Bound to the Prince Read online

  His release lasted longer than a human's. Little aftershocks of his pleasure rolled through his body for a while. Igraine stayed with him until he was completely spent and relaxed against her. When he lay still at last, she tenderly washed him with the warm waters of the lake.

  Having finished her task of bathing him, she slowly stood up, waiting for his reaction. I have probably found his favor now, she thought with a slight smile, looking at him. But the pale prince was asleep, lying at the water’s edge like an enchanted creature from an old fairy tale.

  A silver strand of hair had fallen over his face, which looked soft and innocent like a child’s in his sleep. Igraine's heart beat faster with pride when she watched him, not exactly knowing why. Was it really possible that she had heard his thought in her mind? Mine. She wasn't sure if she just had imagined it, but it described exactly what she felt for him at this particular moment.

  Igraine became aware that she had not taken a full bath since Elathan had brought her down here. Quickly, she removed her clothes and used the scented soap to wash her hair and body. She dived down into the dark water to rinse, emerging from it with a satisfied sigh.

  Her clothes were wet, so she lay them out on a large rock to dry. She didn't have anything else to wear now, but after all, there was no need to cover her body right now. Feeling tired, she searched for a place to rest. Her glance fell upon the elven prince, who looked so calm and peaceful in his sleep. Lying down at his side, she cuddled up to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She wrapped one arm and one of her long legs around his naked body, longing to be as close to him as she could.

  Listening to his soft breathing, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into slumber.

  “Good night, sweet prince,” she whispered against his warm skin, smiling.

  Chapter 7: Slave of Pleasure

  Elathan awakened with a harsh intake of breath, his body still trembling from the terrible nightmare. It was a dream he had nearly every night, and it always ended the same way – with him on the battlefield, staring into Ailidh’s dead eyes.

  Usually, he didn’t sleep much at all. Most nights he wandered around his darkened chambers all night, engaging in swordplay or spear exercised just to forget the pain that consumed him. When he finally was so exhausted that his body demanded sleep, he would lie down in his huge four-poster bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep. But later he'd still awaken from horrible dreams, feeling cold and even more tired than before.

  This night, however, he had slept astonishingly well, apart from having the usual nightmare again. He felt well-rested this time, and not cold at all.

  This night, he wasn't alone.

  A wonderful warmth surrounded him, making him so comfortable he considered just drifting off to sleep again. But he also felt water flowing around his legs, and for a moment, he wondered where he was.

  Then he remembered.

  Igraine. The lake.

  As he moved slightly, he felt soft female arms and legs wrapped around him; a warm woman’s body nestled against his side. She was the source of the luxurious warmth that had felt so unfamiliar to him.

  The human, she was still here with him. He was surprised that she hadn't left him and returned to her cave. When he breathed in deeply, he realized that her enchanting fragrance was all around him. Her head lay on his left shoulder, while her face was hidden against his neck, her silky dark curls tickling his skin. He loved the color of her hair, especially in contrast to his pale skin. Very slowly he turned his head and buried his nose in it, smelling her. She was undeniably lovely, this mortal woman.

  He had never desired elven maidens this much, even if they were so much more graceful than any human could be. It was surprising how happy the mortal looked in her slumber, seemingly content just to lie here with him. He had to acknowledge her courage to stay with him while he slept. She knew how much he hated humans, how effortlessly he could kill her with his bare hands. It was never wise to sleep too close to a warrior. He used to sleep with his weapons near, in case someone attacked him while he rested.

  His manhood hardened when he recalled how Igraine had bathed him, her small, curious hands all over his body. It had not been easy to restrain himself. How much he had wished to press her against the rough stone wall and enter her hot wetness, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting into her until she cried out with pleasure. When she had washed his scarred back, it had not only been with the solicitude of a servant. He had felt her touching him lovingly, so eager to explore him.

  Then she had pressed her soft curves against his back, molding herself to his body as if she was made only for him. Her hands had lathered the soap over his breast and stomach, coming too close to his shaft. He had been rock hard and throbbing for her, waiting for her touch. Yet it angered him how much he wanted her, how weak he felt with desire for this human woman. Her skillful hands all over his body nearly drove him mad with need. It didn't help that she fondled his backside, obviously enjoying herself. But she really shouldn't have dared to giggle at the same time. The sweet, joyful sound made him furious, and he’d thrown her into the lake. She needed to be taught a lesson, for her audacity in mocking him. And he needed to cool down, urgently, before he simply pinned her against the cavern wall and pounded into her like a wild beast.

  Damn, she had taunted him, this impertinent human. But she had made it up to him afterwards. He couldn’t complain about that. He had never felt so desired by a female before. To feel her soft lips around his length, licking and suckling like he was the most delicious dish, had made him lose control completely. Her uninhibited passion had taken him entirely by surprise.

  But she had thoroughly enjoyed the power she yielded over him, the little wench. So now it was his turn to be the one on top. And this time, surprise would be on his side.

