Bound to the Prince (6 page)

Elathan closed his eyes, breathing heavily
and pressing harder against her body. When he lowered his head to
inhale her scent at the curve between her neck and shoulder, his
long hair fell over his shoulders and covered her face. She wanted
to wrap herself up in it completely and lose herself forever,
embedded in the silky softness of it.

Igraine gasped when the prince’s lips touched
the delicate skin on her neck. At first his mouth seemed to tease
her as a revenge for the sweet torture she had applied on him
before. Then she felt his tongue on her, moving in tiny circles
over her neck. Her nether regions throbbed with desire, and she
grabbed him, hugging his wide back, touching every hard muscle on
it. She winced when he started to bite her with his sharp elven
teeth, causing a pleasurable amount of pain without really hurting
her. Wantonly, Igraine began to rub her lower body against his
arousal, to show him that she was his and his alone to take. She
didn't know why she behaved that way. Was he using his magic on her
again or was she just a victim of his supernatural beauty? Whatever
the case, she didn't really care. For now, he obviously didn't want
to kill her as long as he was enjoying himself. So why couldn't she
use him the same way and give in to her overwhelming need to touch
him? Later, she would find a way to escape and maybe even pay him
back for what he had done to her.

Then, to her utter frustration, his weight
was lifted from her body, and she lay on the floor, alone and
trembling. She was fully dressed, but felt naked and cold. Igraine
opened her eyes to see what had happened. Elathan crouched before
her on one knee, watching her with a naughty, self-contented smile.
Fae or human, the species didn't really matter when it came down to
male arrogance.

“I must admit you took me by surprise,
human," he said. “To tell you the truth, I didn't think you'd even
survive your first training. But you did quite well - in both
disciplines. Most eager to learn, aren’t you?” He stretched out his
hand and touched the bare, sensitive skin of her inner thigh, where
her jeans had been torn during the fight. Slowly he caressed her
there, his fingertips moving upwards until he almost reached the
spot where she longed and ached for him. Igraine moaned when he
took his hand away.

“I think it is you who wants to be tucked up
in bed now, slave,” he remarked with a slightly evil gleam in his
eyes. Then he was gone.

Chapter 4: The Presence
in the Dark

Prince Elathan closed the door to the human’s
prison cave behind him and pressed his bare back against the cold,
damp stone wall of the darkened corridor, closing his eyes. His
muscular chest heaved with each breath as he struggled to gain
control over his agitated senses.

He cursed softly and waited for his heated
body to cool down. How could a mere mortal woman affect him so
much? Although he didn't like to admit it this to himself, he
wanted this redhead. Desired her. His body, his whole being yearned
to feel her luxurious curves pressed closely against his skin while
he spread her creamy thighs and possessed her completely. It had
been this way since his first sight of her the previous day when,
like so many nights before, he had stood on the column of the old
railway bridge and watched the uncountable lights of
Londinion
, gleaming and twinkling on the dark sky.

Usually he loathed human settlements, most of
all this giant abomination of a city which poisoned the air with
its mere existence. But deep in the night, when most of the streets
were empty and the ugly buildings were hidden in the dark, he
actually liked to watch their illuminated outline. This strange
force they called
electricity
never ceased to fascinate him.
It seemed unbelievable, but, despite their ignorance, the humans
had developed their own kind of magic. He liked to stand on the
bridge and watch the lights for hours, standing still like one of
the old trees in the forest he had once called his home. Only then
could he forget all that tormented him – the fate of his people who
had no guidance, no hope left at all, since his father, Bres, had
given up on them.

The king had grown very old after so many
eons, so many lifetimes; he was now the oldest elf on earth. Once a
proud warrior, somewhere along the way he had lost his unyielding
willpower. He simply accepted that his people would fade and
eventually die, after humanity’s repeated betrayal of the
Tuatha Dé Danann. Breaking the truce again and
again, they stole the elves’
lands, killing not only their
warriors, but also defenseless women and children. Eventually, they
chose to forget the Sidhe they had once treated like gods. Even so,
they continued plundering and destroying the earth with their
hideous machines, killing uncountable creatures of the Fae without
even knowing it. More and more the Fae had retreated to their own
lands, protecting their realm with magic so no human could ever
cross the boundaries again.

