Rhiannon’s curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t imagine what Ravelle had offered Gideon that he would have to contemplate. “What sort of demonstration?” she asked.
“I simply showed him how it would be if his wings no longer plunged him into unstoppable lust when touched. I gave him a moment of freedom from the curse that has damned him to live with perpetual arousal. I have the power to do that…and so much more.”
He sauntered closer. How grotesque he was with his goatlike body covered with fur from the waist down, and muscular torso roped with sinewy bands. He was clean shaven, his hair curling about his earlobes, accentuating a face all angles and planes, and eyes coal black, like onyx chips, with vertical pupils the color of saffron. Lights from a hearth fire gleamed off his horns. When had a fire been lit? She gasped. The carved imps that had stood mute, their plump arms holding up the mantel, had come to life. She gasped again. They were chucking more wood on the fire and stirring old embers to life with pokers. Cold chills riddled her spine. She hadn’t been alone at all. They had been there watching her all the while!
More appeared. They had formed a ring around her. Some were poking and probing like curious children, others were lifting the skirt of her frock, ducking their heads beneath. Still others were playing with her long, plaited hair. When one of the creatures slid its hand up the inside of her thigh and grabbed her pubic curls, she screamed and swatted it away.
Ravelle seized the imp by its tail and flung it across the room. A roar like nothing she had ever heard dispersed the others. Seeing her chance, Rhiannon bolted. Streaking past the roaring demon, past the imps swarming every which way, she careened into the eerie, perpetual darkness.
She hadn’t gone far when the satyr’s hand fisted in her plaited hair jerked her to a standstill. “I’m losing my patience!” he snapped close in her ear. “Where do you think you could get to that I—the ruler of this place—could not find you, eh? Foolish chit! You would do well to cooperate. You will not like the consequences of rebellion, my lady!”
“If you want my cooperation, needs must you earn it!” she snapped back. “Keep those…those creatures away from me!”
“That was regrettable,” the demon said in retrospect. “They are what they are, but no more precocious than curious children. There are many such…creatures here. Unfortunately, they rarely see one such as you. Once Gideon becomes my partner and you are established as our consort, they will remain in their place.”
“‘Our’ consort?” Rhiannon breathed. “Is that part of your proposition?”
The demon spun her around in his arms and cupped her breast, the long, talon-like nail on his thumb plucking her nipple. “Yes,” he hissed, “it is. Why else would I have robed you in wedding attire? We will share you. You will have the best of both worlds. All that remains is to convince the Lord of the Dark of the benefits of an alliance with me.”
Rhiannon gripped her headdress and flung it to the ground. “I would rather be dead!” she cried, twisting in his arms. He was aroused, his huge member terrifying in its length and breadth as he forced it against her.
The demon laughed at her reaction. “Nature provides the goat, the horse, and other of her beasts with anatomy equal to the challenge their lack of agility in coitus denies them. The extra length makes rogering a female possible. Magnificent, is it not?”
Rhiannon twisted away, but the demon held her fast, forcing her hand against his erection. “Let me go!” she shrilled, resisting.
Ravelle jerked her to a standstill. “Another demonstration,” he said, as the penis he’d forced against her hand went flaccid. “Unlike your Gideon, I am able to control my urges, which sets me apart from animals of his ilk.”
“Gideon is not an animal!” Rhiannon defended.
“He is the animal the gods have made of him. Compared with mine, his powers are weak now, but an alliance with me will change all that. Once we are joined, you will have the best we each have to offer, and he will have freedom from the curse that has crippled him since time out of mind. Then his gifts will be as they were before he fell from grace, and together we will be invincible!”
“You are mad!” Rhiannon shrilled, trying to break free.
He paid no mind, dragging her along a dark path through what looked like trees that had been burned. “I cannot fly,” he said. “He will be my eyes aloft to travel the length and breadth of Outer Darkness. Others would usurp me. They hatch plots against me, but with his eyes keeping watch where I cannot, all that will cease. Meanwhile, I will keep vigil in places where his wings prohibit him entrance. It is a perfect plan, and you…oh, you, my lovely, you are the prize to keep us both sated!” He shoved her hand against his groin again. “You have no idea what pleasures this fine cock will give you!”
