Shadows Bound- Ch 1-6
Shadows Bound Ch 1
A spectral roommate
Nov 05, 2025
Morri
It’s been one year since I moved into this house. I sold my art studio back in the city because the long hours, endless emails, and clients who never stopped calling were draining the joy I had created the company with. Using the funds from that sale, I bought this place, sight unseen, for a change of pace. It’s nothing fancy, just a small two-bedroom house nestled in some mountains that looked pretty on a Pinterest post. But it’s away from the hustle of things, and far from all of the stressors that felt draining.
Maybe I’m experiencing a mid-life crisis. Though, I currently feel the most secure in my existence than I ever have before. The crisis was my twenties, where I spent most of my time trying to live life the way others told me I should. My friend Shae thinks I’ve lost my mind. They told me I was crazy to sell my successful business and move to the mountains alone. They don’t get it. I honestly don’t expect them to, not really. I love them enough to let them think what they want. They love me enough to send me off with a hug and enough postage stamps to start my own post office. I’m not saying goodbye to the life I was living, or the people in it. I’m just saying, “This chapter is for me.”
The closest town is an hour away, and there is an acre of nature in every direction from the house. Seeing another human is a choice not a requirement. I don’t know when it became the norm for people to always be around people, either physically or online, but I have always preferred being alone in nature over doomscrolling on social media and weekends spent partying.
When I arrived in the small mountain town of Veilstone, I made sure to leave my contact information with the police and post office in case of an emergency. I had no one looking for me, and I didn’t want anyone too; so, I didn’t see the point in filling out the paperwork to officially change my address.
Shopping is just for me, and a single monthly trip takes care of all of that. A few residents have invited me to festivities the town has thrown throughout the year, which I appreciate; but most of them look at me like I’m suspicious and I don’t know what to do with that. I know connections are important, and I plan on making some… at some point. For now, I’m enjoying having time to myself. Well, mostly to myself…
The townspeople warned me about the house being haunted. They said that’s what made it so cheap. It had sat empty for three years before I bought it. Which baffled me because it’s a beautiful home on a stunning piece of land. The previous owner hadn’t lived there very long, and the caretaker refused to step into the house when I arrived.
Maybe I should’ve been unnerved. Most people would have been. But I couldn’t really find it in me to be scared. This wasn’t my first experience living with a spectral roommate. My childhood home had plenty, and for the most part, they never really bothered me.
This house is old, but I’ve grown used to its little quirks. It has floorboards that groan like they’re telling secrets, a few windows that leak when the rain comes in sideways, and pipes that sigh in the night. Very typical for a house that has held a lot of life.
When things started to happen, it was just small stuff. A mug I swore I’d left on the counter, would be waiting neatly on the shelf. Shadows would move when the fire was still. Sometimes I’d see something at the edge of my vision, like a ripple or something a little darker than dark, and when I turned, there was nothing there.
Maybe it’s because I’ve lived enough life to know that the world is full of strange things. My traitorous pulse still flutters sometimes when a whisper of cold brushes my neck like the afterthought of a kiss… Ghosts have never been a thing that terrified me. I’ve had worse hauntings than this in broad daylight, wearing suits and wedding rings. At least the shadows never pretend to love me.
So, instead of fear, I find myself curious. Every time something shifts, I raise an eyebrow like I was in on the joke. Every flicker in the corner of my eye makes me lean in a little closer. Once in a while, I can hear a deep growl coming from the corner of the room. I don’t mind the growling as much as I probably should.
About three months ago, my spectral companion upped its efforts by tossing dishes around and slamming doors. A few times, I found GET OUT written on the mirror after a shower. That one always brings a smile to my face. I’d wipe the fog from the mirror and something sweet like vanilla and tobacco would linger in the air. Daring me to breathe deeply.
I haven’t spoken to it directly, I don’t want to make it think I want to chat.
Gently hostile roommate? I can handle that. One that wants to talk all of the time because it’s desperate for conversation after years of haunting?…
Absolutely not.
Some nights though, I wake to warmth at my back and the bed dipping slightly, as if someone has just moved away. I am not lonely by any means, at least I tell myself I’m not, I enjoy my own company. But maybe… maybe I could practice putting myself back out there. Starting with my spectral friend.
