Take Me Slowly (Forever in Their Thrall Book 1)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Take Me Slowly

  Forever in Their Thrall Book One

  Lidiya Foxglove

  Copyright © 2020 by Lidiya Foxglove

  Cover art © 2020 by Jessica Allain/Enchanting Covers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  42. Sample Chapter of The Fairer Hex

  More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Alissa

  “Someone in this room is wicked. I can feel it. Shut your eyes. You feel it too, don't you?”

  All the people around me murmured yes, so I murmured too. I didn't feel anything but dread, but my murmur was like a prayer. Please, not me. Not Mom or Dad. Not Carrie. We’ve been good. Please spare us.

  "I need you all to be quiet," Father Joshua said. "I need to listen to the Ethereal spirits.”

  Now the room was dead silent.

  My little sister Carrie looked at me. She was still young enough that she didn't really know what was going on, but she had learned to be quiet when she was told to be quiet. I knew she was scared.

  I didn't dare to look at Father Joshua. I kept my eyes pointed down. The high collar of my black gown tugged on my neck. Sweat trickled down between my breasts. It was hot in the meeting room. Electricity was strictly forbidden in the Village. The room was full of so many people that even though I knew there was a cool breeze outside, we were stuffed in here for hours, shoulder to shoulder in our pews, like chickens in a factory farm.

  Father Joshua preached about the evils of the mundanes with their factory farms, but the irony was not lost on me.

  It's a wonder I even know what the word irony means, I thought.

  He didn't seem to care that we were crammed together just as tight and miserable as livestock.

  The longer his silence dragged on, the more time I had to go over my transgressions. My friend Sophie and I sneaked off into the woods with some boys to listen to the radio. I hung the laundry out to dry while wearing pajamas, without my hair covered. Dad gave me a novel to read that I hid under a floorboard at night.

  We did all these things even though we knew there was always a risk of being caught. The Ethereals could see us at all times. They would tell Father Joshua if we failed to uphold ourselves as warlocks and witches, the chosen people.

  Father Joshua started walking. His steps were always very slow in these times. I could hear each polished dress shoe fall, heavy at the heel, more of a click at the toe. The wooden floors of the meeting room creaked. Were his shoes coming closer to my family? I didn't dare look up.

  I heard him move to the left.

  We were safe.

  Not that I relaxed. I never relaxed in Father Joshua's presence. I didn't dare betray relief that no one in my family was to be purified.

  We were supposed to be grateful that Father Joshua could speak directly to the most powerful and pure Ethereal spirits, and that he was able to sense who had wickedness in their soul and needed to be cleansed. We certainly were not supposed to be afraid of Father Joshua.

  "My son.”

  The target was identified and now we all dared to lift our eyes and see.

  It was Dylan. Dylan was my own age. We were born a month apart. He wasn't one of the boys who went off to the woods, though. He seemed too quiet for that. He didn't seem like he would ever do anything wicked. He had short dark hair and brown eyes, and a soft smile, and he liked drawing. I used to like to draw, but in 8th grade one of my teachers told me my drawings were too fanciful and wicked. Dylan sometimes carried a sketchbook around in public.

  Is that it? The sketchbook?

  No one ever said that was wicked, as long as you only drew things that you could see in real life or things a teacher gave permission to draw. No dragons or unicorns or anything from your imagination, and definitely not any character from a book.

  "Dylan Marsden," Father Joshua said. "I sense the hand of Sinistral upon you, my son, but don't be afraid. It's only a low vibration. It will be very easy to purge out of you, and then your soul will be ready once more to be a part of the Ethereal world.”

  "Yes, sir," Dylan said.

  He was trying very hard to sound tough. Boys were never supposed to show weakness. Men were the ones who were destined to lead the women to Etherium. My mom said it had always been that way, but when Father Joshua became the new prophet, he learned that not everyone had been upholding the way. It was about that time when life in the Order started getting really strict, but it was because Father Joshua was more pure than the previous leader. He received more messages from Etherium than Father Ludwig, and one of those messages was how warlocks were meant to lead witches, just like it said in some of the old sacred grimoires, as well as in many mundane religious texts, because even regular humans could sometimes hear the words of the gods.

  "What have you done that was impure?" Father Joshua asked Dylan.

  His tone was gentle. Father Joshua just wants to help us, I told myself. I shouldn't be afraid of the words of the Ethereal gods.

  Yet, it always sent a chill down my spine when I heard him speak.

  “I—I don't know, Father.”

  "Look inside your heart. There is no shame in what you have done. The gods offer you a chance to purify yourself of the darkness, and we must rejoice in the endless and bountiful mercy of our gods.”

