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Authors: Bethany Kane

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Bound to You

BOOK: Bound to You
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Contents

Title Page

Also by Bethany Kane

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Special excerpt from
Exposed to You

Bound to You

Bethany Kane

Heat Books, New York

Titles by Bethany Kane

Addicted to You

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This eSpecial is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

BOUND TO YOU

A Heat Book, published by arrangement with the author

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Heat eSpecial / June 2012

Copyright © 2012 by Bethany Kane.

Excerpt from
Exposed to You
copyright © 2012 by Bethany Kane.

Cover design by George Long.

Cover photograph by Shutterstock.

ISBN: 978-1-101-57393-8

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 or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Chapter One

John Corcoran sat at the dented oak table in his isolated cabin and listened, head cocked, to the sound of a sex siren singing.

He’d always considered himself to be agonizingly sane. Now, for some inexplicable reason, on a sunny spring afternoon when the Shawnee National Forest rustled and twittered with new life, he’d decided to go crazy.

What a fucking inconvenience.

He stood and watered down his sculpture before covering it in plastic. He reached for his cane and coat as he left—it would take him a couple weeks of milder weather to break his muscles of the familiar habit of grabbing his coat. He left the door open long enough for Enzo to exit with him. The sun felt warm on his skin as he strode through the yard, listening for the elusive sound of siren song.

He extended his hand and Enzo was there. He dug his fingers through the fur at his neck and gave him a rub. Enzo wasn’t one of those trained sight dogs that sold for tens of thousands of dollars, but he was as good as one, as far as John was concerned.

“Hey, Enz? Did you hear—”

He went dead still. Enzo also halted, and then gave a plaintive whine. John was glad to hear his friend have a reaction to the distant song echoing in the canyon. It was comforting to have another living being with him in his madness. A shiver ran beneath his skin and his cock twitched next to his thigh. Clearly his hallucination was hiking uphill because she sounded slightly breathless.

“What the hell?” he mumbled. It seemed a little strange to him that his madness would be of the wild-eyed, sex-starved variety. Sure, he’d been isolated up here in these hills for three weeks, but . . .
really
? He gave a bark of laughter at the thought, and Enzo stirred.

The singer couldn’t be who he thought she was, but he was beginning to suspect the woman was real, nevertheless.

No—it
had
to be her. He took another stride. Some people never forgot a face, but John never forgot a voice. Especially not
that
voice. Especially when it was singing that particular song.

He stalked toward the perimeter of his yard, sensing Enzo’s increasing tension as he neared the forest. The cool air beneath the large tree’s canopy struck his face. Sure enough, Enzo batted his thigh with his nose and gave a soft growl of warning.

Again, the sultry song echoed from the forest, but he caught only a few notes this time before they dissolved and melted into the air.

John hesitated. He’d been on the forest trails countless times as a youth when he’d come to stay with his father during the summers—only when a companion was there, but still. He knew the paths and the lay of the land on his property as well as anyone in the forest. When he entered the woods with a sighted person, he led the way. Always.

“Come on, Enzo.”

His companion growled another warning. Enzo applied pressure against his thigh, trying to sway him from entering the forest. John was a strong man, however, and in the rare case that he resisted Enzo’s wisdom, he always prevailed. He plunged into the woods, knowing he was a fool but still unable to resist.

He sensed the tall trees towering over him, reassuring sentinels on a mild spring day. The farther they penetrated the woods, however, the more John grew worried. He paused on the path and yelled a warning. The female was quickly headed toward territory that most of the residents of Vulture’s Canyon and the Shawnee National Forest steered clear of by a mile.

He muttered a curse. Enzo answered with a growl when he stalked farther into the woods.

* * *

Jennifer Turner paused in her vigorous ascent of the hill, her hiking song halting mid-lyric. Had that been a shout she’d heard echoing through the canyon? She waited, slightly breathless from her exercise, but the only sounds that entered her ears were that of robin song and the squeaking sway of the top branches of the tall sycamore and oak trees. She pulled her thermos from the pocket of her jacket and took a long swig of cool water.

She loved the forest, the openness of it, the freedom, the adventure of what could be just over the next hill. Besides, hiking provided a great workout. Her hosts in Vulture’s Canyon, Rill and Katie Pierce, had advised against wandering off the forest preserve’s paths, but Jennifer had an excellent sense of direction. Her mother used to say she’d been born with a compass in her brain. Jennifer had a way of reading the trees and the land, sensing clearings and finding deer paths to tread in the woods. She’d hiked countless trails out west, and hiked almost daily in Runyon Canyon, which was near her home in Hollywood Hills.

