Bound to the Prince (13 page)

Nevertheless, she heeded Elathan's advice and
allowed herself to spend a lazy day. She bathed in the warm waters
of the underground lake, enjoying the wonderful scent of the
prince’s exotic soaps and oils on her skin. Still undressed, she
sat down on the soft cushions by the lake and ate the simple,
hearty meal Elathan had left for her. In his letter, he had written
that she would need her strength. She had no idea what he meant by
that. On the other hand, she already knew him well enough to know
that he wouldn’t warn her in vain.

She was amazed by the new clothes he had
spread for her on the pillows, a sleeveless top with tight-fitting
trousers. They were made of the finest fabric she ever had seen,
delicate but at the same time warm and comfortable. The elven cloth
was colored in a lovely deep green, with fine golden threads woven
in between. There also were soft brown leather boots that reached
up to her calves and a belt that held a small but sharp dagger,
clearly made for the hands of a woman.

When she picked up the shirt and trousers to
dress, she found a sword lying beneath. Igraine gasped. She
stretched out her hand and took it, unsheathing it very carefully.
Looking very similar to a samurai sword, it was the most beautiful
weapon she had ever seen - light and not too long, with a curved
blade that gleamed like a moonbeam in the gloomy cave. The black
hilt carried a golden sign, probably the prince’s seal. She had
seen it before, among the paintings on the cave walls. Silver elven
runes were engraved in the blade. She wondered what they meant, and
if they were magic. Her heart beat faster, realizing that Elathan
had given her a priceless gift. Even she could see that this sword
was a masterpiece, flawless and unique. It was a gift fit for a
queen, not for a slave.

Quickly she dressed, sighing when she felt
the elven clothes as they glided along her skin, their caress soft
like a feather’s. Then she closed the belt with the dagger around
her waist, but it took a while to figure out how to carry the
sword. It was strapped to her back with two leather bands around
her upper body that were crossed between her breasts. This way the
weapon didn’t hinder her while she moved, though was easy enough to
grasp by reaching over her shoulder. When she was satisfied with
her appearance, she stepped to the edge of the lake and looked down
at her reflection.

Igraine’s eyes widened when she saw the woman
mirrored in the dark, calm waters. She looked like a stranger,
because she was … beautiful. The woman’s tight clothes fit
perfectly and enhanced every curve of her strong, well-trained
physique. The sleeveless top seemed to be made to show off her
muscular shoulders and arms, the wide belt accentuated the way her
waist curved into nicely-shaped hips. Her trousers fit her long
legs snugly and clung to her toned thighs and calves. She noticed
that her hair had grown very fast, for it fell in heavy dark waves
over her shoulders and back, reaching down to her shoulder blades
now. Her face had changed, too. It was more chiseled, with high
cheekbones and huge green eyes that stared back at her from the
water.

How was it possible to change that much in
such a short time? She was sure it had something to do with the
magic of this place. She could feel it everywhere, surrounding her,
making her skin tingle. Her senses had become stronger since she
had tasted Elathan’s blood the day before. Her eyes seemed to be
sharper, seeing even the smallest insect crawling over the rock of
the far end wall. The colors looked brighter, more intense. She
felt as if someone had lifted a veil from her eyes. For the first
time, she really appreciated the earthy tones of the cave, the
green moss that grew on the stones. Her hearing had improved, too.
She noticed the gurgling water of a well that must be around the
bend of the underground lake, little creatures that crawled inside
the walls, carving out the eternal stone.

She began to walk around in the cave,
practising with her new sword. It was very light to hold and
precisely followed her movements. The blade was sharper than
anything she had ever seen before, as it instantly drew a drop of
blood from her finger when she accidentally touched it. She
sheathed it again and went to Elathan’s bedchamber, not really
knowing why she wanted to be there.

In this room, his presence was almost
touchable, even when he was not there. She went to the bed and sat
down at its edge, letting her hand glide across the silken sheets.
Then, after throwing a glance behind her to be sure that no one
watched, she grabbed the closest black pillow and buried her face
in it, deeply inhaling the trace of his scent that still clung
there. Remembering what he had done to her in that bed, a longing
moan escaped her lips. Elathan. How much she missed him
already.

