Bound to the Prince

By Deborah Court

An elven prince without a throne.

A mortal woman without hope, stolen from her own world to fulfill his every desire.

A choice of love and death that could bind them together forever.

Some people believe that beneath our own world, separated only by a thin veil of human disbelief, there is another one – an ancient land of myths and legends, a place where magical creatures dwell. What would happen if one of them walked the streets of London at night?

Once a proud warrior, elven prince Elathan was living in exile, fallen from grace and separated from his own people. He wanted the mortal woman the moment he saw her standing on Blackfriars Bridge, staring down into the darkness with unbearable pain in her eyes. This strangely compelling female also happened to have luscious curves that made his body ache with desire.
Naturally, he decided to hunt the woman down, drag her to his lair and command her to become his slave of pleasure. But would her frail human body survive a night of untamed passion in the arms of a Fae?

After a devastating breakup with her fiancé, Igraine Chandler was spending her honeymoon in England all by herself, her life utterly bereft of meaning. For who could ever love a plain, slightly overweight nurse from New Jersey with nothing left but a broken heart and her lost dreams of a home and a family?
But she never imagined that she would soon set out into a world beyond her wildest dreams, and help a prince reclaim his throne ...

Set in a medieval fantasy world of noble knights, monsters and magicians, honor, betrayal and revenge, “Bound to the Prince” is a romance influenced by Celtic mythology and Arthurian legends. But in its heart, it’s a story of a woman’s inner development to a new, strong, self; uninhibited desire, boundless love, loss and sacrifice.

***

“Too long have I lived in this darkness, human," he said, so close to her that his lips touched her earlobe, light as a butterfly’s wing. “Alone.”
Igraine felt the elf’s hot breath as it caressed her cheek. He lowered his head slightly, inhaling deeply. She knew he was taking in her scent. Despite her fear, the urge to touch him was growing so strong that she started to reach out to him. He caught both of her wrists with one of his large hands, pinning them against the wall so she was his helpless prey once again. She gasped when she felt his tongue touch the sensitive spot right below her ear, licking her very softly as if he wanted to taste her before eating her alive. His beauty, his seductive voice were the predator’s way of lulling his prey into a false sense of security before killing, without regret.
“So warm, so alive,” he murmured. “And yet you are doomed to die, with every breath you take.” His lips moved downwards, along the side of her neck where the blood rapidly pulsated in her carotid artery. She felt his teeth graze her skin right there.
She never saw it coming. If he had attacked, intending to kill her, she wouldn’t have been surprised. But the elf moved so quickly that she couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her. Still imprisoning her hands above her head, he used his free arm to pull her nearer to his body until only a thin layer of fabric separated them. He crushed her to him so forcefully it hurt, but she didn’t care. Breathing was difficult, anyway.
Suddenly, he let her wrists go and entwined his fingers in her curls. He lifted one of the auburn tresses to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. “Beautiful,” he murmured softly. Then he grabbed a fistful of hair at her neck and pulled her head back. Trapped, she faced him in the darkness while the prince bowed his head to capture her lips ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Court
• Release date: Aug 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466006157

Deborah Court

I am an author, translator and passionate book lover. I write romance, fantasy, paranormals and mystery. When does an avid reader become a writer? I love books. I always did, since I was old enough to learn to read, and my passion for stories – funny or tragic, dark or phantastic, sad or amusing – has grown ever since. My love for romances started back in my early teens when I first read a Kathleen E. Woodiwiss „The Flame and the Flower“. I got hooked, and over the next years I devoured every historical romance I could get my hands on – until today, my all-time favourite is Jude Deveraux' „A Knight in Shining Armor“. Jane Austen, the Victorian gothic classics and graphic novels like „Elfquest“ influenced me, too, but I also like fantasy, mystery, thrillers, historicals and poetry. With time, I started to think about the books I had read, starting to write alternate endings or additional scenes. The step to write my own story wasn't too far from there. I always wanted to write myself. Over the years, I have written many short stories, fan fiction (Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Hellboy and others) and articles for magazines. But the wish to write my own romance was always there, in the back of my head. At age 20, while still at college, I was lucky enough to get a job as a translator of romance books, mostly historicals. Translating made me learn a lot about the structure of a book, about good and bad writing and what the reader looks for in a good story. With the rise of paranormal romances following Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, I finally encountered a genre that had everything I ever wanted in a story: Romance, supernatural and fantasy elements, and more passionate love scenes than in your usual romance. „Bound to the Prince“ began as a small story about an elven warrior who has been living in exile for many years, hidden in underground caves beneath the world of humans. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined it to grow into a full-length romance, but here it is, and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I loved writing it. xoxoxo Deborah

