Bound: A Faery Story, First Person Special Edition

by Lexi Blake, Sophie Oak

Genres: Romantic Fantasy; Fantasy Romance

Synopsis

No one would confuse my life with a fairy tale. I live in a drab world with an unrewarding job and a failed marriage. No one is coming to save the day or carry me off to a romantic fantasy.

So when I wake up in a magical world and discover I am the grand prize in a fierce and bloody tournament, I’m not sure if I’m having a sexy dream or a horrible nightmare.

Turns out to be a little of both.

Beckett and Cian Finn were raised to be the kings of the Seelie Fae, but the thrust of a traitor’s blade stole that future, and now it threatens to take their lives. Struggling in exile, their glorious destiny has become a curse.

Prophecy proclaimed they would find a bondmate whose love would bridge the soul they share. A single woman who can complete them and unleash their magical powers.

They believe I am the key to their salvation.

As an epic battle begins, I will do whatever it takes to claim my happily ever after.

Release date: August 18, 2026

Publisher: DLZ Entertainment LLC

Print pages: 368

Sample

Chapter One

Meg

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

I’m having the weirdest dream. I try to take in the scene around me. I call it a scene because this isn’t real. This can’t be real. I wasn’t taken by some guy—demon—and transported to…

I’m in some sort of luxurious tent. There’s lush carpet on the floor, but on the outer edges of the space I see grass and patches of loamy earth. Odd lanterns illuminate the space. I call them odd because there doesn’t seem to be a flame. The light is strong, but it’s almost like it’s moving inside the opaque glass.

Like fireflies flickering.

“Are you okay?”

I turn to the sound of a feminine voice, looking through the metal bars of the cage I find myself in. Bile rises. Cage. I’m in a cage. What is my fucked up brain trying to tell me? I mean, honestly the cage totally makes sense. I’m feeling trapped by work and the place in life I find myself, so I understand the setting of this dream. The gorgeous, slender blonde chick in the cage across from me I don’t understand at all.

“I get the cage,” I explain to the blonde. She’s naked, but then everyone in the cages are naked, including myself. “I even get the nudity. I’ve got a meeting with my regional manager next week, and I’m not ready for it. Nudity is a sure sign of anxiety. The cage is because I hate my job and my life, and I can’t seem to find a way out. Hence the luxury of the cage, though I think my subconscious is wrong about that. I mean my paycheck is good enough to keep a roof over my head, but nothing like this.”

The bed I’d “woken” on is the most comfortable I’ve ever been on. The silk sheets are soft and lush. It’s why I thought at first this was going to be some sort of erotic dream, or maybe I’m so tired my dream is being kept in a cage like a beloved pet. I might need therapy because at first I was cool with all of it. Some short chick had brought me lunch, and it was delicious. It was when I requested coffee and the small serving lady asked me what coffee was that I realized I was dreaming.

And it might be a nightmare.

I can still see his face. It had been too long, too skeletal. Something inside me had known. Something had feared that thing in the alley.

The blonde’s head turns as though seeing me from a different angle might help her understand. “You speak too fast. I understand some of your plane’s words, but not all. I am fresh from the old plane.”

Yeah, a gorgeous blonde who doesn’t speak my language and flies on old planes. I have no idea how to interpret that one.

A withered hand reached out to me and when that hand touched my arm, the world had gone cold.

What a find you are, my dear. I think I know just where to take you.

I shake my head, forcing the vision back. That had been a dream, too. A prelude to whatever this nighttime vision is supposed to teach
me. It hits me suddenly what all of this is about. I decided a few weeks ago I’m going to take a step that could change my life.

“I’m going to a munch,” I explain to the only woman in the tent who seems interested in me. “That’s a safe way to meet people in the lifestyle. I’m going to see if this is for me, and no anxiety dream is going to make me change my mind. That’s why you’re here. You’re the inner symbol of my insecurity. I’m fairly certain I’ll be the worst-looking potential sub at that munch. Yeah, that’s what this is about.”

The woman merely shakes her head and turns to the equally stunning woman in the cage next to hers. They begin a conversation in a language I don’t understand, and I sit back. Even in my dreams I’m easy to ignore.

I take a deep breath and tell myself I’ll forget all of this when I wake up in my own bed, tangled in crappy scratchy sheets. This will be a
blur in the early morning light, an echo of some dream life.

