Bound to the Elvin King (4 page)

Anger clouded his face. He growled, and the sound sent a shiver through her nerves. He shook his head resolutely, sending the pale strands of his long golden hair over his shoulders. “There’s no talking to you.”

He stalked toward the door leading to the hallway. His bare feet made the softest of sounds on the marble. With his hand on the knob, he flashed her an unpleasant smile. Then he opened the door and left the room.

The boom of the door slamming yanked the surprise right out of her, and anger instantly filled the void. How dare he walk out? Never mind she told him to go. She hadn’t been done with him yet.

A spear of pain pierced her heart, and her ire slid away. She gasped and clutched a hand to her chest. Damn, that hurt—it really did. Surely, it was only heartburn courtesy of his majesty. Some males should come with a large bottle of antacids tied around their neck. She frowned. There probably wasn’t a big enough bottle to cure her of Talion. He was an ulcer in her stomach.

Another bolt zapped through her chest, and the sheet slid to the ground. She bit back a moan and blinked back the tears in her eyes. Crap, what was going on? This was more than emotional pain, more than heartburn. Fear shot through her as the pain intensified. Her legs butted against the bed, and she collapsed onto the soft mattress. God, she was having a heart attack. She couldn’t even chase Talion down to tell him off. She’d die alone in misery.

Panic encased her in its grip, and sweat poured down her forehead and back. Nausea hit her stomach like a blow. She needed to get help, but her speeding heart seemed to steal all breath.

The door creaked open, but she couldn’t lift her head or try to cover her nakedness. All energy had left her. Lethargy overtook her limbs, though her heart continued to pound away in its cage. Heavy footsteps reached her ears. She frowned. Since when did elves walk so loud? The sound wasn’t of boots, but of bare feet slapping against the ground.

The bed dipped, and she slid bonelessly toward that pull. A pale and drawn Talion hovered over her, hands splayed on either side of her face and a knee between her thighs.

***

Talion bent his head, never taking his gaze from her. The wild gleam in his eyes should’ve scared her. The self-possessed elf with such a royal air about him was gone. Right now, he resembled a big, hungry cat. And he wasn’t interested in food. Her breath hitched in her throat. Heaven help her, she wouldn’t mind being his full-course meal. She was certainly laid out like an offering.

“You’re a human witch sent to torment me.” His voice came out a delicious rasp. She licked her dry lips, and his gaze honed in on the action. Liquid silver desire flared in his eyes.

The pressure in her chest lightened. Why was that? He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her lips, halting all thought. He gently traced their soft contours with his tongue, paying particular attention to the seam denying him entrance. Though she tried to resist, the fire in her veins demanded satisfaction. Her lips parted, and his tongue swept in.

He groaned and lowered his body to hers. His weight forced her to sink deeper into the mattress. Again, every muscle and sinew seemed to fit perfectly against her. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her, and energy seeped back. He invigorated her, and she soaked him up like a dry sponge.

The intimate caress of his skin heated her like nothing ever had. She tangled her hands through his hair before clutching at his shoulders. They flexed under her touch, and the strands slid like silk against her palms. A thrill of sexual power coursed through her.

His tongue leisurely explored her mouth, and her tongue joined in the dance. God, if kissing was this good, what would the sex be like? What
had
it been like? If she slept with him again, would it jog some memories?

He ground his erection against her thigh. Heat pooled in her nether region. She wanted him. Regret could come later. Anyway, what was one more mistake on top of a pile of others?

Talion shifted and sucked on the tender skin of her neck, while his hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts. Her breath hissed between her teeth. He kissed a burning path down her throat. When his mouth joined the fingers caressing her breasts, pleasure shot through her. She arched her back off the bed.

A knocking echoed throughout the room. Talion cursed and raised his head.

The rapping at the door ripped her out of her life-shattering sexual delusion. God, had she really thought sleeping—
having sex
—with him again would just be a little mistake? She cringed at her stupidity and pushed him away before scrambling to fish for the sheet on the floor. There was no doubt about it: he made her stupid. She hated imbecility. Time to bring back intelligence.

Where was the damn blanket? The desire still humming through her body made concentration hard, but that was merely due to hormones. From his last demonstration, he certainly knew his way around a woman’s body, so her response was perfectly natural. Her hands shook. Damn it, where was the blasted thing?

His long-suffering sigh drew her attention. He grabbed a blanket from the bottom of the bed and handed it to her. She scowled at him and snatched the article. So much for intelligence. He motioned for her to remain where she was and rose in one fluid motion.

His long tunic hid any evidence of his prior arousal, but he radiated a telltale tenseness that stiffened his posture. A perverse satisfaction hit her. Served him right. She may no longer have her tongue bar in, but she could still be a ball-buster.

He walked to the door and opened it a crack. After a quiet exchange she couldn’t make out, he took something offered by the person on the other side.

It was material. Her clothes?

She did a quick study of Talion’s profile before he turned away from the door. He no longer appeared pale and drawn. His skin had regained its natural healthy tan, and a suppressed energy lurked in his step. Damn, why did he have to be such a fine specimen of man…er, elfhood?

He strode toward her and dropped the bundle of clothes on the bed. “Your gown and the unmentionables, my dear.”

My dear
?
Unmentionables
? Did he have to sound so condescending? She frowned at him and snatched up the pile of clothes. She needed to wash him off her skin. The masculine scent clinging to her wouldn’t allow her to forget what they’d done. Nor would the unfamiliar ache between her thighs. Hot, scented water might relieve those ailments.

“I want privacy. And a bath.”

