Bound to the Prince (38 page)

When I step out, I’m in the strangest place
I’ve ever seen – not that I can really remember where I’ve been
before. At first, all I see is dense, white satin mist. It’s
everywhere, swallowing the daylight. Even the colors of the old,
gnarled willow trees around the hut seem to be pale, washed out
like a distant memory. I wonder if I’m inside a dream, but at the
same time I know that all this is real. I breathe the cool, clear
air, feel the fog cover my skin with a thin veil of moisture. The
ground beneath my feet is real, as is the deep blue water lapping
at the shore just a few steps away. I walk through high, soft grass
until I reach the narrow strip of sand leading down to the water.
Bowing down, I put a finger into it and taste that it’s fresh and
sweet, so I’m not at the sea. It must be a lake, but I can’t
estimate its size for all is shrouded in the ever-present fog,
obscuring my view in every direction. As I slowly turn around, I
finally see that it must be a small island I’m standing on, a tiny
speck of land that seems to consist of some grass, a couple of
trees and my hut. Suddenly I know that the lake must be large and
deep. I can’t see the other side, but I’m sure that it’s impossible
to try to swim to the other shore. It’s not just a feeling. I know
it. And I also know that I’m all alone.

Yet, being alone doesn’t frighten me. This
place seems to have a magic of its own. It is mine, and I’ll be
happy to stay here forever, just sitting at the shore and resting
my feet in the cool water, looking out into the mist. It’s
beautiful. There doesn’t seem to be any source of food to find on
the island, but I don’t feel hungry at all. In fact, I think I
don’t need to eat anymore – ever. Maybe anything is possible
here.

Despite wearing the new clothes, I am still
dirty and smeared with blood, so I quickly shove down the gown and
chemise and wade into the water. There’s no soap or towel, but the
cool water feels heavenly on my naked body while I rub off all the
blood and dirt, leftovers of my other life. I don’t care about
those events anymore. Maybe it’s better if I don’t remember. Yet,
there’s something still there, a distant memory that has outlasted
my long sleep of oblivion. It’s hidden somewhere in the back of my
mind, like a living being, and it makes my heart weep with sadness
if I fail to deliberately ignore it for a moment. It angers me,
this unknown presence – what is it, this thought that slips out of
my reach every time I search for it? But I don’t want to remember.
Leave me in peace, I whisper, hoping the unwanted part of my mind
will heed my words.

Suddenly, I sense a change. I smell it in
the air, see the fog swirling in other directions, stretching out
its pale fingers as if to warn me. I look down at the water that
used to be still and calm, like a mirror. Now tiny waves lap at my
naked breasts. It feels like a lover’s caress, and I close my eyes
for a moment, enjoying it. But change disturbs the precious peace I
just found, and I don’t want this to happen. Angrily, I wade out of
the water and quickly dress. Then I wait at the shore and listen,
my body prickling with awareness.

Something is coming through the dense mist.
I don’t know what it is at first, but gradually the long, sleek
form of a ship takes shape. It’s a rather small vessel, but its
beauty makes me hold my breath. It looks much like a Viking dragon
boat, but it’s not made of wood. It’s entirely made of silver,
adorned with innumerable ornaments. There are no pictures, but
symbols in an unknown language. Instinctively, I know that some
kind of magic spell enables this metal ship to glide over the water
so smoothly, barely making a sound.

When the ship cuts through the fog like a
silver knife, I see him standing at the bow. A man, if he’s a man
at all, not a ghost from another life to haunt me. He's tall and
broad-shouldered, clad in soft black leather trousers, boots and a
long white tunic stretching over bulging muscles, a sword sheathed
at a belt around his waist. Even before I can see him clearly, I
feel his intimidating presence, while his proud posture and
strength leaves no doubt that he’s a warrior. His every movement
radiates power, and small shivers run down my spine. Long, silvery
blond hair falls wildly down to his waist, giving him the look of a
pagan angel. My mouth feels dry, and I fight the urge to sigh with
desire.

