Free Bound by Night by Amanda Ashley Page A

The cat hissed softly, then curled up at the foot of the bed.
    “Sleep all day if you want, you lazy beast,” Elena said, throwing back the covers. “But I’m hungry.”
    Rising, Elena pulled on her robe and descended the stairs. As usual, she found her breakfast waiting for her. Taking a seat at the trestle table, she pulled the tray toward her and lifted the lid, uncovering a meal of hard-boiled eggs, fruit, cheese, and a chocolate doughnut, along with a pot of tea. Taking a bite of the doughnut, she instantly forgave Drake for leaving her to her lonely bed the night before.
    When she unwrapped the silverware, she found a note, which read:

    Elena, my sweet, the city awaits.
Be ready at sundown.
Your loving husband.
     

    She ran her fingers over his bold signature. Your loving husband. If only it were true.
     
     
    Shortly after sundown, Drake rapped on Tavian Dinescu’s front door. It was opened moments later by Dinescu himself.
    “Yes?” Dinescu said gruffly. “How may I help you?”
    Drake sketched a bow. “I’ve come to introduce myself,” he said formally. “I am Lord Drake of Wolfram Castle.”
    Dinescu straightened slightly, impressed by Drake’s demeanor and title in spite of himself. “Please, won’t you come in?”
    “No, thank you. I merely came to inform you that I have taken your niece, Elena, as my bride.”
    Dinescu stared at him, mouth agape.
    “I came here to set your mind at ease. She is quite well, and wishes to thank you for the years you supported her.”
    Dinescu found his voice at last. “I’m glad to know she’s all right, but—Lord Wolfram, is it? Didn’t she tell you she was engaged to me?”
    “I am aware you offered to marry her,” Drake replied with a wry grin. “However, since she is now my wife, I think we can assume that her answer was no.”
    Dinescu’s eyes narrowed as an angry splash of red climbed up his throat and spread into his cheeks.
    Gathering his preternatural power around him, Drake murmured, “Do not pursue the matter. I can assure you it will not end well if you do.”
    Dinescu took a step backward under the weight of Drake’s steady gaze. Hands clenched tightly at his sides, he hissed, “What are you?”
    “Your niece’s husband,” Drake replied mildly. “Good evening to you, sir.” Turning on his heel, Drake slid behind the wheel of the Porsche, keenly aware of Tavian Dinescu’s malevolent gaze on his back.
     
     
    Elena stood in front of the wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. The gowns from Madame Raschelle were too fancy, jeans and a T-shirt not fancy enough. She settled on the light blue silk that Drake had given her.
    Ears twitching, Smoke sat on the foot of the bed, watching through avid yellow eyes as she changed into clean underwear, then slipped the dress over her head. She packed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a change of underwear in a small valise Drake had left for her, along with her nightgown and robe, her comb and brush and pins for her hair.
    She was putting on her shoes when, with a flick of its tail, the cat jumped off the bed and left the room.
    A moment later, Drake appeared in the doorway. Clad in gray trousers, a white shirt open at the collar, and a long black broadcloth coat, he looked every inch the lord of the manor.
    She felt her cheeks grow warm under his blatant regard. “Good evening, my lord husband,” she murmured, mimicking the formal language he always used with her.
    “Good evening, my lady wife. Do you still wish to visit the city?”
    “Yes, very much. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
    “Not at all.” He tucked her valise under his arm, then held out his hand. “Let us be on our way.”
     
     
    “How long will it take to get there?” Elena asked. They had been driving for perhaps an hour. Drake had said little in that time. To be fair, she hadn’t said much, either.
    “Another hour,” he replied with a glance in her direction. “Are you warm enough?”
    “Yes.” Enena