Bonded
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Chapter one. Narrated by Dawn Greenfield, Ireland, Roman Davenport stood naked in the grass outside of his secluded house on the edge of the forest, not a cabin by any stretch of the imagination. His 4000 square foot house, with floor to ceiling windows, in the sunroom, on the ground floor and in the upstairs bedrooms, would be the envy of his friends if he had any. A deep porch with round columns was at the front of the house. Off to the side stood a five car garage with two empty slots. He didn't have to worry about anyone gawking. He owned the 2000 acres surrounding the house at 6 ft two and weighing in at £220 his sinewy body sported powerful strength. Roman had the body of a god, a six pack ab muscled thighs and arms. His body had a natural musculature that men begged their trainers to deliver. Thick black hair fell to his shoulder, sweeping across his tattoos. One arm sported the head of a black panther just below his shoulders. A tattoo of a black panther was on his back. At 40 he had everything. A company that made him millions, women falling at his feet, loving his unnatural bright green eyes and every comfort available to the modern millionaire. What was missing were true friendships and love. As he gazed into the forest, forlorn, he raped his hair. I can't continue alone, He thought. He had great relationships with his employees. He was respected in the community that he was drowning in loneliness. Roman drew in a deep breath, savoring the earthy aromas of the trees, the ground and everything around him. He listened to the birds and the scurrying of squirrels. He glanced at the ground. I can't go another 20 years like this. My heart is empty. Where are my people? My kind Deep pain etched his face from his thoughts. He struck it off, looking around. It is what it is. But I'm sick of this ****. Roman stretched out and leapt forward. He transformed into his panther. He shook himself. The big cat, much larger than an actual panther in the wild or at a zoo, took off. Running into the forest at full speed. He didn't get enough opportunities to shift with all the obligations nipping at his heels. He let his animal loose. Sometimes he didn't shift back for the entire weekend. Wealth had its advantages. He could travel the world whenever he wanted, which he did. Romans sought information about his condition since the first time he shifted at 20 he had never come across any other shifter. He spent a lot of time and money seeking ancient tribal elders and hidden villages away from the prying eyes of civilization. Romans searched across the globe, hoping to find his own kind or legends. He might study in trace. He aged so very slow. He wondered if he were immortal. He chided himself for even thinking it. I'd find a way to end my life. No one should have to suffer this loneliness. Decade after decade, Romans stopped at the stream that ran through his property. His human hair was as black as his cat, and they shared bright green eyes. He patted into the water lapping as he walked, raised his head and took in a deep breath, scenting the air. He left the water and approached the gigantic old oak tree where he liked to perch