“Miss Meg, I need you to come with me. I know our ways seem strange to you, but one day you’ll see what a great honor all of this is.” The small woman who’d greeted me with pastries and claims she doesn’t know what coffee is stands at the door of the cage. She’s dressed like she’s participating in a Renaissance fair. And she’s seriously tiny. Like the smallest human I’ve ever seen who wasn’t a kid. She’s absolutely a full-ass adult with the body of a woman, but she’s maybe four feet tall. Maybe.

I stand, pulling the sheet around me because while the Swedish supermodels might be cool showing the world what their mommas gave them, I am not. I tuck the sheet under my shoulders, forming something of a dress. “I’m sure being put in a cage is a great honor.”

Cara—she’d called herself Cara—holds a circle of keys in her small hand. “You’ll be saving a life and maybe a whole kingdom if you are what we think you are. Please come with me. Miss, if you try to run, you should understand that there is nowhere to go.”

Cara enunciates each word carefully, as though she has to think about each one.

“Well, naturally there’s nowhere to go. I think that’s what this whole dream thing is about.” I move to the door of the cage as Cara opens
it.

I don’t even think about running because all that will do is morph the dream into something terrible. All my anxieties will likely chase after me and honestly, the running is part of a nightmare, too.

I think back to all my psych classes. Shouldn’t I try to take control of the dream? Try to wake myself up? If I take charge, I’ll likely find my way out sooner.

My gut rolls as I see that thing again in my head, the one who wrapped spindly fingers around my wrist and pulled me close, and I swear I could smell sulphur on it. I shove the image down. It’s not memory. It’s got to be something else.

Had I been drinking? Or maybe someone spiked my drink.

Except I hadn’t been out partying. I’d been walking home from a movie.

Still, I step out, clutching my sheet like the queen I am determined to be in this dream space. I’m about to explain to Cara that I want
coffee and a TV brought to my room because I’m going to clear off my watch list in this dream. Hey, it’s my weird fantasy.

I stop as I realize this fantasy just took a turn.

Two large men step out from the shadows, and before I can pull away, each has a wrist in his grasp. Men? I study them, not wanting to believe my eyes. I’m not sure these are men at all. They’re humanoid, but the skin covering their muscled bodies isn’t a color that comes from human DNA.

Green. It’s a brackish green, and their heads are covered with scraggly hair.

Fear snakes along my spine as they drag my hands up over my head and the sheet drops away, leaving me naked and so vulnerable. Cold metal presses against my palms, and suddenly I’m tethered to something above my head.

This is the part where the dream goes bad. So fucking bad.

I don’t want to be here. I want to be home. I know I complain about it often, how boring it is, how I don’t belong, how I have no one, but fear makes cowards of us all, and I want to be home in my bed.

A bright light sweeps through the tent, a tidal wave crashing over my overwrought senses. Someone’s coming. The green dudes step back. It seems like they’re not the ones who are going to gut me or rape me or wherever this is leading. I can’t see them. They’ve moved behind me, but Cara says something and she sounds further away.

A massive shadow blocks the sunlight that streams in from the hole in the roof of the tent, and I shrink back in fear. Well, I shrink back as far as the chains allow me to. Something is playing in the back of mind. Some instinct telling me this isn’t a dream and I’m in trouble.

That shadow is a man. He becomes clear as he steps inside the space they’d made private. The sun is behind him, so at first all I see is the outline of his body. Strong shoulders that seem to go on for days, big arms. He’s muscular and masculine, and I’m naked in front of him.

I swallow down my fear. Something about him…calms me.

He turns slightly, though his eyes don’t leave my body. His deep voice calls out, saying something in a lilting language I don’t understand. He’s got a lovely accent. A familiar one. Suddenly, the curtain to the tent drops, and I can clearly see again. Yes, the shadow is a man, a beautiful, terrifying man, but at least he seems human.

Maybe what I saw before was just…the dream. Yeah. I don’t have good instincts. I’m back to dreaming.

“She does not speak Gaelic, Your Highness,” said the small man who’d greeted me and explained a bunch of rules I hadn’t listened to
because…well, I was busy freaking out. He’s standing beside the big guy. He’s only a few inches taller than Cara.

The man with the pitch-black hair grimaces, his sensual lips curving down as he switches to English. “I have no title here, Reeve. Speak to me as you would any other customer.”

