by Unknown
* * * * *
Every villager on Theristes was in attendance the next night. It was close to midnight—the traditional time at which Ceangals were performed. Torchlight wavering from tall brass braziers on tripod bases ringed the Ciorcal Beannaithe—the Sacred Circle—and flickered on the pristine white stones that rimmed it. Even those who had no love of clothing were dressed in the required maize-colored robes that symbolized both thanksgiving for the couple having found one another and hope for the joy and inner harmony wished for their Joining. The high priest who would perform the ancient ceremony was dressed in the white robe that denoted his authority. The two acolytes who stood beside him were clothed in white robes with gold cord cinctures at the waist.
Quietly in the background, three young men beat the limed goat hide drumheads of the bodhrán with double-headed tippers, the tribal beat announcing the arrival of the groom.
For the first time in his life Ailyn Harmattan was dressed entirely in black from long-sleeved silk shirt to tight leather pants in the time-honored uniform of a Reaper warrior. He wore black boots polished to a high sheen and a black leather tie and belt. On the collars of his shirt were pinned a set of silver ravens. The only color on his ensemble was a blood-red triangle with twin silver slashes bisecting the center, near the shoulder seam of his left sleeve. He came to the gathering from the west along with his best man Tariq, who was also dressed in the stygian clothing of a Reaper.
From the east Shanee came attired in a gown of silver, her long white hair flowing freely to her hips and pinned back from ears with jasmine blossoms. She wore soft dark gray kid slippers and in her hands was a bouquet of tropical flowers that trailed down to the hem of her gown. Following her was her matron of honor Bahiya clad in a dark rose gown that swept the ground just above her bare feet.
Ailyn’s heart thudded hard in his chest as he watched his bride approaching. She was so lovely his entire body clenched with desire. The elegant gown fit her like a second skin with thin net strands of silver wire flowing from scooped neckline to the deeply scalloped hem. Sparkles of light flashed from the silver net so that as she moved, the gown sent out shards of multi-colored luminance. His palms were sweating as she drew near and he swallowed hard. He had never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted this woman and the very soul inside him sang.
Shanee could not take her eyes from her groom. His uniform heightened the tan of his skin and the muscularity of his finely honed body. Someone had shaped his dark hair expertly so that it was absolute perfection curling gently at the collar of his silk shirt. His amber eyes glowed with an inner light that lit up his handsome face. She had never felt such love and happiness ever and her heart swelled with pride as she beheld the man with whom she would share the rest of her days.
The high priest spoke as Shanee came to stand in front of Ailyn.
“Who comes to seek the blessing of Alel on this ritual?” the high priest asked.
“I, Lord Ailyn LeVey Harmattan, Duke of Kentsington of Riezell, have come to seek the Great God’s blessing.”
“And I, Princess Shanee Lykopis of the Royal House of Iphito of Amazeen, have come to seek the Great God’s blessing.”
Ailyn blinked. “Lykopis?” he whispered.
“She-wolf,” his soon-to-be wife whispered in reply.
“And who has come to seek a mate for the Joining?” the high priest queried.
“I, Ailyn, have come to seek a mate for the Joining.”
“And I, Shanee, have come to seek a mate for the Joining.”
“Who vouches for this man? What say you of him?”
“I, Tariq, Prime Reaper of Theristes. He is a good and worthy man.”
“And who vouches for this woman? What say you of her?”
“I, Bahiya, mate of the Prime Reaper of Theristes. She is a good and worthy woman.”
“Is there one among you who has reason to believe this Joining should not take place or that it would be invalid?” The high priest looked about him.
No one spoke.
“Since I have tested this man and found him worthy of Joining, and since he is free to take unto himself a bride, since I have tested this woman and found her worthy of Joining, and since she is free to take unto herself a groom, and since there is no one who believes this Joining should not take place or would be invalid, I declare this Joining can be made!” the high priest proclaimed.
The ceremony was a blur for Ailyn. He mouthed the appropriate responses but his mind was on the woman at his side. Her hand in his made his entire body burn with need. Her beauty was drawing him like a moth to the flame. He had become lost in her eyes, reciting his words by rote though they came directly from his heart. As he listened to her repeat her vows to him, he felt moisture gathering in his eyes.
“Ailyn?”
He had to tear his gaze from Shanee to look at Tariq.
“Your shirt,” Tariq repeated for his friend obviously had not heard him the first time.
“My shirt?” Ailyn repeated, completely at a loss.
“Unbutton your left sleeve and fold it back,” Tariq said, his lips twitching with his effort not to laugh.
Though he had no idea why he should, Ailyn did as Tariq ordered more because the Prime Reaper’s subliminally directed voice bid him to do so without question. He unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and folded the cuff back twice. He stared down at his bare wrist as Tariq stepped forward and slid a golden bracelet over his hand and onto his wrist.
“Where did you get these?” Ailyn asked.
“I made them for you,” Tariq said as Bahiya slipped a similar band upon Shanee’s arm.
