Free Bound to the Prince by Deborah Court Page B

smooth you couldn’t feel them on your body, fine
jewellery and pottery, and the small shiny gadgets and trinkets
they liked so much. For there was one thing the trolls desired more
than everything else - beauty.
    So somehow this place, cold and barren as it
was, seemed to enhance beauty with its old magic. Elathan could see
it clearly happening whenever he looked at Igraine. Not that she
needed it, but now she was so stunning that she made him think of a
shining star illuminating the night whenever he saw her. She didn’t
know that he had entered her chamber every night since she was
here, watching her while she slept so peacefully on her bed, curled
up on her side like a child. His sharp elven eyes had adjusted to
this eternal darkness long ago, so he didn’t need a candle to see
her delicate features, closed eyelids with long dark lashes lying
against her cheeks, her slightly perky nose and her lush, sensual
lips. Now and then he had smoothed a lock from her brow, feeling
its softness.
    Soft. Damn, she was so soft. He just wanted
to lie down with her on the pallet and wrap himself around her warm
body while she looked so relaxed in her sleep. He wanted to bury
his face in her neck and breathe in her sweet scent, close his eyes
and find peace for a while.
    Last night, Elathan just had entered her
chamber, when to his surprise the woman woke up. He was positive
that he had not made a sound, but she somehow seemed to sense his
presence. As she stood there in the deep darkness without seeing
anything, he clearly saw her fear. But he couldn’t help but admire
her courage when she waited so calmly for her invisible enemy to
attack.
    As he felt his heart beating faster with a
strange, disconcerting pride, his feelings suddenly turned to blind
rage. It was directed at himself, for being far too much attracted
to this woman. After all, she represented the race he was
determined to hunt down and destroy whenever he could.
    He approached her, frightened her to death
when he showed her the contempt and disgust he felt for her kind.
For a moment he had considered killing her right on the spot, to
rid himself of the dangerous weakness she had awakened in him.
Although she was terrified, he realized how aroused she was by his
touch, how much she wanted him, how desperately. It was not only
sexual desire. Her soul seemed to reach out to him, begging him to
make her a part of him.
    It had felt incredible to kiss her, as if his
heart cried out with joy for the first time in centuries. When he
couldn’t help himself from further exploring her body, he had felt
like he was her slave now, overwhelmed by the raw
lust in her eyes, her soft moans and cries. The feeling of her wet,
naked flesh against his manhood turned him into a reckless animal,
rubbing against her until she came for him, holding her close while
she writhed beneath him.
    Instead of seeking his own release, he
quickly left her. If he went any further now, he would not have
been gentle. His need for her was so overwhelming that he would
have taken her life, along with her willing body. It made him
painfully aware of the loneliness that tormented him since he had
come here, to this dark and hopeless place. He had fought very long
and hard to build up the walls that protected his heart from
further pain, and he would not allow a mere mortal to tear them
down. Even if it meant killing her.
    But for now, he found no reason why he
shouldn’t amuse himself with her desirable body until she was ready
to take him without dying from exhaustion as a result. And even if
she didn’t survive, Elathan would make sure that she enjoyed
herself so much that she wouldn’t care about dying at all.
     
    Before leaving after their sword training
that day, the prince had told Igraine to come to his chambers
later, giving her exact directions. As she went through the dark
tunnels, she couldn’t stop the frantic beating of her heart.
    Elathan. He wanted her to bathe him.
    She looked down at