BOUND TO SEDUCTION
ELISABETH NAUGHTON
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 by Elisabeth Naughton
Cover art and design by Patricia Schmitt/Pickyme
Editing by Linda Ingmanson
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
PRAISE FOR
ENRAPTURED
“Filled with sizzling romance, heartbreaking drama, and a cast of multifaceted characters, this powerful and unusual retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice story is Naughton’s best book yet. Starred Review”—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“Creative worldbuilding and ever-present danger pull the reader into this mesmerizing tale. 4 1/2 Stars”—RT Book Reviews
TEMPTED
“Endlessly twisting plots within plots, a cast of complex and eminently likeable characters, and a romance as hot as it is complicated.”—Publisher’s Weekly, starred review
“Dark, dangerous, and absolutely addicting.”—NY Times bestselling author Christina Dodd
“Ms. Naughton has taken the Greek Argonaut myth, turned it on its head, and OWNED it!”—Bitten By Paranormal Romance
ENTWINED
“An action-packed creative wonder guaranteed to snag your attention from page one.”—Fresh Fiction
“Do NOT miss this series!”—NY Times bestselling author Larissa Ione
MARKED
“Naughton has tremendous skill with steamy passion, dynamic characterization and thrilling action.”—Publisher’s Weekly
“Elisabeth Naughton’s MARKED gives an incredibly fresh spin on Greek Mythology that is full of humor, action, passion and a storyline that keeps you from putting down the book.”—Fresh Fiction
STOLEN SEDUCTION
“This third book in the Stolen series is full of intrigue, secrets and undeniable love with characters you can’t get enough of…an awesome read!”—Fresh Fiction
“An adventurous story of twists and turns, this story will keep you guessing until the very end. And the chemistry between Hailey and Shane is sizzling hot. Naughton combines passion and danger in one fast-paced story.”—News and Sentinel
STOLEN HEAT
“This book has got it all: an adventure that keeps you turning the pages, an irresistible hero, and a smoking romance.”—All About Romance
“Stolen Heat is an awesome combination of deadly suspense, edgy action and a wonderful romance with characters that you’ll laugh, cry and yell with.”—Night Owl Romance
STOLEN FURY
“A rock solid debut…Naughton’s intelligent adventure plot is intensified by the blazing heat that builds from Lisa and Rafe’s first erotic encounter.”—Publisher’s Weekly
“Naughton deftly distills deadly intrigue, high adrenaline action, and scorchingly hot passion into a perfectly constructed novel of romantic suspense.”—Chicago Tribune
WAIT FOR ME
“This book blew me out of the water.”—Cocktails and Books
“Wait For Me more than met my expectations, it was downright delightfully angsty with a great big dose of scorching hot scenes between two characters who could not have been more made for each other. The unraveling mystery is compelling all on it’s own but the chemistry between Kate and Ryan will keep you truly captivated.”—Paperback Dolls
Titles by Elisabeth Naughton
Firebrand Series
(Paranormal Romance)
BOUND TO SEDUCTION
SLAVE TO PASSION (Coming Soon)
POSSESSED BY DESIRE (Coming Soon)
Eternal Guardians Series
(Paranormal romance)
ENSLAVED (November 2012)
ENRAPTURED
TEMPTED
ENTWINED
MARKED
Stolen Series
(Romantic Suspense)
STOLEN SEDUCTION
STOLEN HEAT
STOLEN FURY
Single Titles
WAIT FOR ME
(Contemporary Romance)
Anthologies
BODYGUARDS IN BED
(with Lucy Monroe and Jamie Denton)
For my good friend,
Darcy Burke,
Who’s always looking for a little more smexytime.
CHAPTER ONE
The clank of the cell door opening echoed like a thousand cannons exploding across the night sky.
Tariq lifted his head and gazed through the strands of hair covering his eyes, only to experience the rush of blood boiling in his veins when he saw the condescending face peering down at him through the bars.
“Sleep has not done you well, Tariq,” Zoraida mocked, the opulent blue silk of her gown swishing as she moved into his dingy cell. Behind her, three guards, armed to the hilt, remained outside the bars, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. “I fear your will to live hangs in the balance.”
His arms ached from being held above his head as he’d leaned against the stone wall and tried to sleep, and he was weak from lack of food, but he pushed to his bare feet, the chains cuffed to his wrists rattling against the bar embedded waist high in the cold stone at his back. With some unseen force of will, he contained the fury whipping through him at the sight of the sorceress who’d imprisoned him in this hellhole. But smiled to himself at the knowledge his misery would soon be over. And with it, her reign.
“The only life that hangs in the balance is yours, sayyeda. I’m willing to die for my cause. And when I do, yours goes with it.”
