BOUND

A Faery Story

SOPHIE OAK

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Once upon a time, in a land closer than you would think…

The light made her eyes burn, so she was happy for the enormous shadow that suddenly blocked the sun. As her vision adjusted, she realized that the shadow had the most piercing eyes she’d ever seen. Meg Starke shrank back in fear. Well, she shrank back as far as the chains binding her would allow.

A deep voice said something in a lilting language she didn’t understand, and suddenly, the curtain to the tent dropped. She could see again. The shadow was a man, a beautiful, terrifying man.

“She does not speak Gaelic, Your Highness,” the small man who served as her jailer said softly.

The dark man grimaced and immediately switched to English. “I have no title here, Rhys. Speak to me as you would any other customer.” He looked at her straight in the eyes for the first time. She felt a thrill of excitement. Not excitement. Fear. The racing of her heart had to be fear, right? Meg couldn’t figure it out, but she knew the huge man in front of her made her do the one thing she was worried she might never do again—feel.

“What’s your name then, love?” His voice rolled over her skin, even from across the tent.

“My name is Twenty to Life because that’s the time you’ll do for kidnapping me, you son of a bitch.” Meg was sick of being terrified. The last couple of days washed over her. Her kidnapping couldn’t be erased because the man in front of her had a lovely voice. She had been hauled straight off the streets of Fort Worth and taken god knew where. She’d been stripped naked, bathed, and chained into some form of medieval torture device. She pulled again at the chains that bound her hands over her head, but they would not move.

Meg waited for the broad man to strike her, wanting to get it over with. She had been unconscious for quite a while, but she didn’t think it could have been more than a full day since her kidnapping. She still remembered that moment when the tall, thin man had laid his cold hands on her. She’d looked up into his bloodred eyes and then recalled nothing until she woke up in this place.

After the initial assault, she had been shocked to find herself treated with something akin to reverence. The small men and women who acted as her jailers had been nothing but tender when it came to her person. Her small cell, one of several in the large tent, had been lined with pillows and sumptuous blankets. The chains she was bound in now had a lining to protect her skin, and though she stood naked, the little jailers had been discrete.

Even the food had been tempting, but Meg had seen enough crazy serial killer movies to know that eventually someone was going to smack her, rape her, and then potentially gut her. It looked like that was the big, hot guy’s job. She waited to feel the terrible blow that would likely signal the end of her life, but the man with the pitch black hair simply smiled. His sensual lips spread to show even, white teeth. Meg had to catch her breath. When he smiled, he was devastating.

“All right then, Twenty,” the man allowed in his lilting accent. “My name is Beckett, but you can call me Beck. And my mother was actually quite nice. I would prefer you didn’t curse her. Yell at me all you like, but let’s leave my mother out of it. Tell me, love, why should I purchase you instead of these other lovely women?”

Meg let her eyes grow round as saucers. “I’m being sold? Someone is selling me like a piece of fucking meat?”

Beck shook his head. “Language there, darlin’. You’re in a market, trussed up like a pretty, plump pigeon. Did you think you were just hanging on the chains for show?”

“Your…I apologize, sir. The girl is rather ignorant,” said the small man named Rhys. He barely came to Beck’s waist. Compared to Beck, he looked like a boy. A boy with a bushy beard and a pointy red cap. All the jailers wore them.

“I am not ignorant, asshole.” Meg wasn’t sure why the other women weren’t screaming at the violation of their persons, but there was no way she was going out without a fight. “I have two, count them, two degrees. I have a bachelor’s in both History and English Literature.” Combined, they had only been enough to get her a job managing a software store, but, by god, she had them. Of course, now she wished she’d chucked her college education in favor of some self-defense training. She was pretty sure her knowledge of Chaucer and the War of 1812 wouldn’t help her out of her current dilemma.

“I did not mean it that way.” Rhys’s fists clenched in obvious frustration. Meg noticed that he always tried to maintain a soft tone when speaking to her. He was polite, even when she cursed him. “The girl is obviously intelligent, though lacking in any kind of manners. She is from the Earth plane.”

Beck turned from the smaller man and back to her, his mouth hanging slightly open. He stared at her, as though he couldn’t quite process the words. It gave Meg a chance to study him.

He was tall. He had to be at least six foot four. He would tower over her. Meg herself was only five foot five, and a rather rounded one at that. The god in front of her didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He was broad-shouldered. His arms were thick with muscle, though he didn’t look like some steroid-crazy gym guy. He’d earned his muscles. Meg would bet he hadn’t earned them pumping iron. He worked, and at hard, most likely physical, labor. His skin was bronzed from the sun.

