Chapter 21: The Inn
Horses were incredible creatures. If not for Ahearn, Igraine would have never managed to take Elathan to the inn on her own. The steed had knelt down at his master’s side and pressed his body flat to the ground, so she could drag Elathan’s heavy, motionless form across his back. When Ahearn stood up, she took his reins and started her long walk over what used to be the blue grass plains of Debethea, now nothing more than vast fields of burned earth.
The sun had already risen after she had sat for hours with Elathan’s head in her lap, unable to move or think. Hanging face-down over a horse’s back was not a very dignified way to travel for the prince of the realm, but for now, it was all she could do. His armor was covered in blood, and she did not know how much of it was his own. Even if she had examined him further, it wouldn’t have helped him much, for she neither had enough water to clean his wounds properly nor clean cloth to bind them.
Looking down at herself, she saw that she was a mess. Her clothes were not much more than rags, torn by the demons’ claws, she was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her skin was marred by several wounds, the worst of them the one on her shoulder and the deep cut over her chest, which was still bleeding when she moved too quickly. Probably it would need stitching. She was glad that Elathan had told her about the inn somewhere on the plains, so at least she had an idea where she was going. After the fight with the demons, she had lost all sense of direction and the landscape looked the same wherever she turned her head.
Maybe such things as compasses didn’t exist in this world, and the elves traveled with the help of some magical instinct. But as she had no other fixed point, not even a single tree or mountain, she followed the direction of the moon which was already faintly visible in the clear afternoon sky. A ridiculous thought crossed her mind, and involuntarily she grinned. Back in school, maybe I should have joined the girl scouts after all and learned something about survival in nature. You never knew when you would get stranded in a once-grass-plain-desert, dragging an unconscious elven prince along with you.
The cold wind over the plain tugged at her torn clothing and made her shiver. Her feet hurt, and she felt weak from her loss of blood. But if she climbed into the saddle behind Elathan’s heavy body, the horse would not be able to proceed much longer and without him to carry his master, they would never reach the inn in time. The sun was very low already, and who knew if some of the grass demons survived, already lurking in the ground to have their revenge?
Igraine decided to stop for a short moment to take a sip of water from Elathan’s leather bottle. When she checked on the prince, took his hand and called him by his name, he was still unconscious. She lifted up his head and tried to make him drink a little, but it only served to wet his lips. They had to find some shelter, and very soon.
She directed her gaze to the horizon, narrowing her eyes to see if there was any change in the landscape, a hill or a mountain maybe, or a tree, so she could tell where she was going. But there was just the same, barren land wherever she turned her head.
Suddenly, something happened to her eyesight. She did not see anything, not even darkness. It felt like the blinding spots that you see when you close your lids after staring too long into the sun. But before she had time to contemplate why she had gone blind, she could see again … and jumped back with an cry of surprise.
Just a few paces from where she stood with Ahearn at her side, the outline of a large structure had appeared on the plain. It looked exactly like you’d imagine a medieval inn. There was a two-storey main building with straw thatching and two smaller houses to the back. An outside ladder led up to the upper floor that was completely surrounded by a wooden balcony, probably where the guest rooms where located. The stables were to the right of the yard which was enclosed by a narrow stone wall, covered with ivy. To Igraine’s utter astonishment it was surrounded by a circular area of intact blue grass that was softly moving in the breeze. Undoubtedly this place had a strong magic of its own since it hadn’t been touched by Elathan’s devastating fire. And it had allowed her to find it just when what she needed most was a safe place to spend the night.
She began to wonder about the foolishness of her own thoughts – how could a building ‘allow’ itself to be found – when suddenly the front door opened and Calatin came running out like the hounds of hell were after him. He was protecting his red-haired head with one hand, which was wise because several heavy clay dishes came flying after him, a plate, a bowl and a jug full of ale, then even a wooden chair. Igraine had to acknowledge that he moved very quickly despite wearing his silver chainmail. He ducked just in time before everything fell to the floor and smashed into pieces, then hurried out of the yard. At a safe distance to the inn, he paused, laughing with what could only be described as elven mischief. When he finally spotted her standing beside the horse carrying his prince’s motionless body, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Then a bright, happy grin enlivened his handsome face, and he ran to Igraine to capture her in a bone-wrenching embrace. Before she could say anything, she felt his mouth on hers in a kiss that couldn’t in the least be called brotherly. For a short moment she was so shocked that she let it happen. His lips explored her passionately, so soft and sensual that it took her breath away. She did not even think about what a great kisser he was but raised her hand to slap him. He broke away first and caught her wrist, laughing. “Now, now, lovely human!” he said. “I just wanted to express my joy over seeing you alive and well.”
