Wicked Harvest

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  “Tell me your name,” he demanded with a gasping breath, lifting his hand to cup her chin.

  “Enovese.” She angled up and begged, “Kiss me, Chur.”

  He knew he shouldn’t, but he did anyway. What was one more rule broken when he’d already broken so many? Her lips were firm and ravenous against his. When he opened his mouth, she mimicked him, swirling her tongue to his. He tasted something sweet yet earthy, something he recognized but couldn’t name. He didn’t care. He wanted her. After an endless line of harvests, Chur wanted Enovese more than he wanted his next breath.

  His strokes tightened, intensified, and even though the table was massive, he still managed to sway it when he worked his cock deeper. Enovese met him thrust for thrust. With three strokes and the deliberate spacing of three words, she tightened around him. Her orgasm rippled against his shaft, causing his mounting orgasm to contract his entire body. With one last thrust, he climaxed so intensely he lost his breath and could barely manage to steady his arms against the table so he didn’t crush her.

  Gasping, he kissed her again; then he realized what he’d tasted in her mouth was a substance that counteracted the umer drink that kept him hard but unable to orgasm. In addition, the oil she’d anointed him with the last time certainly wasn’t estal. He suspected she used the same oil she’d slathered on him after the ceremonial shave. Moreover, if she were able to orgasm, clearly she’d not prepared herself with the correct oil either.

  Chur retreated. His frown of suspicion caused Enovese to grin ruefully and sit up.

  “Please don’t be angry.”

  “Angry? I’ve violated every code of the Harvest, yet none of this is my fault. You drugged me.”

  She shook her head. “I took the impact of the drugs away.” Enovese lifted her clever hand and tried to touch him, but he leaned back. She lowered her hand to her lap and pulled her robe down. “Please understand that I had no other choice.”

  “I would have gladly harvested you like all the others. What do you stand to gain by this?” He could not fathom why anyone would want to compel him to violate the ritual, but she must have a clear purpose in mind for she had waited three seasons to put whatever plan she had into action.

  With a soft sigh, she said, “As a paratanist I remain chaste and serve the Harvester until I can no longer do so. I help him harvest every woman, yet I am destined to die a virgin.” Catching his gaze, she added, “I decided I did not want to die a virgin.”

  Her answer stunned him. “You decided this without bothering to ask me?” Fury at her high-handedness dissolved into sudden panic. “What happens to the man who dares to harvest a paratanist?”

  “Death.” She shrugged her shoulders so casually it infuriated him.

  He grabbed her upper arms and yanked her close. “Do you think this is funny?”

  Her solemn gaze met his. “Not at all, Harvester, for my punishment is death as well.”

  It took a moment to sink in that for their act they both would die. Probably horribly, cut to shreds in some demonic ritualistic way with a cheering audience. “Then why? If death is the only outcome…”

  “There is a way out for both of us.”

  He doubted the option would be something desirable since she shifted her gaze and kept her head lowered. “Explain to me this way out.”

  After a deep breath, she softly said, “To save us both, you must claim me as your bondmate.”

  His jaw dropped. She had taken ruthless advantage of her position to force him to her own ends and then expected him to claim her for his bondmate? “You want me to swear myself to you for eternity when all I want to do is crush the life out of you with my bare hand?” He clasped one calloused hand to her throat. His massive fist easily encompassed the entire surface of her fragile neck.

  With a subtle lowering of her face, Enovese acknowledged that he could snap her neck like a twig. In her calm and soothing voice, she said, “Killing me is another potential solution, but you’ll still be killed. Not for harvesting me but for killing me.” She met his gaze. Just as he suspected, she did have a truculent nose. Enovese lifted and peered down the sharp edge as if standing well above him when, in fact, she lay sprawled on the table below him.

