Chapter 4: The Presence in the Dark
Prince Elathan closed the door to the human’s prison cave behind him and pressed his bare back against the cold, damp stone wall of the darkened corridor, closing his eyes. His muscular chest heaved with each breath as he struggled to gain control over his agitated senses.
He cursed softly and waited for his heated body to cool down. How could a mere mortal woman affect him so much? Although he didn't like to admit it this to himself, he wanted this redhead. Desired her. His body, his whole being yearned to feel her luxurious curves pressed closely against his skin while he spread her creamy thighs and possessed her completely. It had been this way since his first sight of her the previous day when, like so many nights before, he had stood on the column of the old railway bridge and watched the uncountable lights of Londinion, gleaming and twinkling on the dark sky.
Usually he loathed human settlements, most of all this giant abomination of a city which poisoned the air with its mere existence. But deep in the night, when most of the streets were empty and the ugly buildings were hidden in the dark, he actually liked to watch their illuminated outline. This strange force they called electricity never ceased to fascinate him. It seemed unbelievable, but, despite their ignorance, the humans had developed their own kind of magic. He liked to stand on the bridge and watch the lights for hours, standing still like one of the old trees in the forest he had once called his home. Only then could he forget all that tormented him – the fate of his people who had no guidance, no hope left at all, since his father, Bres, had given up on them.
The king had grown very old after so many eons, so many lifetimes; he was now the oldest elf on earth. Once a proud warrior, somewhere along the way he had lost his unyielding willpower. He simply accepted that his people would fade and eventually die, after humanity’s repeated betrayal of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Breaking the truce again and again, they stole the elves’ lands, killing not only their warriors, but also defenseless women and children. Eventually, they chose to forget the Sidhe they had once treated like gods. Even so, they continued plundering and destroying the earth with their hideous machines, killing uncountable creatures of the Fae without even knowing it. More and more the Fae had retreated to their own lands, protecting their realm with magic so no human could ever cross the boundaries again.
Bres had grown very tired of his life. In truth, Fearann was reigned by Bres' second wife, Queen Breena who had born the king another son – Ruadan, Elathan's half brother. Being accused of raising an army against the king to prematurely claim the throne for himself, Elathan had been forced to leave the elven realms and live in exile, dishonored. But the prince still had friends who frequently informed him about Breena and Ruadan's insatiable greed for wealth and power. They took everything from their subjects who had once thrived and prospered under the king's protection. Even the use of magic was forbidden, leaving the Fae helpless and unable to defend themselves from their enemies at the borders. Elathan knew about the suffering of his people, the broken, blank expression in their eyes. And they believed that he, the throne heir of Fearann, had betrayed their trust. True, Elathan's magic would have enabled him to live among his people, unrecognized if he chose to magically change his appearance. But as long as he couldn't help them, he preferred to live alone, accompanied only by his pain.
But last night had even robbed the prince of the peace his silent watch on the bridge usually brought him. Deeply lost in thoughts, his gaze directed at the shiny lights, he was suddenly affected by something he couldn’t make out at first. It made his body tingle with new sensations, his heart beating faster. A strange yet wonderful scent filled the air, and he instinctively turned his head to explore from whence it came. At the same time, he became aware that someone was standing on the other bridge, disturbing his solitude.
A human. It was a woman, her auburn, tousled tresses hiding most of her face from his sight while she bowed over the balustrade, staring down at the chasm beneath the bridge. Angrily, Elathan whirled around. He knew that his glamour kept her from seeing him, but he found himself furious, wishing she'd go away and leave him alone with his thoughts.
There it was again, that irresistible smell. As he sniffed the air, his eyes widened when he found out that it had been her. Ridiculous! No mortal woman could smell like this. Humans simply didn't smell like a sweet, exotic flower. A flower that grew under a tree and nestled between fresh, young leaves glittering with dew in the rays of the morning sun. Disgusted by his foolish pondering, he shook his head. Perhaps he had not seen the vast forests of Fearann for too long. If humans smelled of anything, then it was of fear and death, especially if they dared to cross his way. But the last time he had killed one of them, it had been in battle, centuries before.