He looks at me straight in the eyes for the first time, and I swear I can feel something rolling off him. A thrill of excitement flashes through me. Not excitement. Fear. The racing of my heart has to be fear, right? I can’t be looking at him like he’s a treat and I’ve been starving.

I should be very afraid because I know suddenly that the man standing in front of me can make me do the one thing I’ve sworn never to do again—feel. I like my cocoon of numbness. He could pull me out of it, make me want to really live again.

And isn’t that the cruelest dream of all?

I need to wake up and now. I don’t want to know where this dream is going.

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

And just like that I know where we’re going. I can play along. I want it over with. I always wake up before the truly bad stuff begins. When I have dreams about being killed, I wake up right before the first blow. So all I have to do is push through and it can be over, and I swear I’ll stop listening to true crime podcasts before I go to sleep.

He’d hit me, that thing that had taken me. He’d reached out with his emaciated arm and struck me into darkness. I hadn’t imagined he
would be so strong, but then he hadn’t been a man at all. He’d been a shadow stalking me on my way home, following me into the alley, and then I’d woken up somewhere else.

“Are you all right then?” The man in front drew me away from those dark, confused thoughts. “Come on. Don’t be afraid. Tell me your name.”

Maybe I’m sick and this is some kind of fever dream. I’d been stuffy the last couple of days.

“My name is Twenty to Life because that’s the time you’ll do for kidnapping me, you son of a bitch.” A little anger flares through me, and I can’t help but push.

I steel myself, waiting for the broad man to strike, then I’ll wake up and go about my dull life.

Then maybe I can forget those red eyes and how cold his hands felt. I can forget how those eyes burned into me as he chuckled, and right before I lost consciousness, I’d been certain he was taking me to Hell.

I’d gotten out of that nightmare. I can get out of this one.

I should have known it wasn’t a pleasant dream and that these weirdos with their soft beds and good-smelling food would eventually turn into monsters. It’s how my damn brain works since the divorce. Sure enough, someone is going to smack me, rape me, and then potentially gut me. It looks like it’s the big, hot guy’s job. I wait, ready to feel the terrible blow that will likely signal the end of this dream, but the man with the long black hair simply smiles, showing even, white teeth.

Despite the terror, or maybe because of it, his expression takes me totally off guard. When he smiles, he’s devastating. An unwelcome
attraction sparks through me, and once again I am forced to reconsider all of my life choices.

“All right then, Twenty,” the man says in his lilting accent. Irish. He sounds Irish. “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, why should I purchase you instead of these other lovely women?”

What the actual hell does he mean? “I’m being sold? Someone is selling me like a piece of fucking meat?”

Beck shakes 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,” says the small man named Reeve, reminding me he’s still here. My stupid eyes won’t leave Beck. Reeve barely comes to Beck’s waist. Compared to Beck, he looks like a boy. A boy with a bushy beard and a pointy red cap. It seems to be a uniform of sort. All the jailers wear them.

“I am not ignorant.” I hate feeling small, and that’s where I am now. Trapped. I’m trapped and I can’t find my way out. Anger starts to flare through me. I’m always trapped, aren’t I?

“I did not mean it that way.” Reeve’s fists clench in obvious frustration. I noticed that he tried to maintain a soft tone when
speaking to me or any of the other women. He’s polite, even when I curse him. “The lady is obviously intelligent, though lacking in any kind of manners. She is from the Earth plane.”

Beck turns from the smaller man and back to me, his mouth hanging slightly open. He stares at me, as though he’s having trouble processing what Reeve just told him. It gives me a chance to study him.

He’s tall. He has to be at least six foot four. I’m only five foot five, and a rather round one at that. The god in front of me doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He’s broad-shouldered, his arms thick with muscle, though he doesn’t look like some steroid-crazy gym guy. He’s earned his muscles. I would bet he hasn’t earned them pumping iron. He works, and at hard, most likely physical, labor. His skin is bronzed from the sun.

If his body is heavenly, then I don’t know how to describe his face. It’s all sharp planes and harsh angles that come together to form
something truly beautiful. His jaw looks like it was carved out of granite. But his eyes are like soft, gray stones in his face. He is, without a doubt, the loveliest man I have ever seen.

It’s too bad he’s a dream, and not one I would have thought to have. I’ve never gone for his type before. Beck looks like an escapee from a Renaissance fair, with his open-necked, linen shirt under a leather vest. His trousers appear to be made from some sort of animal skin, as are the boots that come to his knees. A sword peeks from behind his shoulder, held by a scabbard across his back.