Book preview

Too long have I lived in this darkness, human, he said, so close to her that his lips touched her earlobe, light as a butterfly’s wing. Alone.

Igraine felt the elf’s hot breath as it caressed her cheek. He lowered his head slightly, inhaling deeply. She knew he was taking in her scent. Despite her fear, the urge to touch him was growing so strong that she started to reach out to him. He caught both of her wrists with one of his large hands, pinning them against the wall so she was his helpless prey once again. She gasped when she felt his tongue touch the sensitive spot right below her ear, licking her very softly as if he wanted to taste her before eating her alive. His beauty, his seductive voice were the typical predator’s way of lulling his prey into a false sense of security before killing, without regret.

So warm, so alive, he murmured. And yet you are doomed to die, with every breath you take. His lips moved downwards, along the side of her neck where the blood rapidly pulsated in her carotid artery. She felt his teeth graze her skin right there.

She never saw it coming. If he had attacked, intending to kill her, she wouldn’t have been surprised. But the elf moved so quickly that she couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her. Still imprisoning her hands above her head, he used his free arm to pull her nearer to his body until only a thin layer of fabric separated them. He crushed her to him so forcefully it hurt, but she didn’t care. Breathing was difficult, anyway.

Suddenly, he let her wrists go and entwined his fingers in her curls. He lifted one of the auburn tresses to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. Beautiful, he murmured softly. Then he grabbed a fistful of hair at her neck and pulled her head back. Trapped, she faced him in the darkness while the prince bowed his head to capture her lips …

* * * * *

BOUND TO THE PRINCE

By Deborah Court

Copyright 2011 Deborah Court

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Copyright Page/Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1: Blackfriars Bridge

Chapter 2: The Angel of Death

Chapter 3: Training Day

Chapter 4: The Presence in the Dark

Chapter 5: Pain and Pleasure

Chapter 6: The Prince by the Lake

Chapter 7: Slave of Pleasure

Chapter 8: The Magic Door

Chapter 9: The Hunt

Chapter 10: Mine to take

Chapter 11: The Lover

Chapter 12: Water Lilies

Chapter 13: The Silence

Chapter 14: Bound

Chapter 15: A Sight to Behold

Chapter 16: Old Friends

Chapter 17: Sleeping Beauty

Chapter 18: Calatin

Chapter 19: Flash of Lightning

Chapter 20: The Blue Plains of Debethea

Chapter 21: The Inn

Chapter 22: The Prince's Men

Chapter 23: The Mountain of Gold

Chapter 24: The Forgotten City

Chapter 25: An unexpected Arrival

Chapter 26: The Well

Chapter 27: The Royal Chambers

Chapter 28: The Sun and the Moon

Copyright Page

Bound to the Prince. Copyright 2011 by Deborah Court. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's website

http://www.deborahcourt.com

and blog

http://www.deborahcourt.blogspot.com

You can contact me by e-mail at [e-mail]

I love to hear from readers!

Special thanks to my editor Lynette Sofras (http://www.manicscribbler.blogspot.com) for her wonderful help and advice, and to Kim for the hot damn cover!