Nowadays, he avoided them if he could, preferring to live in underground caves where they wouldn't find him. He knew that if he was openly confronted too many of them, he wouldn't be able to help himself. Rage and memories of Ailidh's death would take possession of him, and he'd kill any human foolish enough to come near him. They wouldn't stand a chance, of course. He didn't even have to use his magic to end their worthless lives with his bare hands.
However, it was undeniable that this woman on the bridge was the origin of the unknown scent that affected him so much.
Then she had lifted her head, and the cold wind blew back the hair that had concealed her face. Elathan had already begun to turn away, wanting to leave and return to the eternal silence of his caves. Unable to move, he stared at a face that absolutely shocked him with its perfection. Huge, deep green eyes dominated her delicate features, with high cheekbones and a perfectly formed chin that was slightly raised like a queen's, giving her a proud and definitely stubborn look. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he instantly wished to taste those incredibly soft lips, tasting the depths of her sweet scent.
Something that had been hidden deep within his soul stirred now, a feeling so strong and primal that it shook him to the core. She was unlike elven women, not delicate and ethereally beautiful, but very tall for a female. Her crude human clothes couldn't keep him from noticing her voluptuous, desirable curves. They made him want to simply grab her and drag her to his underground chambers. There, he'd carry her to his bed and take her body. He wanted to bury his hands in her shiny dark hair, just to see how it looked against his pale skin. But he wanted to kill her at the same time, just because of the feelings she awakened in him. As if her being human wasn’t reason enough!
Elathan knew that, as usual, he had moved so silently that no mortal would be able to hear him. She couldn't see through his glamour which enabled him to blend into the night like a shadow. But then the woman turned her gaze to the column on which he crouched, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. It was unbelievable, but she seemed to know that he was there, sensing his presence. At this moment he saw the unbearable pain in her eyes, the desperation, the utter hopelessness, and he instinctively knew that she was thinking about killing herself. She had longed to jump through the impenetrable darkness to the river below, to end the torment of her life.
This realization shocked him even more than the sight of her unexpected beauty. At the same time, he noticed that he felt furious about it. How could this human dare to throw away her short span of life when she had been blessed with such features, and a body that was clearly made for love? With long, well-formed arms and legs to wrap around a man's back and hips while he buried himself in her softness and loved her until she wept with pleasure? With that body that promised to bear strong, healthy children and a mouth that was made to kiss and smile?
Without thinking, he crossed the gap between the bridges with a long, powerful jump and hunted her down, catching her with ease when she tried to run. The scent that had fascinated him before surrounded him like a sweet, compelling cloud. Trying to ignore her strange allure, he wove a spell over her so she would fall asleep and cease any resistance. Quickly, he covered her face with a silken cloth he ripped from his shirt so she couldn't enchant him with her beauty and convince him to let her go. Then he threw her unconscious body over his shoulder and swiftly climbed down over the railing to the underside of the bridge, where he opened the magic portal to his caves.
After he woke her, the woman astonished him with her courage. Facing almost certain death, she didn't break down and cry, or plead for her life. When she finally saw him, she didn't lower her gaze as any female would when she faced an elven prince in all his glory for the first time. Yes, she looked shocked and frightened by the danger he presented to her, but she wasn't afraid of the way he looked. To his utter surprise, she had boldly met his eyes and watched him with raw, unveiled desire. He felt it on his skin as if she'd actually touched him. Now this was strange. Aye, he hated all humans, for their despicable nature and for what they had done to his people. But at the same time they seemed to detest him, too – as long as they stayed alive in his presence, that was. He never killed their women or children, but human females found his sight horrifying when they saw him for the first time. Elathan knew that they couldn't bear to look into the eyes of an immortal, and the scars on his face and body scared them.