Shadows Bound Ch 2
A human nuisance
Nov 12, 2025
Nero
Another human has moved into this wretched house. I scared the last one out so fast they didn’t even have the chance to fully unpack. This one is different. No matter what I do, she just won’t leave. Sometimes, she actually has the nerve to laugh at my efforts.
I don’t actually hate humans. They are delectable sources of entertainment. I do, however, hate being forced to live among them.
The witch who cursed me to this place summoned me to cure her husband, and I couldn’t. I don’t know what she expected, she called downstairs, not up.
I told her I would be willing to make his transition smooth and painless, maybe even sweet. Being an incubus means I have the ability to not only feed from pleasure, but I can also inspire it. It was never enjoyable when those involved were un-able to provide consent, though my family didn’t care much for that distinction… In her husband’s case I thought I was offering kindness, giving pleasure instead of pain. The witch didn’t see it that way.
She flew into a rage and chanted a binding spell, trapping me in this house. A few days later her husband died, and I did everything I could think of to convince her to let me go. Her grief was so overwhelming that either she couldn’t hear me, or refused to listen.
A year after his passing, she followed him in death, and I’ve been stuck here ever since. One hundred years, existing between existence and non-existence.
I’m sure my father would have beaten me for a month for even offering to help a human. “They are food and fodder, nothing more.” I am his greatest disappointment. I think my current situation would satisfy him to no end. He probably already knows and is just happy to have me gone. Maybe that’s why no one has bothered to come looking for me. Not even my twin or my best friends.
Time doesn’t flow properly for me anymore. Sometimes the air feels thick as honey, other times thin as smoke. I can almost taste the earth through the walls. I hear worms moving through the roots beneath the foundation. I faintly remember what it feels like to breathe. The only upside to the situation I have been able to find, is that I no longer hunger. Existing in a liminal space seems to prevent me from experiencing the limitations of the physical. Which is nice, but I can still crave. And this human is beginning to make me crave. Not just her delectable body, but the simplicity of conversation. I want to talk with her. I want to know why she seems to prefer her isolation over companionship. Is it a choice? Or a requirement?
None of the humans that have purchased this house have been able to see me. They are only able to witness the effects of my actions. Moving dishes and furniture, ruffling shadows like a sheet in the breeze, messages on mirrors, knives on the bed, slamming doors at three in the morning...
Every single human in the last hundred years has either left or gone mad.
Not this one.
This one just smirks. She laughs when I throw things. The night that I emptied her pots and pans onto the floor, she told me to take a nap. As if I were merely an annoying child. I should hate her, but her lack of fear hums under my skin like static. I find her intriguing… and that’s dangerous.
I could touch her… I could pull her into the dark until she shivered and said my name, even if she didn’t know it. I could use the shadows to bind her into submission…
No, I risk enough by lying next to her and watching her sleep. The hunger burns at the edges of my senses like a memory. But consent is not a guideline, it’s a law. And after growing up with my family… No… No… Touching any being without consent is an unequivocal no.
Even if I want to.
Shadows Bound Ch 3
It's for a good cause
Nov 15, 2025
Morri
There is a charity event at the local town hall this evening. They are raising money for the school’s art programs and as an artist I just have to go. I have found out many wonderful things about the small town of Veilstone. For starters, they don’t have a homeless population because they have apartments that provide free housing to those in need. They have almost no crime because one day a week the local grocery store allows customers who need it, to shop up to $100 for things they need. There are monthly fundraisers and events that raise money to keep the town running smoothly. It almost seems too good to be true, but if I were going to create a community, it would look a lot like this one.
The event this evening is a formal ball, of all things. I am not the biggest fan of evening gowns. Don’t get me wrong, they are stunning pieces of attire, and I look damn good in them, if I do say so myself; I just dislike the attention that comes with wearing them. Maybe I’ll see if my spectral roommate will come with me and hide me in the shadows.
They have been quiet as of late. Nothing has moved on its own. The mirror has not been graced with any messages demanding I vacate. My dishes have, thankfully, remained in the cupboards. I appreciate that it is taking a break from being a nuisance, but I do miss the deep growling.