She found herself smitten with the Shawnee National Forest. It reminded her of the woods of her youth in Kentucky.

Something caught her eye through the thick foliage. Sunlight sparkled on a stream in the distance. She pocketed her thermos. It would be nice to sit in the sunshine at the edge of the burbling spring.

“Stop. Don’t go a step farther,” a man yelled. “Come back, just the way you came.”

Jennifer spun around. A man stood on the path she’d just vacated—an alarmingly tall, big man. Even though his lower face was covered by black facial hair, she could easily see that his lips were slanted into a frown. The color of his mouth struck her as rich, the shape of it strangely sensual in comparison to his rough appearance. He wore a blue flannel shirt and insulated coat that was surely too heavy for the warm spring day.

She had a fleeting image of something long and black clutched in his hand.

She turned and sprang toward the forest stream. The last thing she needed was to be isolated in the forest with what appeared to be some rifle-carrying
Deliverance
-type guy. Her heart seemed to lodge in her throat when she heard the sound of leaves crunching behind her. He was coming after her, and fast!

Her gaze flickered around in rising panic. Should she try to get ahead of him and find a place to hide? No, it was too late. The sound of his footsteps echoed nearer.

“Stop, damn it!” he bellowed.

Her feet slowed, but Jennifer wasn’t sure why. Had it been the hint of frustration in his voice or had she been instinctively following his authoritative command? Before she could decide, the ground collapsed beneath her feet.

Horror seized her entire body as she began to free-fall, freezing the breath in her lungs. She flailed with her hands and gripped desperately when something slid through her palms—a vine or root of some kind. She tightened her hold and her body jerked in the air; her fall had stalled for a partial second before she heard a snapping sound and was falling once again.

She slammed into hard earth, the impact rattling her brain. Rocks pelted her. She couldn’t draw breath as she blinked dirt out of her eyes. A curse rattled the air. Through a disoriented haze she saw a shadowed figure suspended from the top of a column of sunlight speckled with dust and debris.

It took her a moment to register pain, but when it came, it was sharp and brutal. She cried out, shock and discomfort making her lungs work again. She sat up partially, propping her upper body on her elbow.

What the hell had happened?

She coughed and wiped soil and bits of leaves out of her eyes and off her face. It was pitch-black beyond the column of sunlight. She heard the trickling sound of the stream, but louder now.

It suddenly struck her what had occurred. She’d fallen into some kind of soft spot. She was currently twenty or so feet below the ground, and water from the spring above was somehow flowing between rocks into the chamber where she’d fallen. The man had also fallen into the soft spot as he’d chased after her, but had halted his plummet by grabbing on to a patch of intact ground.

She knew a moment of ambivalence. If the man fell as well, at least she wouldn’t be alone in this nightmare. If he didn’t reach solid ground again, however, there would be no one to contact a rescue team.

“Hold on!” she shouted in rising panic.

She heard the sounds of rocks crumbling and soil sliding and another curse, this one sounding resignedly pissed.

Jennifer scuttled back in alarm, ignoring the aches in her shoulder, ribs and hip. He landed with a muffled thud and rolled. Despite his large, solid body and hissed curses after impact, she had the random thought that he’d landed much more gracefully than she had.

Jennifer didn’t know what to do. She’d been running from him just seconds ago, and now she was stuck with him in some dark hole beneath the forest. She peered around. It was
very
dark outside of the stream of dusty sunlight. An invisible force pressed down on her lungs. The dark was Jennifer’s worst fear. She couldn’t breathe.

Do not even go there, Turner.

She gathered herself from falling over the edge into all-out panic and had another look around the dark hole. If there was anywhere to run, she couldn’t see the path. The rough-looking lumberjack guy seemed a better bet than the unknown terrors of the pitch blackness.

“Are you okay?” she asked shakily.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, wandering around on private property?” he asked in a beleaguered fashion, as if he was continuing the conversation from when they first saw each other in the forest and the earth hadn’t just swallowed them both. He sat up and started brushing dirt off his shoulders and hair.

“I didn’t realize I was trespassing,” she said irritably. She tried to sit up all the way and groaned.

“Don’t move. Just stay still for a moment. Lie back.” Through a haze of pain she saw his large shadow hover over her. She felt his hands moving over her upper arms and shoulders. He eased her back to the ground and removed her scarf, carefully placing it next to his knee.

BOOK: Bound to You
7.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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