Page 5 of Bound and Beguiled

He didn’t respond, too busy watching Mared’s butt jiggle.

She blew him a kiss over her shoulder. “My Emyr has other talents, don’t you love?”

“Like what?” I asked, immediately wishing I could snatch the words out of the air.

Emyr sauntered close, his fingertip a featherlight brush under my chin. My darting eyes connected with his, and I bit back a whimper at the slow smile that curled his lips as he shook his head slowly side to side. “Oh, New Girl. I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

“I think you’re right.” The words came out strangled, an octave higher than usual. He pulled back, laughing brightly, and my frozen lungs started working again. I grabbed my beer, downing half of it to the approving cheers of the fae around me.

By the time I’d finished the second glass that had magically appeared before me, my three new friends and I had moved to a table. Sid finally returned, bloody and incredibly cheerful, only to be promptly sent away again as my “training” commenced in earnest. It mostly consisted of “cautionary tales” that had me clutching my stomach and wiping away tears—for once from laughter rather than pain.

I sipped my third—no, fourth—beer, watching the three of them tease each other through my lashes. Efa squeezed the nape of Mared’s neck, and the other fae woman stopped mid-word, arching into the hold with a purr. Emyr—who’d been on the receiving end of Mared’s taunt—snickered, his eyes hot.

Bittersweet longing curled through me. I’d come to accept who I was—and was not—as well as the consequences of my choices. But being around these fae made me wish I was more like Katarina, the kind of person that could walk into a room and be desired by people like this.

But that was never going to be my life. Even if I hadn’t been sworn to Ymet’s Covenant—andfucking Franklin—while barely more than a child, I was still just...me. Compared to these fae, Franklin was as appealing as a month old piece of bread that had fallen behind the toaster. I hadn’t satisfiedhim, and I couldn’t bear to imagine the humiliation of being in that situation with any one of these three.

That didn’t stop me from looking.

Mared was summertime. Like fruit fresh from the tree; warm, and wet, and sticky down your fingers. Everything about her was ripe. We were exactly the same height, and I couldn’t help wondering how it might feel to kiss someone without having to bend at all. To have her body mesh so perfectly with my own, to run my hands over the softness of her shoulders and cup the tempting dips that decorated her thick hips. To feel her laugh dance against my skin.

Emyr reminded me of a yearling stallion; full of fiery energy and a vanity that would have been off-putting if he hadn’t been just as wildly convinced of the beauty of everyone around him. He’d even waxed poetic aboutme, proving his charisma, if not his honesty. Like everyone else around him, he drew me like a magnet. I’d had to fist my hands in my lap more than once to keep from brushing back the hair that kept falling over his forehead, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from trailing my fingers down to those damned distracting rings piercing his nipples.

Efa was...more restrained. Autumnal, from the auburn hair she held back with plaits, to the unexpected snap of her wry humor. She carried herself like a warrior, always at the ready, and moved with an unhurried efficiency that made my throat beg for a drink to wet it. Her eyes missed nothing, and when her attention was on me, I felt stripped bare, exposed beyond my skin. It made me fidget and look away, but I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye, desperately soaking in her slightest movement.

“Whatcha looking at?” Emyr whispered, breath ruffling the hair over my ear.

I tore my gaze from the hypnotic glide of Efa’s middle finger over the lushness of Mared’s golden fur, biting my lip as I met Emyr’s gleeful eyes. He bounced his eyebrows, and I could have stopped traffic with my cheeks.

I looked away, bracing myself for the inevitable teasing, but if it came I didn’t hear it. Sound had fled with my heartbeat at the sight of a familiar lean silhouette by the bar. Panic tightened my muscles, and I was half out of my seat when I finally realized that the sandy blond man had the distinctive grey skin of a Drow, not the pale pink of my thrice-bedamned ex. The purple suit he wore—the distinctive uniform of a mage-for-hire—really should have been the first tip-off that this man wasnotFranklin.

I slumped back, limp and shaking with relief.

Emyr tilted his head in concern, then twisted, scanning the bar for whatever had turned me into a ridiculous, trembling leaf.

I flushed with embarrassment, silently flagellating myself.Should change my name to Rabbit. One stupid little note and I’m jumping at shadows.

“Not again,” Emyr muttered, sounding disgusted.

Trying to be less of a ninny, I followed his gaze back to the Drow, who was gesturing excitedly towards the wall of casks and bottles behind Sid. The Shadow Fae had her arms crossed forbiddingly as she repeatedly shook her head. My fear momentarily forgotten; I leaned forward. What was going on over there?

Emyr cursed, then I was shoved back in my seat as he crowded over me, blocking everything with his sculpted, furry, pierced chest. Every hair on my body rose at the sudden electrical current of magic that crackled and buzzed, filling my nose with the bitter ozone tang of a failed spell.

The bar erupted in shouts as a tidal wave of icy cold champagne broke over us. As quick as it’d come, the flood retreated, leaving everything wet, sticky, and reeking of booze. Everything except me, that is. Outside of my feet and a few splashes here and there, I remained dry.

Emyr heaved, twisted, and stalked towards the Drow mage who was now cowering behind a bar stool. His back was soaked, the leather of his kilt dark and his fur plastered to every angrily twitching muscle. Then his magic snapped out, and the champagne rose from him like rain in reverse, dissipating in a series of tinypops.

He shouted insults and curses as chaos righted before him like chickens scattering before a fox.

His shove had sent my chair rocking, and my shocked jerk helped it along. It tipped, and I flailed, stumbling to my feet. Entranced by this new, fierce version of Emyr, I stepped forward, then gasped as my foot met a shrinking puddle of champagne and slid out from under me.

A muscular arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a rock-hard body. My heart pounded in my throat, and I stared down at a velvety brown arm ringed with knotwork tattoos, the fur sleek enough that even the thick veins running up the bulging muscles were clearly visible.

“My Pet’s real sexy when his anger’s up, don’t you think?” The unknown man rumbled in my ear.

His voice was dark, deep, and rasping. Trapped between Emyr’s display of power and the mysterious stranger purring in my ear, I whimpered.

“Mmm.” The man at my back hummed. “I agree completely.”

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