Bres had grown very tired of his life. In
truth, Fearann was reigned by Bres' second wife, Queen Breena who
had born the king another son – Ruadan, Elathan's half brother.
Being accused of raising an army against the king to prematurely
claim the throne for himself, Elathan had been forced to leave the
elven realms and live in exile, dishonored. But the prince still
had friends who frequently informed him about Breena and Ruadan's
insatiable greed for wealth and power. They took everything from
their subjects who had once thrived and prospered under the king's
protection. Even the use of magic was forbidden, leaving the Fae
helpless and unable to defend themselves from their enemies at the
borders. Elathan knew about the suffering of his people, the
broken, blank expression in their eyes. And they believed that he,
the throne heir of Fearann, had betrayed their trust. True,
Elathan's magic would have enabled him to live among his people,
unrecognized if he chose to magically change his appearance. But as
long as he couldn't help them, he preferred to live alone,
accompanied only by his pain.

But last night had even robbed the prince of
the peace his silent watch on the bridge usually brought him.
Deeply lost in thoughts, his gaze directed at the shiny lights, he
was suddenly affected by something he couldn’t make out at first.
It made his body tingle with new sensations, his heart beating
faster. A strange yet wonderful scent filled the air, and he
instinctively turned his head to explore from whence it came. At
the same time, he became aware that someone was standing on the
other bridge, disturbing his solitude.

A human. It was a woman, her auburn, tousled
tresses hiding most of her face from his sight while she bowed over
the balustrade, staring down at the chasm beneath the bridge.
Angrily, Elathan whirled around. He knew that his glamour kept her
from seeing him, but he found himself furious, wishing she'd go
away and leave him alone with his thoughts.

There it was again, that irresistible smell.
As he sniffed the air, his eyes widened when he found out that it
had been her. Ridiculous! No mortal woman could smell like this.
Humans simply didn't smell like a sweet, exotic flower. A flower
that grew under a tree and nestled between fresh, young leaves
glittering with dew in the rays of the morning sun. Disgusted by
his foolish pondering, he shook his head. Perhaps he had not seen
the vast forests of Fearann for too long. If humans smelled of
anything, then it was of fear and death, especially if they dared
to cross his way. But the last time he had killed one of them, it
had been in battle, centuries before.

Nowadays, he avoided them if he could,
preferring to live in underground caves where they wouldn't find
him. He knew that if he was openly confronted too many of them, he
wouldn't be able to help himself. Rage and memories of Ailidh's
death would take possession of him, and he'd kill any human foolish
enough to come near him. They wouldn't stand a chance, of course.
He didn't even have to use his magic to end their worthless lives
with his bare hands.

However, it was undeniable that this woman on
the bridge was the origin of the unknown scent that affected him so
much.

Then she had lifted her head, and the cold
wind blew back the hair that had concealed her face. Elathan had
already begun to turn away, wanting to leave and return to the
eternal silence of his caves. Unable to move, he stared at a face
that absolutely shocked him with its perfection. Huge, deep green
eyes dominated her delicate features, with high cheekbones and a
perfectly formed chin that was slightly raised like a queen's,
giving her a proud and definitely stubborn look. His gaze dropped
to her mouth, and he instantly wished to taste those incredibly
soft lips, tasting the depths of her sweet scent.

Something that had been hidden deep within
his soul stirred now, a feeling so strong and primal that it shook
him to the core. She was unlike elven women, not delicate and
ethereally beautiful, but very tall for a female. Her crude human
clothes couldn't keep him from noticing her voluptuous, desirable
curves. They made him want to simply grab her and drag her to his
underground chambers. There, he'd carry her to his bed and take her
body. He wanted to bury his hands in her shiny dark hair, just to
see how it looked against his pale skin. But he wanted to kill her
at the same time, just because of the feelings she awakened in him.
As if her being human wasn’t reason enough!