“Is she truly from the Earth plane?” Beck asks.

“Yes, sir. You can see why I called you.” They both stare at me like I’m some rare, exotic creature at a zoo.

Suspicion tickles at my consciousness. Why exactly am I here? A million scenarios toss through my brain. I’ve read articles about human trafficking. Had they led to this particular nightmare? Maybe there’s another way out. I’m willing to try anything at this point. I bite my lower lip and look at the five other girls in the tent with me. They’re all caged in the same fashion, though these women keep their heads lowered and comply with their jailers’ requests. “You shouldn’t buy me. I’m not very pretty. The other women are prettier. They’re thinner, too.”

The other women are all blondes. They look like something out of a Swedish high-fashion magazine. I do not fit with them. I carry around an extra five or ten pounds that never seem to go away. I’m an overblown hourglass in a world where svelte is worshipped.

Beck frowns. It does 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 says. I look over to see the blonde nearest me staring at Beck through the bars of her cell. “She doesn’t understand a thing about our world. She yelled at Cara for not having all the foods she wanted. I believe she is cruel. I would be thrilled to belong to you.”

Way to throw a sister under a bus. “Yeah, fuck you, too.”

Beck shakes his head and looks slightly disappointed in me. The spark of shame that goes through me is unexpected.

He walks 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 mates value you all for the precious gift you give them, but I must find a bondmate.”

Beck gives Reeve a hand gesture that sends the smaller man into action. Within seconds, drapes are drawn, and I find myself in a private room with only Beck inside. Sunlight pours in through a hole in the top of the elaborate tent that seems to function as some sort of skylight. Now that we’re alone, it feels like a spotlight. I’m painfully aware of my unclothed state. I can feel my nipples puckering under his steely gaze.

“It is not kind to flaunt your beauty to less fortunate women.” Beck’s voice is deep and allows no room for disrespect.

I’m not sure why, but I need to know where this is going. I’m here, and he moves me in a way I thought I might never feel again. Maybe
there’s more to this than I thought.

If this is some kind of bondage fantasy my libido is playing out, I’m here for it. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I wanted
you to buy one of the others. I’ve decided you might be difficult to get away from. I thought you would do it because they’re prettier than me.”

Beck’s handsome face bunches up as he seems to mull my words. “On what plane are they prettier than you?” He laughs. “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.”

I try to relax. He’s the gorgeous god of a man who happens to adore fluffy women. Now I know the real culprit. Romance novels. I’ve been reading too many of them. “It’s not like that. That woman you talked to, she would be considered a great beauty where I’m from.”

Which, according to these people, is the Earth plane. I don’t think they’re talking about a jet.

I also don’t understand why the world seems softer now. I can’t see the cages now. All I can see is him, and I’m not afraid of him.

Which just proves what an idiot I can be.

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

He asks the last bit with a distinct huskiness to his voice. His hand comes out, and heat flashes through my system as he palms one breast, his thumb rasping over my nipple. I’m practically hanging from a hook naked with the most glorious man I’ve ever seen, and I can’t think straight.

This doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels real. So real.

That caress shoots from my breast to my pussy like lightning. “Oh, please, don’t.”

That is what I’m supposed to say, right? I’m not supposed to let a stranger touch me like this.

Even if it feels like heaven. All the fear in my system seems to turn to arousal, flooding me with need.

It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this, since I felt wanted.

Beck moves in, his big body crowding me as his other hand reaches up. The sunlight hits his face. His gray eyes are heating up, and he
runs his tongue over his lips to wet them. He looks like a man about to enjoy a good meal. His hands caress my breasts and he sighs.

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

The “we” part barely registers in my head because Beck’s warm hands trail a path across my skin as he looks me over. His fingertips
brush my nipples before closing over them. He rolls them between his fingers, pinching down on just the right side of pain. This. This is what I need. This is why my brain came to this place.

For comfort before my dull existence steals another day from me.

My nipples peak, already sensitized to his touch.

I’ve been so lonely. I’ve been fooling myself, saying everything is fine and it’ll all get better. I’m stuck, and I need to find a way out.

He finally seems satisfied with his exploration of my breasts and moves around to my exposed back. He traces the length of my spine
with a single finger, causing me to shudder with desire under his touch as his finger lightly delves into the valley of my cheeks.