  He released his fist, put his codpiece in place, and stepped back from the table. Even though anger possessed him, he still felt wonderfully relaxed, as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this one spectacular release. For the first time, Chur actually felt the act of penetrating a virgin. In a most perplexing way, Enovese was his first. Not his first virgin or his first harvest, but Enovese was his very first lover.

  Chur contemplated her self-satisfied demeanor. “You didn’t say the correct phrase, did you?”

  Enovese didn’t answer, she only shook her head slowly side to side.

  “What did you say during the ritual?” When she hesitated, he demanded, “I order you to translate the words for me.”

  Enovese lifted her truculent nose and boldly squared her face to level with his. Ever precise and obedient, she said, “I said that I gave myself freely to you as your bondmate.”

  Chur remembered a night before the second Harvest when he’d asked his paratanist about the claiming of a bondmate. In her matter-of-fact tone, her face hidden under her hooded robe, she’d informed him that generally men made the claim, but women could too. A virgin could claim the Harvester bondmate during the ritual, but there were no recorded accounts of a virgin taking such a bold step.

  Until now.

  “And if I refuse your claim?”

  A small line appeared over the bridge of her nose when Enovese frowned. “If you make that choice, then we will both die.” A small, sad smile turned up the edges of her coral lips. “But at least I will not die a virgin.”

  2

  Enovese resisted the urge to fiddle nervously while waiting for Chur to respond. She’d anticipated confusion and rage but not his withdrawing completely into his own mind. His fury was clear as his facial scar stood out stark white against his flushed face when he clenched his jaw.

  Chur stood motionless, as if considering every option. His massive chest, crisscrossed with scars, heaved in and out with his breath. For three seasons, she’d meticulously shaved his entire body free of hair for the Harvest, but she most liked to see his chest covered with thick black hair. Although, when shaved, all his muscles popped, and once she applied the oil, they glistened and flexed, causing a raging heat between her legs.

  She could have shaved him with modern implements, but she chose the ancient ceremonial razor because it took longer and she could touch him everywhere twice, once during the shave and again when she applied the oil. Which wasn’t technically necessary either, but she had told him it was. For several days after the Harvest she applied more to soothe the itch of the regrowing hair, paying particular attention to his genitals.

  When he’d questioned her about her zeal in that area, she informed him that as a Harvester, his penis was his most important asset, and thus by ritual would be kept in the best condition. Such an edict sounded believable to her. When Chur accepted her explanation, she continued to apply oil long after his hair had grown back.

  Emboldened by his ignorance, she’d created other rituals designed to keep his most important asset in tip-top shape. Her favorite was the ritual of control. For eight nights, she would tease him to the edge, and for eight nights, she would deny him release. In a daylong ceremony, she would then stroke his tormented cock to a profoundly powerful release. When he found that shattering climax, she found her own, without even a touch to her body.

  She’d never worried at her station as paratanist until Chur had become the Harvester. When she’d seen him, she knew she wanted him for herself. He stood a foot taller than she did and was wide as a sword from shoulder to shoulder. His midnight black hair was short, shaved almost to his skull for battle. His eyes, the color of the lightest summer sky, had been sharpened with adrenaline from the rush of challenging and killing the last Harv
ester. The wound that twisted his face had still been raw but did not mar the excitement he exuded. When he bowed formally to her upon introduction, his smile had stolen her heart. Such a smile of joy and anticipation…her heart broke when realization set in and he never smiled that way again.

  All Harvesters underwent what she called the realization, the moment when the reality of the role overtook the fanciful myth. Chur’s realization had been profound and painful, coming on sharply during his very first Harvest. After killing the last Harvester, Chur had undergone a hasty preparation ceremony, then found out during the ritual that he felt nothing. All the tall tales of erotic pleasure were false. He could barely feel his own fingers, let alone his cock. His look of shock and betrayal was palpable. From her alcove, a solemn witness to his epiphany, Enovese vowed that she would not die a virgin and Chur would not die in battle.

  When they returned to his rooms, questions sprung from his lips so quickly she could barely answer the last before he asked the next.

