Free Bethany's Rite by Eve Jameson

strings to it than on her favorite pair
of faded old blue jeans.
    Once she turned eighteen and gained her freedom from foster
care, she had started moving around a lot. Tried to find a place to belong, to
get her life straightened out and headed in a specific direction. Any
direction, as long as it kept her from feeling like life was constantly coming
unraveled.
    Whether or not Wyc was telling the truth—bizarre as it
sounded—didn’t matter. He was not leaving her life any time soon by his own
admission, and if he was right, there were a whole lot of nasties on her trail
as well. Shit. So much for her biggest worry being whether to choose nursing,
counseling or business for a major.
    If a prince had to appear in her life, why couldn’t he have
been a normal prince, one with four white horses, a crown and a castle full of
money?
* * * * *
    Wyc watched her sink away from him. Her eyes filled with
acceptance and then defeat. And then they closed.
    His heart twisted. He wished he could make this easier on
her. Was surprised at the intensity of that emotion. He’d do anything to change
the situation and make her happy. Well, not anything. He wasn’t about to
release her as his mate.
    When he and his cousins set out to reclaim the women, he had
gone into the pursuit with the single-minded determination of bringing his mate
back any way he had to. Her emotions were never considered. He only needed her
to accept her position as his mate, and she could do that regardless of how she
personally felt about him.
    He had even entertained thoughts of wishing a simple
abduction was a possibility. Taking her from this world to lock her in his own
until she had given him several sons, and then releasing her. Clean and quick,
with no emotional entanglements. He had learned his lesson about the treachery
of emotions years ago and his brothers had paid the price for that mistake. He
had no intention of clouding his judgment with sentiment ever again.
    And he had succeeded. Until he held Bethany against her door
that afternoon and she looked up at him with those clear green eyes and told
him to go away. Suddenly, every carefully chained-down emotion had roared to
the surface. Anger. Lust. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. All those and many
more.
    A complex layering of emotions that he couldn’t identify,
never mind explain. Yet each feeling and instinct, primitive and raw, pitched
through him like an ocean wave slamming against cliffs edging a stormy sea. He
needed to wrap her in himself until she and everyone else acknowledged that she
belonged to him.
    As much as he wanted it to only be about keeping her safe
and gaining heirs, it wasn’t. She was a part of him now and he’d give his own
life up before releasing her. At the thought, the primal desire to claim raised
its head, pushing him to be inside her body again.
    “You’re going to be all right, Bethany. I won’t let anything
happen to you.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Trust me.” He kissed her again,
not quite so gently. Her eyes opened, wary and unsure.
    “But you have to do what I tell you,” he said, unaware of
how much he needed to hear her assent to his words until she frowned up at him.
He moved his hand to hold her jaw still when she started to shake her head. He
kissed her hard, smashing her lips against her teeth.
    When he lifted his head several seconds later, he didn’t
release her face. He forced her to meet his gaze. “Understand?”
    He watched as indecision, confusion and anger played
tug-of-war for dominance on her expressive face. He expected the confusion.
Could deal with the anger. But indecision was not an option. He had to know she
would obey him when he told her to do something. Her life depended on it.
    When she still didn’t respond, he gave her head a little
shake. “Understand?”
    Her expression cleared to one of undiluted anger.
    “Yes,” she snapped.
    “Good.” His hold softened, and she immediately tugged on her
arms. He realized