Rhiannon wrenched her hand free and dug in her heels. “Let go!” she cried. “I want to see Gideon! What have you done with him? No! Where are you taking me?”
“You waste your breath. You will see your Gideon, but first, a revel to get you in the mood while he mulls over my proposition.”
But Rhiannon refused to go quietly to whatever a revel was by this creature’s standards, and the satyr soon had enough sparing. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he ignored her kicking feet and pummeling fists, and strode along fondling her buttocks through the flimsy gown.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “You were far better off on two feet, weren’t you?” he chided. “Umm, I like a round, firm ass.” Hoisting her skirt, he reached beneath and stroked her bare behind. “Soft as a rose petal,” he crooned, running his hand over one globe and the crack between. “Has he rutted you yet?” he queried, spreading her legs apart and plunging his forefinger the length of her slit. “Ah, yes! So he has, and saved me the trouble. Breaching maidenheads is a tiresome business. I used to enjoy the conquest, but alas, no more. Patience ebbs away with time. Besides, whomever I take is like a virgin whether she has been rutted or no, for considering my size, it will be as if I draw first blood in any case reaming that tight little quim. Ah, yes, indeed! My cock will find a happy home in you, my lady. If you must play the martyr, as you females are so often wont to do, justify our union, yours and mine, as a means to end your Gideon’s torment, for once we align—all three—he will be set free of the curse of libidinous lust that holds him captive now.”
Rhiannon didn’t speak, nor did she fight him then, not while his taloned finger was probing her nether lips from clitoris to anus. Thus far it was an absent probing. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. He had not penetrated her. To anger him now might cause what horror she could barely imagine, and so she scarcely breathed as he strode on through the darkness, his cloven hooves clopping on the ground that seemed more mire than solid path.
It wasn’t long before they reached a vast pavilion wreathed with tents where revelers were indulging in all manner of decadent activities. The satyr took her into the Great Hall, where wine flowed from fountains connected to great vats housed along a gallery below the domed ceiling. There, an elaborate skylight filled the span. Tables set about were heaped with food to overflowing with the mundane, such as joints of beef and roast mutton and lamb, to the exotic specimens of braised dormouse, hummingbird’s tongues in aspic, and steamed elvers, which she could never abide as creatures much less food, to name but a few. She shuddered. The air was putrid with the stench of old fermentation, cooking grease, urine, and stale come. Rhiannon gagged, and the demon lifted her down, with a firm grip on her long, plaited hair, and led her into the thick of what appeared to be an orgy in progress.
Naked and half-naked men and women, imps, satyrs, and all manner of species, one more hideous than the next, were coupled in a ménage of entwined bodies impossible to define by gender. There was no modesty here. Males whose naked members were at different stages of arousal prowled the throngs in search of females not already engaged with one or more partners, while screams of pleasure and pain rang from the rafters.
Ravelle gave the reins he’d made of Rhiann
on’s long plait to an idle imp reclining upon sumptuous pillows in the center of the room. “Hold on to this,” he charged the creature. “You may look, but do not touch.”
The pudgy little creature wound her hair around his hand and began to snap it as a coachman would snap his ribbons driving his team.
“I told you to keep these creatures away from me!” Rhiannon cried.
“It’s that or join in,” said the satyr. “Which would you prefer? Your time is coming, but first I have my subjects to tend to.”
He had scarcely let her go when females swarmed over him. A dark-haired sylph led the pack, her wings giving her the advantage, and quickly seized his penis, bringing him erect. A dryad and a human female then crowded out the rest and stood by awaiting their turn to be serviced by their lord and master.