Maybe it has finally accepted that I am not leaving. Or maybe it’s trying to figure out how to kill me…
No, I don’t think it wants me dead. It has had a year to do so and all it’s done is throw things around and make noise. I am a little surprised it hasn’t tried touching me. It even leaves the room when I dress or pleasure myself. Such a polite ghosty.
I got used to spirits just always being around at a pretty young age. For as long as I can remember, life has been filled with both the physical and non-physical. I’ve never felt scared of them. If anything, I feel like I’m one of them. Being human often feels exhausting and binding; but with the dead, it’s like I can feel their vastness. I’ve never truly felt alone, but hanging out with the dead is much easier than spending time with the living. Hopefully tonight won’t be too terribly overwhelming.
With my clutch in hand and a deep breath I head for the front door. Just before I reach it, a book slides off of the coffee table in the living room with a loud thud. A smirk crosses my face as I turn to confront my shadowy friend. “Alright, what is it? You’ve been a quiet ghost for some time, and now you want attention? I have someplace to be, so unless you plan on coming with me or doing more than throwing things on the floor…”
Nothing else moves and no sound, outside of chirping crickets in the distance, fills the air. With a soft chuckle and a shake of my head, I leave the house and venture into town.
Town hall is much like the rest of the town, small. It seems to also be the courthouse, the jail, and a banquet hall. It reminds me of the old building I used to visit my dad in when he got furlough for his Narcotic Anonymous meetings.
Tonight, there were swaths of sheer fabric hanging from the ceiling in shades of burnt orange and neon pink. I’m an artist, and even for me it’s a bit jarring. The lights are dim, and tables are placed in a circle leaving room for what I’m guessing is a dance floor. It looks nothing like any formal ball I’ve ever been to.
I seem to be the last to arrive, and everyone turns their gaze to me as I finally step fully through the door. Great.
I slide my social mask into place and offer a polite smile as I wander to the raffle table to the left and purchase a few tickets. I’m not sure what they are raffling off, but it’s a good cause so it’s worth it.
There’s a table covered in finger foods against the wall to the right of the ticket table, which I avoid, and head to the opposite side of the room. Socializing is one thing. Socializing while eating in front of people? No thank you.
The table I find a seat at seems to still be unclaimed by anyone, and I appreciate having a moment to settle in before having to make pleasantries. The table has a pitcher of water and a glass for each seat, so I pour myself some and take a drink as I begin people watching.
There seems to be different opinions on what 'formal’ means. One man has on a pair of brown corduroy pants, and a lime greet button up shirt. The red alligator boots really pull it all together. I side eye my glass of water wondering if they put acid in there.
Across the room is an elderly woman in a wheelchair wearing a red and white polka dot dress with ruffled sleeves. She looks quite displeased about something; I’m going to assume it’s being forced to dress like Strawberry Shortcake.
A few people are dressed in what you would expect to see when you hear ‘Formal Ball’. Silk and satin in dark tones with the occasional bright red bombshell dress. Men in actual black ties and tuxes worth the cost of my car. It’s like a basket of every version of humanity in one room. I kinda like it. No one seems to be off in a corner laughing and pointing at those in wild gear. No visible cliques of division creating tension in the room. It puts me at ease, and releases some of the anxiety I had about coming here.
“Is this seat taken?”
I’m startled by a gruff voice, and I look to my right to find a very tall man in a very crisp tux with a small smile on his face. Quickly shaking out of the surprise of the stranger, I return his smile, “No, go ahead.” I shift a little to the left… old habit. He doesn’t seem to notice as he settles into his chair and pours his own glass of water.
Thankfully the lights flicker and an older woman steps up to the platform they have set up at the front of the room and asks everyone to find a seat.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for showing up for our students and helping us raise the funds needed to keep all of the wonderful art programs our kids love and enjoy. As you know, many of the members of our community have provided some fantastic items for our raffle.” Her smile is almost saccharine as she begins to list the items available. Something feels a bit off about her. Her shrill voice and Jessica rabbit dress seem like a costume hiding something darker and messier underneath. Not that she can’t pull off the dress, but it’s as if there’s a film of falsehood surrounding her entire being.