“Did your joyous feelings also include your prince here who’s actually more dead than alive right now?” she asked, gesturing to Elathan.
“Oh, him.” Calatin glanced at the sleeping prince and absently patted his shoulder. He didn’t seem to be overly moved by the poor state his friend was in. “I was never really worried about him, actually. He’s stubborn as a bulldog when it comes to dying, so he simply keeps fighting until everyone else is dead. He’s just a little worn out right now. But when you did not reach the inn by nightfall, I wasn’t sure if he’d manage to fight against so many demons and keep you safe at the same time. Humans are so fragile.” Gallantly, he bowed before her and kissed her hand. “I am very happy to find you unharmed, my Lady.” When he lifted his emerald eyes to her, their expression was earnest so she knew that he meant it.
“Who threw all those dishes after you – and the chair, by the way?” she asked innocently.
He shrugged. “Just a small game of dice with trolls. They are not very bright, you know. I won all their gold.”
“You cheated?”
“How could you ever believe me capable of such misdeeds, Lady Igraine?” he said with a wounded look on his face. When she sweetly smiled at him, he laughed. “We should get you safely inside the inn now. Offering her his arm to walk with him, he took Ahearn’s reins with the other hand and led them into the yard. When he saw that none of the guests were outside, he took the horse around the house to the back entrance, where they found a second, smaller stable. Before he lifted his prince off Ahearn’s back, Calatin turned to Igraine and gave her a boyish, pleading look that would have gotten him every wish fulfilled by any woman, young or old. He must have successfully used it many times before, she surmised.
“I assume you won’t tell Elathan that I kissed you? It was meant as a sign of my friendship and chaste admiration. I don’t think it necessary to bother him with such trivialities now that he has so much to worry about – saving his kingdom, for instance.”
Igraine gave him a sharp look, skeptically lifting one brow. “He would kill you if he knew, wouldn’t he?”
Calatin’s grin revealed a row of perfect white teeth. “I had no choice but to take advantage of the situation. After all, he’s not unconscious every day.”
* * * * *
Elathan had been resting on the large, crude wooden bed of the inn’s best room for two whole days and nights now. After Eamon, the innkeeper, had been informed that a member of the royal family – he did not manage to conceal the surprised expression on his face when he recognized him - had been wounded and lay unconscious in his stables, the burly elf had prepared his best room in a hurry and personally helped Calatin to carry the prince up the back stairs, so none of the guests had the chance to have a closer look at him.
With Calatin’s help, Igraine had removed the prince’s heavy armor and undressed him so she could wash his wounds before cleansing him of the demons’ dried black blood that stuck to his pale skin everywhere. She blushed when she tended to Elathan’s naked body in Calatin’s presence, but the copper-haired elf did not joke this time. His eyes held real sorrow for his friend when they realized that Elathan was not just weak from the magic he had summoned, but also in a fever, caused by too many deep wounds the demons had inflicted upon him with their poisonous claws and teeth. Obviously Calatin had the ability to heal, for he closed the minor cuts with magic, chanting spells while his hands seems to glow with a faint silver light when he moved them over the wounds. That done, he stitched up the last few gashes with a fine needle and thread he took out of a small leather bag attached to his belt. “Some more scars for you, my friend,” he murmured, but he didn't smile.
When the prince’s wounds were bound up with clean linen, Calatin covered him with the sheets and turned to Igraine. “I have done everything in my power to heal him,” he said. “But he has to fight the fever on his own. He is strong, my Lady,” the magician added, when he saw the fear in her eyes. “But what about you?”