This is what I’ve craved for a long time. A dominant man in my sexual life. A man I can trust with my body.

His mouth is mere centimeters from my ear. “You’re gorgeous. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I saw a woman as fuckable as you? And 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.” My whole body is hot with wanting, and I no longer want to wake up from this fantasy. The thought scares me. I can’t let this man seduce me. I have a life back home. It isn’t much, but it is mine. I can’t allow this man to seduce me. I can’t let myself be sold at some marketplace to the highest bidder. I hadn’t realized how dark I’ve become. “I want to go home.”

I can barely breathe, and the words don’t pulse with passion. They’re flat, rote, like something I’ve been trained to say all my life.

I want to go home. Home. I don’t know where home is anymore. It’s a word that basically holds no real meaning for me. It’s a phantom, haunting me, forcing me to question if it was ever real in the first place.

But something feels real. The hard ridge of his erection gently brushes my backside. The impulse to beg him to use it on me is almost impossible to deny. I’ve never wanted a man’s touch so much.

Then he’s gone, and I nearly cry out at the absence of his warmth. He circles around me and seems satisfied he’s seen what he needs to. Beck’s gray eyes are kind as he stares down. His sensual lips are close, so close I can feel the heat coming off his body. His face is barely an inch from mine.

He kisses my forehead gently.

“Sorry. I’m your home now.” He leans over, and his mouth covers mine.

All thoughts flee. I can do nothing but concentrate on his lips and the feel of his hands. When his tongue brushes my lips, I soften under his dominance, letting him inside my mouth. His hands tighten and wind around my waist. I feel delicate against him, a sensation I so rarely have. I’ve always felt ungainly and awkward during sex. I never know how to please the man I’m with. I’ve been too shy to ask for what I want. The result has been a short series of disappointing encounters. My own husband left me, telling me I don’t know how to truly please a man.

But I can feel Beck’s desire. It practically rolls off him, the sensation almost a hum on my skin. Like we’re connected in some odd fashion. He’s not playing a game. He takes what he wants, and it does something for me. I’ve read about Dominance and submission and the fine art of BDSM, but putting the theory to the test is something different. The chains suddenly feel sensual rather than menacing. They hold me still for his pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful.” Beck sighs in my ear when he breaks the kiss, moving to press his lips to my neck. His hands trace a path from my
waist to the cheeks of my ass. He presses his body against mine, warming me all over. “I have to know for sure, though. Please understand, I have to know…”

His fingers find my clitoris and he rubs sweet, firm circles. I can’t get enough breath into my body.

This is insane. My pussy is wet and pulsing for him. It’s getting out of hand, and I start to feel things I didn’t think I ever would. Oh, I want this. I want this so badly. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, I won’t stop.” Beck groans between clenched teeth. “Come for me, a stóirín.”

I have no idea what he said, but I can feel the intent behind the endearment. His hands are perfect on my body. Never before has
anyone played me like a finely tuned instrument, but Beck is my musician.

He gently forces two fingers high inside me, keeping the pressure on my clit with his thumb. An amazing sensation sweeps through me as
he fucks me with his fingers. In and out. In and out. It is better than any previous cock I’ve had. Something’s happening. Some odd and yet familiar connection seems to open between us, but before I can process it, I fall over the precipice and can’t think any more. I come, sobbing against his shoulder. The orgasm strums neatly through my body, making me languid and submissive.

At the instant of my orgasm, I could have sworn I could feel myself as though I were Beck. I’d felt his fingers pressed high into my heat as though for the slightest moment I could feel what he was feeling—warmth, sweet wetness, and a rigid hardness begging to be set loose. It had been odd. It was almost as if I’d been inside Beck. I shared what his body experienced as he brought me to orgasm. A connection had opened between us. It was an intimacy like nothing I’ve felt before.

I float down from the crazy high he’s given me, suddenly aware that Beck has pulled his fingers from my pussy and wrapped both arms
around me. Tenderness. I need this, too. He hugs me to his hard body. This has to be the best wet dream ever. I let my head rest against his shoulder. I’ve never come so fast and so hard.

It’s a sweet dream, and I want to hold on to it. Any minute the alarm will go off, and I’ll have to face another day at the Software 4 U store. Being Beck’s love slave is much more interesting.