“The outward sign of your union, your link to one another, your eternal reminder that you are now responsible to another for your actions, is the Band of Devotion that will be placed on each of you by your attendants. With this symbol, you will be joined for all time. Let all who witness the placement of these bands know you are one to another, forever as one, never to be parted by anything or anyone under penalty of death.” The high priest laid his hands on each of the bracelets they now wore. “As this woman is now a part of you, Ailyn, and this man a part of you, Shanee, so shall these bracelets be a part of you. As your wife and your husband may not be taken from you, so must these bracelets never be removed for they are the symbols of eternal union sanctioned by the gods, endorsed by Reaper Law, witnessed by those gathered and blessed by my own hands as a representative of Alel on this world.” He lifted Ailyn’s and Shanee’s arms above their heads. “Before gods and man, I declare this man and woman husband and wife,” the high priest pronounced. “May nothing sever their Joining!”
A loud resounding cheer rang out over those assembled.
It was a very sweet, chaste kiss that bound them together before the villagers. Their lips touched briefly but their eyes were locked in a fiery dance of passion that made them both shiver.
“I love you,” Ailyn told his bride.
“As I love you,” she said.
“Feast!” someone called out, and before another word could be spoken by the couple, eager hands latched on to them and escorted them to the long plank tables where thick cushions on the ground eagerly awaited the diners.
Long into the early hours of the morning the villagers celebrated the Joining. The food that had been prepared by the women was excellent and filling, the wine free-flowing and heady. Music added to the festive air and couples broke away from the tables to dance to the live jigs played with bodhráns, tin whistles, concertinas, fiddles and uilleann pipes. Children scampered about long past their bedtimes on such a wondrous occasion as a wedding and played tag with one another.
In the spreading mango tree where Ailyn in his raven form had sat the day before, another man now sat with his body close to the trunk. No one saw him there in the tree for he had placed around him a cloak of mist so that should anyone look his way, he would be well hidden from their view. He sat there watching the festivities until the Joining couple rose from the tabl
e and walked toward their hut. His hungry gaze followed Shanee until the Reaper swept his bride up into his arms and carried her into the hut.
Fierce longing for what he knew he could never have flooded the watcher and he sighed deeply before vanishing in a swirling mist of black vapor.
* * * * *
Ailyn set his lady gently on her feet and put his hands to her cheeks to pull her face slowly to his. The kiss he gave her was no less chaste or soft than the one he’d given after the Joining. It was a reverent kiss that held passionate promise.
“What’s on your mind, ehemann?” she asked as he stepped back and swept his gaze down her silver net gown.
“Ripping that beautiful thing from your body, but it is too stunning. Where did you come by it?”
Shanee smiled. “Would you believe Jared fashioned it as you do my clothes from time to time?”
Ailyn’s left brow quirked up. “Jared?”
“He came to me and asked that I envision the perfect Joining gown and said he would create it for me from my thoughts as a wedding gift.” She smoothed her hands down the gown’s skirt. “This is what came from our collaboration.”
“Is he…?” He shrugged and flung out a hand. “You know.”
“He prefers men, aye,” she said with a smile. “And he has his cap set for Colton.”
“Colton, the Barbarian?” he asked, his eyes wide. “The body builder who looks like a rhino?”
“The one and the same,” she said. “They’ve been keeping company for about a year now.”
Ailyn released a long breath. “I kinda thought Jared was a bit—well, you know—with that odd hairstyle of his.”
Shanee turned her back. “There won’t be any ripping of this fine creation so unbutton me so my daughter can wear this…” She stopped realizing what she’d been about to say then shook her head firmly. “My daughter-in-law-to-be can wear this gown.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against him. “Does it hurt you that we can only have sons?” he asked. He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.
“I won’t lie to you, ehemann,” she said. “I have always wanted a daughter but I am not bemoaning the fact it isn’t to be.”
“I’ll give you as many sons as you’ll ever want,” he said, and slid his hands to the myriad silver buttons that ranged from neckline to waist and began undoing them.
“Three, maybe four, will be enough,” she said with a little laugh.
When he had the buttons undone, he slipped his hand to her shoulder and pushed the gown down her arms and chest. Once over her shapely hips, it fell into a shimmering pool at her feet and he drew in a ragged breath.
“Shanee!” he gasped.
She turned and stepped out of the circle of her gown. “Aye?” she asked as she kicked off her slippers.
Ailyn’s gaze turned hot as the fires of the Abyss. His lady had worn nothing at all beneath the silvery gown and she had shaved away the lush triangle that had graced her lower body.
“Why did you…?” He could not stop himself from turning his hand and placing his palm against her bare juncture. He was stunned to find her already wet for him.
“As much as I like that uniform, ehemann, I’d just as soon you do your molecular thingie and…”
She didn’t get a chance to finish for Ailyn flung out his free hand and the black silk shirt and black leather pants, tie, belt and boots were history. He stood there with the largest erection she’d seen between his thighs to date.
“Hot damn, Harmattan,” she said, flicking out a tongue to lick her lips.
His attention dipped to her mouth and he growled low and deep in his throat. He slapped his hands to her hips and—as though she weighed no more than a leaf on the wind—lifted her and slid her down on his erection. He backed her up to the roof post, slamming into her with force, dragging her legs up around his waist as he thrust, his cheek pressed to her chest.