“Me? What do you mean?” Igraine answered, not knowing what he was talking about.
“The demons hurt you, too … let me have a look at that.” He made her sit on a wooden stool and knelt down beside her. Cautiously, he pulled down her bodice until her shoulders were bare. He examined the wound at her shoulder and healed it with his hands as he had done with Elathan. Then, he looked at the gaping cut that reached from the upper part of her breast almost to her throat. The worst bleeding had stopped, but some blood trickled out from time to time.
“I will have to stitch this up, my Lady,” he said. “But do not worry. You will feel nothing, and my stitches are said to be finer than those of the castle’s best seamstresses. There will be no trace left to mar your soft skin.” He smiled a roguish smile at her indicating that healing her wounds was not an unpleasant task at all, so she assumed that her injuries were not as serious as Elathan’s.
Calatin had told her the truth. The elf started to murmur soft elven words while he worked on her. Indeed she didn’t feel a single stitch while his long, elegant fingers sewed her skin back together, applying the finest stitches she had ever seen – very tight but so tiny that she had no doubt that there would be no scar left as he had promised. When he was finished, he took her hand in his and looked up into her eyes. But to her surprise she saw not a flirting glint in them, only sincere sorrow.
“Igraine, there are things you need to know. I have to be honest with you – I am not sure if Elathan will survive this fever. The wounds alone wouldn’t have been enough to kill him, but the poison is in his blood now. I did everything in my power to help him, but he has drawn back so deeply I can’t reach him anymore. It’s his decision alone if he will fight to live or not. But he has lived a very long time, and sometimes immortals … well, they just choose that they have had enough and that it’s time to move on.”
He paused for a moment while she tried to understand the terrible meaning behind his words, her face ashen. “There are so many things I would like to tell you about our world if I only had more time. About Ruadan, Elathan’s half brother. He is not crowned yet, but because the old king had grown weak, he has been ruling the elven realms for years now. Yet he’s only a puppet on a string for his ruthless mother and fulfills her every wish. Among other countless crimes, they have forbidden all magic unless with their permission – which is never granted. I wish I could explain to you what this means to my people. The human world never knew magic so they found other ways to make life easier. But the Fae are helpless without it, for it is all they know. Without magic, they have to watch their children die if they fall ill. Their fields will be barren, and there will be nothing to eat. They will not be able to disguise themselves with glamour, to protect themselves from their enemies.”
“Like humans?” Igraine asked thoughtfully.
The elf lowered his gaze. “Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to offend you. But you have to be aware that there will be war if Ruadan is king, first against our own race, then he’ll try to subdue the human world. But not all is lost since he has not been crowned yet. Once a king, no one can take the right to the throne away from him, not even the rightful heir. This is the reason why I must leave immediately and reunite Elathan’s army. Most of his men reside in the woods around the castle and have been eagerly awaiting his return. I protected their hiding place with my magic so Ruadan won’t find them, no matter how hard he orders his own guards to look for them.” He grinned, then his expression grew earnest again. “Without Elathan, we’ll do all in our might to prevent this coronation until my prince has recovered and can join us to reclaim the kingdom.”
After giving her exact directions where to find the hidden army in the woods and to overcome the magic barrier he rose and bowed before Igraine. “Farewell, my Lady, until we meet again. If you need anything, call Eamon, the innkeeper. You can trust him. And remember, it is of the utmost importance that the prince lives. His people need him. You know, as you are his slave of pleasure and took his blood, you have become a part of him. If the need should arise …” to her disbelief the elf blushed deeply, right up to the roots of his copper hair, “I am sure that you know how to give a part of your strength to him. It would be the most powerful healing possible, much more than my own magic can achieve.”
She nodded, understanding his meaning. “I would gladly let him drink my last drop of blood if this would save him, Calatin. Rest assured that he will join you and your men very soon.”
He threw a worried glance over to the bed, but presented her with a roguish smile before he left the room. “You are a very brave human if I ever saw one, Igraine. I already feel sorry for Elathan’s enemies should they ever cross your way, and I hope I can witness that day.”
She stared after him, feeling very lonely all of a sudden, stranded in this world. Sighing, she allowed herself a moment of self-pity. If the prince should not survive, where should she go?
