Page 22 of Bound

I hate that his words make me want to soften toward him. Hesounds like he did before the events of the arena. He was gentle with me whenhe rubbed me to orgasm. I liked that almost as much as what happened later.

But I know the truth now and I’m having none of it. Nor am Igetting on that horse. “I’ll walk, thank you.”

I turn on my heels and start down the road. There’s no wayI’m getting on the back of that thing. I might have been born in Texas, but Inever really left the city. I’ve never been on a horse, much less an elephant,and that’s what Sweeney reminds me of. I ignore the odd looks I receive as Iwalk down the lane. Apparently they don’t get a lot of pedestrian foot trafficaround here.

In the distance, I can see the forest ahead. The trees areunbearably thick. Only the road seems to be clear, as though the forest aroundit is a living thing, waiting to pounce on anyone who walks into it.Trepidation creeps in and I slow my stride. That forest will swallow me. I’mjust about to turn back into town to protest when I feel a strong hand lift meinto the air by the back of my shirt.

“Hey!” I scream in shock as I find myself across Beck’s lap.Without thinking about it, I throw my arms around his chest and cling to him,afraid to fall off the beast. It’s an awfully long way down, and there isn’t ahandy ER around to set whatever breaks.

Sweeney huffs and prances, getting used to the new weight onhis back. After a few seconds, Beck makes a clicking sound. The horse takesoff.

“Hold on tight, love,” is all he says as he prods the horseinto high gear.

I do as he asks, holding on with all my might. The forestlooms large, getting closer every second.

Like it or not, I’m going into the woods.

Chapter Nine

Meg

I shiver, even though the fire is crackling nicely.Beck spent the better part of an hour building it. He stoked it until theorange and red flames flared and gave a warm glow to our camp. I’m all alonewith a complete stranger. Oh, sure, we’ve had a couple of sexual encounters,but I don’t know him. I sit back against the trunk of a huge tree and watch theman who claimed me.

True to what Dante told me to expect, Beck let me doabsolutely none of the work. He helped me off the horse and settled mecarefully on my feet. His first task was to make a comfortable place for me tosit. He took two blankets out of his saddle bags to make a nest for me while hegathered wood for the fire.

I remove my boots and pants before wrapping up in theblankets. He’s never out of sight. After starting the fire, he pulls out bread,some cheese, and what looks like beef jerky. My stomach rumbles. I decide notto honor my New Year’s Resolution to avoid meat and dairy.

Beck doesn’t touch a thing until I declare myself full, andthen he eats everything I haven’t.

He’s such a puzzle, sweet one minute and completely shutdown the next.

“I need to know something,” he says quietly as he sits downacross from me.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He’s heartbreakinglybeautiful by firelight. The glow of the fire delineates the lines of his face.His jaw is carved from granite, but his eyes are soft. He’s a real, actualfaery prince, and according to him, he’s mine. Even after the way he treated methis afternoon, I want nothing more than to throw myself into his arms.

I never, ever learn.

“Did you leave a husband behind?” Beck asks. “Do you havebabies who will wonder where their mama is?”

All I have to do is say yes. If I say yes, cry prettily, andtalk about my sweet babies, he might try to get me home. I can say I have two,a boy and a girl. I can also tell him about the husband I love more than lifeitself.

“No.” I can’t lie to him that way. Not when I still feel theconnection between us humming. “I’m alone.”

He seems confused by the statement and moves to sit besideme. He covers me with the blanket before carefully placing his arm around myshoulder. “Did your parents die before they could find a husband for you?”

I laugh at the thought. My parents can’t be in a roomtogether for more than two minutes before a war breaks out. They didn’t attendmy wedding, much less try to advise me on who to marry. “No. My parentsdivorced when I was twelve. Mom remarried roughly six months later. She marriedthe guy she was having an affair with. Dad married his secretary, excuse me,administrative assistant, two months after that. Neither one of them wanted todeal with a teenage girl, so I got shuffled around. I stayed with Mom until shegot tired of me, and then I got shoved off on Dad. Casey, histen-years-older-than-me wife, didn’t like me very much. They both had newchildren with their new spouses. Needless to say, everyone was happy when Ileft for college. So, to answer your question, no, they didn’t bother to findme a husband. That’s not something parents do in my culture.”

Beck’s eyes are dark in the firelight. “What is divorce?”

I study him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’spulling my leg. “You don’t know?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t understand your story, love.Your parents did not die? They left each other and formed bonds with otherpeople? They had children with people who were not their mate?”

“You don’t have a way to dissolve a marriage?”

“No. Why would we have that?” Beck asks, his face showing nosigns of teasing. “Marriage is sacred.”

“Okay, how about if the husband abuses the wife? Is shesupposed to stay in the marriage?”