Bound to the Prince
Read Bound to the Prince Online
Authors: Deborah Court
Tags: #romance, #erotic, #erotica, #adult, #fantasy, #paranormal, #lord of the rings, #sexy, #historical, #elves, #fae, #prince, #irish, #celtic, #medieval, #womens erotica, #fay, #romance adult, #romance and fantasy
“Too long have I lived in this darkness,
human," he said, so close to her that his lips touched her earlobe,
light as a butterfly’s wing. “Alone.”
Igraine felt the elf’s hot breath as it
caressed her cheek. He lowered his head slightly, inhaling deeply.
She knew he was taking in her scent. Despite her fear, the urge to
touch him was growing so strong that she started to reach out to
him. He caught both of her wrists with one of his large hands,
pinning them against the wall so she was his helpless prey once
again. She gasped when she felt his tongue touch the sensitive spot
right below her ear, licking her very softly as if he wanted to
taste her before eating her alive. His beauty, his seductive voice
were the predator’s way of lulling his prey into a false sense of
security before killing, without regret.
“So warm, so alive,” he murmured. “And yet
you are doomed to die, with every breath you take.” His lips moved
downwards, along the side of her neck where the blood rapidly
pulsated in her carotid artery. She felt his teeth graze her skin
right there.
She never saw it coming. If he had attacked,
intending to kill her, she wouldn’t have been surprised. But the
elf moved so quickly that she couldn’t comprehend what was
happening to her. Still imprisoning her hands above her head, he
used his free arm to pull her nearer to his body until only a thin
layer of fabric separated them. He crushed her to him so forcefully
it hurt, but she didn’t care. Breathing was difficult, anyway.
Suddenly, he let her wrists go and entwined
his fingers in her curls. He lifted one of the auburn tresses to
his face and rubbed it against his cheek. “Beautiful,” he murmured
softly. Then he grabbed a fistful of hair at her neck and pulled
her head back. Trapped, she faced him in the darkness while the
prince bowed his head to capture her lips …
Table of Contents
Copyright
Page/Acknowledgements
Chapter 4: The Presence in the Dark
Chapter 6: The Prince by the Lake
Chapter 19: Flash of Lightning
Chapter 20: The Blue Plains of Debethea
Chapter 23: The Mountain of Gold
Chapter 24: The Forgotten City
Chapter 25: An unexpected Arrival
Chapter 27: The Royal Chambers
Chapter 28: The Sun and the Moon
Bound to the Prince
.
Copyright 2011 by Deborah Court. All rights reserved. No part of
this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means including information storage and retrieval
systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a
reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales
is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
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of this author.
Author's website
and
blog
http://www.deborahcourt.blogspot.com
You can contact me by e-mail at
[email protected]
I love to hear from readers!
Special thanks to my editor Lynette Sofras
(
http://www.manicscribbler.blogspot.com
) for
her wonderful help and advice, and to Kim for the hot damn
cover!
Cover Design by Hot Damn Designs
This is dedicated to my family and
especially to all my faithful forum and blog readers who gave me
the confidence to write this book. You believed in me. Without you,
I'd never make it this far. To my friend Hanna for her beautiful
art, my writing buddy Abby, Barb and her invaluable Gaelic lessons,
Kat who encouraged me to keep the hotness going, Nat, Lee, Macha,
Gini and everyone I didn't mention. You know who you are. Luvya
gals!
Deep in the night, an elven prince lay by a
lake, sound asleep.
Dreams wove their way into
his peacefully resting mind, dreams of days long past, when he was
a young knight living at his father’s court. King
Bres
of the Tuatha Dé Danann had attached great
importance to his son’s education and insisted that Elathan was to
be treated the same as any other warrior in his service, for he
should not grow up to be pampered and weak. After all, Prince
Elathan’s royal duty would be to defend Fearann, the lands of the
Fae, and make sure that no human would ever cross the magic
boundaries.
However, the king didn’t treat his son
equally to the rest of the young warriors. Bres had commanded that
Elathan should train harder and longer than any of the others. The
prince exercised with his weapons from the first ray of light until
his body gave up and he broke down, totally exhausted. If he
stopped fighting too soon, claiming to be tired, his teachers had
been instructed to chain him to the wall of the armory and flog him
until streams of blood ran over his back.
