Unbound Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

and saw a collared man wiping mugs with a dry cloth.
    The sight of him gave me courage. I walked over to him and placed my two coppers on the counter.
    “Excuse me, sir,” I said timidly. I'd never had to purchase anything in my life before. “Is . . . is this enough to buy a slice of bread?”
    The man looked at me for a moment, clearly surprised. I swallowed nervously before he smiled at me and nodded. “Sure, love. Give me a moment and I'll get some from the back.” He nodded at one of the stools lined up under the lip of the counter. “Take a seat.”
    I did, smiling back at him. The man disappeared through a back door. He returned a minute later, holding a plate with an enormous slice of bread with a generous helping of honey. I picked it up; the bread was still hot. Taking a bite, I closed my eyes, savoring the softness of the bread and the sweetness of the honey. I opened my eyes, smiling at the man. He laughed.
    “I take it you approve, then?” he said. He was a pleasant-looking middle-aged man, with soft brown eyes and a ready smile.
    I nodded. “Do you own this place?” I asked, wiping breadcrumbs off my lips.
    The man laughed heartily. “Wouldn't that be grand? Nah, I run it for my master. He usually oversees the setup and baking in the morning but leaves me to run things after that.”
    The main door opened, and two city dwellers walked in.
    “Hold on just a minute,” the collared man said as he went to help them with their orders.
    Two coffees and several pastries later, the newcomers had seated themselves into well-padded chairs by the window. I shifted uncomfortably on my wooden stool. It felt rock hard.
    “Sorry, but these stools are the only place here where slaves are allowed to sit,” he said quietly to me.
    “That's okay. I don't mind,” I mumbled. Actually, I did mind, but this didn't seem the time or place to do something about it.
    “My name is Bertram.”
    “Adaryn,” I returned.
    “Adaryn,” Bertram repeated. He motioned to my clothing. “Still wearing the nomadic clothing, I see. You must be new to slavery.”
    “ Very new.” I glowered. “Third day.”
    Bertram whistled softly. “Wow, that is new.” He looked at me sympathetically. “You must still be hurting from being ‘broken.’ Take heart, girl. It usually only lasts a week or two.”
    “Broken?” I frowned, puzzled. The man looked at me strangely.
    “Masters are harsh with their slaves for a few days. They shock them repeatedly through the collars and often beat them for good measure. It's to make sure the slave loses any notion of defiance or escape. They call it ‘breaking.’”
    I couldn't help but shudder in revulsion. “My mas—” I stopped and corrected myself. He was not my master, I thought stubbornly. “My captor hasn't hurt me. The only shocks I received were inadvertently inflicted when I tried to remove the collar on my own.”
    Bertram looked thunderstruck. “He hasn't hurt you? At all?”
    “Well, I haven't done anything to warrant a beating,” I said somewhat defensively. “The only objectionable thing I can think of that might have angered him was to try and run away. He found me though.” I frowned at the memory. “He seemed more irritated with himself than me.”
    Bertram looked awed. “That master of yours is gold, love,” he said fervently. “You stay close to him, hear me? Don't go running away again or do anything stupid. There are slaves here who would kill for a master that kind.”
    “Well, I don't think he's kind at all,” I said, irritated. “The fool man went and collared me.”
    Bertram made a hushing sound, motioning with his hands at me to be quiet. “Don't say that!” he hissed, with a concerned look toward the other customers. “Speaking ill about your master is a surefire way to get yourself into some serious trouble. Worse, he may go and sell you. Trust me, if he didn't beat you for running away, that is a mellow man for sure. Don't go and do something to