Strange, quiet
Luka doesn't live in this world; long ago he took refuge in his art, escaping
into surreal mindscapes inspired by his favorite painters. In the beautifully
monstrous realms of his imagination, he is safe from the pain of his losses:
his family, his friends, his hope.
Until war
breaks out, and he is forced to flee the only home he's known since he was
thirteen.
Captured by an
enemy soldier, young Luka is marched across brutal terrain, toward a fate known
only by the bearded menace holding him prisoner. Quick with a knife, tireless
and strong, Tarik guards the purpose of his mission as he takes Luka deeper and
deeper into enemy territory.
When the soldier discovers the painful secret he has been hiding
since childhood, Luka fears he is about to endure a new kind of cruelty, worse
than being abandoned, ostracized or beaten. Or is it possible the soldier
holding Luka prisoner is the one person who isn't afraid of the truth behind
Luka's silence and lies?
Excerpt
It
was weird, seeing himself in the mirror. He'd lost weight, and his cheekbones
were much more pronounced than they used to be. While he brushed, Luka fingered
the bruise ringing his neck, a nauseating chill slinking through him at the
sight of the wound on his wrist as he lifted his hand to his lips, pushing them
out of shape the way they must have squished and bulged while Begović smeared
them with lipstick. Had he really looked like a girl? Or had they only said it
to humiliate him?
What
did Tarik see, when he looked at him?
Daris.
Tarik was a father. Even though Luka tried to push it away, he couldn't escape
the image of Tarik kissing the ephemeral vision Luka had of the mother of his
child, holding her in his arms, lying on top of her, moving over her. What was he
to Tarik? Maybe, probably, he was just an implement. A diverting alternative to
jerking off.
Stripped
naked, Luka's bruise-mottled body didn't match his face, like a perverse child
had put the wrong head on his doll's body. He wrapped a towel around himself,
pulling it tight across his chest and tucking the corner in like starlets he'd
seen in old movies. Maybe Begović was right. Luka took the wet towel Tarik had
used, charged with the little thrill of knowing that dampness came from Tarik's
body, and wrapped it around his head like a turban. He looked like someone
else.
Was
that other self in the mirror a revelation, or an erasure?
Luka
jumped and gasped, startled by the soft knock at the bathroom door.
“Luka?”
He
took a breath and tried to calm his voice. “Yeah?”
“I
just wanted to make sure you're okay. I didn't hear the shower.”
A
reckless impulse, reaching out, fingers trembling, heart pounding hard, legs
unsteady, and opening the door.
“Are
you alright?” Tarik held his gaze, and Luka couldn't tell if Tarik saw the
revelation, or the erasure.
“I
was just trying to decide...” Luka stopped and took another breath because his
voice was failing him. Then his courage failed him. He couldn't say it.
Tarik
gave him a kind smile. “What were you trying to decide?”
“Like
this,” a breath, a leap, “do I look like a woman?”
Tarik's
kind smile still frozen in place, his eyes filled with confusion. After a few
horrible seconds of silence, in a low voice he asked, “Do you want to look like
a woman?”
“I
don't know.” He didn't want to start crying. “Would you like it?”
“I
don't understand, Luka. Are you... does this have something to do with what
Armin and Begović did to you?”
It
didn't. But it did. “They liked it.”
Tarik
was quiet for a few moments, and Luka had the feeling he was carefully weighing
each syllable of whatever he might say next. “Was the wig your idea?”
“No.”
The word shuddered out of him, embarrassment squeezing his ribs in a sudden
clench.
Tarik's
stance and expression softened.
“But
if you'd like me like that...” He hated that he couldn't keep his voice even.
Without
knowing why, when Tarik stepped toward him, Luka backed away until he was up
against the counter. “Do you know how I'd like you, Luka?”
Why
was he shaking so badly? Why couldn't he speak? Why was he suddenly cold,
shivering in some lingering shadow of the fear he'd felt those first moments in
the cave, Tarik bearded and wielding his big knife, twisting up in the terror
of the belt squeezing his throat closed while Armin forced his mouth open?
Tarik
raised his hand to Luka's face. Bracing himself, willing himself to be still,
Luka waited for a touch. A caress. Instead, Tarik lifted the towel from Luka's
head and dropped it on the counter. “This is how I'd like you to be. Just as
you are.”
When
Tarik touched the towel Luka had wrapped around his body, a shudder shook Luka.
Tarik hesitated a moment, then, watching his eyes, pulled the corner free from
where Luka had tucked it under his arm. A strangled little noise escaped Luka's
throat and he caught Tarik's wrist.
“You
don't want me to?”
Luka
met his eyes, but his hand stayed frozen
“Why
does it scare you? Are you still afraid I'll get angry with you?”
Luka's
throat felt like it was clogged with glue. “No.”
Voice
quiet, but firm. “Then let me look at you.”
Like
falling, falling from the safety of trusted arms toward cold, suffocating water
waiting to swallow him, giddy with dread, bracing himself, Luka made himself
let go of Tarik's wrist.
Holding
his gaze, Tarik pulled the towel from Luka's body, then slowly looked him over.
Panting for breath, Luka rooted himself there, strangling his desperate need to
duck away, to run, to hide under something. To disappear.
Tarik's
gaze slid up his torso, and met his eyes. His voice was low and thick. “This is
how I like you, Luka.”
LINKS
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/562036
Barnes
& Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trasmundo-varian-krylov/1122419378?ean=2940152059724
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/varian.krylov
Twitter:
@VarianKrylov https://twitter.com/VarianKrylov
REVIEW
4.5 stars
This novel is about citizens in a country at civil war. Luka is a sweet, gentle, gay young man who is constantly finding himself at the short end of every situation. He has to try hiding his orientation because it would make him an outcast and subject to brutality. As if that isn't enough, he's without family and has the wrong ethnicity and accent for the part of the country where he happens to live. The only joy he has in life is his art, but he can't even be left in peace with it. Tarik is a forward thinker compared to many from where they live. He's smart and strong, a survivor. Tarik finds Luka in his path during a time when their people are sworn natural enemies.
Trasmundo is so different from what I normally read by this author, and although I've liked all that I've read from her, it was a pleasant surprise. This book deals with genocide, art and falling in love for the first time, not exactly the average romance novel combination. The storyline pulled many emotions from me. Poor Luka's lot in life hurt my heart. The shy love was pure beauty. My nerves were on high alert during the escape, so many close calls.
If you're looking for a touching read, less dark erotica and more literary fiction, that still contains sex scenes, this may be just the story for you. For me, it was great, and I will definitely be reading the next book.
Lovely review!
ReplyDeleteI love all of Varian's works (the MM ones, although I'm sure the mf books are just as hot :D )
Thank you! And I agree! :)
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