Unbound: The Cursed Trilogy, #1

By Betty Legend

I had no idea how beautiful and terrifying my life was about to become.

Living as an independent artist in New York, I was soon faced with the new knowledge of my powers, a curse, and how bonding with five sexy-as-sin supernaturals would break that curse.

One by one they found me—Fae, Warlock, Demon, Wolf shifter, Vampire.
I'm their mate.
Their equal.
Their perfect match.
The one to unbind them from their curse.
Heart, body, and soul, I'm meant to be theirs. Theirs to share. Theirs to love.

From the beginning, they warn me of my fate. The stronger our magic bonds; the greater the chance evil will find us.
These incredible beings will give their lives to protect me, no matter the sacrifice, but I'm not willing to lose any of them.
They've stolen my heart and I'll do whatever it takes to break the curse and stop the one who's coming for us.

Unbound is the first in a fated mates trilogy. The Cursed Trilogy includes; Unbound, Unleashed, Unveiled.

If you like steamy, paranormal romances with humor, action, and a kickass heroine who owns the hearts of five powerful and scintillating supernatural men, then this series is for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Betty Legend
• Release date: Apr 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201174835

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

SELENE

Rolling into the coffee shop parking lot, I put my motorcycle in neutral and drop the kickstand. Unclipping my helmet, I hang it on the right handle and head inside for a warm dose of liquid caffeine. Last night, I woke up at three a.m. Unable to sleep, I started painting the image from my dream. Each dream I have is as fantastic as the next, but this one was especially intricate in detail. In the dream, blue fire swirled around me as if it had an essence of its own. From my fingertips, I wielded its power. The possibilities of what I could do were limitless. My brush stroked ravenously, bringing the vivid images of color to life on canvas. When I collapsed back in bed, exhausted, my eyes returned to the painting. Staring back at me was a resemblance of myself—exquisite and eerie. My eyes, an electric blue, share the same shade as the fire. Looking into those luminous orbs, there’s a secret she holds, a power she’s eager to unleash.

Over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion my dreams are my mind’s escape from our boring reality. Being adventurous and curious has led me to research many subjects, particularly the supernatural. Unfortunately, the closest I’ve come to anything of the former has been from movies, books, and art.

With my turn to order next, I rattle off my request to the barista for a cappuccino and a muffin. She takes my name and I leave the counter in search of a quiet corner. Dropping my backpack on the cushioned bench at my favorite window spot, I pull out my tablet and sketch pad. My email inbox is filled with ads for painting tools and, of course, makeup because I’m addicted to it, as well as adventure tour ads to feed my inner adrenaline junkie. Skipping over the ads, I click on an important email from Susan, the art gallery director of the 369 Studio Gallery, one of the swankiest galleries in New York. It took me two years to get a show there. I breathe a breath of relief when all her email includes is a confirmation that my art has been delivered and, tonight, they’ll begin preparation for my show tomorrow.

Selene.

Raising my head to the call of the barista brings my attention to a stunning man at the counter. Beneath a gray beanie is a messy mop of blonde hair with curls peeking out the bottom of his hat. Sunkissed golden skin is visible outside of his blue, short-sleeve shirt, white shorts, and leather flip flops. Not only is he handsome, but his beachwear causes him to stand out among the regulars. He’s definitely not from New York. He probably just flew in from a beautiful island on his private plane. Ugh, why can’t I meet a man like that?

Gathering my cappuccino and muffin, I catch beach stud eyeing me. Eyes as beautiful and blue as a turquoise ocean meet mine. A flutter of excitement and attraction shoots through me, drawing my lips into a curve. Beneath his heart-stopping eyes is a strong jaw, lips you want to kiss, and the kind of eyelashes women pay to glue on their lids. His features leave him in two categories—model or actor.

Not wanting to turn our moment into something awkward, I turn away from his golden angelic face, releasing a breath and all the butterflies with it. Back at my table, I peel away the wrapper from my muffin. Taking a bite, blueberry flavor bursts in my mouth and soothes the hunger pains in my belly. One of the things I like most about this coffee shop is the cute designs they make in the cappuccinos. Today, mine has five white leaves that are disbursed as my lips form over the edge of the mug.

Three tables down, beach stud is sitting alone with a cappuccino and laptop. As if he senses me ogling, he angles his head and pierces me with those sparkling ocean eyes. To be nice, his lips upturn in a kind smile. I’m sure he’s used to women staring.

Returning my attention to where it belongs, I shoot an email off to Susan, thanking her for the work and preparation she’s doing to ensure a smooth art show. The second email I send is to my cousin, Rachel, and my mother, Claire. It’s been a couple of weeks since I updated them on my activities, and I know they’ll be excited about the art show. With those emails sent, I turn off the tablet and reminisce about my vivid dream. More details come to mind, and I doodle on my sketch pad. Several minutes later, the image of a man with a scar on his cheek is looking back at me. I’m left wondering about the cause of that scar, then chuckle aloud at my ridiculous thoughts. The man is a figment of my imagination, yet I’m thinking of him as a living being. I need a boyfriend, I work too much, and now, I sound like my mother.

Gathering my belongings into my backpack, I swing it over my shoulder and head out to my motorcycle.

Selene.

I’m halfway to my motorcycle when I hear my name called with male bravado. Turning toward the voice brings me face-to-face with beach stud. Taking a step back, I finger the mace bottle dangling from my backpack. Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s not a threat.

How do you know my name?

The left side of his jaw flexes as he smiles. I heard the barista call your name.

Oh, right. What can I do for you?

I’d like to ask you out for coffee, but since we both just finished a cup, how about dinner?