Cover Design by Hot Damn Designs

http://www.HotDamnDesigns.com

This is dedicated to my family and especially to all my faithful forum and blog readers who gave me the confidence to write this book. You believed in me. Without you, I'd never make it this far. To my friend Hanna for her beautiful art, my writing buddy Abby, Barb and her invaluable Gaelic lessons, Kat who encouraged me to keep the hotness going, Nat, Lee, Macha, Gini and everyone I didn't mention. You know who you are. Luvya gals!

Prologue

Deep in the night, an elven prince lay by a lake, sound asleep.

Dreams wove their way into his peacefully resting mind, dreams of days long past, when he was a young knight living at his father’s court. King Bres of the Tuatha Dé Danann had attached great importance to his son’s education and insisted that Elathan was to be treated the same as any other warrior in his service, for he should not grow up to be pampered and weak. After all, Prince Elathan’s royal duty would be to defend Fearann, the lands of the Fae, and make sure that no human would ever cross the magic boundaries.

However, the king didn’t treat his son quite as fairly as the rest of the young warriors. Bres had commanded that Elathan should train harder and longer than any of the others. The prince exercised with his weapons from the first ray of light until his body gave up and he broke down, totally exhausted. If he stopped fighting too soon, claiming to be tired, his teachers had been instructed to chain him to the wall of the armory and flog him until streams of blood ran over his back.

His wounds were to be treated by fairy healers afterwards, so he could continue his training the next day. Endless lessons in warfare alternated with hard physical exercise, with no time left for activities the prince had enjoyed so much previously. Elathan loved to ride his horse through the vast old forests surrounding the king’s fortress, and he liked to spend time with his beloved young cousin, Lady Ailidh.

Even in the prince's dreams, her name caused a surge of pain to rip violently through his soul. This pain had become an old friend over the years, visiting him frequently when he tossed and turned in his bed in the dark of night, finding no rest or peace at all. Ailidh had been born only days after Elathan, the heir to the throne.

Queen Aeval had died giving birth to the prince; a difficult pregnancy and the exertion of labor that had lasted almost two days had proved too much for her frail body to bear. Before she had bled to death, the queen had kissed her son and named him in the presence of her ladies. The strong one. Elathan. Sometimes, in his dreams, the prince could still recall his mother’s voice whispering his name.

Ailidh's mother, the king's half-sister, did not survive the girl's birth, either. So the two children were raised together, fed by the same nurse and brought up by the queen's former ladies-in-waiting. Since their earliest childhood, the boy and girl had been inseparable, and when they were apart, each of them knew where the other was. They communicated in their own language, and always seemed to know what the other was thinking. Seen together, the cousins looked impressive, almost like siblings. They had the same proud, regal posture, alabaster skin and amber eyes. Yet the prince's hair was the pale golden color of winter moonbeams, while Ailidh's was midnight black.

Elathan was stronger and wilder than his delicate cousin. He hurt himself very often during fights with other boys or by climbing trees that were too high for him. If he was beaten for his disobedience afterwards, Ailidh would cry, as well. The children even shared their pain. Their minds were connected in such an intense way that it frightened Elathan's father, who one day decided that it would be best to separate them.

When the king’s servants entered their nursery, the children clung to each other, crying, already sensing what would happen. They were torn from each other’s arms, and their screams of agony echoed throughout the old halls of the fortress for hours, until they eventually died away. At first, their pain was devastating. But with time they found secret ways to meet, in darkened alleyways or unoccupied chambers. They used to stand in each other’s arms with their foreheads touching, silently sharing their thoughts. It was only these occasional meetings that gave Elathan the strength to endure the cruel education the king had chosen for his son.

Fueled by his inner pain and loneliness, Elathan’s love for his cousin turned into a deeper, darker feeling over time. He used to lie awake at night, despite his exhaustion, thinking of her, imagining that one day, when he ruled the realm, she would be forever at his side. But Elathan knew that the immortal Bres would have to be killed by his enemies before the heir could claim the throne; and the prince's love for his father was too great to wish for such an event. So he was content to serve his people as a warrior prince. Defending them and keeping their lands safe would be his eternal duty.