If his body was heavenly, then Meg didn’t know how to describe his face. It was all sharp planes and harsh angles that came together to form something truly beautiful. His jaw looked like it was carved out of granite. But his eyes were like soft, gray stones in his face. He was, without a doubt, the loveliest man she had ever seen.

It was too bad he was obviously insane. Beck looked like an escapee from a Renaissance fair, with his open-necked, linen shirt under a leather vest. His trousers were made from some sort of animal skin, as were the boots that came to his knees. Meg could see a sword peeking from behind his shoulder, held by a scabbard across his back.

“Is she really from the Earth plane?” Beck asked.

“Yes, sir. You can see why I called you.” They both stared at her like she was some rare exotic creature at a zoo.

Suspicion tickled at Meg’s consciousness. Why exactly was she here? She’d read articles about human trafficking. She bit her lower lip and looked at the five other girls in the tent with her. They were trussed up in the same fashion, though these women kept their heads lowered and complied with their jailers’ requests. Earlier this morning, they had been taken out of their cages and chained up for what seemed like some sort of presentation. Beck had been the first man to come through the tent. “You shouldn’t buy me. I’m not very pretty. The other girls are prettier. They’re thinner, too.”

They were, Meg acknowledged. The other women were all blondes. They looked like something out of a Swedish high fashion magazine. Meg knew she was a little overweight. She carried around an extra five or ten pounds that never seemed to go away. She was an overblown hourglass in a world where svelte was worshipped.

Beck frowned. It did nothing to mar the perfection of his face. “Are you cruel, then, love? Funny, I wouldn’t have thought that of you. It’s mean to point out their flaws. They can’t help that they don’t get enough to eat. Why do you think they’re here selling themselves?”

“You don’t want her, Your Highness,” a soft voice said. Meg looked over to see the blonde nearest her staring at Beck. “She is vicious. She yells at the little ones and is cruel to them. You cannot mean to make her yours. I would be thrilled to belong to you.”

Meg rolled her eyes, the gesture obviously not lost on Beck. He shook his head and looked slightly disappointed in her. Meg was surprised to discover she didn’t like him looking at her that way.

He walked over to the young, waifish blonde. “She is not from this plane. She is frightened. Allowances must be made. I hope you all find kind mates today. I hope your masters value you all for the precious gift you give them, but I must find a bondmate.”

Beck gave Rhys a hand gesture that sent the smaller man into action. Within seconds, drapes were drawn, and Meg found herself in a private room with only Beck inside. The sunlight poured in through a hole in the top of the elaborate tent that seemed to function as some sort of skylight. Now that they were alone, it felt like a spotlight. She was painfully aware of her unclothed state. She could feel her nipples puckering under his steely gaze.

“It is not kind to flaunt your beauty to less fortunate women. I will not allow you to be cruel.” Beck’s voice was deep and allowed no room for disrespect. Meg found herself rushing to explain.

“I don’t understand.” She was frustrated and could hear it in her tone. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. I wanted you to buy one of the others. I’ve decided you might be very difficult to get away from. I thought you would do it because they’re prettier than me.”

Beck’s handsome face bunched up as he seemed to mull her words. “On what plane are they prettier than you?” He laughed. “Sorry, love, I do remember hearing stories of where you come from. Food there is plentiful, yet the women starve because the men won’t take care of them.”

“It’s not like that,” Meg argued. “That girl you talked to, she would be considered a great beauty on my plane.”

“But I would have to feed her for a month before I’d even consider bedding her,” Beck muttered. “I don’t understand humans. Do human males not like breasts?”

He asked that last bit with a distinct huskiness to his voice. His hand came out, and he palmed one breast, his thumb rasping over the nipple.

Meg felt the caress shoot from her breast to her pussy like lightning. “Oh, please, don’t.”

Beck moved in, his big body crowding her as his other hand reached up. The sunlight hit his face. His gray eyes were heating up, and he ran his tongue over his lips to wet them. He seemed to be a man about to enjoy a good meal. He caressed both breasts with a languid sigh.

He breathed deeply, his nose at the top of her head. “And why not? How will I know if we’re compatible if I don’t touch you, love? If I’m going to pay this much for a female, then I want to be very sure I’m getting what we need.”

Meg didn’t even think about the “we” part of that sentence because Beck’s warm hands were trailing a path across her skin as he looked her over. His fingertips brushed her nipples just before closing over them. He pinched the nubs. It was just the right side of pain. Her nipples peaked, sensitized to his touch. Meg knew she should protest, but it had been so long since anyone had touched her. She’d been so lonely.

When he was satisfied with her breasts, he moved around to her exposed back. He traced the length of her spine with a single finger. Meg shuddered with desire under his touch as his finger lightly delved into the valley of her cheeks.