But not this one. She ogled him as if he was an exotic, mouthwatering dish she wanted to devour. Suddenly he wanted to insult her, hurt her pride. He'd show the worthless human where her place was. She was nothing to him, just a slave – even if he found her strangely attractive. It was inevitable that she'd succumb to his will, despite her pride and boldness. Yes, she would suffer at his hands and pay for the crimes of her people, this human woman. He would prepare her for her new life as his slave, serving him with her mind, soul and especially her body, and she'd train until she accepted that role. He'd make her pay for the fact that she excited him so much against his will. Doubtless he had abstained from the pleasures of a female's body too long, although he could order any elven women to his bed, any time he wished. Even if he was living in exile now, none of them would be able to resist the prince's order, and most would willingly come to his bed.
Igraine. It was an uncommon, old name among humans, but it seemed to fit her somehow. Yet he would not address her with it. If he had to kill her, it would be less personal if she only was a human slave like any other, and he’d probably forget her name after a century or two.
Nevertheless, Elathan was impressed by the way she put up a good fight with him today. He had not expected her to try and fight him at all, to be honest. It had been most surprising to see anger, then real fury, flaming up in her deep green eyes, speckled with golden brown. He loved green. It reminded him of his home in the trees long ago, when he did not have to dwell in these underground caverns.
Of course she didn't stand a chance against his elven strength and fighting expertise, gained in uncountable years of battles and training. But she attacked him fearlessly, with the clear intend to hurt or even kill. He saw it in her eyes. Yet her rage was not directed at him alone, he mused. He wondered what had hurt her so much to cause such a reaction.
And then … when he threw her down on the floor and covered her, he nearly lost control and took her on the spot, which could easily have killed her. The feeling of her softness under his hard warrior’s body, her curves and the sweet scent of her hair was almost too much. She was tall and strong enough to carry his weight – he loved lying on top of her without fearing to break her. Her full, tight breasts and the way she shamelessly rubbed her hips against his body was almost more than he could endure.
But then she lifted her head and slowly licked his throat with small, sensuous strokes of her tongue as if he was the most delicious treat, tasting him. It was only centuries of well-practiced self-restraint, that had held him back from ripping away her clothing right then. Elathan wanted to enter her hot wetness at once, thrusting into her slick channel until she begged him for mercy. He could have spent an eternity licking her soft skin in so many places, savoring her irresistible scent and listening to her lustful moans.
The woman could count herself lucky that he had left before he took her and killed her with his desire. He had been telling the truth when he said that she probably wouldn’t survive the night with an elf. The men of his race tended to draw all the strength out of a female’s body while making love to her. If he controlled his desire and lay with a woman of the Fae, he would just leave her weak for a while. Often a magic potion helped, as long as the female had enough time to recover afterwards. But a frail human woman’s body was not made for such an exertion. It could prove too much if her mind and body weren’t strong enough and had not been properly prepared. Especially this one. His desire for her was overwhelming. He didn’t know if he could restrain himself when they actually did join.
Once, a very long time ago, the prince had taken a human woman, a king’s daughter given to him as a present by her father after Elathan defeated his army with his elven warriors. He had been aroused after battle and was pleased to find a willing female, even a human one, in the bed of his royal tent. After he had pleasured her for hours and hours until she screamed with ecstasy and could take no more, he was entirely spent and slept like a stone. When he woke up the next morning, the girl lay beside him on the silken pillows, pale and lifeless. He knew that her human lifespan would have been short anyway. But her death saddened him, for he had not wanted to take her life just to satisfy his lust. He decided never to share his bed with a mortal woman again.
Until today. When the prince had smelled Igraine, felt her, tasted her, it had become inevitable that they would eventually mate. Igraine was his now, and she would come to his bed very soon. The image of her naked body under him, her long legs wrapped around his waist, made him harden and ache for her even more. Damn, he wished he could go back into this cursed chamber and take her right now. At the same time, his anger welled up again. He wanted to punish her, let her suffer for the torment she gave him. He wouldn't allow a weak, treacherous human to affect him like this.
The prince knew that using the human for his carnal pleasure would be delightful indeed. He only hoped she would survive it – if his training didn’t kill her first.
* * * * *
Igraine did not see Elathan again for days. After their pole fight with the surprising outcome, she had fallen down onto the bed, exhausted from the unfamiliar physical strain. Her wound had closed, but she felt weak after the blood loss. She slept for the rest of the day and the whole night. When the elf came to tend to her injuries and bruises, she didn’t notice.