One day when the cousins met, Elathan kissed Ailidh, but the chaste meeting of their lips suddenly turned into something more passionate. He hadn’t planned this; never would have dared to dream about it. He just longed to get closer to her, feeling like a part of his soul had been ripped away when the king had ordered their separation. But he also realized that he wanted her, to possess completely. His whole life’s purpose was to be dedicated to taking responsibility for others, sacrificing his own needs. For this one time only, he had wanted something for himself; something precious that he wouldn’t have to share. Yet he knew it was wrong, and he would never touch her again – not like this.

Horrified, Ailidh had fled the room. She didn’t ever come back to their secret meetings, but he kept waiting for her. He needed to talk to her just one more time, and beg her to forgive him. Night after night he roamed the dark corridors of the old castle, looking for any sign of Ailidh. When she didn’t come, he began to seek comfort in the arms of female servants and chamber maidens which pleased him well enough, though it didn’t comfort him or make him forget his pain.

He missed her mere presence at his side. Even worse, she had shut her mind against him, so he couldn’t sense her anymore, didn’t know where she was or what she felt. He despised himself for having tainted their pure, innocent love with his forbidden desire. For the first time in his life, the prince was utterly alone. He did not know that it would stay this way for centuries to come.

When he finally realized that Ailidh would never come back to him, he continued his training with a newfound energy, eager to fight real battles where sweet death would eventually find him. Soon, the opportunity he had been waiting for arose. Humans were attacking the boundaries of the realm. King Bres summoned the prince to appear at court. As Elathan knelt down before his father’s throne and respectfully bowed his head, the king spoke the words that the prince had secretly been hoping for.

My son, your time has come to prove that you’re worthy of being a true knight of the realm, defender of the Tuatha Dé Danann. You will lead the army to meet our enemies at dawn. Do not show them mercy, for they will have no mercy for our people. He nodded slightly, so the prince arose and climbed up the few steps to the throne. There he kneeled down again. A servant brought a golden chest adorned with the royal seal and opened the lid, holding it out to the king. Bres took a dagger from the chest, made of gold and richly decorated with gemstones. Then he looked into his son’s eyes with the silent order not to move or show any sign of weakness. Elathan didn’t see any regret in his father’s face, no plea for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

The king stretched out his hand and started to cut the royal signs of initiation into his son’s unmarred body, slowly dragging the sharp blade over his chest - elven runes, marking him as the sole true heir to the throne. Elves, especially the young ones, healed too quickly, and the king knew this very well. The cutting didn’t just scratch the surface of his skin, but dug deep into the prince’s flesh, so he would bear the scars forever.

Elathan didn’t even flinch, but stared right into his father’s eyes. Noticing the unwavering coldness there, he tried to block out the searing pain from his mind. He was strong. He knew he could endure this with dignity. His father had never shown him any sign of love, not once praised him, no matter how hard he trained to succumb to the king’s wishes. Blood ran over his chest and dripped down to the cold marble floor. The throne room was so quiet now that those present heard the sound of it, like raindrops falling from the leaves after a thunderstorm.

But then, unexpectedly, Elathan felt a rush of pain that wasn’t his own. Ailidh. She was not here, but he could feel her cringing, falling down to her knees. While she shared his torture, he knew that she felt the invisible blade cutting through his skin. Ailidh had dropped the inner shield she had erected to block Elathan’s mind out while he was searching for her.

No. He didn’t want her to bear his burdens anymore. He was too weakened to cut the connection between them right now, but he could take the pain from her, and suffer it along with his own. Elathan entered his cousin’s mind, joining with her so all she felt was occupied by his senses. Then he pushed her to the edge of their shared consciousness. No, she whispered in his thoughts, but he ignored her, concentrating on the pain they both felt while the king cut snake-like lines all over his upper body. The doubled pain was overwhelming. It possessed his whole being and turned him into a primitive creature, wanting to cry out and kill the one doing this to them both. It took his whole willpower not to cringe or step back to escape the sharp dagger.