A wicked glint entered his gaze. “Hmm, a bath? And you want privacy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a bath with you. Anywhere away from you is my definition of privacy.”

He clasped a long-fingered hand to his heart. “You wound me, my dear.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I do.”

“The bathing chamber is to your left.” He pointed to a paneled wood door. “There you can have all the privacy you want.”

She pasted a hopeful look on her face. “You’re leaving?’

“Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s something I need to discuss with you after your bath.”

Great, more talking. She smothered the groan that worked its way up her throat. When would she be able to escape? Oh yeah, right. There was no escape. Even if she made it back to her room, the pesky fact remained it was still part of his palace. The town—the surrounding area, the whole country—belonged to him. She was so screwed.

Maggie lurched from the bed, making sure to hold the blanket around her with her free hand. “Whatever.” Stalking toward the bathroom, she didn’t glance back.

Those few seconds stretched out to what seemed like infinity, and the idea she would be in his private bath hit her. Such a space was so personal it felt wrong. Yeah, right. She’d only slept with him, but was worried about going into his bathroom?

She’d already braved his bedroom. If she’d thought hers big, his was the penthouse of suites. Light sage green walls met a high wood-beam ceiling. What would the bathroom be like? She paused at the door and felt his gaze bore into her back. The tub would surely be sunken into the ground, just like the bathroom connected to her suite. But it had to be grander, more decadent. Just like him.

This was it. She’d see the dragon’s cave firsthand. Or was it the lion’s den? Both sounded apt in her case. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

Maggie waited for lightning to strike her down or at least for thunder to scare her silly. Nothing happened. After she shut the door, she frowned and took in her surroundings. Light gray walls and a gleaming marble floor met her gaze. Like most hard surfaces in the palace, it retained a surprising warmth. Her bare feet appreciated the fact, and she wiggled her toes against the surface before moving farther into the room.

A few shelves and cabinets lined the perimeter of the room. A gigantic sunken tub dominated the space, and around its wide ledge, a plethora of bath oils and salts awaited her. Hopefully, the scents weren’t too male.

She sat her clothes down on a vanity and let the blanket drop to the floor. As she walked toward the tub, Talion’s voice floated through the wall. “The ledge to the right side of the faucet has bathing toiletries suitable to your use.”

Her hand hovered over the bottles before she selected one. As she lifted a stopper, the fragrance of wildflowers hit her. She frowned and thumped the top back home. Definitely not for a male. Did he keep those scents for his lovers who spent the night? Or were they his dead wife’s? She growled, not liking either possibility. Her fingers itched to shatter all the pretty crystal containers.

She forced her voice to sound light and airy. “Always prepared for female company?”

A chuckle drifted to her. “No.”

Relief swept through her.

“I never gave my previous lovers the honor of coming to my personal bedchamber.”

Her previous relief plummeted straight to her toes. Did he have a hideaway somewhere in the palace for sex? The horny bastard who couldn’t keep it in h—

“Only family and close friends are permitted in the royal wing. Even the servants who work in this section are handpicked.”

As his words sunk in, some of her anger evaporated. So why had he brought her here? She was neither friend nor family.
Family.
The word flashed through her mind like a neon sign, and she cringed. They might be that now. One big, happy family. Dear Lord, was Relian her stepson? He couldn’t be. He was a trillion years older than her, but then, Talion had to have a zillion more on him.

She slammed the door on this line of thought and returned to the significance of him bringing her to his rooms. Even though they were supposedly bonded, he couldn’t have suspected the outcome of their sexual activities. Why hadn’t he taken her to where he normally met his lovers?

He owed her some answers, but she wouldn’t get them until after a bath. She needed this time to center herself for the coming fight. With him, how could it be anything else?

Chapter 3

Talion paced the length of his chamber. Why was the witch taking so long? People never kept him waiting, especially members of the opposite sex.

What they needed to discuss concerned her as much as it did him. Plus, he hungered to be in her presence. He groaned. She couldn’t see how she made him lose control. That could only lead to disaster. He was king and answered to no one, not even his human bond mate.

However, listening to the sounds of her bath for the past half hour nearly drove him insane. Visions of water streaming down the graceful curve of her back and over the rounded contours of her buttocks flashed before his eyes. An image of tracing the beads of moisture with his tongue caused his mouth to go dry.

Those fantasies had to stop now. But were they fantasies when they could be attained? Last night she’d freely given herself, no restrictions. For once, mind games hadn’t lain between them, only desire and love. She’d no recollection of that, though.

With time she might remember, but would it come soon enough? Their link threatened to overpower him, and by her reaction when he left the room, she hadn’t been immune. Not that he needed the reassurance. When he touched her, the thin thread connecting them always flared to life. It had right from the start. Truthfully, even a touch hadn’t been necessary. All it took was one glance, and he’d known.

He was about to give into the temptation to drag her out when the bathing-room door opened. Maggie stepped into his room, her golden-brown tresses partially dry. Her hazel eyes gazed at him warily, and in their depths, a spark of defiance lurked. He couldn’t blame her. They didn’t have the most amicable relationship.

The blue velvet gown she wore hugged the curves he’d explored thoroughly last night. He suppressed the urge to strip it from her inch by inch. That could come later. “Like the gown?”

She ran a hand over the fabric and lifted a brow. “I don’t think this is one of mine? But it fits too perfectly not to be.”

“I had it made for you.”

She stared at him, surprise widening her eyes. “Why?”

“Simply because I wanted to.”

“But…we…just slept together. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

“I couldn’t?”