“Alright! Let’s start with this wonderful basket of jams and jellies that the wonderful Bessy Dandry made! Charles, could you come up here and select the tickets please dear?”
The man beside me stands slowly and walks to the front. The crowd claps as he joins her under the low light, his shadow stretching farther than seems natural. He moves with the kind of ease that comes from being used to attention, though his eyes flicker over the crowd with careful precision. There’s something… off about him. He’s polished and deliberate, like a man who practices smiling in the mirror until it looks natural. Not because he wants to appear pleasant, but because he wants to disarm.
“Thank you, Charles,” the woman coos. “Go ahead and draw our first lucky winner.”
He dips his hand into the bowl of tickets, the cuff of his tux catching the light. Numbers are called, and prizes are claimed one by one. Another basket of jams, painted mugs, gift cards to local shops. There’s even a song commission by one of the high school students. I actually hope I get that one. It all feels charming and ordinary, until the woman’s voice lifts again.
“And our final raffle prize for the night,” she announces, “a dinner for two at the new restaurant in town, generously donated by our very own Mr. Charles Renner!”
The crowd hums with interest; a few women and a couple of the men dramatically fan themselves while getting that lusty look on their faces. A dinner with the tall, broody man who drinks water like it’s a power move. Lucky whoever wins that
Charles stirs the slips of paper, draws one, and unfolds it. A faint smile pulls at his mouth. “Ticket… three-one-eight,” he says, voice carrying easily over the quiet.
I glance at my array of tickets and freeze. Three-one-eight.
Oh, for the love of irony.
Laughter and applause rise around me as I stand, reluctant and disappointed not to get a custom piece by a talented student and make my way to the front. Charles watches me approach, his expression unreadable but his eyes alight with something that feels like satisfaction. Ugh.
The woman claps her hands together. “Perfect! Our winner, Miss…?”
“Morri,” I answer, offering a small smile.
A flash goes off as someone snaps a photo, and for a heartbeat, I see nothing but white. The world flickers back slowly, colors bleeding at the edges.
“Congratulations,” Charles says, handing me a small envelope. His fingers brush mine. Cold.
“Looks like fate wanted our paths to cross.”
“Or the universe was bored,” I reply, tucking the envelope into my clutch.
His smile widens, just enough to show the gleam of a tooth. “Either way, you’re mine for an evening.”
I laugh, pretending that sounded less unsettling than it did. “We’ll see if the universe confirms that.”
The rest of the evening continues in a blur of music and polite conversation. Charles slimy gaze follows me, as I make my way around the room attempting to do the social thing and make small talk with the people of the town I now call home. I excuse myself shortly after the final announcements and reminders of the next scheduled event. Giving polite nods and smiles, I make my way out of the mosaic of oddity and into the streets of Veilstone. It’s quiet beneath the stars, and the cool night air smells faintly of pine and warm earth.
By the time I step inside my house, I’m still holding the envelope. Its weight in my hand is unsettling, a reminder that the dinner with Charls isn’t a nightmare I can ignore. Maybe I can donate some more money and buy my way out of the dinner for two.
I place the envelope carefully on the counter, and pull off my social mask, finally able to deeply exhale.
“That wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” I murmur to the quiet room. “But I won’t be socializing again for quite a while.”
In the corner of the living room the shadows shift, ever so slightly, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“Are you in a better mood? Or should I expect my things to, once again, begin being tossed about?”
The shadows freeze and I hold my breath.
Shadows Bound Ch 4
Communication
Nov 21, 2025
Nero
She spoke to me. She spoke TO me. She spoke to ME. If I could breathe, I would be panting. Watching her wrap her delicious body in silk had me banging my fists against the shadows, demanding they let me out. This is Hell.
Humans think Hell is a place, a realm they get sent to if they’re bad. Ha! Hell is the torture they inflict upon themselves. I suppose that means I put myself in this position by trying to be something I’m not. A demon that offers help. The complete antithesis of what a demon is supposed to be, according to my family anyway.
