Bound to the Prince (10 page)

Strong hands grabbed her upper arms. Igraine
was whirled around until she stared directly into Elathan’s furious
face, his golden eyes burning with anger. Before she could move or
utter a sound, he picked her up like a weightless doll and threw
her into the lake.

All of this happened so quickly that she
didn't even have time to hold her breath. She sank into the dark
water and struggled for a moment in panic. Then she managed to
reach the surface and came up, coughing and gasping for air. The
water was surprisingly warm, probably caused by the same
underground springs that also heated the pool of mud in the
adjoining chamber.

Bewildered, she was still wondering what had
happened when Elathan was suddenly in there with her, wading
through the lake and quickly rinsing off the soap from his hair and
body. His pitiless grin let her know that he found her distress
entertaining.

"You!" she shouted angrily, shoving against
his chest with both hands. The fact that his eyes widened with
surprise gave her a certain amount of satisfaction, but not enough.
"Prince or not, who the hell do you think you are? First you abduct
and enslave me, threatening to kill me if I don't obey your every
wish and whim. You hate humans, and still you don't bother to kill
me. Instead, you seem to enjoy your little game of humiliating me.
Why don't you finally get it over with, elf? You incredibly
arrogant, insufferable…"

He grabbed her wrists and bent her arms
behind her back with a swift movement. Simultaneously, he silenced
her with a hard, passionate kiss. At first, Igraine tried to push
him away, bite him, whatever caused him enough pain to let her go.
But then, unexpectedly, his lips claimed hers with a tenderness
that shook her to the core, and she sank into his embrace, kissing
him back while he teased her with his tongue, slowly, seductively.
He released her hands, and his fingers caressed the back of her
neck while he molded her against his naked body. Trembling, she
wrapped her arms around him, fearing that her knees gave away under
her. His kiss did something to her she had never known before.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself a bit too much,
human, when you served me at the waterfall. I decided that you
needed to cool down," he mocked her when he finally released her
from his arms. His eyes wandered adoringly over Igraine's body,
desire glowing up from their golden depths. She looked down at
herself and discovered that the dripping wet clothes clung to her
body like a second skin. The wetness had made her dress almost
transparent, so that not much was left to the prince’s imagination
– her tight, voluptuous breasts, their hardened peaks clearly
visible under the thin, moist fabric; the lush curves of her hips,
the soft mound of the secret place between her legs that ached and
throbbed for him.

She thought about covering herself with her
hands, but the prince didn’t seem too displeased with what he saw.
Actually, he looked positively awestruck while he watched her.
Igraine felt something that could only be described as female
triumph. She loved it when he looked at her like this, with raw,
untamed desire in his eyes.

“You are an impertinent wench, but I will be
patient as this is your first day serving me. The way you bathed my
body pleased me well enough,” Elathan said after a while, a roguish
smile on his face that caused her heart to miss a beat. “But has it
already occurred to you that you did not finish your task
properly?”

“My … task?” stammered Igraine, but fell
silent when Elathan took a step back in the water, then another
one, until he stood fully naked at the lake’s edge. This time, she
didn't avert her eyes but openly stared at his proudly erect
manhood, mesmerized. Its size was truly fit for a prince, matching
his powerful warrior’s body. He was painfully beautiful and
frightening at the same time. Her heart stopped for a second, until
she remembered how to breathe.

Elathan lay down on his back in the soft
green moss surrounding the lake, stretching out his arms over his
head like a lazy cat in the sun. His lower half was still in the
water, his shaft rising above the surface. Igraine felt a fierce,
liquid heat unfurling in her body's core, leaving her wet and ready
for him. She needed to feel him inside her, wanted him
desperately.

“Come here, lovely slave,” Elathan’s voice
beckoned her, “and continue to bathe me as you were told.”

Evidently, the part of his body he wished her
to bathe was already clean and not in need of washing. But who was
she, a lowly human, to argue with a prince, she thought, smiling to
herself.

She didn’t know how she had found the courage
to approach this paragon of male beauty lying at the lake’s edge.
But then she was kneeling down at his side, spreading her legs so
she could sit astride his thighs. Holding her breath, she reached
for him and took his length into her hand, feeling his strength.
Elathan groaned when she squeezed him lightly. He pushed himself up
into her hand, wanting more.