Her superior grin faded. Those emerald eyes, as dangerous as chipped glass, narrowed with a hatred he felt burn all the way to the depths of his soul. “You will continue to do my will. As you have for ages. That is the command of your sayyeda.”
“Fuck your command,” he growled. “I’m done being your slave.”
She moved closer, until the sweet, powdery scent of her assailed his nostrils. Close but not close enough for him to reach. Even with his powers bound in this dungeon, she knew better. “Such aggression and hostility from a fierce Marid warrior is not unexpected. But I wonder this. How long will your resolve last when the lives of all you love are on the line?”
“You hold no power over my tribe. My kingdom will persist. Your immortality dies with me.”
Her gaze traveled the length of his bare chest, hovered on the amulet against his throat, then dropped to the scrap of dirty cloth tied across his hips. She looked down his bare legs at the food he refused to eat, still sitting on the tray on the hard, stone floor at his feet, then back to his face. A malicious grin spread across her bloodred lips. “No, djinni. My immortality will continue to thrive. And you will continue to fuel it.” Without looking away, she called, “Guards?”
Shuffling echoed behind her. Tariq’s attention slid from her to the dark corridor outside his cell and the two men being dragged across the dungeon floor. Both wore nothing but scraps of cloth, like him, and both were bloodied and bruised as if they’d been beaten to within an inch of their lives. Long, dark hair fell across their faces, shielding their eyes, but on each, a fire opal—similar to the one he wore around his neck—reflected light into the dank room.
“Bring them closer so he gets a good look,” Zoraida said, still focused on
ly on him.
Both men grunted as they were shoved face-first up against the bars. Then the guards grasped their hair and lifted their heads so Tariq could see his brothers’ bloody, dirt-streaked and swollen faces.
The fury born into his tribe from the beginning of time erupted inside him. He lurched forward, ready to tear Zoraida’s throat out with his bare hands, but the chains clanked again, stopping his momentum. “Release them, you bitch!”
Zoraida stepped so close he could see every tiny pore on her disgustingly perfect face. “You will not stop me, Tariq. And you will do as I command, or I will slit their throats and end their meager existences. The Kingdom of Gannah now rests in my hands, not yours. Continue down this road of so-called honor and everything you hold dear will fall to ruin.”
Blond hair fell over her bare shoulder, the soft curls brushing her milky cleavage as she lifted a finely manicured finger and ran it down the length of his cheek. She was beautiful—blindingly so. But her beauty was a farce. Underneath, she was aged and decrepit. As aged and decrepit as Tariq felt from the years of his imprisonment.
Her expression shifted from enraged to amused. “Of course, if you were to cooperate, I might be amenable to releasing…one.” She shot a look over her shoulder toward his brothers. “Even if he is now…stained.”
The need for revenge enflamed Tariq from the inside out, but he let his gaze drift past her to his brothers. Both were strong djinn warriors, princes of their kingdom, as was he, but they weren’t ruled by fate. They exercised free will. And as such were open to corruption, as he had been. If he—the eldest and strongest of the brotherhood—had fallen prey to the seductive sorceress, then he’d been a fool to think his brothers were safe.
Nasir’s chest rose and fell with his labored breaths, but in his eyes, Tariq saw determination. And the unspoken words: Do not break, brother. His gaze shifted to Ashur, who could barely keep his eyes open. He would not last through another beating by Zoraida’s guards.
Tariq ground his teeth and looked back toward the sorceress. And though it took every ounce of strength he had left, he forced the words past his teeth when he said, “What would you have me do, sayyeda?”
Nasir opened his mouth to protest, but the guard kneed him in the kidneys. Nasir groaned and slid to his knees.
“Eat,” Zoraida said, watching Nasir writhe on the ground as if it pleased her. “Regain your strength. And when you are called upon, service your mistress’s wishes in the manner in which she is accustomed.” She threw a victorious grin over her shoulder toward Tariq. “Without hesitation.”
Bile churned in Tariq’s stomach as he looked toward Nasir’s pain, unable to help or even avenge his brother. And every muscle in his body screamed No! to what Zoraida was offering. But if this were the only way to ensure his brothers did not die—for at least one to be free—for them he would agree. He would once again become the pleasure slave Zoraida had condemned him to be. And every soul she sent him into the human realm to corrupt would fuel her immortality that much longer.
But by all that was holy, he would never stop looking for a path to his own freedom. He would find it. And one day soon, he would see her blood stain the ground at his feet.
“As you will it, sayyeda,” he said through clenched teeth.
She stepped to the bars, ran her fingers down Ashur’s cheek, and harrumphed. To the guard holding him upright, she said, “See to it he does not die. At least not yet.” As she moved through the cell door, she added, “You will have your new assignment tomorrow, Tariq. And this time, use all within your power to make sure the woman is satisfied. My immortality and your brothers’ lives depend on it.”