Demons are carnal beings. Designed to chase their pleasure, whatever it is that inspires it. For most of my family, their inspiration for passion is chaos. They revel in creating it and feast on their art. My brother and I were born different. I’ve asked my parents more than once if they were sure we came from them. My father called me ungrateful and beat me daily for three months. He also chained my brother to the wall in the cell next to me, forcing him to watch. I begged for him to stop, once. I promised to do whatever he asked if the pain could just stop. He threatened to take it out on Nox instead and I couldn’t let that happen. If father viewed me as weak and broken because of my compassion, he viewed Nox as expendable because of my love for him. My softness brought me physical pain and gave him the burden of watching it and believing that it was his fault. I hurt us both. And now, more than my freedom, I just want to know that he’s safe. If I was being honest with myself, I would accept that he’s most likely dead…
The sound of heels clicking on hardwood, pulls me out of my painful thoughts and I look up to find a goddess walking towards me.
She. Is. Perfect.
A fact she doesn’t seem to realize. She spent two hours trying on dresses and a couple of pant suits that made my dick weep. Curves that don’t end, in all of the right places. Natural breasts that I know would just melt in my hands. The onyx floor length dress she decided to go with for the evening brings out the green in her hazel eyes, while the deep brown curls on her head bring out the blue in them. Her skin is a soft warm tone that sings a song of summer, and she has tiger stripes on all of her pillowy bits. At least the bits I’ve had the privilege of seeing. I just want to eat her until she loses consciousness, then wake her up and do it again.
She looks absolutely stunning, and it’s not for me.
That sparked irrational rage in me, and my shadows reacted by knocking a book off of her coffee table. To which she replied, “Alright, what is it? You’ve been a quiet ghost for some time, and now you want attention? I have someplace to be, so unless you plan on coming with me or doing more than throwing things on the floor…”
I was so stunned by her acknowledgement of me, that I froze completely as she walked out the door. She talked to me. No one talks to me, unless it is to scream in fear and rage to “Get Out!” before they scamper out the door themselves. She spoke to me as if I were just another person. Can she see me? Does she know what I am? No, she can’t know, she called me a ghost. But if she can see ghosts… maybe she’s a witch. If she’s a witch, maybe she can release me from this curse.
Am I pacing? I think I’m pacing. This changes things completely. If I can figure out a way to communicate with her…
A sensation reminiscent of warmth fills my being and the faint thump of a heartbeat fills my ears. Hope… I think I’m feeling hope.
I don’t know how much time has passed when the doorknob rattles and she walks through the door. She mumbles something about not wanting to socialize again for a while and then stares right in my direction as she asks, “Are you in a better mood? Or should I expect my things to begin being tossed about?”
I once again find myself frozen before her. What do I do?! I guess the smartest thing to do would be to see if she can in fact hear me. “Are you a witch?” I ask. She says nothing, just continues to stare in my direction.
That will be a no on the hearing me. Great.
She sighs deeply as she leans down to remove the impressive heels from her delicate feet. “Okay, we have to find a way to communicate, because I’ve had enough of the throwing of my things.”
To show her I am in agreement, I use the shadows to knock a trinket off of the mantle beside me. She stands there, shoes in hand, and zero amusement on her face. I can’t help the smile that creeps across mine.
Her feet softly carry her to her bedroom, where I am assuming she is removing her fancy clothes in exchange for fuzzy ones. She really likes fuzzy things. That could be fun… Stop that!
Once she is wrapped in warmth and fluffy socks, she emerges with two stones in her hands. “Here” she says, setting them on the coffee table in front of her as she sits on the couch. “Amathyst for yes, that’s the purple one, and Obsidian for no. Do you understand?”
Excitement zips through me, and I quickly shift towards the table. I gently wrap a shadow around the purple stone and slowly slide it back and forth.
A soft light enters her eyes, like a muted joy she doesn’t want to claim. “Good. Good. We can work with this. Alright… have you been here a long time?”
I shift the Amathyst again.
“Okay” She chews on her bottom lip trying to decide what to ask next. Sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders, it feels like she looks directly into my soul, “I am not leaving. If we need to set some ground rules for us to live together, I can get on board with that. But this is my home, and I will not leave because you want to spend your eternity alone. You can cross over for all I care.” Another deep breath fills her lungs and slowly escapes through her plump lips. “I guess that wasn’t a question you can answer with a couple crystals… Can you accept me as your roommate for the foreseeable future?”
