Bound (A Faery Story 1)

Meg gave her clothes the once over. She searched her memory.

What happened last night? How had she ended up in bed with Cian

when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t? Why was she wearing a

gold ring on her left hand?

She seemed to still be wearing enough clothes. Her lovely dress

was on the lone chair in the small room, but she had on the thin shift

that went beneath it, and she still had on her underwear. It was a good

sign.

Cian rubbed his eyes, yawned, and stretched his big body. He, on

the other hand, didn’t appear to be wearing anything. His glorious

frame was on full display. “You told me you refused to sleep in the

Bound

167

big bed. You told me you needed independence, and the only way you

could have that was to live in abject poverty, with not a single

comfort to your name.”

“I doubt I put it quite like that,” Meg complained.

She remembered last night, up to a point. There had been dancing

and singing. She’d discovered that Flanna was a brownie. Meg had

laughed and said that they ate brownies on the human plane. She then

spent the better part of an hour explaining that she wouldn’t be

coming after Flanna’s grandchildren. Sweets might not be a big part

of Fae life, but ale was. It was the ale that did it. It had been slightly sweet and had a hell of a kick. Every time she finished a mug,

someone put another in her hands.

Cian scratched his belly. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.

His gray eyes opened fully for the first time. “No. You took a lot

longer to explain it. It was quite the lecture, my lover. There was

something about making your own way and roaring because you’re a

woman. I didn’t understand it at all, and I consider myself a smart

man. The only part I really got was when you told me we had to live