Page 45 of Bound

Cian stands up, a seductive smile crossing his face. “I washoping you would say that, gorgeous.”

ChapterTwenty

Meg

I stare at Cian from across the bed. He sits with hislong legs crossed over each other, his big gray eyes watching me intently. Helooks so much like Beck that my heart hurts. He looks like Beck, but he’svulnerable, and that pulls me in. I want to lean over and kiss him. I want topromise him everything is going be okay, but I hold my ground. I don’t need tofall in love with a second version of Beck. One is all the heartbreak I cantake.

“I need you to concentrate.” I cross my legs and try torelax. I sit in front of him on the big bed we shared the night before. Holdinghis hand in mine, I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. “Do you rememberwhy we’re here?”

His lips curl into a tempting curve. He’s shirtless andwears nothing except a pair of white linen pants. His long black hair fallswell past his shoulders. It shines in the afternoon light. “I think I canguess. Do you want to be on top?”

I shake my head and reach inward for patience. “We’re nothaving sex. We’re bonding. I’m the bondmate your brother found. Beck sent me toyou. We need to bond so you can think straight.”

That seems to get through to him. His eyes clear for amoment, and his hands tighten on mine. “You’re my wife?”

“So I’ve been told. It’s okay. I won’t hold you to it. Weneed to bond, and then we can be friends.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “No. Too far gone. I’ll hurtyou.”

“It will be fine.” The fact that he isn’t eagerly going intothis makes me more comfortable. If he tries to stay in control, I have a muchbetter shot at getting out of this with my mind intact.

His gorgeous eyes fill with frustration. He’s trying to makeme understand and can’t seem to form the words. “Please, go. Don’t want…to hurtyou.”

I move closer so our legs touch. “It won’t hurt me. I’mstrong. It’s going to be all right. Do you remember how to do this?”

His face clears like a cloud passed over and now the sun isshining. He smiles again. “Cad è mar atà tu?”

Oh, crap. He’s gone into Gaelic, and now I won’teven understand his delusions.

I tighten my hands around his. I’m going to have to make theconnection on my own. I lean forward, and luckily, Cian seems game. He leansforward, meeting me in the middle. I touch my forehead to his.

“Is tù mo ghrà,” he says, his accentlilting around the traditional Gaelic that goes with the ceremony. My bondingwith Beck had been devoid of any of the ceremonies that go along with a formalmarriage, but Cian seems to remember.

“You are my love,” he said. I watched a couple of ceremonieson the DLs. They’re just words. They don’t mean anything.

He pulls back and looks down at me as though waiting.

“Is tù mo ghrà,” I repeat.

If Cian needs all the trappings, then I’ll give them to him.

He smiles, satisfied, and puts his head to my forehead oncemore. He rubs his head lightly against mine as though he loves the connection.

If we’d been on the twins’ home plane, there would have beena great deal of pomp and circumstance involved in this ceremony. There wouldhave been witnesses and a decorated altar. The downloads I’d read on thesubject spoke of the beauty of the ceremony. There would have beenflowers—marigolds, St. John’s wort, and shamrocks. There would have been alength of ornate rope to bind our hands together for the handfasting ritual.

The twins’ father would have overseen the marriage, andbells would have rung throughout the city to let the people know the heirs werebonded. Music would flow out of the palace all night long.

The little cottage is quiet. There are no flowers, but Ifeel the weight of what I’m doing all the same. I’m binding my life to thisman. It’s not something I can walk away from, though. Liadan advised me to run,but how can I? I can no more walk away from Cian than I would be able to watcha person drown and do nothing to save him.

It is more than that. I can never abandon half of Beck tofate. It doesn’t matter that he can’t love me. I love him. That’s all I cancontrol. I firmly intend to fall out of love, but I won’t let his brother die.

Then I stop thinking, or rather I cease thinking my ownthoughts.

Cian’s brain assaults me.

I’m flooded with memory and thoughts, dreams and fancy, andeverything that is Cian. Now I understand what the blonde was trying to tellme. I’m overwhelmed with him. Sights, sounds, even smells and emotions battermy system. I feel my body sag under the onslaught, but Cian’s strong hands holdme in place.

I see a young girl. She’s chasing me through a gleamingwhite palace. She’s my sister. Bronwyn. The name is as clear in my mind as theimage is. In the vision, I am Cian, a seven-year-old boy, full of mischief.Bronwyn is a brat. She tossed a mud pie straight in my face, and I’m going toget retribution. I can feel the cool marble under bare feet, hear the sound oflaughter echoing. The palace is filled with light. Cian isn’t really mad. He’splaying a game. In Cian’s body, I run past Beck. He’s coming out of a room withhis father. Beck looks so serious. He’s somber, but I can feel him. I can feelhow much he wants to join his twin and their sister. Beck wants to play, but hesimply nods at his twin and follows their father.