Page 38 of Bound and Beguiled

“Don’t change your jeans after,” Kynan whispered into my ear as Emyr all but sprinted towards us. “And the collar stays on till I take it off. I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

The prospect I’d run into earlier—Silk—watched us from across the bar, hunger darkening his cornflower blue eyes. I ground against Kynan’s hand, reaching up to thread my fingers through his hair.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

Emyr landed in front of us, chest heaving, and Kynan slapped me on the ass with more sound than force.

“Enjoy.”

Chapter Fifteen

Istared at my face in the mirror as I washed my hands. Not even the hazy, early morning light sifting in from the window could hide the dark circles under my eyes or the strain creasing my forehead. Hopefully, Katarina had some kind of miracle face mask I could use, or I was going to show up at my binding ceremony looking like a corpse instead of a—what had Mared said? Vengeful goddess come down to ruin lives and steal hearts.

My binding ceremony—or rather my Day of Reckoning, since I had no intention of being bound—was today. Mere hours away.

I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white and my bones ached, but still I trembled.

There was no way I was getting back to sleep. The couple hours I’d managed would have to do. If I laid down in that bed again I’d just stare at the ceiling and spiral.

Work. There was always something that needed doing, and if I could just keep myself busy until everyone else woke up, I might get through the day without some kind of mental breakdown.

Back in the bedroom, I dressed quickly and quietly, keeping one eye on the sleeping bodies ranged across the mattress. If we were going to keep sharing a bed, we were going to need a bigger one. Kynan and Efa had been pushed to the edges while Mared sprawled on her stomach, having already taken over the space I’d crawled out of earlier. Emyr, at least, was utterly content with the situation. Not that I’d expect anything else from someone blessed to have Mared’s butt for a pillow.

Downstairs, I fisted my hands on my hips and glared at the spotlessly clean bar. I don’t know what I’d been thinking, imagining the Bwbachod would’ve left anything undone. It was tempting to go outside and get my hands in the dirt. There was a good-sized garden and green house out back that provided a lot of the Broken Crown’s produce, and I knew from experience I could lose myself in the labor.

There hadn’t been any more incidents since Widow had dropped off my note to Mother, and the ceremony was today, after all. There was no reason for Franklin to try anything.

Still, I’d promised.

I sighed and went to the kitchen to fetch a bucket. Sparkling floors or no, a little hands and knees Cinderella scrubbing action was just the kind of back-straining, mindless chore I needed.

A half hour later I tossed the scrub brush into the bucket and sat back on my heels. Raising my arms over my head, I stretched my shoulders, shaking my hands when the buzzing energy refused to dissipate. My knees ached and I could serve food off the gleaming planks of the floor, but I was still keyed up.

Looking around the bar for something else to do, I froze when my eyes fell on Efa. She sat quietly, chin resting on a raised fist and legs outstretched, crossed at the ankle. Her endless eyes watched me.

“Trouble sleeping?”

I lifted a shoulder, feeling awkward, and brushed a loose strand of hair from my face with an arm. “You could say that. Too much on my mind, I guess. I just—I need something to do with my hands.”

After a long, uncomfortable second, Efa nodded. In a single, fluid movement she rose, pulled her tank top over her head, and unsnapped her kilt, letting them both fall to the floor.

My mouth fell open. On the one hand—oh, mommy. Efa’s strong body with its softly dappled tan fur streaked with orange was something to behold, and touching it would definitely be a distraction. On the other—for possibly the first time since the Bwbachod had awakened my buried libido, I wasn’t in the mood for sex. But how the fuck was I supposed to tell her that?!

“Pet me,” Efa said, coming closer. “I’ve been told it’s soothing. And I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.”

“Pet—?” I sputtered, thoroughly confused. Was she offering what I thought she was offering? Efa didn’t like to be touched that way.

Three feet away, her body wavered like a mirage. There was a second of rippling transparence, then she was gone, replaced by a large badger. Abadger!

The badgers I’d seen stood around eleven inches at the shoulder. She was nearly double that, and densely muscled beneath the wealth of fur. The eyes were the same, solid black and shining. The fur around them was the same ginger color as her hair, but the red now formed two distinctive stripes that led back to fluffy round ears.

She was fucking adorable.

I scooted onto my butt; arm outstretched. A huge, goofy grin spread over my face as she butted her head against my fingers.

Swaggering forward, Efa climbed into my lap, resting her head on my chest. She was a little big for a lap-badger—probably around seventy-five or eighty pounds—but I didn’t care. Her eyes were soft and open as she gazed up at me, making a short purring sound.

I stroked her back, the fur dense and thick beneath my fingers, and shook my head in wonder. “I had no idea. Can all of the Bwbachod do this?”

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