I don’t respond right away, I just watch her attempt to hide her nerves. The closer I look, I can see that it’s not so much nerves as it is exhaustion. Her eyes are tired in a way that screams for peace, not rest.
I want to pick up the black stone. Having her here is dangerous for my sanity, but she’s also the closest thing to hope I have experienced in over one hundred years. If she can help me, maybe I can return the favor and help her find her peace. Well, a moment (or two) of bliss at the very least.
With conviction that doesn’t quite solidify, I pick up the purple stone and hold it in front of her face in offering. Her body relaxes with a soft whisper of, “Thank you.”
Shadows Bound Ch 5
A what now?
Dec 02, 2025
Morri
It’s been a week since the fundraiser and my first conversation with my spectral roommate. Not having to work means I spend my time doing whatever the hell I want, which is something I deserve to experience. I worked so hard to create success, and once I achieved it, I didn’t know what else to want. I had the money, the career, the recognition and slight fame among the art community; but I still felt like I was bursting to get out of a shell I had created. It was all wonderful to experience, and I don’t regret pushing myself so hard; but I realized that more than success and wealth, I wanted peace. So, here I am, hidden in the mountains, rooming with a ghost.
He’s been quite opinionated since I offered him crystals to communicate with. I know he’s a he because I asked him. I tried to see if he could use a dry erase board and marker, but apparently the shadows he uses don’t have the dexterity required for something like that. He managed to get a large squiggly NO to show up, but it took about ten minutes, and we were both annoyed by that, so we’ve just stuck to the crystals.
Every time I make a meal or sit down to paint, the crystals follow me, wiggling in my face when I ignore his opinion about what I’m making. Picking out clothes is where he seems to have the most opinions. Anytime I grab my workout leggings and sports bra, he shoves the obsidian in my face like the outfit offends him. Maybe he’s from a time where women wore less revealing clothing. Whatever the case may be, I am quickly realizing that giving him those crystals was not the best idea. Even now, as I sit on the couch trying to read my favorite monster romance series, the amethyst glides in front of my face like a toddler playing in the bath with a toy boat.
“Can I help you?” I sigh, watching the stone dance between my eyes. It stays hovering in front of me as I close my book, marking it with an old receipt I’ve used since I purchased it from the small bookstore down the street from my studio. “Alright, what do you need?” Damnit, yes or no questions only Morrigan.
“Are you bored?” Amathyst.
“Would you like me to turn the tv on?” Obsidian.
I look down at the book in my lap that I was really enjoying, “Would you like me to read to you?” The crystals pause at that. As he ponders my question I add, “You might like this story, there are demons and…” The amethyst moves so fast I lean back expecting it to smack me in my face. “Woah! Careful with those!” It slowly lowers and gently taps my book. “Alright, demon smut for the ghost.”
I open my book to the page I was reading before I was rudely interrupted. “Okay, the main character is a woman who is trapped in a parallel reality. She stumbled into this world full of vampires, demons, fae, and all kinds of creatures. She got there through the mirror in her bathroom. Since she arrived, she has been traveling around the realm collecting different creatures who sense something magical in her, which she denies, and they are on their way to an ancient site to find a witch who might have answers.” The amethyst does a small jiggle and snuggles into the blanket at my waist. Yes, this is totally normal.
With a soft chuckle I add, “Oh, and this is a romance, so if you can’t handle my workout clothes, I’m not sure the sex scenes are something you will tolerate well. Would you like me to skip over those?” A slight pause and the amethyst lifts slowly before resuming its comfortable position in my lap. “Alright, here we go.”
“You're a minotaur!?” Kacie shouts, “I thought that was a Greek myth!”
Tharox grunts, and a puff of smoke escapes his nostrils, “I travelled to the human realm once, and it was the worst experience ever.” His hooves clack against the stones beneath him as he shifts uncomfortably. Kacie recognizes his discomfort and softens the shocked look on her face to one of empathy.