Elathan knew that, as usual, he had moved so
silently that no mortal would be able to hear him. She couldn't see
through his glamour which enabled him to blend into the night like
a shadow. But then the woman turned her gaze to the column on which
he crouched, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. It was
unbelievable, but she seemed to know that he was there, sensing his
presence. At this moment he saw the unbearable pain in her eyes,
the desperation, the utter hopelessness, and he instinctively knew
that she was thinking about killing herself. She had longed to jump
through the impenetrable darkness to the river below, to end the
torment of her life.

This realization shocked him even more than
the sight of her unexpected beauty. At the same time, he noticed
that he felt furious about it. How could this human dare to throw
away her short span of life when she had been blessed with such
features, and a body that was clearly made for love? With long,
well-formed arms and legs to wrap around a man's back and hips
while he buried himself in her softness and loved her until she
wept with pleasure? With that body that promised to bear strong,
healthy children and a mouth that was made to kiss and smile?

Without thinking, he crossed the gap between
the bridges with a long, powerful jump and hunted her down,
catching her with ease when she tried to run. The scent that had
fascinated him before surrounded him like a sweet, compelling
cloud. Trying to ignore her strange allure, he wove a spell over
her so she would fall asleep and cease any resistance. Quickly, he
covered her face with a silken cloth he ripped from his shirt so
she couldn't enchant him with her beauty and convince him to let
her go. Then he threw her unconscious body over his shoulder and
swiftly climbed down over the railing to the underside of the
bridge, where he opened the magic portal to his caves.

After he woke her, the woman astonished him
with her courage. Facing almost certain death, she didn't break
down and cry, or plead for her life. When she finally saw him, she
didn't lower her gaze as any female would when she faced an elven
prince in all his glory for the first time. Yes, she looked shocked
and frightened by the danger he presented to her, but she wasn't
afraid of the way he looked. To his utter surprise, she had boldly
met his eyes and watched him with raw, unveiled desire. He felt it
on his skin as if she'd actually touched him. Now this was strange.
Aye, he hated all humans, for their despicable nature and for what
they had done to his people. But at the same time they seemed to
detest him, too – as long as they stayed alive in his presence,
that was. He never killed their women or children, but human
females found his sight horrifying when they saw him for the first
time. Elathan knew that they couldn't bear to look into the eyes of
an immortal, and the scars on his face and body scared them.

But not this one. She ogled him as if he was
an exotic, mouthwatering dish she wanted to devour. Suddenly he
wanted to insult her, hurt her pride. He'd show the worthless human
where her place was. She was nothing to him, just a slave – even if
he found her strangely attractive. It was inevitable that she'd
succumb to his will, despite her pride and boldness. Yes, she would
suffer at his hands and pay for the crimes of her people, this
human woman. He would prepare her for her new life as his slave,
serving him with her mind, soul and especially her body, and she'd
train until she accepted that role. He'd make her pay for the fact
that she excited him so much against his will. Doubtless he had
abstained from the pleasures of a female's body too long, although
he could order any elven women to his bed, any time he wished. Even
if he was living in exile now, none of them would be able to resist
the prince's order, and most would willingly come to his bed.

Igraine. It was an uncommon, old name among
humans, but it seemed to fit her somehow. Yet he would not address
her with it. If he had to kill her, it would be less personal if
she only was a human slave like any other, and he’d probably forget
her name after a century or two.

Nevertheless, Elathan was impressed by the
way she put up a good fight with him today. He had not expected her
to try and fight him at all, to be honest. It had been most
surprising to see anger, then real fury, flaming up in her deep
green eyes, speckled with golden brown. He loved green. It reminded
him of his home in the trees long ago, when he did not have to
dwell in these underground caverns.