Is that a hint of an accent I hear? Irish maybe? My eyes sweep up and down, taking in his tall height, toned arms, and broad chest. Can this guy get any more attractive? I’m guessing he wins over every woman he sets his alluring eyes on.

You’re tempting, honestly, very tempting, but I don’t do flings or one-night stands, and you look like you won’t be here in New York very long.

Beach stud reaches out and snags my wrist as I turn away. My gaze whips to his hand, and he immediately drops it.

You’re right, I won’t be here very long. I’m here on business for two weeks, but I would love to have someone local show me the best of New York.

What makes you think I’m local?

Just a guess. One hand slips into a pocket while the other rests on his beanie and rubs his head. Are you always this hard on men when they ask for your company?

For my company? Laughter shakes my shoulders and curls my lips. Around here, when men ask for a woman’s company, he wants to pay her for sex.

A pink hue fills his cheeks. That’s not what I’m asking for. I prefer sex to be consensual and for there to be passion.

Goosebumps pebble on my arms as those words leave his lips. Goodness, it’s painfully obvious how attracted I am to him.

All right, enough of the sex talk. Pulling a business card out of my back pocket, I hand it to him. I don’t give out my number to people I just met, but I’ll be at an art show tomorrow at the 369 Studio Gallery. Meet me there, and I’ll show you around town after. That work?

Beach stud pockets my card with a triumphant grin. It does. I’ll be there.

"Great. What’s your name?

Griffin Hughes. It was a pleasure to meet you, Selene.

I’ll decide if I feel the same tomorrow. I give him a smirk, and he laughs.

I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I?

As I walk away, I raise both hands in the air. Just giving you the full local experience.

Griffin remains there, glistening in the sun like a golden statue, watching me get on my motorcycle and ride away.

CHAPTER TWO

SELENE

It’s not my first art show, yet I’m a bundle of nerves as potential buyers filter into the space. Servers in white dress shirts and black vests walk around, offering champagne as guests saunter around the room, admiring and studying my work. As they view the art, they discuss the imagination, color, and wonder the paintings evoke. My nerves begin to settle as Susan approaches in a cobalt-blue, sparkling dress, flashing me an eager grin.

Selene, I have great news. A collector just purchased three of your works. Two for eight thousand and one for ten thousand.

My heart pitter-patters, and I place my hand at my chest to ensure it doesn’t burst out.

What’s the collector’s name? I’d like to thank them.

Mr. Griffin Hughes. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she angles me toward beach stud, who’s standing with a glass of champagne, wearing a smirk and a dashing tan suit.

Apparently, I was right about him being rich.

Do you know anything about Mr. Hughes?

No, darling. I’ve never met him before, but clearly, he’s a fan of your work.

Well, that’s a good start.

Start to what? The wrinkles around Susan’s eyes form larger creases as she glances between Griffin and me.

Oh, it’s nothing. I met him earlier today. I’m surprised by his purchase is all but also grateful. I’ll go over and thank him.

Susan’s confused expression melts away. Wonderful. I’ll have his paintings packaged.

Swiping a champagne glass from a passing tray, I join Griffin, who’s moved to another painting. Facing it, one hand in his pocket, he takes in the details of the fairytale forest.

Your paintings are exquisite.

Thank you for the compliment and the purchase of three of my works. I’m pleasantly surprised you’re a fan of fantasy art.

The goal of my purchase wasn’t to flatter you, I promise. With a half-tilted mouth, he eyes me sideways. That was an added bonus. Turning to face me, he studies me just as he did the painting moments ago. Your talent is enthralling and delightful. How is it you come up with such imaginative ideas?

Under his liquid blue eyes, my emotionally rigid and distrusting wall crumbles.

My dreams.

Fascinating. Is every painting inspired by your dreams?

Most of them are.

I’ve chosen the perfect local to show me around New York. Your imagination is as vivid as mine.

Do you work in the creative arts?

I dabble, but nothing substantial. My business is in real estate and hospitality. It’s boring compared to what you do.

Are you in New York to make a new property deal?

I’m here to acquire something valuable.

Sounds interesting.

Griffin’s brow rises. Very.

Selene.

Begrudgingly, I pull my attention away from Griffin’s handsome face.

Yes, Susan?

Excuse us, Mr. Hughes. Selene has sold another painting.

Of course, she has. Please, by all means. Griffin places a hand on my lower back, and a warm tingling sensation stirs beneath his fingertips. Glancing at his face, he doesn’t appear to notice. I’ll be here when you’re finished.

A strange physical pull at my core has me wanting to stay with him. Walking away from him leaves me with a lingering need to return as soon as possible. It’s been too long since I’ve had an attraction this strong to a man, which is as startling as it is exciting.

Another grateful thank you and three questions later, I wander around the space in search of Griffin. My brow furrows and my stomach tightens when I can’t find him. A moment later, a hand caresses my bare shoulder and the same warm tingling sensation stirs beneath his fingers.

Worried I left?

Maybe a little.

With his other hand, he delivers a champagne glass to me.

Tell me more about yourself.

What would you like to know?

Griffin’s eyes lower to my chest and back to my face with a curious intensity.

Everything.

The way he looks at me hints to hidden passion—to want, to desire. Being the only woman who has Griffin Hughes’ attention tonight is combatting with my rule against no one-night stands.

How about a summary? I offer.

With half his mouth upturned, he nods.

I grew up in Tennessee, went to art school, then took every bit of what I had saved to move to New York and follow my dream of being an artist. The end.

Griffin narrows one eye and clicks his tongue. There’s more to you than that.