His wounds were to be
treated by fairy healers afterwards, so he could continue his
training the next day. Endless lessons in warfare alternated with
hard physical
exercise, with
no time left
for activities the prince had enjoyed so much previously. Elathan
loved to ride his horse through the vast old forests surrounding
the king’s fortress, and he liked to spend time with his beloved
young cousin, Lady Ailidh.
Even in the prince's dream,
her name caused a surge of pain to rip violently through his soul.
This pain had become an old friend over the years, visiting him
frequently when he tossed and turned in his bed in the dark
of
night,
finding no rest or peace at
all.
Ailidh
had been born only days after
Elathan, the heir to the throne.
Queen Aeval had died giving
birth to the prince; a difficult pregnancy and the exertion of
labor that lasted almost two days had proved too much for her frail
body to bear. Before she bled to death, the queen had kissed her
son and named him in the presence of her ladies.
“The
strong one.
Elathan.”
Sometimes, in his dreams, the prince could still recall his
mother’s voice whispering his name.
Ailidh'
s mother, the king's
half-sister, did not survive the girl's birth, either. So the two
children were raised together, fed by the same nurse and brought up
by the queen's former ladies-in-waiting. Since their earliest
childhood, the boy and girl had been inseparable, and when they
were apart, each of them knew where the other was. They
communicated in their own language, and always seemed to know what
the other was thinking. Seen together, the cousins looked
impressive, almost like siblings. They had the same proud, regal
posture, alabaster skin and amber eyes.
Yet
the prince's hair was the pale golden color of winter
moonbeams, while Ailidh's was midnight
black.
Elathan was stronger and wilder than his
delicate cousin. He hurt himself very often during fights with
other boys or by climbing trees that were too high for him. If he
was beaten for his disobedience afterwards, Ailidh would cry, as
well. The children even shared their pain. Their minds were
connected in such an intense way that it frightened Elathan's
father, who one day decided that it would be best to separate
them.
When the king’s servants entered their
nursery, the children clung to each other, crying,
already sensing what would happen.
They were
torn from each other’s arms, and their screams of agony echoed
throughout the old halls of the fortress for hours, until they
eventually died away. At first, their pain was devastating. But
with time they found secret ways to meet, in darkened alleyways or
unoccupied chambers. They used to stand in each other’s arms with
their foreheads touching, sharing their thoughts. It was only these
occasional meetings that gave Elathan the strength to endure the
cruel education the king had chosen for his son.
Fueled by his inner pain and loneliness,
Elathan’s love for his cousin turned into a deeper, darker feeling
over time. He used to lie awake at night, despite his exhaustion,
thinking of her, imagining that one day, when he ruled the realm,
she would be forever at his side. But Elathan knew that the
immortal Bres would have to be killed by his enemies before the
heir could claim the throne; and the prince's love for his father
was too great to wish for such an occasion. So he was content to
serve his people as a warrior prince. Defending them and keeping
their lands safe would be his eternal duty.
One day when the cousins met, Elathan kissed
Ailidh, but the chaste meeting of their lips suddenly turned into
something more passionate. He hadn’t planned this; never would have
dared to dream about it. He just longed to get closer to her,
feeling like a part of his soul had been ripped away when the king
had ordered their separation. But he also realized that he wanted
her, to possess completely. His whole life’s purpose was to be
dedicated to taking responsibility for others, sacrificing his own
needs. For this one time only, he had wanted something for himself;
something precious that he wouldn’t have to share. Yet he knew it
was wrong, and he would never touch her again – not like this.
Horrified, Ailidh had fled the room. She
didn’t ever come back to their secret meetings, but he kept waiting
for her. He needed to talk to her just one more time, and beg her
to forgive him. Night after night he roamed the dark corridors of
the old castle, looking for any sign of Ailidh. When she didn’t
come, he began to seek comfort in the arms of female servants and
chamber maidens which pleased him well enough, though it didn’t
comfort him or make him forget his pain.
