Bitten and Bound: The Complete Trilogy

by Amy Pennza

Lord Varick was rumored to share King Laurent’s bed. The ladies had even more to say about King Laurent, who supposedly enjoyed both males and females. According to one story, he’d seduced a lady at court to win a bet—and then seduced her husband mere hours

won’t bite her or fuck her without you. I vow it. So I guess we’ll see how long my bed stays cold.”

“It was Lord Varick.” Surprise jolted me. “That doesn’t sound like him.” “I…tried to slap him.” Ah. That sounded like him.

I kept the servants’ pockets full, and they kept their mouths shut—and their heads attached to their necks. A winning arrangement all around.

So I didn’t shout after him. I got up and dressed. I blew out the candles and descended the steps. But I left part of myself at the top of the stairs in the secret room. Waiting.

His blood didn’t whisper. It roared.

“If anyone threatens you, don’t hesitate. Kill first and feel bad about it later, but at least you’ll be alive to feel bad.”

There was no reason at all why Given of Sithistra should be polite. Or kind. Or brave. But she was all of these things, particularly the last.

My heart flipped over. I barely stopped myself from clutching at my chest. Dramatics are unbecoming a king.

“You’re still hurt.” An understatement. “Hurt” was a weak word invented by someone who didn’t know the first thing about pain. But agony? That one worked. Excruciating? Another winner.

Varick would never draw a blade against me. No, he’d simply leave. And that would be worse than dying.

Whichever one of my ancestors was responsible for making the Council room adjacent to the king’s private quarters was a dick of the first order.

“Spread your legs so I can eat your cunt.” With a moan that was equal parts shame and arousal, I complied. He growled his approval and buried his face in my sex, sucking at my clit and rubbing his tongue ring all around the aching bud.

“She might not appreciate us kissing in public.” He scoffed. “Only because she won’t be able to keep her fingers off her pussy.”

He’d brought his queen to face the enemy who tried to kill her. Here, his actions said. Fucking dare to try it again.

There was nothing small or pale about Laurent of Nor Doru. He walked in twilight, his steps soaked in blood.

“Wicked princess.” “It’s your fault,” she sighed, snuggling into our embrace. “You corrupted me.” “Well,” he said, “that’s probably true.”

I wore black, too, including a pair of leather trousers donated by one of the squires. “Skirts won’t do, halfling,” Varick had said when he brought them to me. He’d rubbed his mouth and muttered “fuck” when I appeared in the courtyard wearing them a few minutes later. “Are they too tight?” I’d asked, craning my head over my shoulder as I struggled to see. He’d cursed again and promptly thrown a cloak around my shoulders. “It’s more a matter of them making mine too tight.” His eyes had glinted dangerously as he tossed me none-too-gently into the saddle. “You’re going to wear those for me when we return.”

I wanted to pick her up and carry her back across the Rift—and then spank her ass for making me so fucking terrified. And then maybe spank Laurent’s ass for letting her participate in a war, for fuck’s sake.