Bound to the Prince

by Deborah Court

  “I am Elathan, son of Bres. And I choose you, Igraine, to become my slave of pleasure.”

  Igraine just stared at him in speechless disbelief. She couldn't believe what just had happened. Elathan could have commanded her to be his slave so easily. His supernatural strength, his magic made it so easy for him to overwhelm her, to force her to comply. Still, he had asked her to stay with him, to give herself to him out of her own free will.

  Elathan’s eyes narrowed while he watched her, obviously waiting for an answer. When she stayed silent, he continued: “If you surrender yourself to me, human, I will give you pleasure unlike any you have experienced before. I will care for you. You will also be under my protection, for I will always know where you are and if you are in danger, having tasted your blood joined with mine. My blood will give you a lifespan longer than any other human has, though you will not become immortal. The bond we’d share could never been broken, as long as we both shall live.

  “But there are also dangers, sacrifices to be made. I already stated that our mating could drain so much strength from you that it could kill you. And you can never resist your master’s call, if I command you to come to me. If I am wounded, you will feel the pain as it was your own. Also know that if I should die unexpectedly, it is very possible that you will die, too, especially if the bond between us has grown very strong.”

  The prince tilted his head to the side while he regarded the naked, bound woman on his bed. “Say, how you choose, human. Will you give yourself to me freely, willingly? Or will you decline? If so, I will set you free to return to the world from which you came. Now tell me, Igraine.” He spoke out her name like a lover's endearment. It felt like a caress on her skin.

  Igraine couldn’t believe that he had just promised to let her go if she didn’t agree to become his slave. If she had any common sense at all, she should take the chance and run. But when she looked up she saw his pale face, his dark, dangerous beauty, the pain and loneliness in his black-rimmed eyes. Then, to her utter astonishment, she suddenly heard herself whisper: “Yes, Elathan. I give myself to you, out of free will.”

  The prince moved so fast that he looked like a silver white flash, blurring her vision. In an instant, he appeared at the side of the bed. His deadly spear moved with incomprehensible speed, only a hair’s breadth away from her body. It cut through the surface of the skin below her throat, just deep enough to draw blood.

  Igraine gasped, though she felt no pain at all. She just lay there and watched him straddle her body without bearing his weight on her. The prince let his spear fall to the stony floor and raised a small dagger that had been hidden under his belt. Golden candlelight fell on his face while he slowly drew the blade over his hard chest, just below the hollow at the base of his neck. Blood welled out of the wound. It was deep red like her own.

  Elathan dropped the dagger before he let himself down on his elbows, not touching her but so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked down at her with an expression of raw desire in his eyes.

  “Sweet Igraine.” His voice was hoarse, full of passion. “Now I’ll make you mine.”

  Slowly, he lowered his body onto hers and started rubbing his chest against her breasts. His long mass of hair spread out all over her, while he fully covered her from neck to hip. His heated skin slippery from blood, he glided from side to side first, then slowly up and down, uniting human and elven blood. He spread her legs with his muscular thighs and pressed his hard, aching arousal against her silken haven. She was well prepared for his entrance, he could feel it through the thin fabric of his trousers. Inwardly he cursed the fact that he couldn’t simply enter her, mark her as his own forever. Not yet, a voice in his head whispered, calming his overwhelming desire. It could kill her. But soon, she would be his.

  Groaning, he covered the back of her head with his hand and brought her up to his wide chest, coaxing her to taste him.

  Without hesitation, Igraine touched his skin with her lips. She instinctively knew what to do. Kissing him softly at the base of his neck, she moved deeper, licking away their joined blood that bound them together forever. She could feel him inside her mind from the moment she tasted the first sweet drop on her tongue. His immortal power streamed through her body, making her strong. Her blood rushed through her veins, her skin tingled. Every cell in her body seemed to renew itself while she was reborn as his mate.

  Elathan, her soul cried out. It felt as if his magic took possession of her whole being, searching for the wounds that had been inflicted on her soul and still bled, torturing her from inside. He was healing her, gently taking away her pain and surrounding her with his comforting strength. Greedily now, she licked him up and down, washing him clean with her tongue.

  Elathan couldn’t take it anymore. He pressed her back onto the sheets and started to ravish her with his skillful tongue, tasting her blood. She belonged to him now, as long as she lived. There was nothing either of them could do to change this, not anymore. The moment he tasted her life's elixir, he started to feel her, all of her – her sweet pure soul, driven only by the yearning to give and receive love. Her heart bore deep, bleeding wounds. His human, she had scars, too - not visible like his, but just as many. When his lips found her breast, his tongue started to play with the rosy nipple. Then, without warning, he sucked her hard into his mouth. Igraine moaned and wriggled under him, struggling against her silken shackles . He continued his naughty little game with her other breast, very softly biting this time. His moonshine hair was all over her body and caressing her skin every time he moved.

  When he lifted his head and claimed her lips, Igraine met him with unveiled passion and kissed him back, teasing him with her tongue. He slightly bit her lower lip, just to punish her a little bit for her forwardness. She answered with a low moan, a sound so sensual that it aroused him even more. He could hardly restrain himself from taking her body now.

  Suddenly he needed to taste her, wanted to explore the secret place that was his to take. He went deeper and grabbed her hips with his strong hands, lifting her to meet his intimate kiss.

  Igraine gasped when she felt his hot breath between her thighs. He paused for a moment to inhale her delicious, womanly scent before he kissed her soft mound. His tongue parted her nether lips, diving between them to find her tiny pearl. Igraine cried out and struggled against her silken bonds, longing to be free to touch him. She wanted to caress his body, entangle her fingers in his beautiful hair, scratch her nails over his back as a revenge for the lustful torture he gave her. Again, she discovered that his elven tongue was just a little rougher than a human’s, which increased her pleasure immensely.