“You don’t have to hide this side of you from me Rox. If you hadn’t shifted, I would be dead right now.” The smoke coming from his nose increases. “I was surprised by the new information, not disgusted.” She steps forward and slowly places her hands on his chest, causing his eyes to snap open from the tight squeeze he had them trapped in. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Kacie begins to glide her hands up and behind his neck, forcing him to bend forward so she can reach him better. “Besides, I have a feeling these could be fun.” She says, gently caressing his horns, causing a deep rumble to begin in his chest.
“Just a sec, I have to skip a couple of pages.” Before I’m able to turn to the next page, the obsidian flies up and shakes in front of my face. “I thought you said you didn’t want me to read the sexy stuff.” The amethyst jumps up and tilts one way and then the other before the obsidian takes front stage and they resume their cozy positions. I can’t contain the laugh that bursts out of me at that.
For a solid minute, I laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation I am currently in. I live with a ghost who apparently likes monster smut but can’t handle revealing clothes. In all of my imaginings of what I thought would happen with this ghost, never did I think we would be here.
Once the laughing fit subsides, I wipe my eyes and ask, “Would you like me to resume reading now?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the marker he tried to use before to write, floating through the air on its way to me. “Ummm…” I lands with a small smack against the pages of my book and my brows furrow, trying to understand what he’s wanting.
The marker wiggles around like he wants me to remove the top and I panic, “You are absolutely not about to write in my book with that marker, sir.” I swear the shadows ripple. Understanding that he wants to mark something in the book I acquiesce and offer him a pencil off of the end table beside me. “Here, but be gentle. You poke a hole in these pages, and I’ll torture us both by installing the brightest lights I can find.”
The pencil slowly rises and looks as if it’s scanning the words on the page. He finds the first word he’s looking for and gently underlines it. ‘I’
“I… Oh! This is brilliant, good thinking! Continue.” I can’t see or hear him, but I know he’s preening at my words right now.
The pencil continues its search for the next word and settles on. ‘am’
“Okay, I am.” Excitement builds in my belly as I realize I’m about to find out something important about my roommate.
The third word underlined is ‘a’. What? I thought he was going to start underlining letters to spell out his name. Maybe his name starts with an A.
Next, the pages begin to flutter and turn. One after the other, each getting looked over by the floating pencil. I can feel the tension coming off of him as he struggles to find the right one. Then suddenly, the pencil makes a sloppy circle and returns to the end table.
‘Demon’.
Shadows Bound Ch 6
An uninvited ass
Dec 13, 2025
Nero
She doesn’t move… I don’t think she’s breathing. Should I find something to use to pat her on the back? Oh! I could go grab the spray bottle in the bathroom, that she uses for her hair, and use it to spray her face. That should snap her out of it so she can resume breathing. But that also might make her mad…
Before I can decide how to assist her, and before she can begin to process the truth I just roughly circled, a knock sounds at the door. It’s not a hard knock, but it is enough to make her jump and begin breathing quickly. Thank the stars for that. She takes the distraction for what it is and dazedly walks to the door and opens it. There’s a man standing there. A man with a smarmy smile and an aura that screams greed.
“Miss Morri, it’s lovely to see you. I hadn’t heard from you about our date, so I decided to see if you are available for dinner this evening.”
Oh, absolutely not.
Morrigan blinks a few times. Likely trying to process the conversation we had as well as this dweeb showing up uninvited. She tilts her hear and replies in an almost icy tone, “And you thought it was acceptable to just show up at my home without an invitation?” Her hands are clenched in tight fists as the douche canoe at the door loses some of his smarm.
“Well, no one has seen you since the charity, and you didn’t leave your number for me to contact you. I figured I would take the initiative and extend the invitation personally.” And the smarm is back.
Morrigan closes her eyes and breathes deeply. Fists still closed tight. “Mr. Renner. I believe, the last time we spoke, you said ‘You’re mine for an evening’ and I said ‘We’ll see if the universe confirms that’. Am I to take you showing up here requesting my time and attention to mean you are declaring yourself the universe?”
The dunderhead loses his smile completely for a brief moment, and in that moment mine grows. “I’m just making sure you get your money’s worth.” He says, that smug smile fully back on his stupid face. Morrigan crosses her arms and looks the fucker up and down slowly, full head movement and everything. This woman, if I could kiss her right now… “I heavily overpaid for my ‘prize’, but the kids deserve the funds so… I’ll consider this our date and would appreciate it if you would leave and never show up at my door without an invitation. Ever. Again.” The last words leave her mouth with almost a growl. I would give almost anything to be able to feel my dick right now.