Except that he would not die, not as long as she had a say in this. A low noise from the bed made her whirl around.
“Igraine?” whispered Elathan, stretching out his hand to her. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes, and his face was nearly as pale as the sheets he lay on.
Her sleeping prince had awakened at last.
* * * * *
Elathan groaned with pain when he tried to sit upright, cursing under his breath. “Damn grass demons. I hope I killed them all.”
Igraine hurried to his side and took his hand. “Actually, you have. But now we’ll have to make sure that they didn’t kill you as well. Lie down,” she ordered with such a firm voice that the prince’s brows lifted questioningly. “Their poison has weakened you, my Prince,” she continued. When he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, she tenderly kissed his brow. He smiled weakly. “With such loving care, I’ll heal in no time. I assume that you somehow managed to bring me to the inn. What happened? Last thing I remember is …”
“We can talk later. Rest now, beloved,” she said before thinking about how to address him properly. “My Lord,” she corrected herself, but the prince did not seem to mind at all, for he still smiled with closed eyelids. Maybe his smile was even a bit wider now. She brought a cup of water to his lips, and after a few sips he drifted back into sleep again – but it was a good kind of sleep now, not the deep unconsciousness that had taken hold of him before.
He didn’t let go of her hand, so Igraine settled down on the bed beside him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she could not resist burying her face in his silken mass of hair. It was irresistible to be surrounded once more by his wonderful scent. She would never get enough of him if she lived a hundred years – which wasn’t very likely, she added sadly in her thoughts. What she wouldn’t give to spend her whole life with him or be immortal so she would never have to leave his side. But it was useless to contemplate the possibilities now, when she was so tired. She had hardly slept since they had reached the inn, so now she surrendered to her body’s needs while she snuggled as close as possible to Elathan’s body without causing him pain.
It was deep into the night when she sat bolt upright, startled out of sleep when she felt the heat of his skin under her cheek. A candle burned on the bedside table. Doubtless the innkeeper’s wife, Rhea, had lit it while they slept, although she had never heard her entering the room. The full-figured elven woman had been very kind to Igraine and provided her with new clothes – they were simple, a long-sleeved grey tunic with tight trousers and a hooded cloak, but they fit perfectly and were made of the finest light wool. Thankfully, Igraine’s boots had survived the journey so far. A hearty meal of broth, bread and cheese had been left for them on the larger table in the middle of the room, along with a pitcher of fresh water and clean linens. She only remembered that she had awoken for a few moments, quickly undressing since the feverish prince had been more than enough to keep her warm.
Seriously worried now, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled down the covers. Elathan’s naked body, though still strong and heavily muscled, seemed to burn with an inner fire. His skin had an unhealthy glow now, and he didn’t sweat, which would have helped break the fever. When she took a wet cloth and tried to cool his face, his eyes opened for a moment, staring at her with an otherworldly shine. He tilted his head to the side as if he was thinking about something, then he seemed to recognize her. “Sweet Igraine,” he whispered hoarsely.
She screamed out with surprise when suddenly he grabbed her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. Rolling on his side, he pressed her down into the soft sheets with his weight. She enjoyed the feeling for a moment before she pushed her hands against his wide chest. “My Prince,” she gasped, “you shouldn’t …”
Her words were lost when he bent his head and kissed her like a drowning man, with an untamed passion that made her body react instantly. He held her so tightly that there was no chance of escape, so she just surrendered and kissed him back with all her longing. She realized that he was still lost in his feverish dreams and reacting instinctively to the closeness of her female presence. But it felt so good being alive, to be close to someone who wanted her like this, desired her with a fierce yearning that consumed them both in a fire that could only be quenched by their mating. She moaned into his hot mouth when his tongue parted her lips and mated with hers in a slow, sensual dance. His taste was intoxicating, like strong red wine, and his kiss, his every touch, so incredibly male.
Burning with fever, the elf's body showed no sign of weakness when she felt his delicious size at her thigh, rubbing seductively against her soft skin. God, how she wanted him inside her. She wriggled and tried to maneuver him to the place where she needed him most, but even now he played the game with his own rules. His satisfied, deep laughter made her furious, and she grabbed his shoulders to push him down to make him enter her body.
