Bound to the Wolf Prince by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online Page A

island could clearly be seen, the border marked by a white crest of waves like a ruff on a garment, beyond which the ocean was pewter-grey.
    Eoin wore only a plaid, his tanned torso exposed to the elements. Freya had chosen a gown the same colour as the Kentarra sea, made of some frothy, gauzy material, from the well-stocked wardrobe she had been provided with. There were slippers too, though no stockings. Her long, wildly curly hair was tied back in a simple braid which was already coming undone in the light breeze.
    The springs were located on the north side of the island, in a valley made steamy from the heat and water vapour, and consisted of deep pools set in a series of steps, the hottest at the top, where the water foamed forcefully out of the rock. The vegetation was unbelievably lush. Ferns like huge fans, orchids like trumpets, blowsy roses, and any number of exotic flowers and plants with blooms of scarlet, purple and black, which Freya had never seen before. The air was heady with strange floral scents, the rush of the geyser, the misty haze of the damp steam.
    A bush the size and shape of a gorse, with red pod-like buds caught her attention. She stooped down to smell it, jumping back when a pink petal like a tongue shot out. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
    â€œBe extremely careful,” Eoin exclaimed. “I warned you all is not what it seems here on Kentarra.”
    It was too late. Stumbling, Freya clutched at the bush. A white-hot pain shot up her arm. “It stung me,” she said, looking at the bright spots of her blood trickling onto the grass in astonishment.
    â€œQuickly, give me your arm. The venom is lethal.”
    Eoin pushed back the fall of lace at her elbow and put his mouth over the tiny puncture made by the plant. Freya was already feeling dizzy. Her knees folded up under her. “What is happening to me?”
    â€œFreya! Keep your eyes open. Freya,” Eoin said urgently, “look at me. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”
    She struggled to do as he bid her, though her lids felt leaden. His eyes were so green today, like the moss at her feet. His mouth was warm on her arm, though the rest of her was starting to get very cold. He was saying her name, though she could barely hear him. His eyes blazed at her. She could feel him sucking the poison, lapping at her skin. “Eoin,” she said hazily, “I…”
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    The noon sun woke her, its rays penetrating the misty valley, piercing her lids. She was lying on the grass beside the hot springs. Eoin was sitting beside her, looking at her as if—as if—“I’m all right, “ Freya said weakly. “It’ll take more than a wee sting to see me off.”
    â€œThat was no wee sting ,” Eoin exclaimed. Seeing her there, pale as wax, had jolted him completely out of his complacency. While she was unconscious, he had been frantic. Now that she was safe, his panic turned to fury. “How could you have been so careless?”
    Freya sat up. Her head swam. “Why are you so angry?” she said woozily.
    â€œYou could have died, Freya! How would I have explained that to your father? I promised to return you safe!”
    â€œI see. It’s not me you’re concerned about at all, is it? It’s your Faol honour.” She got unsteadily to her feet. “Well, don’t fret, Eoin, I’m fine. Look, not a mark on me. Well, not a new one, any road,” she said bitterly.
    He caught her as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. His hands gripped her so tightly that she winced.
    She struggled to free herself. “You’re just like all the rest.” She was breathing heavily, tears sheening her eyes. “You pretend to care about me but you only care about your promise to my father.”
    â€œOf course I care about you. If you had died I’d have felt—it has nothing to do with your father. By the gods woman, will you stop struggling and listen!”