Then he sees me, and his body becomes tense
all at once. He looks like a tiger spotting his prey for the first
time. My inner peace vanishes, and I feel self-conscious, with lake
water dripping from my hair and the simple dress that clings to my
wet skin. I don’t want this beautiful warrior to look at me, and I
start to retreat, longing for the safety of my little hut. His body
becomes even more rigid when I try to turn away from him.
Cautiously, he stretches out a hand as if asking me to stop, to
stay right where I am. Perhaps he has woven a spell over me, for
suddenly I am unable to move. Like a marble statue, I just stand in
the shallow water until the vessel reaches the shore.

With the natural grace of a wild animal, he
jumps out of the ship and lands waist-deep in the water, just a few
steps away from me. When I behold his face for the first time,
something inside me breaks, and I feel a strange wetness on my
cheeks. Furiously, I wipe it away with the back of my hand. “Go
away,” I tell him. Just looking at him makes the strange pain I
felt earlier rip through my head again. I don’t want all of this.
But I am too weak to resist.

He’s the sun. He’s the moon. Not answering,
he simply looks at me. His eyes are so sad. I wonder why.
Carefully, not wanting to frighten me away, he reaches out his left
hand and touches my cheek. It makes me shiver with pleasure, and I
press my face into his palm for a moment before shrinking back from
his touch.

Deep within me, something stirs - something
primal, untamed. My body craves him, my heart aches for him. But I
don’t know this man, neither do I want to. Even if he hasn’t spoken
a single word yet, he makes me … want to remember. And simply
trying brings back the pain inside my head, nearly causing my skull
to burst.

Here on the island, every day is like a new
beginning. No sorrow, no pain. Just peace and silence to calm the
deep, raging sea of feelings inside my soul. I like to keep it that
way.

“
Igraine.”

I hear his deep, melodic voice for the very
first time, not much more than a whisper on the wind. The strange
word drops like honey from his tongue, and it feels like he’s
caressing my body. I dare to lean closer to him. Closing my eyes, I
inhale his male scent. He smells like midnight dew on a freshly
opening blossom. Slowly I raise my face to his, looking into his
warm golden eyes. When I moisten my parted lips with the tip of my
tongue, I hear a low groan from deep inside his chest.

My every instinct tells me that if I allow
the stranger to touch me only once again, my blissful oblivion will
be lost forever. His breath sounds ragged now, as if he’s barely
able to constrain his own strength. Or is it caused by the same
pain I see in his eyes? But I don’t want to look at him any longer.
He frightens me beyond measure.

One step back. Then another.

I turn around and run.

* * * * *

As Igraine fled from the stranger, her feet
got caught in the soft ground, covered with a thick carpet of
silver leaves. Every movement appeared slow, too slow, while she
stumbled towards the safety of her hut. Without turning back, she
knew that he was following her. She heard his powerful strides
behind her. The fear gave her new strength, and she ran faster now,
holding up her skirt to avoid tripping on the hem.

There was the hut, right ahead. She ran, and
her heart beat like a war drum inside her chest. Although she could
hear him breathing, she didn't dare to look back and see how easily
he hunted her down. Nor did she want to be tempted by his
otherworldly beauty. Reaching her tiny cottage, she stretched out
her hand to open the door. This was the moment when he caught her.
She never had a chance to begin with. His tall, hard body crashed
into her back. Strong arms locked around her waist like unyielding
bands of steel. The impact made them fall down to the ground where
they lay for a long moment, unmoving. Their ragged breathing was
the only sound on the island. For the first time, she realized that
there wasn't anything else. She couldn’t hear birds singing or
small animals rustling through the undergrowth, not even the soft
sound of water breaking against the shore. His heavy body was
stretched out on top of hers, pinning her down into the mass of
leaves so she was unable to move. He leaned onto his elbows to take
some weight off her. Igraine's hair had fallen forward, and the
back of her neck was bared to his hot, agitated breath. She
couldn't suppress a soft moan when he touched her with his lips
right there, leaving a burning mark on her skin.

