The Three Princesses Read Online Free PDF

Woodsman as she did so. She looked down at his great muscled form, and traced the ridges of his stomach, the crease between his chest muscles, his broad shoulders, and his firm jaw. He looked up at her, and could not read her dark eyes, could not tell what lay within their enigmatic depths.
    "Oh, my Woodsman," she whispered. "That was beautiful, savage, and powerful. That was everything I had hoped for, desire, for this first night at any rate."
    "First night?" The Woodsman propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her. Her porcelain skin almost glowed in the gloom. He looked about the bedroom - when had the lights dimmed so? He snapped his eyes back to her, lucidity flowing back along with a sense of wrongness. "What do you mean?"
    Her smile was darkly amused once more. "You know exactly what I mean, my love. You are mine. You are mine tonight, tomorrow night, and for every night thereafter."
    The Woodsman reached up and gripped Circe by the wrist, squeezing hard. Her smile grew only more wicked. "We had a deal."
    "I lied." She arched an eyebrow at him, pleased by her revelation. "You cannot leave me. Only I can change your son back into a person, and you cannot force me to do so. Thus you must stay and please me until I give you permission to leave."
    The Woodsman snarled and rose up to his knees, taking Circe by both wrists and drawing her close. "You promised! Release him now."
    Circe smiled up at him. "Or?"
    The Woodsman felt such rage burn within him that he shook her, once, twice, and never did her smile slip. "Don't make me force you. But I will. I will if you give me no choice."
    "Oh, my love, my delicious fool. Do you think it that easy?" Slowly, one by one, the Woodsman felt his fingers curl back from around her wrist, peeled away by an invisible force. Leaning forward, gritting his teeth, he strained against her magic, but could not resist. His hands opened, and then a great force shoved against his chest, knocking him right out of the bed to crash onto the floor. He lay there, stunned, and then slowly rolled to his side and pushed himself up.
    Circe sat on the bed, leaning on one arm, her hair falling about her fair form and clothing her in gold. She stared at him through her lowered lashes. "You are mine. Now you know it. The next time you try to force me, I will not be so gentle. You are free to leave whenever you wish - I shall not bar my door. But know that if you leave, you abandon your son."
    "Curse you," said the Woodsman, rising to his feet. He stood naked before her, but completely uncaring. "Curse you for a liar and a bitch."
    "Come now, my love. Those aren't the words to use with your mistress." Her eyes flashed, and she pointed at the door. "Now leave. You'll find a room prepared for you at the end of the hall. A hot bath has been poured. Fresh clothing laid out. Bathe, relax, ponder the unfairness of your situation, and then sleep. Tomorrow night I shall have need of you, and our sport will not be so tame."
    The Woodsman blinked. Just like that he was being ordered from her sight. He half turned to the dark door, and then looked back at her. "Please. I'm asking you. Please let my son and I go."
    Circe held his gaze and for a long, aching moment, the Woodsman thought there might be a chance she would relent. And then she laughed and shook her head. "Only when I am bored with you. Though if I ever suspect that you are putting forth less than your best effort, I shall expel you from my home, and leave your boy as he is. So do not think to bore me quickly so as to escape. Am I clear, my love?"
    The Woodsman stared at Circe with undisguised hatred, and then reached down for his ax. He lifted it, hefted it, examined the blade with his thumb, and then propped it over his shoulder. "As you command, Circe." His voice was as cold as his blade, and without another look, he turned and walked out the door.
    The Woodsman walked down the dark hall, and saw that a new door stood open and illuminated. He paused,