Yet Elathan stood perfectly still, showing no sign of distress while the king slashed him over and over again. Then, with a long, final cut, the deepest of them all, Bres suddenly drew his blade across his son’s face, slicing from one cheekbone to the chin. A painful gasp escaped Elathan’s lips before he could suppress it. Blood streaming out of the gaping wound. He stiffened, not wanting to give Bres the satisfaction of deeming him weak. When the king returned the dagger to the waiting servant, the prince allowed a part of the pain to return to Ailidh, knowing she could take it now. We are even, my sister, his devastated mind told her. I’ll go to war now. You will be free soon.

* * * * *

For three days and three nights the elven prince fought in battle, leading his army against the human invaders. Thousands of humans fell, as they couldn’t compete against the elven warriors' fighting skills. Victory seemed near, until the humans brought forth new deadly weapons the elves had not expected - catapults hurling enormous rocks through the air, destroying the elven lines.

But Elathan refused to give up so easily. He thought about a new plan of action. A part of the elven army pretended to retreat, only to attack later from the other side of the mountain. Elathan and his guards assaulted the human army directly, setting out to burn down the war machinery they so detested. The elves had long since achieved the skills to build such weapons, but declined to use them, for they thought it cowardice if a warrior didn’t fight his enemy face-to-face with his own hands.

At dawn the prince and his men set out to resume the fighting, when a soft, female voice called out to him in his mind. Elathan, his cousin whispered, stay behind today, I beg you. Your death is waiting for you out there. I saw it. Elathan knew that Ailidh’s gift of second sight was usually unfailing, but he didn’t answer and mounted his war-horse, riding off to the enemy lines. It was there, amidst battle later that day that his stallion was hit by an arrow. Falling down, Elathan rolled aside to avoid being crushed under his horse. He hit his head on a stone and lost consciousness for a short time.

When the prince opened his eyes again, he noticed a huge catapult in the distance, flinging a deadly rock in his direction. Then, all of a sudden, Ailidh was there at his side. To his surprise she wasn't a hallucination. Her eyes were full of love and fear when she grabbed his wrists with both hands and dragged him away over the stony ground, using all her strength. At the same moment the giant rock crashed down right beside them, leaving the air filled with smoke and dust.

When Elathan could see clearly again, he found his cousin’s delicate body lying under the heavy stone, unmoving and at a strange angle. She looked like a broken doll. Only her head and part of her back were visible, a pool of blood slowly spreading out under her. Ailidh's eyes were wide open; her lifeless stare leaving no doubt that she was gone forever.

At first, the prince couldn’t comprehend what had happened, so he knelt down at her side and tilted his head, searching her face for a reaction. When none came, he took her hand tenderly in his, trying to enter her mind. But there was nothing, not even the solid wall keeping him away from her.

Nothing, only silence.

Elathan felt a terrible pain rising in his soul, threatening to tear him apart. It dawned on him that Ailidh had deliberately separated her mind from his just before the rock hit her, cutting the invisible bond that held them together. So she had known what would happen and didn't want him to save her. From what she had told him before battle, it was clear he had been destined to die today. Ailidh had deliberately taken his place.

Elathan was still trying to understand what had occurred when he heard deep, ragged sobs, not realizing that they came from his own chest. The elven warriors, finally having driven their enemies away and basking in their victory, turned around when they heard their beloved prince cry out his agony to the heavens. When they joined Elathan, they found him crouched over Lady Ailidh’s shattered body.

Laying down their weapons, one after the other knelt down in a circle around the royal cousins, weeping with their prince. They had never seen him cry before, not even when he was beaten half to death at his own father's command. Now, Elathan's newly scarred face was a mask of pain, but his eyes were burning with hatred for the humans who had taken her from him. Raising his eyes to the heavens, he swore to the gods that he would have his revenge on every mortal who ever dared to cross his path.