Rhiannon tried to look away, but everywhere she looked a similar coupling was taking place. Terror made her heart race, and the sexual energy in that hall, to her horror, made her hot. The demon knew it would. That was why he’d brought her there, and why he’d left her tethered to the imp. He wanted her to watch. Realizing that almost put her in a panic, but that she dared not risk. She needed all her wits about her if she were to be reunited with Gideon.
Across the way, the sylph had brought Ravelle fully erect. Rhiannon was unable to look away and yet repulsed at the sight of his enormous penis. Her father had kept farm animals, and she had seen the beasts mate, but on a creature half human in appearance, such a member was beyond grotesque. The thought that she was next in line to suffer it threatened to drain her consciousness.
The sylph’s outcry was more of pain than pleasure as the satyr bent her over at the waist and thrust its thick purple shaft into her to the root. A roar from the demon’s lips as it came inside the winged sylph resonated through the gathering, and a mad frenzy of unbridled lust broke out among their number. Naked bodies became a living quilt of writhing flesh, reminding Rhiannon of a wriggling snarl of eels she’d once seen crawling on the mud flats of home what seemed a lifetime ago. She stiffened, ready to bolt before the creature turned its attention to her, but the imp tethering her by the hair gave the plait a sharp jerk as if he anticipated her next move, and she froze, for fear of calling attention to herself.
The odious creature had straddled a bolster behind her and was rubbing itself against the rough fabric until it came, and came again. All the while, it whipped her plaited hair like the reins of a carriage horse as it bounced ever closer to her buttocks, inching along the bolster. Rhiannon whipped her head around and hissed at the imp, elbowing it hard in the belly. It squealed, but continued its obscene gyrations, and a dry sob left her lips. Her terror was palpable. If she cried out, it would surely catch the satyr’s attention, the last thing she wanted, when he was in a euphoric state of carnal aberration, but the mere thought of that hideous imp anywhere near her body had nearly driven her mad.
Having had his fill of the sylph, Ravelle lowered his head and pitched her aside with his horns. She landed in the midst of a threesome that took her eagerly into their embrace. She became no more than another wrinkle in the living quilt of writhing bodies carpeting the Great Hall floor.
Rhiannon held her breath, terrified that her turn had come. The satyr was still aroused, his thick, dark shaft slick with come. He glanced about, but the demonstration wasn’t over. He seized the human female by the hair, who had elbowed her way into position to be next, spun her around, and pistoned into her as he had the sylph, while others crowded close, stroking and laving and grinding their bodies into every inch of their master’s undulating body.
Rhiannon could see the demon’s dark aura radiating from him like heat radiates from a raging fire. It was the color of dried blood, more black than red. His stamina wasn’t flagging as she’d hoped it would before her turn came. He was getting stronger. His shuttered eyes were shining like live coals, and drool was running down his chin. Where was Gideon? She would never escape without him. The revelers had formed a circle all around the spectacle taking place so close beside her she could almost reach out and touch the satyr. They were cheering him on, but instead of looking at the female he’d impaled upon his member, Ravelle’s salacious gaze had fallen upon Rhiannon instead.
“See how they want me?” the satyr said, his voice like the roar of a lion bouncing off the walls of the pavilion. “They cannot get enough of me. Once you have had me, you won’t be able to slake your appetite, either. That is just the way of it, ‘my lady.’”
All at once a flesh-tearing wind rushed down from above, as Gideon plunged through the skylight feetfirst swinging a length of heavy chain in his hand, with little regard for who—or what—he struck with it descending. Feathers and glass shards sifted down like rain over the revelers, whose screams had reached fever pitch by the time Gideon had flown low enough to reach the satyr, still coupled with the human female.
Snapping the chain over his head like a whip, Gideon brought it down upon the satyr full force, driving him to the floor. He snapped the chain a second time and struck the roaring demon again. Ravelle writhed at his feet, his fist raised as the chain descended a third time, striking others as they fled as well. The naked ménage of undulating bodies was moving to a different rhythm now as they scurried every which way in a mad scramble to reach safety out of harm’s way.
