Bound to the Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

dropped his hands from her arms
and turned away. “Prepare yourself for some hard exercise, wench,”
he said huskily. “We'll start right away. If you do not follow my
every order, the punishment will be severe. If you lose yourself in
self-pity and whine like you humans are accustomed to, every day
will only be harder for you. Otherwise, if your accomplishments
please me…” He stared at her for a moment, pondering. Then, a
boyish and very naughty grin softened his features. “Maybe I will
think about a way to reward you for your efforts.” Igraine forgot
to breathe for a few seconds. Under normal circumstances, his
otherworldly beauty was almost painful to see, but when he smiled,
his face seemed to radiate light, like a shining star in the
night.
    “Now choose your weapon, human. Your first
training lesson has just begun.”
     
     

 
     
    Chapter 3: Training
Day
     
    “Choose your weapon, human!” Elathan repeated
with a dangerously low voice when Igraine didn’t move a limb but
just stood there, staring at him like an idiot.
    Choose a weapon? Good Lord! Igraine had never
touched anything more dangerous than a paper cutter in years. She
didn't use too sharp knives in the kitchen to avoid hurting
herself. Unfortunately, she seemed to attract injuries. She
couldn’t even slice an apple without stabbing herself in the hand
and nearly bleeding to death. When this had happened, the doctor
who stitched up her hand strongly advised her against spending too
much time on household chores, so she wouldn’t accidentally kill
herself. Once she broke her leg after climbing up a ladder to clean
the high windows in her apartment.
    “I am not sure. Maybe I could blind you with
a shot of my hairspray?” She gasped and put her hand over her
mouth. When she was frightened, she happened to make more or less
funny remarks to ease her tension. She just couldn’t help it.
Judging from the look on Elathan’s face, he didn’t find this
entertaining at all. With one quick movement, he drew a small
silver dagger from his belt and pressed it to her throat. Grabbing
a fistful of her hair with the other hand, he forced her head back
so she had no choice but to look right into his cold, unmerciful
eyes. Igraine let out a small cry of pain. Before she knew it, she
was pressed tightly against his strong body while he held her in
his deadly embrace.
    The sharp blade cut the delicate skin of her
neck ever so slightly, and she felt a drop of blood emerging.
Elathan cocked his head to the side and watched the small stream of
blood running down until it nearly mingled with the sweat trickling
down between her breasts. Her well-worn favorite sweater had slid
down over her right shoulder, and a good part of her cleavage was
exposed. The elf seemed to watch her intensely, in a way a lion
would contemplate his prey before the killing blow.
    “Curious,” he murmured. “Your worthless human
blood is as red as mine, yet our races are so different. If only
your poor-spirited kin had honored the truce with the Fae. Instead,
they began to take over more and more of our world. I can remember
a time of peace between us and your people, long ago. Perhaps I
wouldn't have learned to hate your kind so much if they hadn't
killed the only thing I ever cared for. But which choice will be
yours, woman?” he whispered softly into her ear. “Will you
surrender?”
    Igraine shook like a leaf when he let go of
her hair and touched the sensitive skin between her breasts,
catching the drop of blood with one of his long, elegant fingers.
Then he guided it slowly between his lips, savoring it. She
shuddered, suddenly wishing he would lick the tiny red line from
her skin, all the way up to her throat. Heavens, where did these
perverted thoughts come from? “Now tell me, human,” he continued
with a voice so deep and alluring it almost sounded like a lover’s.
“Will you live or die?”
    Now she knew it. Death was beautiful. Her own
personal death, at least.