“Mine,” he whispered again and again, covering her breasts with his strong hands. He rubbed her bosom as if he tenderly stroked the fur of a cat, and she pushed her aching peaks against his palms. Moaning, she threw back her head and bared her neck to him. Instantly she felt his lips on her throat. Kissing, biting, stroking her with his tongue he worked his way up to her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth. When his teeth grazed her delicate skin there, she shivered with desire.
Unexpectedly, he shoved his arms under her body to lift her up to him, and his hands took hold of her upper arms, making her unable to move away. Whimpering, she spread her thighs for him and wrapped her long legs around his waist. Needing no further invitation, the prince rubbed against the petals of her womanhood, damp and ready for his touch. When he slipped into her satin flesh, he bit her neck like a mating wolf, and she cried out with pleasure. His sharp teeth tenderly pricked her skin, just deep enough to get a taste of her sweet blood, and he licked it off hungrily, primitive sounds of lust escaping his throat.
He started moving inside her with heavy thrusts, and she knew how much he had been holding back whenever they had made love before. His primal side had taken possession of him now the fever clouded his mind. She knew that her human body was presumably too weak to endure an elven male’s unrestricted passion, but she did not care, determined to give him all her strength, her spark of life, if he needed it to survive. Seized by a flood of sensation so intense it took her breath away, she came for the first time. It was a feeling like floating away, with a tidal wave that had just reached the shore and drew back into the ocean, powerful, irresistible. She felt his strong heart beating rapidly inside his chest while he took her gift of vitality, healing his poisoned body. For an instant, he tried to pull away, but she held him close inside the prison of her thighs. Urging him to move on, she pressed him even deeper into her core.
Unable to control himself any longer, he pounded into her with slamming thrusts, groaning like a wild beast while he took all he needed and what she gave away so lovingly. His hard shaft grew even more inside her, and the tight walls of her womanhood were stretched until she thought she could take no more. Never had she experienced a feeling so exquisite like this total surrender. A woman’s lustful screams echoed from the walls of the chamber, and she realized they were her own. She climaxed again and again, writhing beneath him, and every time was better than the last. It was as if they became one while he healed, body and soul, and she felt him regain his strength as the poison was forced out of his blood. Massaging him with her inner muscles, she took him deeper, deeper, sucking him in until she felt his explosion. This time it was she who lay her brow against his in his final moment of ecstatic pleasure, and suddenly it was her own, making her convulse a very last time around him. They both cried out when their shattering relief came, and he spilled his seed of life inside her sweet depths.
Igraine heard Elathan’s voice inside her head, saying the same words over and over again. Tá grá agam duit. She knew what it meant. I love you. Her heart sang with overflowing joy. This wonderful, glorious creature loved her, and she returned his feelings, with all her heart. Before her strength finally faded and she drifted away into the welcoming darkness, she sent him a thought, hoping he would hear her in his mind. Closing her eyes, she sensed his overwhelming happiness that turned into a rush of fear when he perceived her last words.
I love you, and I always will. Now live, my Prince. Live for us both.
* * * * *
Warm, soothing water surrounded her body and caressed her skin. It was a wonderful feeling, snug and comfortable, and she told herself that being dead wasn’t so bad after all. But when her consciousness slowly floated back to the surface she knew that it was not just the water she felt touching her skin, but the warmth of a hand. Long fingers grazed the side of her neck, her shoulders and trailed down her back, slowly, slowly, then up again, along her spine. She sighed with pleasure when the second hand joined the first, reaching around her waist until she was encircled by strong arms. Smiling, she relaxed in that loving embrace, noticing when she lay back that there was a large body behind her, and it was undoubtedly male. She was resting against a wide, hard chest; muscular thighs touched the outside of her legs.
“Elathan,” she breathed. “Then I’m not dead? Or you are, too.” She opened her eyes for a moment and saw that she was sitting in the large wooden bathtub in front of the fireplace. And she was not bathing alone.