  Slowly, very slowly Elathan encircled the little swollen center of her desire with his tongue, alternately licking and suckling until he heard her scream out his name. Elathan. It sounded like a sighed plea to take her. Although he had forbidden her to call him by his name, he loved the way it sounded on her lips. He lifted his head, which made her wriggle her hips and moan with frustration. Yet his strong hands pinned her down to the bed, mercilessly.

  “You’re mine now, human,” he growled, his voice rich with passion. “Mine. Say it. Say my name.”

  Igraine barely heard him. Her whole being seemed to be reduced to the aching place where she wanted to feel his tongue again. Panting, she tried to push her hips up to meet his mouth. But the prince showed no mercy until she surrendered to his command.

  “I’m yours,” she said breathlessly.

  “Beg me. Say my name.”

  She gave up, unable to wait any longer. “Elathan,” she whispered. “Please don’t stop. I want you.”

  With a quick movement of his hand, he freed her from the silken bonds that held her imprisoned. Igraine had her hands on him in an instant. Moaning, she clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. Elathan grabbed her adorable backside, pushed her up to his mouth and conquered her completely - licking, teasing, exploring the entrance of her hot wetness longing for him.
He bit her velvety lips very softly, tugging at them with his teeth, thoroughly pleased when she cried out his name again. His tongue delved deep, parting her wet folds and licking its way from the base to the top until he reached the tiny nub of flesh again.

  A human’s lustful cries echoed off the walls of the prince’s bedchamber. “Come for me, Igraine”, he commanded harshly. Shuddering, she yielded to his wish. Only then he increased the pressure of his tongue and licked her rapidly, pushing her over the edge.

  Igraine felt waves of exquisite sensation roll over her while she came again and again, trembling violently. She moaned his name as if it was the last anchor she could hold onto until the tide carried her away, never to return. When the storm finally receded, she found herself drifting down into the dark, warm waters of unconsciousness, only marginally aware that she was encircled in a prince’s strong arms the whole time.

  Elathan's heart was filled with peace as he contentedly watched the sleeping woman in his bed. She belonged to him now. He had wrapped his whole body around her, just to keep her warm and safe. Smiling, he mused over why fate had brought her into his life so unexpectedly. It had been most satisfying for him to watch her passionate reactions, to hear her scream his name. Oh yes, she proved most pleasing, his little slave. He could not wait to lose himself in her, mark her as his own forever.

  But first, just to make sure that she was strong enough to take him into her body, she had to pass a final test.

  Elathan would arrange a most enjoyable hunt for tomorrow. It was the last part of the initiation ritual for a slave of pleasure. He looked forward to the moment when he'd catch his precious little prey. Then, finally, he would take what was now rightfully his.

  Chapter 8: The Magic Door

  Elathan had left early while Igraine was still sleeping. She woke up alone in his bed, feeling empty and cold without him. Shivering, she wrapped the black satin sheet tighter around herself. Her clothes were still drying on the stone by the lake, so she had nothing to wear.

  Standing up, she looked down at her body. She still couldn't believe how much she had changed in the short time since Elathan had brought her to these caves. Although not perfectly slim – she mused that her curvy figure would stay with her forever, no matter what she did - her belly was much flatter now, and the daily training with pole, sword and sometimes a longbow had given her strong, lean muscles. Actually, she had never felt better in her whole life.

  Back in her own world, her only joy left had been raiding the fridge in the middle of sleepless nights, followed by an inevitable rush of guilt. But it wasn't food she really craved; her heart wanted something else. Nothing had helped to fill her emptiness inside. Now her life had changed so much. She would really have to discuss the nature of their relationship with Elathan, unsure if she wanted to spend the rest of her life as a mere slave. But being with him excited her, made her feel so alive. And she wasn't alone anymore. Even if she didn't know what the elf felt for her, or what the future would bring, there was one thing she was sure of. Last night, the prince had taken her under his protection, sworn to stay with her. He was nothing like Stephen. She was sure that his honor meant everything to him, and that he'd never leave her.

  Elathan. Since she had tasted his elven blood mixed with her own, he seemed to have conquered her completely. She could feel him under her skin, sensed his presence in her soul. Right now, she didn’t know if he was near or far away. But she sensed that he wasn't angry or brooding today, but pleased, almost cheerful. She asked herself what was the cause for this unexpected mood. Perhaps he had thought of a new way to humiliate his human prisoner?

  Slave, her mind whispered. I am not his prisoner anymore. I have surrendered myself. Now I belong to him. The thought was not degrading, but sent pleasant little shivers down her spine. Heavens, what he had done to her last night! She was not able to describe the exquisite, overwhelming feelings he had awakened in her. His body covering hers, rubbing his own heart’s blood into her skin, sealing their bond for all time. The taste of his blood, so unexpectedly sweet. And his skillful tongue on her, parting her moist folds … She wanted to feel it again, everywhere on her body. And she wanted him to love her.

  The prince had left a message on the bedside table, written in black ink on a piece of parchment. His handwriting looked slightly antique, powerful and elegant.

  Lady Igraine,

  There will be no training for you today. You will wait here in my chambers and prepare yourself for the hunt until I come for you. By the lake, you will find appropriate clothing and, as is the custom of the Fae, a gift to my slave of pleasure. I would be honored if you accepted it.

  I suggest that you get some rest before night falls. You will need all your strength.

  Elathan

  "Prepare myself?" Igraine murmured, confused. And what on earth did he mean when he spoke of a hunt? What kind of prey did he want to chase down? She doubted that many animals lived in these caves, apart from insects and small reptiles, maybe. After a while she gave up wondering about the letter. She couldn't even guess at the mysterious plan the elf had come up with this time. There was no other choice for her than to just wait and see.

  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 chi
seled, 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.