When she finally woke up, she felt terrible. Not only her muscles, but every single part of her body seemed to hurt. She couldn’t move without wincing. Slowly she stood up and limped over to the table, where she was delighted to find a bowl filled with fresh, hot water. She didn't care to wonder how the elf could have heated it down here. Quickly she stepped out of her torn, dirty clothes and washed her hair and body, sighing with pleasure to feel clean again. When she slid the musky smelling soap over her belly and hips she couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to have lost some weight. Elathan's training seemed to have a good effect on her body, although it hurt like hell. If she ever managed to flee from this place, she would make a lot of money with a pole fighting workout DVD, she thought, grinning.
Her muscles ached, but in a good way. She felt them tight and strong under her skin when she moved. Actually, her body felt good, for the first time in months. Igraine almost felt … beautiful, especially when the prince touched her.
No, she was foolish indeed to think of herself as beautiful. How could a man like this, elf or human, even look at her? She was sure that the passionate moment on the floor had been caused by the excitement of the fight, but it also was Elathan’s way of humiliating her. After he had left, she had rolled to her side on the floor, feeling weak and crying with unfulfilled desire. Without a doubt, he could use her for his sexual needs like any slave, but he didn't really want her. And who could blame him? He just was too perfect, too beautiful. If an elven man looked like this, she could imagine how flawless the women of his kind must be. Before he left, Elathan had clearly shown how much he despised her. He had cruelly mocked her while she was so vulnerable, when she wanted him so much, needed him desperately.
Earlier she had seen that the elf had left new clothes for her on the foot of the bed, so she put them on. The garment was a knee-length, sleeveless dress made of soft, dark green linen with tight fitting pants and a wide leather belt. It fitted snugly but hugged her curves surprisingly tightly, and was cut so low that a good portion of her bosom was revealed. After she was fully dressed, she looked around and found a fine ivory comb and a thin leather band, so she could arrange her still-wet hair into a ponytail. There was some kind of rough sponge which she believed was intended as a toothbrush, so she tried and was surprised how clean her teeth felt afterwards. As a natural urge made her look around the cavern, to her surprise she discovered a smaller cave with a wooden door in one corner, which contained a marble privy with an underground stream flowing beneath it. The Devil's Society seemed to have provided their secret meeting place with many amenities, indeed.
Igraine's belief that Elathan hated her was confirmed when the hours passed without Elathan returning to her prison chamber. Even the following day and the next she didn't see him at all, but magically found fresh food and water on the table whenever she woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Remembering the elf's lesson, she started to practice pole fighting by herself and had the feeling that she improved quickly. After that, she grabbed one of the swords and tried to swing it in a way that looked like fighting to her. At first she went to the weapon rack out of boredom. Later, she noticed that she actually enjoyed feeling her body become stronger day by day. After what she estimated to be a week, she should have gone mad staying in her candle-lit cell, not having a single window. Luckily, her days were filled with hard exercise and after that, she was so tired that she slept deeply until morning. She was glad that she was kept from thinking too much about Elathan this way.
One night, however, she suddenly awakened from a deep, exhausted sleep. It was pitch dark in the cave. All the candles had burned down. Igraine sat up, wondering what had caused her to wake up. She couldn’t hear a sound. But there was something in the darkness, watching, preying on her. She nodded to herself. Obviously, she was to die in this dark hole. But she would make sure that at least it would happen while she was on her feet, facing her death. She wouldn't die while lying helplessly on the floor. Her knees were shaking, but she managed to get up and stand there, motionless and quiet like a frightened deer. Carefully she listened to any sound that might penetrate the darkness. But all she heard was the rapid beating of her own heart.
No matter how hard she listened, she couldn’t have anticipated how near the lurking presence had drawn. She screamed when two strong hands grasped her out of the dark, whirled her around like a weightless doll and slammed her up against the wall of the cave. Finally, she found herself imprisoned between the unmoving stone and a male body she remembered all too well, nearly as hard as the rock and just as unyielding.
Elathan was back. And this time he had come to kill her.