  From that moment, she’d spent all her precious free time researching the exact text of the Harvester prophecy, and all the rules governing her station and his. She became an expert in the ancient language, and unbeknownst to Chur, she often reinterpreted or outright created new rituals. A paratanist served the Harvester but didn’t normally spend so much time involved in his day-to-day activities as she had; for the most part, her role was important only near the Harvest. Since Chur hadn’t known that, Enovese had insinuated herself into his life by designing rituals that needed to be performed on almost a daily basis. To this end, she now occupied a closet off his bedroom as her room.

  Preparing him for the actual Harvest never troubled her, for he did not care about the women he harvested, and often complained, loud and long, about how annoying the process was.

  “There is no passion, no sensation. I am so numb with drugs and oils that I feel nothing. Even the words I speak I do not understand!” He often paced while he spoke, for Chur was a man who found it difficult to stand still. As best she could, she helped him through this painful time as she had all the others, but never had a Harvester felt so cheated and abused as Chur did.

  Given his frustration, she thought for a brief moment that he might be relieved that she’d given him a way out of the role of Harvester, but now, considering his florid face, he didn’t seem pleased in the slightest. The only reason he hadn’t killed her outright was she reminded him he would only die as a result.

  Enovese remained silent and gave Chur a moment to digest the sudden and sweeping change to his station.

  “Since I have little choice, I will claim you as my bondmate.” Chur met her answering smile with a cruel frown. “But do not think for a moment that I will treat you kindly for what you have done to me. There will be a reckoning, Enovese, and when I am finished with you, I promise you will wish you had died a virgin.”

  His words and the vicious tone of his voice sent cold prickles along her skin. She had not expected or planned for this reaction. She didn’t anticipate that he would be profusely grateful, but she’d not expected him to extract revenge either. At a loss as how to respond, she simply nodded.

  When he reached for her she wanted to flinch away but forced herself to hold still. Chur pushed the hood of her robe away and pulled her bound hair out, testing the strength and length with his massive hand.

  “I did not know it would be this long.”

  “By my station I am not allowed to cut my hair.”

  “I don’t see why that stopped you. You seem to have no problem interpreting the rules to fit your desires.”

  His snide comment hurt, but she simply held her tongue. Defending herself or arguing with him would only fuel the flames. To believably pass as bondmates, they would have to convince everyone that their souls had cried out, demanding to be together despite everything. She didn’t think they could manage such a masquerade if they bickered constantly.

  “Why did you shave…down there?” He nodded to her hips.

  Enovese stifled a laugh when Chur could not find a word to express his meaning. After his first Harvest, he’d pelted her with questions about the state of most women’s cunts. “I did not know a cunt could be so colorful and individual.” Enovese had never liked that word, she thought it vulgar and derogatory, but she found it odd that Chur refused to use it with her now after all his questions about the color, shape, and why virgins often decorated their hair with gold dust, paint, or jewels. Never did they shave it off all together, which is why she did. She had wanted to stand apart from the others as much as possible. Her decision had been the right one, for Chur certainly had noticed.

  “I shaved my sex to show a kinship with you for you are shaved too.”

  He nodded and frowned as if he did not believe her.

  With a soft sigh, she added, “I also did so for I knew you would notice. For no other woman has shaved her sex for the Harvest. I wanted to stand out.”

  Now he nodded with acceptance. “Fear not, Enovese, for you have certainly stood out from the rest.” He turned his back on her and paced the length of the table.

  His boots boomed and echoed, filling the entire room with a chilling drumbeat of fury. Enovese despised those boots, but he only had to wear them for the Harvest. The rest of the season she kept those horrible boots locked up in the sacred chest. Much like her erotic rituals, the sacred chest was another invention. Anything relegated to the sacred chest would reappear only in autumn for the Harvest.

  On his second pass, Chur stopped in front of her. “What happens now?”