There was a deep chuckle behind her. “On the contrary, my dear. I just intended to show you that I’m very much alive.” The proof of his vitality pressed considerably against her hip. When he bowed over her to nibble softly at her ear, his hair fell like a curtain of silvery gold over her. The silken strands stuck to her wet skin. A sudden playful mood made Igraine raise her hand and tug at one of them.
“Ow,” he said, although it couldn’t have hurt him much. “I’m glad to see you feel well enough to start torturing me again. You are worse than one of those grass demons.”
“Now that they’re gone, someone has to do it,” she laughed, “or you’ll get too haughty and arrogant, my Lord.”
“Oh, that’s what you think I am?” he growled. “Haughty indeed. That’s why I have no scruples to seek my pleasure with my human lover, even if she has just nearly died to save my precious royal ass.”
She was so shocked by this very unprincely comment that she started to giggle uncontrollably. The sound of laughter soon turned into a low moan when the prince chose to cup her breasts in his hands while he bit the back of her neck, just enough to give her a delicious amount of pain.
Suddenly he drew back. “But on the other hand, I should wash you first. You did become quite dirty when you carried me across the plains.”
“Actually, it was Ahearn who carried you. But I guess I really needed a bath.”
“That’s exactly why I put you inside here. I knew it would help to revive you. Of course I had to use my healing powers on you first. You should have kept some of your strength for yourself.”
He touched a bruise on her arm with his hand, and a soft golden light emanated from his palm. It filled her with warmth, and she felt her flesh heal quickly. “It’s the same kind of magic I use to create fire. Depends on how much I use.”
“In my world, they say that every poison can also be used as a medicine, to heal. It’s only a matter of dosage.”
“So it’s possible that our worlds are not so different, after all.”
“Oh yes, they are. I really don’t think that a man like you exists in my world.”
He growled. “I certainly hope not. Do I have to remind you that I’m an elf, not a man? If any other should ever try to touch you, I’d have to kill him anyway.”
She gulped, realizing that it would be wise not to tell him about the kiss Calatin stole. But the thought of the magician warrior reminded her of a message she had to deliver.
“Calatin,” she began. “He wasn't sure if you would …” She fell silent, not knowing enough about elven manners to express herself politely.
“Survive?” Elathan finished for her. “So that’s why he left,” he murmured thoughtfully. “He is determined to prevent Ruadan’s crowning ceremony, which will be at the next full moon. It’s the only choice he has, even if I had died. If Ruadan is not crowned king, Calatin is next in the line of succession.”
Igraine was speechless for a moment. “Calatin?”
“Oh, didn’t he tell you? He is my first cousin on my mother’s side. When he was a child, his family lived in the palace, and we grew up as brothers would have. But after my father married for the second time,” his voice sounded darker now, “the new queen, Breena, wanted to make sure that her own son would be the heir to the throne – in case I wouldn’t live long enough to be king, which was her fondest wish. So she charmed the king, as is the way of the nymphs, and convinced him that Calatin’s noble father, Conall, was a traitor who wanted to dispossess him of his crown and give it to his own infant son.
But there never was a public trial. Conall was murdered in his sleep by an unknown assassin, and his wife Lendabair, who luckily had slept in her small son’s chamber that night, was wise enough to flee with him as soon as she heard of her husband’s death. Unable to claim her family’s heritage, she married a farmer and raised Calatin on her own, teaching him the magic ways of his people and making sure he never forgot who was responsible for his father’s death.”
“Breena,” Igraine whispered and felt Elathan nod behind her. “But how did he come back to court?”
“He just appeared before the king one day, openly introducing himself. Bres still believed that Conall had been a traitor, but he never held sons responsible for the crimes of their fathers, so he acknowledged Calatin as his nephew in front of the whole court. Breena could not gainsay the king after that public display of his goodwill. Calatin was a grown warrior who had fully developed his magic abilities by then, so he was not an easy target for her evil schemes anymore. I took him under my personal protection and made him captain of my guard. He has proved himself a loyal friend since that time. He saved my life many times, and I did the same for him. Beside him, there is no one else in the kingdom who owns my unconditional trust – that is, until I shared my blood with you, mo ghrá.”
