Bound to the Past

By Libby Campbell

Freja, rescued from the flesh markets of Silvelea at a young age, has learned firsthand how difficult life is for orphan girls on the planet of Devmaer. Her “rescue” landed her in the harsh world of Matron Cass Warren’s Girls Crib, where young girls are groomed to be sold off as mates to the highest bidder as soon as they reach maturity.
At eighteen Freja was drawn to Déak Ryba, the first man to ever show her kindness. But he didn’t stand a chance against Iwon Sándor’s money and power. Iwon claimed Freja’s hand, condemning her to a miserable life of abuse and neglect.
After three long-suffering years, Freja’s matehood was cut short by his untimely death.
For the first time in her life Freja finds herself free - free to work like a slave to repay the staggering debts Iwon left her. During her final ritual as his widow, a freak accident sweeps her out to sea and remarkably, right back into Déak’s arms.
Can the love that Déak and Freja once shared possibly have survived long years of separation? Will they finally claim the shared life that was denied them? Or will their happiness be stolen again by the sinister forces circling at the edge of their lives?

Disclaimer: Bound to the Past, is a second chance, fantasy-world romance. Along with a happily-ever after ending, it has some very steamy scenes, including elements of power exchange and discipline.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Libby Campbell
• Release date: Apr 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999552411

Libby Campbell

My romance novels feature strong, self-reliant women and the powerful men who love them. Romantic by nature, I write the stories I want to read: those that feature a spicy power exchange and deliver a sting in the tale.Canadian by birth, I also lived in Australia for a couple of decades. While living there I overcame my aversion to saucer-sized spiders and, as a condition of marriage to my Aussie Prince Charming, I swore a lifelong allegiance to the Melbourne Football Club.Then family called and my husband and I packed up and moved. We now live on a rocky island on Canada’s West Coast, close to beaches that once were frequented by smugglers and rumrunners.My passions are reading and writing. I adore all animals and love hiking, beachcombing, and an occasional night of dancing.

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Bound to the Past

BOUND TO THE PAST

THE LIGHTHOUSES OF DEVMAER, PREQUEL

LIBBY CAMPBELL

Copyright © 2019 Libby Campbell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Libby Campbell Romance

Cover by https://www.fiverr.com/designrans

All rights reserved

1 st ebook edition September 2019

Released with a new cover and endnotes February 2022

ISBN: 978-1-9995524-1-1

FOR AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

CONTENTS

Devmaer

1. Saying good-bye

2. Decision Time

3. Another world

4. Reunion

5. Reset

6. Capture and release

7. Worth waiting for

8. Friends and enemies

9. Turning back time

10. Making plans

11. Settling in

12. With him and without him

13. Consequences

14. Vows and other promises

15. Room of her own

Epilogue

Appendix

More from Libby Campbell:

The Lighthouses of Devmaer series

Tales of Devmaer: Novellas attached to The Lighthouses of Devmaer series:

His to Hold Series

Without Mercy – An exciting mystery series!

Bad Girls Grumpy Bosses

Other books by Libby Campbell:

Connect with Libby Campbell:

Libby Campbell in her own words:

DEVMAER

In the year 3817 CE, as Earth collapsed under the ravages of climate change, fleets of spaceships were launched in a last-ditch effort to save the human species. They traveled to far galaxies looking for another world to call home, carrying with them elements of earth cultures as well as earth-based plants and animals.

A solar flare scrambled the navigation systems and scattered the fleet. One lone ship drifted aimlessly for months. With the crew on the brink of starvation and their fuel almost exhausted, the captain landed the ship on an uncharted planet where the readings indicated an ecosystem hospitable to human life.

The humanoid residents of Devmaer, of Devmaerean and Kedrant origins, nursed the earth-born visitors back to health and welcomed them to their abundant planet. The humans quickly assimilated.

1

SAYING GOOD-BYE

On the first anniversary of her partner’s death, Freja Sándor borrowed a neighbor’s bike and started cycling from the town of Foxglen where she lived to the faraway point where she and Iwon had spent their matehood.

They’d had a steady life in the ramshackle house that served as a Sentry Station for Teardrop Lighthouse and its cottage. To the outside world, Iwon was a devoted mate who showered Freja frequent gifts. After he died, Freja learned that all her shiny trinkets had been bought with money that had been borrowed and never repaid.

Ever since they’d met, Iwon would promise loudly, always in public so everyone could hear, that one day he’d bring her the sun, the two moons of Devmaer, and all the stars in the sky. She loved the words the first ten times she heard them, even if he had copied them from a popular song.

Unremarkable on the outside, their private lives told a different story.

If only. Those two words rattled around her head as she pedaled the long dusty road to the remote location.

If only Iwon hadn’t insisted on going out to Teardrop Lighthouse that day. If only he’d trusted her and the sixth sense that was part of her Kedrant heritage. If only the land arch to the island had stood a few seconds longer before being destroyed by the worst cyclone ever to touch down on the continent of Senne.

If only one of those three things had been different, she wouldn’t be a widow now.

If only Iwon had given her the one thing she’d wanted since the day they’d exchanged their vows. If only he’d taken her to the lighthouse cottage and tied her to the posts of the iron bed. If only he’d opened the armoire with its assortment of paddles, whips, and crops and selected just one implement to use on her. If only he’d let her taste the pain and pleasure that people travelled from all over Senne to sample.

If only he’d listened to what she wanted. If only he’d tried to satisfy her primal hunger, a hunger so deep it was never sated. Then she might have mourned him more deeply.