He was a rock-hard missile enveloped in velvet as he slid in and out of her. The smell of his juices mingling with hers added to her need. His cock was deliciously long and more than adequate in circumference so it filled her and began to satisfy the ache that still pulsed between her legs. Tremors of delight shot through her as the quickening came fast and furious, following speedily by his own climax that had him pounding her firmly against the wall. Grunting with each forward thrust, he finally stilled as her last quiver drained him and he sagged against her, his heart trip-hammering against her chest.
“Consummated and uncontestable,” he said from between clenched teeth.
“What?” she asked, panting.
“Our Joining, wench,” he said, allowing her to slide down his spent body, he held her against him until they were both ready to move apart, each still breathing heavily. “You are mine.”
“Aye,” she said. “As you are mine.”
“Damned straight,” he panted.
She took his hand and led him to their pallet, blowing out the candle on the table to plunge the hut into semidarkness. “My cunt is going to be as sore as a thumb smashed by a hammer before our honeymoon is over,” she admitted.
“Are you bragging or complaining?” he asked, trying to hide a yawn. He enfolded her within the perimeter of his arms and put his chin on the top of her head.
“Well, that’s one thing that is going to stop now that we’re Joined,” she said as she lay down beside him on the pallet and put her head on his shoulder.
“Meaning?”
“You not getting enough sleep,” she stated. “You stay tired all the time and to keep up with me, warrior, you’re going to need your rest.”
He yawned again, unable to stop himself. “Wench, it’s nearly four of the morning. Don’t you think I have a right to be a bit tired?”
“Shut your mouth and close your eyes and don’t snore,” she said, snuggling into his arms.
“I don’t snore,” he mumbled.
“The hell you don’t,” she said. “You make enough noise I can’t even hear the gods-be-damned waterfall behind us.”
“I don’t snore,” he repeated, and was quiet for a few moments. “You do, but I don’t.”
Shanee jerked her head up and glared at him. “I do not!”
“Like the proverbial buzz saw,” he said, putting a hand to her head and forcing her cheek to his shoulder again.
“No,” she stated firmly.
Ailyn smiled and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard her snort.
“I do not snore,” she declared.
Chapter Seven
He woke her as he sat bolt upright on the pallet, dragging harsh breaths into his lungs, gulping air. He was covered with sweat and he was trembling as though chilled. She got up and lit the candle, turning to look down at him as he sat there with his arms wrapped around his bare chest.
“Ailyn,” she said in a firm tone. “I want you to tell me what you dreamed.”
He shook his head like an errant schoolboy.
“Aye, you will,” she said then came to sit down beside him. This was not the first time he had awakened her in that manner but usually he’d lay right back down. Tonight she had seen added trembling, sweating and a look in his eyes that made her uneasy. “Tell me.”
“No,” he said. He met her gaze. “You didn’t tell me what else you did while I was gone.”
“You aren’t going to change the subject, ehemann,” she told him.
“Aye, I am,” he declared. “What else did you do?” He tightened his arms around himself.
Shanee realized he was slowly rocking back and forth as he sat there and knew he wasn’t even aware that he did so. A portion of a conversation she’d had with Bahiya a few days before passed through her mind.
“With Reapers, sometimes you have to give in order to get,” the Prime Reaper’s mate had imparted. “When you need to get answers from your man, give him what he wants. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want.”
The Amazeen crossed her
legs as she sat facing him. “I helped the men build this hut.”
Ailyn looked up at the pole rafters and at the layered walls. “You did well. What else?”
“I helped the women gather the leaves and grasses for the pallet then stuffed most of it myself.”
He nodded but made no comment to that.
She ached to touch him, to put her arms around him in his apparent misery but she refrained, instinctively knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it just then.
“Oh and a scout ship landed the fourth day you were gone,” she said, and smiled at him as he turned his head to look at her. “They had a message for me from General Strom so I went on board and spoke to him privately.”
“What did he want?” he asked, reaching up to arm away the sweat that had gathered under his chin.
“He wanted to know if you were going to return to Riezell with me. I told him you would but that you had no intention of seeing your mother. I explained to him why you thought she wanted you back and he said he’d already come to the same conclusion. He is agreeable to keeping your return secret from the vice-counselor and your mother.”
“That would be best,” he said.
“Now tell me about the dream, Ailyn,” she ordered.
At first she didn’t think he’d answer but he hung his head, closed his eyes and began a tale that would keep her awake the rest of the night.
“Tariq had been on R-9 for thirty years or more when they brought the first of us there,” he began in a soft, toneless voice. “I don’t know who the scientists were but I know they had done experiments on him off and on over those years. He says they didn’t know what to do with him until a new scientist arrived about six months before I was brought there.”
She watched him get up and go to the table to pour a tumbler of water. His hand was shaking violently and he gulped the liquid down as though he were parched. Draining the tumbler, he poured another and drank that as well. He seemed a bit calmer when he returned to the pallet and sank down on it again.