Chapter 1: Blackfriars Bridge

It was the end.

As Igraine looked down from Blackfriars Bridge, her eyes tried to pierce the darkness to see the dirty water below. The river’s surface was already covered with a layer of fog that grew thicker with every minute, making it impossible to estimate how long her fall would be. She doubted that the impact alone would kill her, but the shock of it, combined with the icy temperature of the water, would finish her off for sure. If she waited until the Thames was cloaked in heavy fog, it would be easier to jump, without having to overcome her fear of heights.

It would take just one small step. The grey cloud would swallow her silently, and the world would move on as if she had never existed. On such a night, only a few boats were on the Thames, so probably no one would fish her out of the water to save her. She felt a sudden coldness spreading through her chest, and she knew that it had nothing to do with the October winds that swept over the bridge.

She had not planned this, not even thought about it before. She had walked the streets of London for hours this night after spending the evening in the National Portrait Gallery. She had gone to one of the upper floors and visited the large collection of Tudor paintings, displayed in a dimly lit corridor. History had always fascinated her; faraway times and cultures so different from this world, tales from people who had lived and breathed, loved and died with passion although life had been short and full of hardships for them. The long-deceased men and women in the paintings had looked down their aristocratic noses to watch her while she moved about; their lifeless eyes following the unhappy Igraine. They seemed to mock her, a woman in her thirties, who was spending what should have been her wedding trip on her own. She was walking the silent, lonely corridors of the gallery at night while the streets around her bustled and hummed with life.

Having left the gallery, her steps led her automatically towards the river. Going east, following the embankment, she saw the red-and-white wrought iron arches of the bridge looming in the distance and knew that this was her destination. Finally, she climbed the stairs to Blackfriars. It was blocked off for traffic due to renovation works, but she just ducked under the barrier and walked up the sidewalk until she reached the middle of the deserted bridge. She went to the railing and looked over at the nearby remnants of a demolished old railway bridge. Pairs of massive red columns protruded from the river like the teeth of a dead whale.

Maybe it was something she had read about this bridge which had led her here. In Victorian times, it had been a popular place for desperate women to commit suicide. Most of them had fallen from grace, impoverished and without hope, often pregnant with an unwanted, illegitimate child. The dignified presence of the bridge had separated them from St. Paul’s, a symbol of faith and purity.

Igraine looked to the north, where the cathedral’s gloomy dome stood guard over the city. Suddenly, she realized how many generations of people had come and gone here, and she knew that it didn’t really matter what happened to her. The world would have forgotten her She was nothing but a light breeze that had moved the leaves of a huge old tree just for a short moment, then vanished into the air, never to be remembered.

She leaned against the railing and buried her face in her hands, her ragged breath rapidly turning into deep, painful sobs. There was only one question in her mind, growing louder and louder until she wanted to cry it out to the night, demanding an answer.

Why? Why couldn't he just love me? I did everything I could to make him. What is wrong with me?

She knew how foolish this was, like a little girl who couldn't understand why someone she loved had left her. Rationally, she knew that it had not been her fault, that he simply was a lying, conniving jerk who wasn't worthy of her love.

However, a little voice inside her head told her otherwise; said that she was just not the type of woman to attract a man’s love; that she would never be good enough, no matter how hard she tried. And what was worse, she knew that this belief was embedded so deeply inside her heart that it would always end like that if she ever dared to hope to find love. Anger rose in her. She hit the cold metal of the balustrade with her fist until her hand was bruised and bleeding, a most welcome feeling. The physical pain felt good; much better than the one burning inside her chest that threatened to rip her apart. It hit her with the might of a storm, wave after furious wave. She didn't want to hurt anymore. Feeling nothing would be a blessing.