Mr. Fuckface loses every ounce of false friendliness and steps closer towards the door. Is this ass about to try coming in here?! I almost want him to, just so I can beat him with the pots and pans.
Morrigan stands taller and drops her hands to her sides, no fists, like she’s ready to grab him by the throat and choke his ass out. “Mr. Renner, you don’t know me. I have absolutely zero interest in knowing you. If you take one more step, I am fully within my rights to consider you an intruder. Based on the local law, that means I am well within those rights, to dispatch you in whatever way I see fit.”
Hell yeah she is! At that, I use the shadows to grab a large knife from the kitchen and discreetly nudge her back with the handle to get her attention. The slimy man bitch is vibrating with rage, so he doesn’t notice Morrigan slowly reach behind her back and grab the knife. Look at us being the perfect team.
“I will be sure to inform the town of what a rude and ungrateful bitch you are.” He sneers with a smirk. He must expect a reaction out of Morrigan, but it’s not her that responds… it’s me. I pull every shadow from the room and use them to take the shape of my demon form. Morrigan’s shoulders tense, but the piece of shit “man” freaks the fuck out. As he should, I’m scary.
He stumbles backwards and falls down the porch steps, before crawling away on his hands and knees towards his car. Not so tough now, are you? Fucking dickbag. I release the shadows and Morrigan releases the breath she had been holding. “You didn’t have to do that” she says while shaking her head and closing the door, “If a mob of townspeople show up with torches and pitchforks intending to burn me at the stake, I’m holding you fully responsible.”
I can’t respond to that, which pisses me off. I want to tell her that I would never let them touch her… but I can’t promise that, even if she could hear me. She’s right to be disappointed by my actions, humans that are afraid of another human because they are different from them, are incredibly dangerous. I just put a target on her back.
While I’ve been standing here beating myself up, rightfully so, Morrigan has resumed her spot on the couch. Her head is leaning back against the armrest, and her hands are covering her face.
I so wish I could talk with her and tell her that I’m sorry, and that I will do everything within my power to keep her safe. I notice the vase on the mantle and grab a red flower out of it. Using the shadows, I slowly bring it closer to her, holding it in front of her covered face.
With a sigh that sounds full of exhaustion, she lowers her hands and opens her eyes. She doesn’t smile at the flower, but she takes it from the shadows and holds it in her lap. “Is this supposed to be an apology?” I quickly scramble to fetch the purple crystal and shake it in front of her.
Uncertain silence hangs in the air for a moment before she speaks again. “So, you’re a demon huh?”
Purple crystal.
“Do you plan on possessing me?”
I start to lift the purple crystal but quickly realize she might not understand that I mean to possess her completely and not just her soul. To clarify the best I can, and offer her some peace of mind, I reach for the black crystal and place it in her lap.
She keeps her eyes on the flower as she gently caresses the silk petals. “I’m going to assume you are stuck here. Based on what the people from town have said, they warned me this place has been haunted for a long time… which must mean you’ve been here for a long time?” That last part comes out as a question, but she’s on the right track so this is good!
Purple crystal.
“Can you leave if you want to?”
Black crystal.
“So, I’m stuck with you.”
She didn’t pose that one as a question, but I still answer.
Purple crystal.
Another deep inhale and exhale. At least she’s breathing. She once again drops her head back onto the arm of the couch. “Alright. I guess I need to purchase a Ouija board, because I’m not about to keep doing this yes or no crap for the foreseeable future.”
I swear the excitement I feel is almost physical. She isn’t screaming and running away or calling a priest! She wants to talk with me! Really talk with me!
With enthusiastic vigor, I grab the purple stone and wiggle it in front of her. She must catch the movement because she lifts her head and shakes it in response. Slowly, making sure to give her enough time to move away, I move the stone closer to her face and gently tap it against her cheek, before returning it to her lap.
A small smile forms on her luscious lips as she lets out a soft chuckle, “Did you just give me the equivalent of a kiss on the cheek?”
Purple Crystal.