Beck kisses me one last time, his mouth playing sweetly against mine. He seems as satisfied as I am, though he can’t possibly be. His
hands play with my breasts for a moment, and I can feel my own juice on my skin. He brings his right hand up to his mouth and sucks his fingers in, licking my cream and sending another thrill of longing through me. He finally places an almost chaste kiss on the tip of my nose and steps back.

“Aye, love, you’ll do.” With that, he starts for the door.

Okay, that was a perfectly unimpressive bit of wooing. My subconscious needs to work harder. I’m utterly overwhelmed by what we shared, and he tells me I’ll do?

Damn it, even the men in my dreams are unromantic.

“Seriously, that’s what I get? You’ll do?” I’m feeling saucy after our encounter. Apparently there’s nothing like a great orgasm to get me feisty. I don’t feel like taking this from him. I feel like trying again. “Send in the next guy. We’ll see if he can do better.”

The next guy might be even hotter. He’ll be French or maybe Italian.

Beck turns around, and I find myself shrinking back again. His gray eyes are as hard as stones, and his demeanor changes from lazy to
menacing in a heartbeat. “What did you say?”

The question is a challenge. The chill in his voice almost makes me shiver.

“Nothing.” A healthy sense of self-preservation kicks into full throttle now as Beck stalks back toward me.

“Excellent. Best you say nothing right now if you can’t say something sweet.” Beck’s entire body is rigid, every muscle screaming his frustration. “I’m exhausted. I rode all night to get here before the tournament. I’ve eaten very little, and now I’m horny as hell. I am not in a good mood. You have no idea the trouble you’re going to cause me.”

I hold my head up. The last thing I need is to be told how much trouble I am. I know. I’ve been told my whole life by a mother and father who hadn’t really wanted me and a husband who felt the same. I might be in chains, but I hold on to my pride. Sometimes I think it’s all I really have. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble. Please feel free to not purchase me.”

Beck sighs, and I can sense the weariness in him. That connection I’d felt during sex seems like it’s still open. His emotions are almost palpable. His tiredness goes far past the physical. That weariness
invades his soul. His shoulders slump slightly forward. The sudden desire to wrap my arms around him almost overwhelms me. I want to lend him my strength.

“I’ve waited years for this day,” he explains in an emotionless voice. “You cannot understand the joy I should feel at finding you. If there was any other choice, I would walk away. 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 turns to leave. Tears well in my eyes. I don’t understand everything he’s said, but I know he means every word of it. Even in chains and terrified for my life, I feel safe with this man. Somehow, I’d formed a strange connection with him in those moments his hands had been on my body. “Stop.”

Beck turns, his stance wary. He’s waiting for me to yell at him again. I can feel that, too. I can’t blame him. I’ve been a bit difficult.

“My name is Meg,” I say softly.

He rewards me with a slight curling of his lips. His pitch-black hair is gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I wonder how it would feel flowing all around me. “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 dies, and I wish I hadn’t asked the question. “I told you, I’m your home now, me and Cian. There’s no way back. Even if there was, I wouldn’t let you take it.”

So this dream is going to continue. I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Somewhere in the middle of our intimacy, I’d even forgotten I’m dreaming. “Are you going to buy me now?”

Beck shakes his head. “It’s not like that. 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?” The thought horrifies me. There are other men? How bad will they be? At least Beck has proven he can be somewhat kind.

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

He strides out of the tent, letting the heavy curtain fall back into place, and I’m alone again.

What is happening and why does it seem so damn real? What if this isn’t a weird dream? What if that creature I caught glimpses of took me to some strange place? The people seem to speak English, but there had been that strange lilting language as well. Gaelic, Reeve had said.

Maybe I’m in Ireland or Scotland. I’m pretty sure I hit my head when I was kidnapped.

My stomach churns. Have I been kidnapped?

I force my head up as a petite woman enters the room with a pitcher and washcloths. It’s weird but I’m getting used to being bathed by too short women. They grow them small here. If she’s like the others, the little woman will be professional and gentle. I should be happy she’s here, humming as she goes about her work. Beck left the evidence of my orgasm all over my thighs and pussy. It would be rather embarrassing for someone else to come in and find me covered in my own juices.

The short, blonde woman smiles up as she washes away my reaction to Beck. “Don’t worry, miss. His Highness will be kind to you.”

“His Highness?” I ask, but the woman has finished her work. With a mysterious smile, she walks out. “And what the hell did he mean by
gnomes?”

Copyright 2026 Lexi Blake