Igraine straightened her back and leaned forward, looking down into the swirling fog. In that moment, everything inside her knew how wrong this was. No. Don’t let him win. You’ll find a way to shield yourself, to survive this. She hesitated, starting to retreat to the safety of the bridge. It was just at that moment that she realized she was not alone.

Somebody was watching her.

She looked around, checking both sides of the bridge. Nobody. But she was sure that there had to be someone. The skin at the back of her neck began to tingle. Shivers of awareness ran down her spine. The ice-cold wind brought tears to her eyes and blew her long curls into her face, so she could hardly recognize anything. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable; frightened like a small animal, while a predator lurked in the dark, waiting for the right moment to kill its prey.

Igraine directed her eyes to the columns of the demolished bridge. It was too dark to see clearly, but on one of them a large black shadow that had been crouching there seemed to slowly rise against the starless sky. It could not be a human being. How could anyone have gotten onto that ruin, with no way to cross the deep chasm between the bridges? But it stared at her as if it wanted to look right into her soul, she was sure of that.

She whirled around and started to run for her life. Only a few moments later she heard a deep, heavy thud behind her that made the bridge vibrate under her feet, but she did not turn back. Then she heard the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming after her, and he was fast like the wind that tore at her body and hindered her progress. Yet Igraine managed to make it almost to the end of the bridge. Almost.

She never saw it coming. She was thrown down to the ground by a heavy weight, driving the breath out of her lungs, so she couldn't even scream. Panicking, she struggled to free herself, but to no avail. Suddenly, a smooth piece of fabric covered her head, and she became rigid with fear. My God, he will choke me to death, she thought. She tried to speak, to beg for her life, but every sound was suffocated by a piece of fabric that felt like pure silk against her skin.

But isn’t this just what you wanted? Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true. The self-mocking thought was her last before a merciful darkness came upon her and swallowed her whole.

Chapter 2: The Angel of Death

I command you to awaken, human.

As Igraine drifted peacefully in a warm, liquid darkness, the unknown voice cut through her mind like a knife, calling her. Wake up, the stranger said again. He was obviously male. His voice sounded deep and resonant, and strangely alluring. She had no choice but to follow his orders, and was driven up to the surface of her consciousness against her will. Whoever spoke to her in her dreamless bliss, used a gentle, yet underlying iron force to make her listen to him. It almost felt like magic.

Is this it? Am I dead? she whispered to herself, not knowing nor caring if her mysterious companion heard her words. Was this heaven, hell, or a completely different place altogether? Maybe there was a special hell to punish nearly-suicidal women who had – though only for a very short moment – thought about jumping off a bridge. I admit I was a coward to even consider the possibility, she murmured to the dark presence sitting at her bedside. At least she believed that she was resting on a bed. Or was it a coffin? Now you can condemn me to eternal pain or whatever people like me deserve.

A deep, mocking laughter startled Igraine, and she opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision. As she had expected, there was no light. Surprisingly, the dark didn't frighten her, but felt warm and soothing. Blinking hard, she tried to adjust her eyes to the almost impenetrable blackness, but all she

Reviews for Bound to the Prince

[theibookemporium · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved it! I thought the book was well rounded and contained a great depth of world building that enhanced the story-line without bogging down the reader. It's hot and spicy in all the right places.

[msromanticreads · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The elven prince Elathan is still grieving over the death of his cousin Lady Ailidh at the hands of humans who breached the portal from the human world into the world of the Fae. His stepmother and stepbrother accused him of trying to usurp the throne and exiled him.

Igraine had put her entire life on hold for her then fiance only to be dumped for a younger, perkier woman. Broken hearted and alone she had planed on committing suicide. Elathan who is hiding nearby catches her unique scent, sees her and decides to snatch her. He's tired of being alone after such a long time that he wants to make her his (pleasure) slave. There is however a snag in that plan – elven men can't mate with human women without killing them. Mating usually causes a male elf to suck all the strength out of the woman while making love. Therefore, he plans to "train" her to make her stronger, or at least strong enough to be able to sleep with him. It is in that vein that his brutal training consists at first of some hand to hand combat, and weapons training (why weapons?). Even though she is badly hurt in their first sparring session, Igraine refuses to just back down, and Elathan's desire flares up anew.