The first time Iwon showed her around the lighthouse cottage, Freja had shyly suggested they try the equipment. Iwon had refused. He said he loved her too much to hurt her.

Fucking idiot. He didn’t love her enough.

At the sound of a hovercar approaching, Freja hopped off the bike and dragged it into the woods beside the road. Hiding behind some dense bushes, she watched to see which lucky mate was leaving the lighthouse after a few days of intense discipline. To her disappointment she didn’t recognize the driver or passenger, so she dragged the bike back onto the road and continued on her way.

As she pedaled, she fantasized about being the woman in that hovercar, even though that woman, with her blue skin, blue hair, and amethyst eyes, was clearly Devmaerean. Freja wondered if Devmaerean women were harder to tame than Kedrant-human crosses like her. As a widow, she could only hope that one day she’d find another mate who’d have lighthouse privileges and know how to use them.

After the long climb up the ridge with its sweeping views of the rocky coast and the majestic lighthouse, she reached the Sentry Station. Smoke drifted out of the chimney of the old house, even though it was a warm spring day. There were no boats moored at the wharf. Good. With luck both Ben and Erin would be at the lighthouse and Freja wouldn’t have to see either of them.

As she approached the door, a cacophony of barking broke out. Erin’s voice rose above the din. Settle down you lot! The door flew open and Erin stood there, wiping her hands on her apron.

The smell of baking bread greeted Freja like a warm hug.

Come in, come in. A smile wreathed Erin’s face as three lean dogs streaked past her and disappeared into a rickleberry thicket on the edge of the forest that hemmed the house.

We’ve been expecting you today. Erin’s eyes searched Freja’s face.

Freja looked away. She didn’t want Erin to realize that she’d stopped mourning Iwon a long time ago. She was there to complete the final ritual that came with his dying: the release of his ashes into the ocean so that he could ride the sea forever.

Mistaking Freja’s discomfort for sorrow, Erin touched her arm and asked, Do you want me to come to the beach with you? To help you? To say a prayer?

Thank you. You’re very kind. Freja placed her hand over Erin’s. I think I’d rather be alone, she said. She hoped that Erin wouldn’t sense that she was struggling with guilt and anger, still trying to forgive Iwon for the horrible mess he’d left behind.

She looked at the dock. Is Ben around?

You just missed him. He’s gone to the lighthouse. It seems the most recent visitors were overly exuberant in the use of some of the equipment. He’s doing minor repairs before it’s ready for me to clean.

Like Freja, Erin was a domestic. As young girls they’d been hand chosen by Matron Cass Warren on one of her visits to the flesh markets of Silvelea. Once a year Matron selected six novices to start their training in the Girls Crib she owned in Senne. She called her annual intake a rescue mission, but her motive was profit and her methods were harsh and demanding. To prepare them for receiving a Ticket of Leave at age eighteen, the girls were given a basic reading, writing, and arithmetic education. They were also taught a wide range of homemaking skills and forced to stay in top physical condition through rigorous fitness training.

From the first day the girls arrived at Matron’s austere dormitories, they were put to work at any job, anywhere in the area. Everyone knew the girls were for hire and would do almost any non-sexual work that fattened Matron’s coffers. They planted crops, picked fruit, shoveled snow.

In spite of their relentless industry, the girls’ lives remained spartan. They dressed in little more than rags, ate a mediocre diet, and lived in poorly lit, uninsulated buildings. Matron grew her wealth like a true miser, looking at every devcent twice before she parted with it and bickering shamelessly when she was pricing the services of her orphans.

One thing everyone agreed on was that, even though girls had limited prospects at the end of their programs, they were still better off in Senne than if they’d been sold as slaves in Silvelea. On graduation Matron’s girls were full citizens who were only obligated to commit to one four-year mating period to discharge their debt to her. After that, they had a freedom they would never have known in Silvelea: they could renew their vows or stay single. At that point, they could even apply for a crown grant to further their education.

The domestics who were schooled in the Girls Crib were prized as excellent mates. Under Matron Cass Warren’s iron hand, they were groomed to be maids in the living room, whores in the bedroom, and cooks in the kitchen. At age eighteen their profiles were posted on matchmaking sites across the continent.

Like all graduating domestics, Freja and Erin had been inundated with offers of mateship.

Erin found a soulmate on her first outing. Ben, an officer with the Port Guard, looked enough like her to be her brother. They were both pureblood humans, tall and lanky, with fiery red hair. They had an immediate understanding of each other that went beyond simple words. From the day they met, it was clear they were meant for each other.

Freja’s choice had been more difficult. With the exotic looks of a Kedrant-human mix, she attracted more responses than most girls. After agonizing over all them, she’d narrowed her options to two candidates. Matron Cass stood over her and insisted she choose one of them. She even told her which one to choose.

In a rare moment of assertiveness, Freja had stated firmly that she would meet them both. It was only fair to them and to herself.

First, she met handsome Iwon Sándor. He was a human with warm brown eyes and a thick thatch of hair that constantly flopped across his forehead. Even before they stepped out together, he’d already overwhelmed her with deliveries of flowers, chocolates, and love-soaked poetry.

Iwon had been a Port Guard since he first entered the working world. His appointment to the Sentry Station that serviced the lighthouse was a much-coveted promotion, but an officer was required to have a mate before the isolated posting could be accepted.

On their night out, Iwon took Freja to his parents’ house for dinner. It was an awkward three hours where the labored conversation was peppered with pointed questions about her childhood in what the Sándors called the charity house. They talked about their long, illustrious family history with pointed looks that said she should be grateful for the simple pleasure of sitting at their table.

Afterwards Iwon treated