His mouth was bare centimeters from her ear. “You’re gorgeous, love. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I saw a woman as fuckable as you? And, love, as to your earlier statement about being worried I might be hard to get away from, I promise you, you won’t get away from me. Not ever.”

“Please,” Meg begged as her entire body went hot with wanting. She couldn’t let this man seduce her. She had a life back home. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She couldn’t let herself be sold at some marketplace to the highest bidder. “I want to go home.”

She struggled to get enough oxygen. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection gently brushing her backside. She forced down the impulse to beg him to use it on her. She’d never wanted a man’s touch so much in her life.

Then he was gone, and Meg wanted to cry at the absence of his warmth. He walked back around to her front. He seemed satisfied he had seen what he needed. Beck’s gray eyes were kind as he looked down on her. His sensual lips were close, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. His face was barely an inch from hers. He kissed her forehead gently.

“Sorry, love. I’m your home now.” He leaned over, and his mouth covered hers.

All thoughts fled. Meg could do nothing but concentrate on his lips and the feel of his hands. When his tongue reached out, she found herself softening under his dominance and letting it inside her mouth. His hands tightened and wound around her waist. She felt so delicate against him, a sensation she had never had before. With previous lovers, and there hadn’t been many, she had always felt ungainly and awkward. She never knew what to do to please them. She was far too shy to ask them for what she wanted. The result had been a short series of disappointing encounters. Her own husband had left her, telling her she didn’t know how to please a man.

But she could feel Beck’s desire. He wasn’t playing a game. He took what he wanted, and it did something for Meg. She’d read about Dominance and submission and the fine art of BDSM, but putting the theory to the test was something different. The chains suddenly felt sensual rather than menacing. They held her for his pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful.” Beck sighed in her ear when he broke the kiss, moving to press his lips to her neck. His hands traced a path from her waist to the cheeks of her ass. He pressed his body against her. “I have to know for sure, though. Please understand, I have to know…”

His fingers found her clitoris and began rubbing sweet, firm circles.

“No,” Meg panted, everything in her responding to this man. This was insane. She was not going to stand here and let this man take her. Her mind said no, but her body and soul were not in alignment with the thinking pattern. Her pussy was wet and pulsing for him. She pushed against his hand. Oh, she wanted this. Why did she have to want this? “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, I won’t stop.” Beck groaned between his clenched teeth. “Come for me, a stoirin.”

Meg didn’t understand what he said, but she felt the intent behind the endearment. She moaned and stopped fighting him. Fighting hadn’t gotten her a thing so far. Maybe, just maybe, she could find another way out, but for now, she wanted what he was offering. His hands felt so perfect on her body. Never before had anyone played her like a finely tuned instrument, but Beck was her musician.

He gently forced two fingers high into her cunt, keeping the pressure on her clit with his thumb. An amazing sensation swept through her as he fucked her with his fingers. In and out. In and out. It was better than any previous cock she’d had. Something was happening. Some odd and yet familiar connection seemed to open between them, but before she could process it, her body fell over the precipice, and she couldn’t think any more. Meg came, sobbing against his shoulder. The orgasm strummed neatly through her body, making her languid and submissive.

At the instant of her orgasm, she would have sworn she could feel herself as though she was Beck. His fingers pressed high into her heat as though for the slightest moment she could feel what he was feeling, warmth, sweet wetness, and a rigid hardness begging to be set loose. It had been so odd. It was almost as if, for that moment, she had been inside Beck. She had shared what his body experienced as he brought her to orgasm. She’d felt so connected to him in that moment. It was an intimacy like nothing she’d felt before.

Meg floated down. She was suddenly aware that Beck had pulled his fingers from her pussy and wrapped both arms around her. He hugged her to his hard body. Meg, her entire being pleasantly lethargic, decided this had to be the best wet dream ever. She let her head rest against his shoulder. She had never in her life come so fast and so hard. It was just a sweet dream, and she should hold on to it. Any minute the alarm would go off, and she would have to face another day at the Software 4 U store. Being Beck’s love slave was much more interesting.

Beck kissed her one last time, his mouth playing sweetly against hers. He seemed as satisfied as she was, though he couldn’t possibly be. His hands played with her breasts for a moment, and she could feel her own juice on her skin. He brought his right hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers in, licking her cream. He finally placed an almost chaste kiss on the tip of her nose and stepped back.

“Aye, love, you’ll do.” With that, he started out the door.

Meg’s head came up, perfectly unimpressed with that bit of wooing. She’d been utterly overwhelmed by what they had just shared, and he said that to her? Damn it, even the men in her dreams were unromantic. That sounded like the line from Babe.