Igraine had felt desire for him before, but
since they had shared their blood, being apart from him felt like
physical pain. Moaning again, she lay down on her belly, hugging
the pillow with both arms. She didn’t even think about removing the
sword on her back. This was where he had slept with his arms around
her, making her feel protected, safer than ever before. It didn’t
matter if he was a prince and she a mere slave to tend to his
sexual needs. She happily would spend the rest of her life this way
if it meant being close to him.

She must have fallen asleep for a while, for
an unfamiliar sound made her startle. Igraine sat up abruptly,
wondering why she felt so stiff until she remembered that the sword
was still strapped to her back. Searching for the origin of the
strange, high-pitched sound, her attention was drawn to the wall on
the other end of the chamber. There, a silvery light had begun to
penetrate the massive stone.

It was a thin line at first. It started on
the cave floor and ran up through the rock to the height of a tall
man, ripping the stone apart. It arched to one side in a high
bow-shape and then down again. It was the outline of a door. The
light was pouring out from the narrow crack, as if an unseen force
from outside had sliced through, splitting the hard stone.

Igraine wasn’t sure how she knew this, but
there was old magic at work here. Elathan’s magic. She felt him as
if he had touched her.

Igraine.
She heard his voice in her
mind, calling her to him.

Without thinking, she stood up from the bed
and went to the glowing door in the wall, cautiously, step by step.
She had her hand ready at the hilt of her sword, not knowing what
would come out of the door when it finally opened.

The age-old stone of the cave eventually gave
way, and the door opened slowly, swinging to the side with a loud
rumble.

Igraine was blinded by the light shining out
of the opening, streaming into the darkened cave. She shielded her
eyes with one hand and tried to see what was on the other side of
the door. Hearing Elathan’s voice in her head once more, she
decided to proceed and took another step forward, crossing the
door’s threshold.

Her skin tingled when she felt the magic that
had caused this unmoving stone to open. She reached the other side,
and her feet didn’t stand on the solid stone floor of the cave
anymore. It was the softness of earth covered with fallen
leaves.

Igraine let her hand fall down to her side
and stared at her surroundings, disbelievingly. She had not
expected what she saw there. Huge trunks of ancient trees reached
up to the heavens, their branches forming a green canopy high over
her head. She saw the sun shining through the mass of green leaves
to warm her skin, and felt a soft breeze playing with her hair.

A forest. Only a moment ago she had been in
Elathan’s underground bedchamber, and now she stood at the edge of
a large clearing, surrounded by high elm trees. When she turned
around, the magic door was gone, as it if had never existed.

She instantly knew that this wasn’t a normal
wood. While some trees carried glossy green leaves, others were in
full bloom, their branches sprinkled with lovely blossoms – some of
them white and pink, others lime-green, they filled the air with
their sweet scent. There were even trees in their autumn garments,
their leaves silently falling down to the forest floor and coloring
it in the most wonderful shades of golden yellow, russet and deep
purple. It occurred to Igraine that the trees themselves had chosen
their favorite season, although this was impossible - in her world,
at least.

This forest is enchanted, she thought. She
could feel the elven magic,
his
magic, all around her,
confusing her human senses, creeping under her skin. It felt as if
this place had waited for her, beckoning her to come home. It was
beautiful beyond imagining.

A little blue bird landed on a nearby branch
and curiously watched her with its tiny black eyes. When Igraine
stretched out her hand to the bird, it surprised her by fearlessly
hopping onto her hand. “Hello, little fellow,” she said very
softly, not wishing to frighten him away. But the bird seemed to
like it there. After he had settled down on the soft flesh between
her thumb and index finger, he leisurely started to clean his
wings. She laughed, charmed by the little animal who contentedly
rested on her hand, without a care in the world.