  "We rejoice in the endless and bountiful mercy of our gods," we echoed.

  "If you are not honest with this congregation, Dylan, then you cannot be properly purified and you run the risk of being cast out into Sinistral.”

  “I—um—I—"

  "The longer you put off the truth, the more the darkness has a hold on you.”

  "I drew a picture…"

  "Yes, a picture? Of what?”

  "A...woman." Dylan's entire face had gone red and he was struggling to get out the words. "I tore it up into pieces and burned it, Father. I knew it was very wicked. I'm sorry.”

  "What sort of woman?" Father Joshua pressed. "A woman present in this room?”

  "No. No...it was a...a woman I imagined. It was…"

  Father Joshua put a hand on Dylan's shoulder. He no longer prodded him with words, but his hand and his eyes seemed to demand more of an answer.

  "A succubu
s.”

  Dylan’s mother covered her face. Some of the most pious ladies in the room gasped audibly and then I gasped too. I didn't want anyone to think I wasn't shocked.

  A succubus! Dylan drew a picture of a succubus?

  We learned about all these different wicked, tempting types of Sinistrals in school. Mother Clancy who led my magical beings class told us that incubi and vampires were some of the most dangerous of all, because they had innate ability to charm ordinary witches and humans. Incubi all looked like beautiful, alluring men but they had a true demonic form with wings, horns and a tail. They would kidnap us and torture us and then discard us when they had stolen our magic.

  Vampires were even worse because some of them started life as normal humans, but when they were bitten by a vampire they gained magical power. That was against the laws of the magical world, Mother Clancy said. Vampires were not even always good-looking. They could be ugly but they could seduce you anyway with their magic, she said. Then they would drink your blood and kill you, or even worse, they would make you their thrall, drinking your blood over and over, just enough so you would stay alive, keeping you as a donor.

  It sounded terrifying to be kidnapped by a horned demon and even worse to have a vampire suck your blood over and over.

  Why would he draw something like that? I wondered. That really is wicked.

  Something very deep inside me felt a tiny bit excited. I didn't understand why and that scared me even more. I dug my fingernails into my palms until it hurt and tried to think pure thoughts. I couldn't imagine having to confess a thought like that in front of everyone. I didn't even know how to explain if I was forced.

  "Dylan, come before me and expose your sins to the light of the gods," Father Joshua said.

  Dylan's mom was crying.

  "Don't cry, Sister Marsden," Father Joshua said. "Your son is about to be healed.”

  I couldn't look away from the purifications. It seemed to me like they'd been getting more violent, but I still couldn't look away. Father Joshua pressed his wand to Dylan's chakras, from his head to his groin. Poor Dylan. I couldn't imagine having Father Joshua prod my groin with his wand.

  "Shine the light of Etherium upon this boy. Holy spirits, we know this boy has sinned and we ask you to show us your forgiveness.”

  "Ungh..." Each tap of the wand seemed to produce a burning sensation and at the end Dylan clearly wanted to grab his wounds.

  "Dylan, the gods want to hear from you. Lift your hands to receive their blessing.”

  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Father! I'm sorry to the gods. Please forgive me…"

  Father Joshua whispered a spell so softly that we didn't hear the words. They were sacred spells from the old ways, he said, and not for us to hear or know, but they helped the gods to bless us.

  "Come into the light of Etherium!" Father Joshua cried. “Any part of you that is untouched by the realms of virtue, let it be banished!”

  Dylan started twitching all over. He collapsed to his knees. He looked scared as the spasms were overtaking him, his face red. He screamed, low and ragged. "It burns—Mom, help me!" His whole body was thrashing and then the vomiting started. I really hated the vomiting. It was violent, and he made a little choking noise as it shot out of his mouth. A moment later the sour smell would reach me, mingling with our sweat.

  His mother was wringing her hands, but she didn't intervene. "Dylan, you have to be strong so the spirits can cleanse you. Don't...don't be a baby." There were tears in her eyes. Some of the older boys chuckled that he cried out to her.

  Dylan was usually so quiet that I knew he would never scream in front of everyone just to get attention. He must be truly scared. He tried to say something else but now he seemed unable to speak. His body was spasming and he was rolling around in his own vomit.

  Carrie gripped my hand. Her small body pressed against mine. She slipped her free thumb into her mouth, and I had to reach down and push her hand back down. Carrie was six and in most ways she seemed older than her years, but we couldn't stop her from sucking her thumb. She did it when she was scared, when she had to watch something like this and we had to tell her not to cry. My poor little sister. I hated that she had to grow up as scared as I was, but this was the world. Father Joshua was trying to protect us…

  I tried to tell myself that, but I couldn't fully suppress the visceral hatred I felt for the man who stood over Dylan as his screams and spasms finally died down and he passed out, his sandy hair matted with chunks of vomit, spittle trailing from his mouth.