* * *
Mira Dawson drew in a deep breath in the hopes it would settle the nerves bouncing in her stomach.
It didn’t.
Stop being so nervous. You’re just shopping.
Shopping. Yeah, that was it. Just an ordinary, everyday shopping trip.
The lie swirled easily in her mind, and though her subconscious screamed turn the hell around, something more primal urged her on. Running her sweaty hands down the front of her T-shirt, she steeled her nerves, then pushed the shop’s doors open.
The bell above jangled. Vintage clothing hung on the wall to her left. Racks of capes and corsets and short, flirty skirts filled the small central space. Hats decorated with feathery plumes hung on hooks all along the left, rows and rows of stiletto-style boots lined the floor, and ahead, a glass counter filled with antique jewelry finished off the cramped room.
She felt as if she’d stepped back in time. To when women were sex objects dressing to please their masters. Apprehension slid through her, and she was just about to turn around and leave when a woman pushed aside the curtained doorway behind the counter and said, “May I help you?”
Too late to bolt.
Mira forced a smile as her pulse picked up speed. She stepped toward the counter. “Yes. Um, maybe.” She glanced around the shop, making sure it was truly empty, then lowered her voice and added, “I’ve come to inquire about the Firebrand opal.”
The woman’s eyes hardened behind wire-rimmed glasses. She looked to be in her mid-forties, round in the face, plump through the hips, more motherly than madam. But her eyes…her silver eyes…were assessing. And knowing. And hinted of dark, seductive secrets.
Mira swallowed the lump in her throat. As the uncomfortable silence stretched out, she realized hightailing it out of this place really was the best idea after all. But before she could move her feet, the woman motioned with her hand and said, “Come.”
Curiosity got the best of her. It was her biggest flaw. She always needed to know how and why things worked, and when she’d heard about the Firebrand opal, she hadn’t been able to think of anything but the—supposed—magical stone. She knew that was the reason she was here now.
Part of the reason, at least. Or so she tried to convince herself.
Mira’s hands shook as she made her way around the counter and stepped through the curtained doorway. The back room was nothing special. An old box-style TV sat on a chipped table. A love seat covered by a blanket was pushed up against the far wall, and inventory boxes were scattered through the small space. When the woman pointed to the couch and barked, “Sit!” Mira did as she was instructed, not sure what to expect.
The woman opened a curio cabinet Mira hadn’t noticed, extracted a wooden box and brought it to the couch. She sat next to Mira and studied her with those weird, silver eyes once more, her hands resting on the top of the aged wood as if protecting an ancient treasure. “How did you hear of the Firebrand opal?”
“A…friend told me about its…unique…properties.”
“And what do you seek from the opal?”
Mira’s pulse beat like wildfire as she remembered what Claudette, the woman who was most definitely not a friend but who’d been seated next to her at the salon, had said about the opal.
Wicked pleasure, mind-numbing fantasies, your heart’s every secret, sinful desire come true.
Though Mira wouldn’t mind experiencing a few X-rated fantasies brought to life, it wasn’t what she wanted most. “I seek…a man.”
The woman’s brow lifted.
“Not just any man,” Mira corrected, feeling suddenly foolish as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “A specific one. Devin Sloan.” Her face heated. “I work with him at my architecture firm. He’s gorgeous.” Defeat rushed through her. “And he doesn’t see me as anything but a friend.”
“The opal does not have the power to make someone fall in love with you.”
Mira knew that. Claudette had said as much. Though Claudette hadn’t actually used the necklace, she claimed she knew someone who had. “I don’t want him to fall in love with me. I mean, I do. Eventually. But I wouldn’t want him to fall in love with me because of a wish. I want him to fall in love with me because he wants to.” Her cheeks literally burned. God, she felt foolish. “All I really want is for him to notice me. I want to…lea
rn…how to gain his attention. And then how to keep that attention, once I’ve got it.”
Because that was the real issue here. She met lots of men, and she dated. She wasn’t locking herself away somewhere. But she’d yet to find one who was as interested in her as she was in him. Which was why none of her relationships ever seemed to get off the ground.
The woman’s eyes narrowed once more. “Are you a virgin?”
Mira couldn’t help but laugh. But it came out stilted and awkward, not confident as she’d hoped. “No. Definitely not.” She was thirty-two years old, for crying out loud. “I’m just not…” Okay, now she sounded pathetic. She drew a deep breath. “For whatever reason, I’ve yet to meet a man who is enraptured by me. And I’m thinking that’s got to be related to the way I react to them. Dating is one thing. Taking a relationship to another level and keeping a man’s interest for more than a couple of dates is something completely different. I guess I just want to learn to be more desirable.”