn’t it? A sign that this creature is more than a mere beast.” “It often is,” Caz agreed. Magic, as rare as it was these days, always tended to manifest more strongly when the moon was full or waxing than the other way around. “It’s getting wilder,” the first man spoke up again. “The first few lamels I lost, it took them whole, carried them into the forest with little more than a spot or two of blood left behind. The next three were torn apart, in their pasture. Not even eaten! Just ripped to shreds, like the monster was bathing in their blood! “And the Gree family, the only ones foolish enough to make their living in the woods instead of the fields—they’re gone now too! No one’s seen hide nor hair of any of them for the past month, and the mother used to bring her little girl down every week, to play with the local children.” “The beast could simply