“Seriously, that’s what I get? I’ll do? Screw you, Beck. Send in the next guy. We’ll see if he can do better.” Meg decided the next guy might be even hotter. He would be French or maybe Italian. She liked Beck’s Irish accent, but she’d always loved Italy.

Beck turned around, and Meg found herself shrinking back again. His gray eyes were as hard as stones, and his demeanor had changed from lazy to menacing in a heartbeat. “What did you say, love?”

The question was a challenge. The chill in his voice almost made her shiver.

“Nothing,” Meg replied, swallowing nervously. She had a healthy sense of self-preservation that was kicking into full throttle now as Beck stalked back toward her.

“Best you say nothing right now, love, if you can’t say something sweet.” Beck’s entire body was rigid, every muscle screaming his frustration. “I am tired. I rode all night to get here before the tournament. I have eaten very little, and now I’m horny as hell. I am not in a good mood. You should understand that one of your goals in life should be to keep me in a good mood. You have no idea the trouble you’re going to cause me.”

Though she was so tired, Meg held her head up. The very last thing she needed was to be told how much trouble she was. She knew. She’d been told her whole life by a mother and father who hadn’t really wanted her and a husband who felt the same. She might be in chains, but she held on to her pride. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble. Please feel free to not purchase me.”

Beck sighed. Meg sensed the weariness in him. That connection she had felt during the sex seemed like it was still open. His emotions were almost palpable to her. His tiredness went far past the physical. Meg knew it invaded his soul. His shoulders slumped slightly forward. She had the sudden desire to wrap her arms around him, to lend him her strength.

“I have waited years for this day,” he explained in an emotionless voice. “You cannot understand the joy I should feel at finding you. I do feel joy, but if there was any other choice, I would walk away from you. I can offer you nothing. I’m going to spend the last of my gold entering the tournament. I won’t even have the money to feed you. If I had an ounce of pride left, I would let you go, but my brother is dying. I can’t allow that to happen. You’re the only one who can save him. I swear on everything I am that I will find a way to take care of you.”

He started to turn to leave. Meg felt tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t understand everything he said, but she knew he meant it. Even in chains and terrified for her life, she felt safe with this man. Somehow, she’d formed a strange connection with him in those moments his hands had been on her body. “Stop.”

Beck turned to her, his stance wary. She knew he was waiting for her to yell at him again. She couldn’t blame him. She had been a little difficult.

“My name is Meg,” she said softly.

She was rewarded with a slight curling of his lips. His pitch-black hair was gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Meg wondered how it would feel flowing all around her. “I like that, Meg. I’ll call you my own sweet Meggie.”

“If I help you with your brother, will you let me go home?”

The smile died, and Meg wished she hadn’t asked the question. “I told you, I am your home now, me and Cian. There’s no way back, love. Even if there was, I wouldn’t let you take it.”

Meg nodded. She accepted the situation for now. Things might be different later, when she wasn’t chained up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t keep her chained forever. “Are you going to buy me now?”

The sooner he bought her, the faster they could leave this place. She knew from what he said previously that he didn’t live here. On the road, there might be more opportunities to get away.

Beck shook his head. “It’s not like that, love. This is a tourney. The gnomes make more money this way. Every male who wants to purchase you buys into the tourney. We then fight until there’s only one left standing. That man will be your master.”

“But what if you don’t win?” Meg was now horrified at the thought. There were other men? How bad would they be? At least Beck had proven he could be somewhat kind.

A slow, intensely confident smile split his gorgeous face. “Don’t go worrying, love. I always win.”

He walked out of the tent, letting the heavy curtain fall back into place. Meg was alone again. It was rapidly becoming evident that this wasn’t a weird dream. She had really been taken to some strange place. Maybe once she got outside the compound, she would be able to tell what country she was in. The people seemed to speak English, but there had been that strange lilting language as well. Gaelic, Rhys had said. Yes, she thought, she would be able to get away and contact the police.

Her head came up as a squat woman entered the room with a pitcher and washcloths. Meg sighed. She was getting used to being bathed. The little woman would be professional and gentle. In truth, Meg realized she should be happy that the woman was here, humming as she went about her work. Beck had left her with the evidence of her orgasm all over her thighs and pussy. It would be rather embarrassing for someone else to come in and find her covered in her own juices.

The short, blonde woman smiled up as she washed away Meg’s reaction to Beck. “Don’t worry, miss. His Highness will be kind to you.”

“His Highness?” Meg asked, but the woman finished her work. With a mysterious smile, she walked out. “And what the hell did he mean by gnomes?”