  Father Joshua was a tall man, although built stringy, I only saw that on days when the Order came together to build a new dwelling on a hot summer day or some other occasion when he stripped off his robes. Usually, he looked like a shadow in black robes with symbols of the Order stitched on them, protective symbols from many different traditions. The most prominent was the hamsa, a hand with an eye inside the palm. It was supposed to ward against evil, but it felt like the eye was watching me.

  “Thank you, gods of Etherium, for cleansing this boy and showing him your mercy,” Father Joshua said, spreading his hands over Dylan’s body. He lifted his hand. “May this be a lesson for all of you, to maintain a life of virtue and grace, and listen to the words of your holy realm so that you may walk the holy path.”

  “May this be a lesson for us all,” we repeated back, as some of the other men of the church hauled Dylan away to rehabilitate in the ward.

  I knew I wouldn’t see him again for days.

  And when I did, he would be changed. Dull-eyed.

  Purified and obedient.

  Chapter Two

  Alissa

  "It seems like more boys are getting purified these days," Father said when we got home.

  "Yes," Mother said, tightly. She glanced at Carrie and me with a look that said, Don't say these things in front of the girls.

  Mother looked tired. She was pregnant again, and her last pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage, but she was still on her feet making dinner after standing for three hours in the hot meeting room. Father, like all men in the community, was busy forming the wards that would protect our home from evil during the night while his wife made dinner.

  I knew Father wanted to help, but he didn't dare take a chance that the wards were not formed properly. The Elders of the community would walk the streets at dusk, testing random homes to make sure the wards were strong. And so, Mother was on her feet chopping a pile of vegetables to cook over the old gas stove, and Father started tracing the wards. We all had to be quiet so as not to bother him as he moved his wand in careful patterns.

  Carrie was very hungry and tired from the long sermon and the purification.

  I took her hand. "Let's play with your dolls, okay?”

  ”Okay…"

  I loved playing dolls with my little sister because it was about the only time I didn't have to act like myself. The Elders said it was all right to play pretend games with children under ten to teach them about the wicked world outside. That meant I got to pretend to be wicked, and I had more fun than I should imagining how demons and faeries and mundanes would act.

  Carrie liked to pretend to be Joan of Arc, one of the many heroines we learned about in school. Joan was brave because she heard Ethereal voices and she believed them even though she was only a normal human. Because of that, she was granted magical powers and became an Ethereal witch, but then she was burned at the stake by the mundanes.

  She picked up the little felt Joan doll Mother made and put her inside the block castle.

  We didn't have any dolls of demons or fae, so I had to make do. I had drawn some angry faces on some of the wooden blocks with a pencil. I picked up the fanged face. "Hsst hsst...I'm hungry...," I whispered, prowling around outside of the castle. "Something smells delicious...like a girl.”

  Carrie gasped and then she started singing "O Maidens, Hear the Blessings", one of our hymns. Joan wouldn't hear the monster because she was singing. Carrie liked it when I had t
ime to sneak up on her.

  I started moving the blocks out of the wall behind Joan.

  "Poor little maiden...," I said. "So foolish. If she keeps talking to the Ethereal spirits, the mundanes will get jealous and burn her at the stake...so I'd better rescue her.”

  "'O, I hear your blessing, Father, tell me what to do, to save this wicked world, and follow the path of truth...'" Carrie sang softly.

  I crept toward her until my block tapped on Joan of Arc. "I've got you now.”

  "Oh no, please! Who are you?”

  "I'm a vampire and I'm going to make you my woman. Hiss!" I bared my teeth.

  "Please, sir, I am a woman of Etherium!" Excitedly, Carrie picked up some other blocks. "And then the priests came from the mundane church to burn Joan of Arc and they started burning down the whole building! Pssh pssh pssh…!"

  "You girls need to be quiet or your Father might mess up the wards! Please!" Mom called, sounding exhausted. "Please, you know what could happen if he was caught without doing them.”

  "I know," I said. Isn't it funny, I thought, that 'what could happen' is just that the Elders might punish him? The wards are supposed to keep us safe from evil but we never really worry about that.

  I bit my tongue like I always did.

  Carrie and I played very quietly and Mom cooked, and soon we all settled down to pray for the blessings of Etherium on our food. My parents looked worried. This was normal, though. Everyone was tense. Mom said that before I was born, we used to have dances and movie nights, and witches and warlocks fell in love and then went to the Elders to ask permission to marry. Even though the women had to obey the men, they got to choose their master.