  * * * * *

  Igraine woke up in utter darkness. The cool night air caressed her naked skin, and she realized that she was lying on something incredibly smooth. It didn't feel like the sturdy wooden bed with the crude woolen blanket she usually slept on. When she moved her back slightly, she realized that there must be silken sheets, seductively gliding along her body. She was completely naked. She sighed, not knowing when she had last felt such a luxurious material on her skin. It was as if her old world with all its comforts that she regarded as a matter of course, simply didn’t exist anymore.

  Her arms were raised above her head. Igraine arched her back like a cat before stretching to her full length, enjoying the tension of her muscles. The hard training lessons had made her body strong and flexible. It was unbelievable how good she felt. She just wanted to slide to the end of the bed, when she noticed that she couldn’t move further down. Her hands were bound, and she was tied to the headboard. She hadn’t noticed because the material connecting her wrists seemed to be soft as silk, too, so light she had only felt it when she tried to get away.

  Elathan. He wanted to punish, probably even kill her. Maybe this time she had pushed her luck too far by teasing him. Wide awake now, she struggled to sit up, but couldn’t. When she tried to swing her long legs over the side of the bed, she didn’t even reach the edge of it. Rolling around, she struggled to escape her silken bonds with all her strength, but her efforts were in vain. Now she cursed the fine sheets she lay on for being far too smooth to get a hold somewhere. It made it impossible to break free from the shackles which bound her wrists.

  Low male laughter came out of the dark. A torch was lit by one wall, and soft golden light illuminated a section of the chamber. Yet the edges stayed in shadows, so Igraine couldn’t make out how large the cave actually was. She saw that she was lying in a huge, canopied four-poster bed made of dark wood, every thick bedpost richly carved with signs and images similar to those she had seen on the other cavern's walls. The sheets and pillows she rested upon were indeed made of the finest black silk.

  Without a doubt this was a bed, fit for a prince: Elathan. She tried not to think how his alabaster skin a
nd light hair would look in contrast to the black sheets when he lay down here, naked. She tried to free her wrists again and tugged at her bonds desperately, using all her strength now. A sudden fear took hold of her. Maybe it had been wrong to assume that the elf had developed some attachment to her, even if it was based only on carnal pleasures. Maybe he would kill her, right here.

  “Don’t overexert yourself, little human. These shackles are enchanted. The more you try to escape them, the tighter they get.”

  Elathan’s low, melodic voice seemed to fill the cave with warmth, creeping under her skin and alluring her with its magic. When the elf stepped out of the darkness, he wore nothing but tight black trousers and training gloves. The candlelight created a golden glow on his bare skin, outlining every single muscle. His movements were graceful like a panther’s as he started to pace around the chamber, carrying a long, slender spear over one shoulder. Igraine drew a deep, shuddering breath.

  “You have no idea how old I am, human,” Elathan said, his tone earnest now. “And you can’t even begin to imagine how far my hatred towards your people goes.”

  Igraine felt anger welling up inside her. “Oh yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Igraine hissed back. He was trying to humiliate her again. This situation was ridiculous. Here she was, vulnerable and naked before this haughty, arrogant male who had repeatedly declared how much he wanted to kill not only her, but all mankind.

  “Is this the reason why you like to lurk near bridges and murder innocent women?”

  Elathan stopped his pacing and looked at her, tilting his head to the side like a curious cat. His dark-rimmed eyes didn’t seem golden now, glowing like burning coals in the night. “You think I am a murderer?” he asked, astonished.

  “Of course. Don't try to tell me that I'm the first woman you abducted. I might be a lowly human, Your Royal Highness, but I am not stupid.”

  Elathan answered with a superior smile that made her heart beat faster against her will. “When I see humans who are foolish enough to walk through the streets in the night, unaccompanied, sometimes I consider ending their worthless lives. But usually, hunting down a prey which is no challenge at all is not much fun. So the answer to your question is no, I don't kill helpless women, even if they are human. You, on the other hand, are different.”

  Igraine gasped in shock. “Did you just intimate that killing me would be fun?”

  The prince chuckled. “Maybe, maybe not. I could think of other ways you could entertain me.” His eyes wandered shamelessly over Igraines naked body, making her blush like a virgin. Although she was in much better shape, she still had to learn to feel self-confident about herself. However, Elathan seemed to like what he saw, judging from the look on his face. "You are the only mortal I ever stole, Igraine," he said softly. "I want you."

  Igraine swallowed hard. "Will you rape me before you kill me, then?" she whispered.

  Elathan was beside her in an instant. His eyes were glowing furiously while he pressed the tip of his spear to Igraine’s throat.

  “Watch your tongue, human,” he thundered. “Look at me. I am Prince Elathan of Fearann. Do you really think I have the need to take any female against her will?” The elf stretched out his free hand. His gloved fingers stroked the side of her neck before they slowly traveled down over her naked flesh, which was aching with desire for him. When he reached one of her breasts, he circled her hardened nipple with his fingertip, so teasingly light that she arched her back to mold herself into his hand, demanding more.