Elathan had stated that he despised humans, yet he'd never hurt or killed human women and children. But he seemed to have no qualms about hurting Igraine physically. Basically he made Igraine bear the brunt of his hatred for the human race. I found that a little odd.

For both of them it's lust at first sight, and they seem inexplicably drawn to each other. She always seemed too eager and willing to submit to him. When he proposed that she become his slave of pleasure of her own free will, she didn't hesitate to agree.

The first 15 chapters are all about the slow seduction and finally the multiple scratching of many itches.

Ruadan and Breena – evil stepmother and stepson – hello Oedipus complex!

Things pick up around chapter 20 when Elathan and Igraine travel back to the castle to stop Ruadan's crowning ceremony. I'm a little confused as to whether or not she might have been part Fae, or if Elathan's blood in her veins was enough to cause her transformation when the gargoyles attacked her and injected her with their poison. She must have been different because she displayed curious talents before her blood bond with Elathan, no?

I loved the ending in that a true love/bond requires a type of sacrifice, and I think it was rather fitting how they lost and found each other again. I just wasn't wild about how it went down. First he finds her in some other realm, but she has no memory of who she is nor of him. Then he chases after her, catches her, makes love to her and her memories come back when he gives her some of his strength. However he uses too much energy and loses his memories. She shepherds him onto the ship that will take them back to his realm, and with a little patience and many kisses later he regains all his memories again.

All in all, I enjoyed the book for the very descriptive setting of Ms Court's story. It's obvious she has a very vivid imagination and she described the surroundings well enough that I had no trouble picturing what I was reading. It took a while to get to the heart of the story, which I thought came and went rather quickly. It also seemed to take our hero and heroine a very long time to discover that all those odd feelings they were having was love. I honestly thought they'd have picked up on that a lot sooner given their blood bond and mental connection. How can they feel each other's pain or fear but not something as strong as love? Regardless, I liked the strong woman Igraine became and Elathan finally regarded her for who she was in her heart and not by her species.

This story should definitely be labled as paranormal erotica for the sheer volume of copulating that went on (I lost count). Yet each encounter was undeniably hot. I think I'll be looking for the second book when it comes out, because I hope to catch glimpses of this couple during Calatin's story.

I found this story when the author followed me on Twitter, and a friend of mine lent me her copy through Amazon. I think I'll purchase this book in print form when I get the chance.

[kazhout · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

THE COVERMy only problem with this cover is the model; I'm not a big fan of muscly guys. But all in all, it's really gorgeous and classy.THE STORYThis is another "abducted girl" story so some female readers might not like it, but I think Elathan actually saved Igraine from her terrible life. I don't know if it's because it's an ebook (and I just can't stare at a screen for too long), but I felt like this was an overwhelmingly long read. I read it for almost a month. The pacing was good, the steamy scenes were written well, and the world-building was fantastic. Bound to the Prince is actually an erotica, but it's so good that I believe if the author cut out those scenes, this would still be an extraordinary book. The adventure and fantasy world alone was a story in itself.THE CHARACTERSI really pitied Igraine in the beginning of this book. Her king of douchebags fiance just left her, she had no family, and she had even sacrificed her education for the love she thought she'd had. Her hopelessness struck me straight from the pages. So I really loved it when she became stronger - physically and emotionally - during the training that Elathan gave her so she'd be ready for... him.Elathan was this super cool, ultra bad-ass elven prince with a sad past. At first, he only thought of Igraine as a slave, but we could all guess where the story went. MY FAVORITE PART was the ending. I read it during a programming lab class (sneakily, of course), and it was so gripping, I didn't realize my professor called on me until my seatmate kicked my chair, lol.