“You have my answer, Ravelle!” Gideon thundered, striking the imp tethering Rhiannon by the hair. Squealing, it scampered away.
Rhiannon screamed. She had never seen Gideon in a rage. His eyes were aglow, flickering like tongues of fire. The chain had come so close, the metallic odor of blood on the links rushed up her nostrils, and she screamed again as Gideon’s arm, like steel, encircled her waist and lifted her into his arms.
Ravelle laughed, wiping blood from his eyes. “You cannot kill me, dark one!” he said. “I, like yourself, am immortal! And you cannot escape from Outer Darkness. Sooner or later, you are mine—both of you. This was a very foolish move.”
Gideon wasted no more words on the demon. Soaring upward, he clutched Rhiannon to him so tightly she feared her spine would snap as he streaked back through the broken skylight into the night.
“Hold on to me!” he charged as they cleared the Great Hall.
“You are bleeding!” Rhiannon cried. His hands looked burned. They were covered with blood. His left wing was streaked with blood as well. Instinctively, she reached to stroke it to assess the damage, and he stiffened.
“Do not touch my wings!” he said through clenched teeth.
Rhiannon sobbed and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he flew straight for the phallic columns that marked the entrance to Outer Darkness. Of course she must not touch his wings. He was aroused. What torments had he suffered breaking free of the chain that still dangled from a crude iron collar around his neck? She dared not ask him then. His rage was like a separate entity. He seemed about to explode with it, though it wasn’t directed toward her. His hands holding her were warm, his caresses filled with relief and longing.
“Have they harmed you?” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“No, but if you hadn’t come when you did…Oh, Gideon…!”
“Hold fast!” he cried. “There’s the gate. I’ll soon have you out of here, but look sharp! There will be watchers once we leave this place.”
The gateway loomed before them, and Rhiannon clung to Gideon with all her strength as they glided low over the ribbon of dark water where he had so recently rescued her from drowning. As he slowed to pass through, cautious of watchers, Rhiannon closed her eyes. They were perfectly aligned to pass through the gate, but when Gideon turned to soar through it was as if he’d hit a stone wall.
Rhiannon’s eyes snapped open, Gideon’s outcry ringing in her ears, as instead of passing through the gate, they bounced back from the invisible shield that jerked them to a standstill and sent them plummeting down, down into the black lake below.
20
Rhian
non screamed as Gideon cocooned her within his wings to absorb the shock of impact. The weight of the chain around his neck was pulling him down. Rhiannon was floundering; the dark water flooding her throat stifled her screams. Foremost in Gideon’s mind was escape, but more important was keeping Rhiannon alive until he could see her to safety.
They had just gone under for the third time, when a hand plunged in after them. It closed around Gideon’s chain and gave a sharp tug—just enough to force him to rally—while the hand moved on and fisted in the neck of Rhiannon’s frock, hoisting her above the surface of the water. It dropped her into the punt without ceremony and moved on to seize Gideon’s collar.
“I am in your debt, old friend,” Gideon said to the ferryman, as the specter gave the collar a jerk, sending it and the chain to the bottom of the lake.
The ferryman made no reply. He never spoke. Though Gideon’s response was verbal, their understanding was mental, very deep, inaudible to any other, and eons old.
Gideon soothed his neck where the collar had chafed him. “Is there another way out?” he asked the specter. “No, I thought not…I will find a way. If you ever have need of me…Why won’t I be? Anything—name it, old friend…I will try….”
Gideon rose from the water and lifted Rhiannon out of the punt into his arms. “Hail and farewell,” he called to the robed figure in the boat as he lifted off and soared skyward.
“What did he say?” Rhiannon asked as they streaked through the darkness away from the gate.
“There is no other exit,” Gideon replied.
“More than that, I think…”
“Yes, I told him that if he ever had need of me to return the favor in kind, he had but to call upon me…. But he said something curious, that if things went well I would not be in a position where I could rally for him.”
“There was more,” Rhiannon persisted.
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