  “We must go to the magistrate and swear out our oaths of bonding. He will question us; then he will perform another ritual, the one of bondmate.” Enovese thought of the dress she had painstakingly constructed for the ceremony; emerald green astle with hand-sewn water pearls draped across the bodice and spiraled down the floor-length skirt. She couldn’t wait for Chur to see her in the revealing dress when all he’d seen her wear was her baggy ceremonial robe.

  “And then we can live happily ever after.”

  His bitter tone chilled her heart, for Chur spoke as if he could never envision them together, let alone happily. Regret crushed down on her, but she was determined to see her plan through, so she kept her tone even, and said, “The bonding ritual is just that—another ritual. You no more have to believe in that than you do the Harvest ritual. If you decide I am not worthy, then I will turn a blind eye as you seek pleasure elsewhere.”

  Chur uttered a clipped bark of a laugh. “If I am caught in such a dalliance, our lie will be exposed, and we will be in worse trouble than we are now.”

  Injecting ice into her tone, she said, “Then I humbly suggest that if you decide to take me up on such a generous offer, you do not get caught.” Enovese spoke with an air of casualness she did not feel. The thought of Chur entwined with another woman in pleasure tore at her very soul, but she would never let him know how much his happiness meant to her.

  Chur eyed her shrewdly. “Do not think for a moment that I will make such a generous offer to you.”

  It took all her will not to smile, for his possessive tone indicated he did not want to share her with another. A small victory, but still, his dominant attitude was a step in the right direction. Polite and courteous, she said, “I swear that I would never betray you in such a way, Chur. I chose you as my bondmate, and I will honor the vows I make.”

  He flashed her an annoyed frown. “Forgive me if I do not believe you, Enovese, for you seem to have no problem reinterpreting sacred vows. For surely, a paratanist swears to remain celibate, and you clearly broke that vow. Or rather, compelled me to break it for you.” After a pause, he lifted her face and delved deeply into her eyes. “Tell me why, after so many seasons serving the Harvester, you decided to pull this stunt on me.”

  She had anticipated this question and calmly answered, “In my time I have served three Harvesters. I have witnessed each struggle with the painful and sometimes shameful realization that
the prophecy doesn’t match the reality. When you realized the truth, it crushed you, for you honestly believed in your role. I knew you would not choose a woman at random, and I did not want to see you die in battle.”

  Chur uttered a bored sigh.

  “And, yes, selfishly I wanted you for myself. As much as I sought to gain you for myself, I genuinely wanted to spare you from your fate. I did not take this course of action lightly. I waited through three Harvests for you to choose, and when you still did not, I gave myself up to you.”

  His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Do not speak to me as if you have done me a favor. I may have been disillusioned, but at least the choice had been mine. No one forced me into battling for the right of Harvester. But what you have done, Enovese, what you have done is taken the choice of bondmate away from me.”

  Enovese moved to apologize for she had made the choice for him, but he’d dallied for three seasons and she couldn’t wait forever. Before she could speak, he tilted his head to the side and a small smile, lifted up farther on one edge by his scar, cast his face into a mask of speculation.

  “Or perhaps you wish to make me think there is no choice.”

  Confusion caused her to blurt out, “I have given you the choices available. Either we bond or we die. What other choice is there?”

  “Yes, as you say, but all the information I have has come from you and your interpretation of the rules. Since I have no independent information, I feel there is nothing compelling me to claim you as my bondmate at this moment.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp. “But the claim must be made at the time of the ritual.”

  A mischievous smile lifted his face and touched the deepest recesses of his eyes. “Then we best not tell anyone.” His gaze darted about the vast and empty Harvest room. “I believe it is a secret we can keep for there are no witnesses.”

  Not in all her planning had Enovese considered this. She could not continue to serve him when she had spoken the words to claim him as bondmate. Just the thought of preparing him for another Harvest chilled her to the very core of her being. “What do you propose? That we act as if this had not happened?”