Igraine’s heart missed a beat when she heard his praise but did not know a fitting answer. Instead, she took his hand out of the water and placed a kissed on his wet palm. The prince remained silent now. She was surprised when he took a bottle with a flowery-smelling liquid from a small table beside the bathtub, poured it into his hand and began to wash her hair. Sighing, she laid back her head and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp.
Obviously liking his newfound duty of acting as her maid, he rinsed her hair with a small bucket. After that, he continued washing her back and shoulders, but soon directed his attention to her front. She moaned when she felt his soapy hands on her breasts that felt full and heavy in the warm water. He knew exactly where and how she loved to be touched, but she was not sure if this was due to their mental connection or to a very long life of practising his skills as a lover. Probably both of it was true, she decided, before she stopped thinking altogether.
He encircled her waist with his warrior’s hands and lifted her out of the water, just enough to reach her most intimate places. She felt his fingers lather her nether parts with soap, rubbing it tenderly between the swollen folds before he inserted a finger inside her. With a small scream of pleasure, she grabbed the sides of the wooden tub, unsure if her legs would hold her upright much longer. The prince proved himself to be an exceptionally dutiful and thorough servant when it came to washing her. In and out he went, again and again, not forgetting to remove the soap efficiently with his wet fingers.
Just when she felt her climax approaching, he removed his fingers from her and replaced them with his aroused manhood. It went in smoothly, dripping wet and throbbing with desire. Igraine cried out and pushed back against him, but he held her hips and shoved her up and down very slowly, only occasionally meeting her with thrusts of his own. “Careful, little human,” she heard him whisper hoarsely behind her, “I have strained your body enough for one night. We will not hurry this time.”
Her frustrated moan was to no avail, so she just let him control her movements, gliding up and down easily on his rigid shaft. Water slopped out of the sides of the tub. He laughed when she wriggled her hips from side to side to rub against his body, and placed his hand over her soft mound of flesh, pressing it tenderly. His finger slid to the place where she needed to be touched so badly, and she cried out when he circled her, feeling it coming …
But the prince had other plans. Slowly but with merciless resolve, he pulled himself out of her, ignoring her angry curses. While he chuckled about her calling him a “damnable, vain elf and ruthless villain” – no one in his long immortal life had ever dared to speak to him in such a manner before - he swiftly turned her around and placed her down on his staff so she faced him now, straddling him. “Be quiet, human, and serve your prince,” he said, grinning, before he wrapped the length of her hair around his hand and pulled back her head. His kiss was fierce, his lips ravishing hers until they swelled from his touch, his tongue taking complete possession.
She felt how much he held back right now, so she melted against him, kissing him back with all the longing she felt for him. At the same time, she regained control and started to glide up and down his length. Satisfied when he moaned into her mouth, she began to circle with her hips while she rode him, adding a delicious pressure to her hidden pearl. He held her close against his chest and made her feel his wild heartbeat as her breasts rubbed against his skin. She mimicked his earlier gesture by grabbing a handful of his hair, too, making him her prisoner. Triumphantly, she forced back his head until he looked into her eyes. “Mine,” she whispered, “you are mine now, elf.”
Astonished for a moment, the prince seemed to be very pleased by her words. Is leatsa mé go brách, she heard his voice inside her mind, clearly as if he had spoken it out loud, and for the first time she realized that their inner bond had given her the ability to understand his elven language. I am yours, forever. With boundless satisfaction in his eyes, he started to increase the rhythm of their lovemaking, pushing himself up into her sweet body over and over again. Shortly before the flood took hold of him and carried him away, he heard her sobbing completion as she still moved against him, not stopping until he found his release inside her and abandoned himself to absolute pleasure.
“I am yours, Igraine,” he said again, this time a whisper into her ear. Forever. He held her tightly in his arms and never let go when a barrier in her heart broke down and she began to cry. Once she had started, she could not stop her tears from running over her face, soaking his hair while she buried her face in its softness. They were tears of love and pure joy, but also tears for the years of her life that had been wasted, giving unwanted love that was useless like a glass of spilled milk. And finally, tears of regret, since there was so little time left to be with the one she loved.
Forever would end all too soon.