He buried his face in the small valley
between her neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply. “Igraine,” he
whispered. The word scorched her soul, tortured her. Trapped like
an animal, she started to fight him. She buckled up to push him off
her back, but when she failed, she believed she heard a trickle of
deep laughter. Furious now, she finally managed to turn around and
face the barbarian who was lying fully on her body. His sculpted
chest crushed her breasts, and when she wriggled under him, the
friction caused her nipples to harden against her will, aching for
his touch. His weight pressed her deeper into the bed of leaves,
and she was surrounded by his irresistible fragrance. She couldn’t
even try to describe it.

He smelled of untamed power and surprising
sweetness, the musky scent of male rising passion, the freshness of
a spring night. She wanted to lick every part of his body like the
most delicious treat. His hair fell down all over her, woven of
gold and silver, and it felt like pure silk on her skin. She
presently closed her eyes and just savored the feeling of him, his
warmth. Then she began to struggle against him in earnest. She
forced up her arms and pounded against his chest, trying to hurt
him. She wanted to make him go away. But no matter how hard she
tried, she was no match for his strength. He didn't even seem to
feel it.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull at
it, hoping to hurt him enough so he'd leave her alone. Groaning,
she tried not to feel how smoothly the long tresses glided through
her fingers. Her other hand reached up to hit him, but instead it
developed a life of its own, eagerly touching his cheek which was
roughened by a soft stubble. Suddenly, she wanted him to rub his
face all over her body, until she burned and tingled with pleasure.
Her fingers moved up to his ear, and to her surprise it was
pointed. When he noticed her staring at him, he turned his head and
allowed her to watch him more closely.

“What are you?” she breathed. “You are not
human.”

Her gaze dropped down to his hands when he
gently touched her shoulders, and she saw that his sword hand was
made of silver. She took a deep breath, her eyes widening. Apart
from the silver skin, the hand looked perfectly normal. She could
even see his veins shimmering through. She felt his fingers, warm
and strong on her bare arm. The stranger watched her intensely to
see her reaction, surprise on his face when she shrugged. “I see
that you have a magic hand, elf. I’ll admit that it’s pretty, but
nothing to impress me, lowly human that I am. Now leave my island
and begone.”

Why did I just say that
, she thought.
She had never met him before. And she had called him an elf without
hesitation, even if she had wondered what he was just a few moments
ago.

Astonishingly, her words didn't anger him at
all. He smiled brightly, his face more beautiful than she could
ever endure, and her heart cried out with joy. Yet she couldn't
allow this to happen, not understanding the strange power he
wielded over her.

“Whatever you are, I don’t know you," she
hissed. "Go away. I want to be alone.”

This was enough to make his smile vanish.
Until now, his predator’s eyes had shone with golden fire, but her
words made them look dark and sad again. Without knowing why, she
hated herself for having extinguished the light in those wonderful,
old eyes. She didn't want to see the grief in them, so deep that
she felt her heart start to bleed. She had no idea why she even
cared about this cruel stranger who threatened the safety of her
island, but she did. Not knowing what else to say, she just
followed her instincts. She grabbed his hair again and pulled him
down to her face. Burning with the need to touch, to taste, to
devour, she kissed him fully on the lips, hard.

Storms of passion raced through her, through
both of them. The sole reason for their existence was to mate, to
be joined as a single, primitive being. A spark of light rose from
their entangled bodies, instantly flashing to life and engulfing
them in a raging firestorm.
This is magic
, she managed to
think before they were surrounded by a column of fire that shot up
into the air, higher and higher until it reached the clouded sky.
Thunder rumbled over their heads, and then even the heavens wept
for them. Rain poured down, drenching them in an instant. But the
magic flames kept licking at them, resisting banishment by the
water as he kissed her deeply, almost brutally.

Her lips opened willingly when he entered her
mouth with his tongue. Rivers of molten lava ran through her body
and gathered in the aching valley between her thighs. They began to
pull the clothes off each other’s bodies, tearing them with the
groans of frustrated animals until they were naked, skin to skin.
The feeling of his unbelievably strong body on hers was almost more
than she could bear, and she wanted to cry with happiness. He
covered her naked breasts with hot kisses, pressed them together to
claim them with his lips. His tongue circled one tight peak, then
the other, before he sucked her deep inside his mouth, making her
moan with pleasure.