Bound
Bound Back Cover
Stubborn.
Impossible.
Half-blood.
Wren had not been asked to be born outside a mating bond. She had not asked for wings too small to fly. To be used as a cautionary tale to growing fledglings not to succumb to human temptation, since she might be the unfortunate result.
She only wanted a quiet life. On the small acreage she shared with her assortment of creatures. Some wild. Some not. To be allowed to sell her wares. To keep out of trouble—a threat to none.
She hated the market. Where gossip ran rampant, where looks were rarely friendly. But it meant coin for her suppers, and grain for her animals, so she went at every moon.
Until an accident leaves her bruised and bloody.
And her rescuer seems to be determined to make amends for his part in it.
Above all else, Wren never asked for a mate.
But he did.
-x-
It all happened so quickly.
She made it free of the stall, but the log itself was thick that she had no way to jump over it, only try to escape around. But it crashed into the stall beside hers and there was nowhere to go.
Her wings moved of their own accord, the instinct strong even if it was impossible to accomplish. They were useful for quieting a fall, but she jumped as best she could, knowing it was not nearly enough.
She felt the scrape of bark against her leg, cutting and rubbing and burning and she waited to be caught beneath, for it to break and shatter bone as she was pressed between the log and the cobbles.
But something caught her around the middle, pulling her upward as she drew her legs up and over.
“Worse than a fledgling,” came from behind her, the voice low and angry.
It shouldn’t have hurt. Shouldn’t have stung. But it did.
The last log settled and with it the chaos as merchants descended from the skies, furious at their losses.
The man eased her down, but she could not bring herself to look at him. “Are you all right?” he asked at last, and she shrugged.
Yes. No.
Did it really matter?
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