  He just laughed, abruptly withdrawing his fingers. “Let's pretend that I just lied to you, and that I abducted other mortal women before, sweet Igraine. Imagine how ruthlessly I might have used them to satisfy my carnal needs, touched them like this …” His hand moved down over her belly, right down to her womanly core. There, he caressed her very gently, so light that she moaned with frustration.

  “If I had seduced them, arousing their passion until they begged me to take them … how would you feel about that, Igraine? Angered, eager to kill me? Or would it excite you?” he whispered huskily. Instinctively, Igraine opened her thighs for him, longing to be touched. Again, he drew back his hand before she could rub herself against his fingers.

  “Face the truth, Igraine,” the prince continued, his tone serious now. “I found you walking the streets in the middle of the night, unaccompanied. When I watched you on that bridge, I knew that nobody would come searching if I took you with me – no lover, no kin or family. In your world, you are alone. I saw it in your eyes. No one will come for you.”

  Igraine was too ashamed to even try lying to him. His words hurt her, but he was right. She averted her eyes so he wouldn't see the tears stinging in them. "The Fae know that humans do not care enough about each other to protect their own people. Maybe they'll search for a short while, but there is no way that anyone would find you down here. Soon, the human world will have forgotten all about you. As you see, you are stuck here with me.” His gaze caught hers and held it prisoner for a while, waiting for her reaction. Igraine closed her eyes, unwilling to let him see her inner turmoil. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  Her parents had died in a car accident long ago, leaving her to grow up with a distant relative, an aunt who never had the desire for children of her own. She had tried to fight for Aunt Irene’s love, being the best child she could be, but in vain. Irene gave her everything she needed. Nevertheless, Igraine had never felt really wanted. The day she turned eighteen, her aunt had told her to leave the house as soon as possible. Later, Igraine believed that she eventually had found a home with Stephen, but she had been wrong. It seemed as if she wasn’t very good at attracting love, no matter how hard she tried.

  Elathan, however, seemed indifferent to her distress. Raising the spear from her neck, he straightened and continued to pace the chamber once more. When he began to talk, the rich timbre of his voice seemed to comfort her, alluring her with its own magic.

  “You have to know that there wasn’t always only enmity between elf and man. I recall a time, long ago, when we were living together in peace, knowing our differences, of course. We are so much stronger than humans, wiser due to our age. Our feelings are deeper and more passionate. Yet sometimes we miss the happiness you find in a simple moment, and we envy you the intensity with which you live your short lives. After all, we have so much time. You are fickle and treacherous; changing your loyalties like your clothing. Your greed knows no boundaries. Maybe it’s the knowledge that certain death will be your fate, no matter what you do or what you’ll achieve.

  “Nevertheless, your people and mine once found a way to exist side by side, respecting each other’s borders.” He fell silent for a moment, starting to whirl the spear around in his hand while he walked.

  “Throughout the ages, Fae have enjoyed stealing humans if one of them caught their eye. Usually, they just seduced the mortals, then brought them back to their own world and cast a spell on them so they would never remember. However, there were a few who chose to stay together as master and slave, though not every human was strong enough to survive elven passion. If a mortal woman surrendered herself out of free will to become an elf's slave of pleasure, to unite with him both in body and mind, there was a ritual to magically seal their connection.

  “Both would shed and share their blood, drinking from it before they became one. Old elven blood is very strong. It can heal, it has the power to unite souls, but only if the gift is given voluntarily and without conditions.

  “Thus, a new bond between elf and human would be created - a bond for life, so strong that nothing could separate them from that day on. At the beginning, this connection would be grounded on lust, not love. Love can never be gained with magic alone. It can only be given freely. But their mating would be complete, with body and soul alike. When they eventually joined their bodies it would cause so much pleasure that some humans would just die if their weak minds could not stand the immense feelings anymore.

 
“You have to understand that being a slave of pleasure for an elven warrior was nothing to be ashamed of. It was a gift given freely, a rare and precious thing, and also a great honor bestowed upon those who were worthy of it. The human would be treated with the utmost respect by Fae and men alike, as she helped to secure the peace between our people. She would be pampered and given everything she wished for. Her only task was to please her master with her body whenever he needed her, in every way he desired. She would share his bed and comfort him with her sweet presence when he returned home, weary from battle.”

  “A spoiled concubine,” Igraine whispered.

  Elathan shook his head, deep in thought. “No. The bond between a slave of pleasure and her master was much stronger than that. They would share a mental connection, as well. The master would always know where his human was, and even the human would be able to sense her master, although she lacked elven senses.”

  He stopped his pacing and turned to Igraine, his glowing stare so intense it seemed to burn her alive. “I always avoided humans when I could, and I have lived apart from my people for a very long time. Being alone suited me well enough, until I finally grew tired of my self-chosen solitude. Igraine …” His voice was no more than a whisper. “I do not wish to be alone anymore. I long for a female’s soft touch. I want a woman to take care of my body’s needs. But also I want her to sing me to sleep when I find no peace at night; to hold me in the darkness.” Igraine held her breath when he paused and turned to her, his predator's eyes searching her face.