Dread gnawed at Prissam's usual calm as the girl continued to dance enticingly around him. She laughed gaily while her silk robe and long curly hair flared in her wake.
He had no intention of ending up at the wrong end of a whip for inappropriate conduct with a noble woman. Even speaking to her was prohibited for a warrior. Best to ignore the foolish little brat until she tired of her game.
She abruptly ended her dance, and stood in front of him, her round bronze face glowing as she smiled. The Princess Camilla certainly was beautiful. He realized his eyes drifted over her and returned them to staring straight ahead. “Warrior, what is your name?”
His lips twitched wanting to smirk. He liked bold women. She had to know that she too would be severely punished if discovered here. Bold, but imprudent. He was not a fool, so he remained silent. Yet, he was fascinated.
What did the beautiful enchantress who stood before him, smiling sweetly and gazing seductively into his eyes, hope to accomplish? Was this a dare from her ladies in waiting? He hoped not. He shifted uneasily at the thought of a bunch of silly young noblewomen giggling with one another about this adventure in front of servants. He'd be done for.
“You do not answer?” She arched an eyebrow. Her tone held surprise, but he didn't believe it. He could tell by the gleam in her eyes that she was enjoying herself. She wouldn't want the game to be over too quickly. "I know the penalties you fear if discovered speaking to me. But I promise you no one knows I'm here. My nurse believes I'm secluded with my needlework."
Some of Prissam's apprehension eased. Someone could still chance upon them, but that was unlikely as they were on the top most tier of the castle. No one had reason to come here except his relief, and him not for another two hours. Still, there was a chance. He continued to play the stoic warrior.
She sighed, sounding more contented than annoyed, and brought her smooth hands slowly up to the closure of her over-robe. He grunted in protest as she undid the clasps and flung the garment behind her.
All thought stopped as he stared open-mouthed. This was beyond bold, it was dangerous. His reluctant eyes surveyed her slender body. A light slip clung to her hips before falling loosely to mid-thigh. Below, her long, sienna-toned legs were bare to his gaze.
Gold trim, sown across the bodice, outlined her high, round breasts and the delectable nipples that showed through the flimsy material. He felt himself swell as he drank in the sight.
The urge to take what she foolishly flaunted was strong. Prissam gritted his teeth and glared at the little minx. He was a man with not so honorable a reputation with women. She dared trifle with him?
“Do find me beautiful?" She twirled on tiptoe and her short slip caught in the air. Gods help him, she was bare underneath.
She giggled. “I find you beautiful. Especially your eyes, grey like mist. If my maids are to be believed, your beauty is accentuated by a musical voice that speaks with eloquence of the most charming things."
Biting her lip, she glanced away. "I'm told your mouth is talented at other things as well.”
He grunted. Shocking the Princess would listen to those kinds of tales. Saucy minx.
“Come, speak to me. May I not hear your name from your own tongue?”
He stilled the urge to lick his lips, but could do nothing about the eager twitch of his manhood against his breaches. He searched her eyes. Did he dare give in?
As he considered, she pressed her advantage. Hands clasped behind her back, she began a casual walk around him. She did not touch him, but strolled close enough to let her presence be known. She paused behind him, and her tone became wicked as she leaned forward to speak softly into his ear.
“No one will know what happens between us here less we tell them.” A heated quiver passed through him. His prick strained against its confines, and his breath came fast.
Perhaps no harm would come from indulging her whim. For the small price of a kiss. As she said, no one would know.
Her breathe tickled his neck as she slipped around to face him again. She stared into his eyes. Feeling her warm, rose scented breath on his naked skin was too much. He felt the resolve he had left, crumbling to dust.
“Prissam, Lady.” He returned her penetrating gaze as he pulled her close. Her breath caught and her eyes filled with triumph. He gave her a heated smile. "I think my name would sound sweeter coming from your tongue."
“I agree.” Her features stretched and shifted around her smirk.
His smile faded as his eyes tried to follow the lines of her face as they reformed into ethereal perfection. The natural glow of her skin grew to a painful blinding brilliance so that he could barely see her ears as they elongated into elegant, delicate things.
His heart pounded as adrenaline rushed. One hand released her waist and went to his sword. With it halfway out of its sheaf, she whispered, “Prissam.” And it was too late.
Magic curled around him carried by the sound of the fey woman’s voice speaking his name. Invisible tendrils felt like cool mist underneath his skin, tying him to her. The world shifted. Colors became sharper and edges distinctive. Her beauty faded back to a tolerable level.
Prissam fell to his knees and took in a great gasp of air. His eyes wide, he stared at the mythical creature. He cursed himself a fool as he knelt at her mercy. She stroked his face and placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose.
“I love capturing new pleasure slaves.” She flicked a hand and they fell through mist leaving the human world behind.