Bound to the Wolf Prince Read Online Free PDF

nipple. A long lock of golden hair fell over the white skin of her bosom. Her face was flushed from the hot spring water. Her lips looked fuller too. In fact, her whole appearance had about it something ripe, wanton.
    The bell began to toll. Freya realised with dismay that Beitris had taken her stockings and shoes. The Faol dress was ankle length, but still she could see the outline of the coffer key on her foot. The bell stopped abruptly. Telling herself that no one here would be in the least interested in her brand, Freya opened the door and followed the hurrying figure of another Faol heading to the throne room.
    Down she went, through a maze of tunnels and passageways, down flights of stairs carved into the side of the enormous cliff. The throne room was awe-inspiringly huge, with a ceiling she had to crane her neck to see. Thick columns of rock-like fingers pointed up from the floor and down from the roof, glittering like icicles, so laden were they with quartz, jet and other stones she could not identify. The empty throne sat in the middle of the cavern, a spherical moon made of glass spinning above it, suspended from a silver rope. In front of it was a low altar which seemed to be constructed entirely of silver. The Faol people were gathered in a circle around it. Underfoot, Freya was relieved to feel the soft of a red carpet. None of the Faol wore shoes, she noticed, but all were magnificently dressed, the women in the same scarlet she wore, the men in soft wool plaids, silver buckles set with stones, their naked torsos strapped with weapons, claymores and dirks, all highly polished, all unsheathed, the blades honed to vicious fineness, the hilts decorated with more jewels.
    A Faol woman beckoned Freya, moving to allow her to join the circle. As the moon above the throne began to spin, the circle of Faol parted to allow two people to enter it, a man and a woman dressed in white robes, the complete lack of adornment astark contrast to the others. The woman had long black hair, deep ruby-red lips, a voluptuous appearance compared even to the other Faol. The man was slightly older, his chocolate-brown hair peppered with grey, though his body was as finely honed as his sword.
    A booming noise sounded, and everyone dropped to their knees, Freya following suit when her skirts were tugged sharply. Though all bowed their heads, she couldn’t help glancing up. That sharp intake of breath must have been hers. She had thought him magnificent before, now she had no words for him. Majestic, maybe? She couldn’t believe she had ever questioned his princely status.
    Eoin wore a golden full-length robe. The wide sleeves, the hem of the gown, and the neckline, which was slashed open to reveal his tanned chest, were trimmed with pearls and emeralds. A heavy cloak of the same rippling gold trailed out behind him, the cape formed of thick black fur pelts. His coronet was gold too, a magnificent emerald forming the centrepiece, and on his wrists and ankles more gold glistened.
    He took his place behind the altar. The Faol people got to their feet, and Eoin began to chant, alien words in a strange guttural language, his voice low, the words curling themselves like smoke, whispering round the cavern. There was a glint of a blade as he picked up a tiny dagger. First Lulach, then Kirstin bared their breasts. Eoin made a tiny cut in each. The blood bloomed crimson on their white satin robes. The Faol people took up the chant as Eoin twined the couple’s hands together with a silver rope.
    â€œThe end of two and the birth of one,” he announced. Lulach and Kirstin embraced, the blood from their cuts mingling. A tension, like the tingling warning of a lightning storm, so fierce it was almost tangible, filled the huge cavern. Freya felt as if the breath was being crushed from her chest. She tried to speak, but could not. In front of her astounded gaze, Lulach and Kirstin merged and morphed into the shape of one enormous wolf. Its