Without letting him go, Igraine stretched her
free hand out to the nearby table and took one of the bottles which
she remembered containing an oily liquid. She let a few drops of
the balm trickle over the tip of his manhood. A sweet earthy scent
filled the air that seemed to be made just for him. Elathan lay
very still as he watched her every move with predatory eyes. But
when she started to massage the oil into his skin, he threw back
his head with a sensual moan that made her shiver with
pleasure.

“Relax, my Prince,” she dared to say. “I am
only bathing you, just as you wished.” She didn’t know if Elathan
listened to her words, for he had closed his eyes and moved against
her hand as she rubbed his whole length up and down, up and down
again. Tiny pearls of sweat glistened on his brow, and his
shimmering hair, still wet from the bath, spread out like a
waterfall of silver over his broad shoulders. She squeezed him
harder. He let out a deep growl, moving his hips faster along with
her fingers.

She loved to watch him lose control, while he
took so eagerly the pleasure she gave him. His sight made her
womanhood ache with want, and she started to rub herself against
his thigh just a little bit. He seemed to have noticed and grabbed
her hips to press her down on his body, his fingers digging into
her flesh.

Igraine enjoyed the sight of his glorious
body before her, the display of lust on his face. All at once, it
wasn’t enough to just touch him anymore. She desperately wanted to
taste him, needed to feel him in her mouth. She spread her legs
even wider and slid down his legs. Finally, she lay flat on top of
him, with the warm water softly lapping at their heated bodies.

Slowly she lowered her head and kissed his
arousal, very tenderly at first, while her hand still encircled its
base. Elathan entwined his fingers in her dark hair, pulling her
head up so he could look in her eyes, questioning. She understood.
He didn’t want her to do this only because she was a slave,
frightened of him.

“I want this,” she breathed. Then she added,
like the softest whisper, “Elathan.” She had to speak out his name,
even if it meant her death for defying his orders. The word escaped
her lips like a lover's sigh. This time, the prince surrendered and
lay back on the soft moss, closing his eyes.

Then she opened her lips for him and took him
into her mouth. The elf groaned and pushed up his hips to meet her.
She teased him at first, circling only the tip with her tongue
before licking his shaft up and down, wickedly imitating the
movements of her hand before. She felt how he grew even thicker
between her lips. He tasted wonderful and deliciously male. Most of
all, she loved the power she held over this otherworldly beautiful
warrior, even if only for a short moment.

The heat emanating from his arousal seemed to
burn her as he throbbed and pulsated, taking possession of her
mouth. Her tongue played with him, teasing him until he moaned with
frustration, demanding more of her sensual torture.

Elathan. Her mind kept saying his name again
and again like a melody that made her soul sing with joy. When she
heard him groan again, she suckled him even harder. At the same
time she increased the pressure of her fingers and massaged him,
enhancing his pleasure. It was a strange, exciting feeling to serve
the prince as his love slave while watching him surrendering his
body to her. Whatever they called their present relationship, she
was the one in control right now.

His fingers were entwined in her hair,
holding her imprisoned while she continued to heighten his desire.
Pure rapture on his face, he watched her under half-closed lids
before he threw back his head and closed his eyes. Then, the elf's
body tightened under hers, and he growled like a wild animal that
took possession of its mate, shuddering with release. He tasted
even better than he smelled, like the sweetest nectar imaginable,
and she licked away every drop he gave her. Suddenly, she heard his
voice in her head. It was just one word, as clearly as if he had it
spoken out loud.

Mine.

Without warning, an overwhelming climax
ripped through her body. Igraine pressed her face to his flat
stomach and clung to him, moaning, while the giant wave rolled over
her and took her away. She shook with ecstasy, although she hadn't
done anything except rub herself against his thigh very slightly,
fully clothed. Although a thing like that shouldn't be possible,
her own desire had grown along with his, and their minds had
connected. She had felt him reach the highest peak as if it was her
own. The elf knew what had happened, too. For a short moment, he
opened his eyes and looked at her, bewilderment on his face while
he gently stroked her cheek.

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.