A rustling sound behind her caught her
attention, and she slowly turned around. The bird flew away,
chirping merrily as if bidding her good-bye. Igraine stood rooted
to the ground when she saw Elathan coming out of the woods, riding
a midnight-black steed.

The prince sat on the noble horse as if he'd
been born to it, holding the reins loosely while steering the
animal with his muscular thighs. He was dressed in a stunning light
armor in a deep green adorned with delicate golden trees and
leaves. Igraine saw the sign she believed to be the royal seal on
his belt. It was the same as on the hilt of her sword. Underneath,
he wore tight riding trousers in a green so dark it looked almost
black, high boots and a soft shirt with wide sleeves that reached
down to his brown leather wrist armor. Igraine’s heart stopped
beating for a moment when she realized that the colors of his
clothes exactly matched hers, marking her as his own.

Besides his sword, the elf carried his spear
and an elven longbow, both attached to his richly decorated saddle.
His long moonlight tresses were tamed by a thin leather band that
held the sides back, accentuating his regal features. Elathan’s
high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, combined with a straight
nose and a determined jaw line gave him an aristocratic look, yet
mated with the exotic beauty of a wild beast. His golden gaze never
left her face while he rode to her side and dismounted with a
single, swift motion, landing softly on the forest floor.

Before she knew it, he had pulled her into
his strong embrace, kissing her so fiercely she forgot to breathe.
His firm lips took possession of her, wild and passionate. Igraine
moaned and willingly opened her mouth for him. Boldly he claimed
her with his tongue, unmistakably giving her a foretaste of what
would come when he took her body. His wonderful scent surrounded
her, making her knees so weak she had to grab his muscular upper
arms and cling helplessly to him. She feared that she might melt
into a puddle at his feet if he took his arms away.

She felt his hand covering the back of her
head, holding her prisoner so she couldn’t escape his kiss, even if
she wanted. His gloved fingers stroked over her dark hair, wrapping
it around his palm while he tasted her lower lip, nibbling and
sucking until she moaned with delight. His other hand wandered down
over her sensitive back, making her shiver with desire. He grabbed
her soft backside and pressed her close to his strong, hard body.
Feeling his nearness was almost more than she could bear. She
wanted him, right here and now.

Igraine had never felt this way before. This
kiss dispelled every other thought from her mind, made her care for
nothing else but ripping off his clothes, feeling his naked skin on
hers. Without him, she was incomplete, like a creature ripped into
two halves by a cruel god. He was a part of her now.

Suddenly she couldn’t be near enough to him.
Desperately she threw her arms around his neck and molded her body
to his, frustrated by the hardness of the prince’s armor between
them. He kissed her again and again, his tongue exploring her mouth
while her body trembled in his arms, and her womanly core pulsated,
moist and ready for his entrance.

When he pulled back from her lips, she cried
out softly and tried to capture his mouth again. Slowly, he broke
the kiss and buried his face against her neck. Igraine felt like
crying when she felt his agitated breath grazing her skin. She
couldn’t stand being separated from him anymore, even for one
single moment. “Elathan,” she whispered into his hair, not daring
to tell him what she yearned for. The prince moaned deep in his
throat, gently biting her neck while he strained to hold himself
back. They stood encircled in each other's arms. For a while, their
heavy breathing was the only sound. Even the birds had stopped
singing, and time seemed to stand still for a moment. Reluctantly,
Elathan stepped back to bring a safe distance between them. He knew
that if he waited only a moment longer, he wouldn't be able to stop
himself anymore.

Igraine opened her mouth to protest, but a
soft rustling made her turn her head to the other end of the
clearing, where the undergrowth between the tall trees moved. The
branches parted, and a most unexpected creature came into
sight.

It was a centaur. His upper half was a young
man’s body, athletic and sculpted like a Michelangelo statue. He
had a face that could make a woman sigh, and long black hair
flowing down his back. From the waist down he had a horse’s body.
His dark muscular flanks shivered when he threw back his head and
took in the mingled scent of elven and human arousal that filled
the air. The centaur curtly nodded to Elathan before he directed
his attention fully towards the human woman, staring at her with
blatant desire.