by D. M. Pratt
The sound of children playing and laughing could be heard outside in the distance. Their gaiety pulled her to one of four large French doors that opened onto a small stone balcony. The sheer curtains caught another gust of the soft morning breeze and lifted the filmy chiffon to brush against her face. It felt as delicate as clouds; she reached for the ornate pewter door handle and pulled the door open all the way.
The sun kissed her face. All the tension in her muscles fell away. A whisper of wind rustled in the leaves far off in the orchards that lay beyond the topiary at the back of the gardens. Eve realized she was in the master bedroom of the Gregoire estate.
Three children played on swings near the west garden. She could see they were the perfect blend of her features and Beau’s. Two had his dark curly hair and one her flaxen honey locks. The girl ran and her white dress caught the wind and fluttered like white flags ruffled by the breeze. She played tag with her brothers. They were young, perhaps 4 and 6.
Something made her turn. Through the filmy curtains Beau stood by the bed watching her.
“Would you like to see more?” he asked. “Would this make you happy?”
Tears welled in Eve’s eyes. Here was the man of her dreams, the best lover she’d ever known, the home she’d always wanted and a family that until this moment she never let herself hope for. It was all hers if she would just say one word, “Yes.”
“There’s something more that you’re not telling me,” she replied. “It’s all too perfect.”
“Is perfection bad? What does the rest matter? You live here. Isn’t this where you want to live? I will let you be with…Beau. Your children…Our children…will be the sons and daughters of Gods and lead humanity out of these dark ages into the new age of light,” he said.
Eve looked down. Through the haze of dimensions she could see her feet still stood on the floor in the top of the tower. She stepped back out across the white that formed the first circle. She needed to bring him with her. Beau stepped toward her, closer; she could see his feet standing before her own. Once again she stepped back. He followed and his feet crossed the first white line.
Eve looked up into his eyes. She could smell the sweet scent that swelled from him. She remembered that Evine said the scent from the powders would give him solace and the illusion he had come home…that he had her.
“I am offering you the joy and happiness that you have desired your entire life,” he said. “I’m glad you have chosen not to deny this pleasure for yourself”
Eve reminded herself why? Because people have been murdered! People I love were broken and brutalized for this to come into existence. Because strangers like Azura and a hundred other pregnant girls who I have never seen but know are prisoners have no control or choice and are now breeding your offspring.
“I told you, I will give myself to you but only… as Gathian, in your Godling form. Show me your true self. Only then will I give myself to you and then and only then can you make love to me,” she said.
The illusion that was Beau rippled like wind on water. He became transparent for a moment and all that was Beau faded away across the room.
Eve turned to see the real Beau standing motionless in a corner. She could see his magnificent face and body, but his eyes were vacant and distant, void of life…the living dead. He was there and, at the same time, gone.
The haze thickened and turned a brilliant blue. In that flash of an instant, the being that was the Nephilim stepped forward through the cloudy mist. The Nephilim stood before her. Eve gasped. This being, this creature was tall and every muscle was perfectly cut. But his skin did not glow blood red beneath the flesh or deepen into the burgundy of fine wine when aroused. He did not have black eyes that caught the light like twin flames. He did not have black living vine-like curls for hair. This was not the creature that had seduced and almost tried to kill her in the hotel suite.
Gathian, though similar in shape and form, was flesh, but instead of red the glow that emanated from deep inside him was an electric periwinkle blue as a vibrant as the Caribbean Sea. He was the shade of an evening summer sky just before the last golden light fades into the colors of dusk. His eyes were wide and kind and sparkled the color of uncut sapphires, each iris ringed in black. He seemed to look into her soul. He was strong and formidable as he studied her face for signs of fear and repulsion. She found him both beautiful and frightening at the same time. His hair, a mane of pale, platinum white curls was thick and full. It fell in locks below his shoulders and each strand looked to be made of satin. His hair fell around his face, a living curtain of curls, moving as if caught by an invisible wind. His high cheekbones, full lips and strong chin made him look human, but at the same time not human. Eve could see something deeper in the radiance of his eyes.
She looked for truth and possibility. Did he represent the good of everything humanity could be: a turn from the cruelty and evil etched in the darkest recesses of mankind? Would his goodness exist in counterpoint with the wickedness of his twin, Kirakin? Could he create beauty and would he promote all that was good or was this an illusion to trick her? If she killed him, would she destroy the greatest hope mankind would ever know?
Eve’s eyes left his face. He wore a tunic of sheer gauze that caught the light rippling like a cascade of liquid diamonds across his skin. Below his broad shoulders his powerful chest was well defined, pecs bulging above his washboard stomach, dark, erect nipples, thick, muscular arms strong as if he were made of blue marble chiseled into perfection by Michelangelo, yet warm to the touch. It was what she saw next that unnerved her. Behind him a tail whipped back and forth, a floating blue snake. He had no genitalia. Is that why he needed Beau?
Eve stepped back. He followed, his eyes locked onto hers. He seemed unaware as he stepped over the red line of cayenne pepper next to her. She did not back away. She needed him vulnerable before she could…
He slowly slipped his massive arms around her, pulled her hair free so that it tumbled free. He held her kiss her it as reverently as a priest would kiss a holy sacrament. He leaned his face into hers, brushing her lips with his own and gently kissed her. Eve felt the warmth of his full, firm indigo lips pressed into hers. His kiss was sweeter than any kiss before, gentle but filled with the passion of a young boy being allowed to take his first kiss. He let the feeling linger, separating for a moment then pressing down and kissing her gently again. Eve felt his tongue push through her lips and slip sensually past her teeth and into her mouth. It was different than Beau’s kiss: fuller, hotter, deeper. His tongue intertwined around her tongue. He tasted ripe and sweet as he danced across her taste buds sending a host of exotic flavors along her tongue and with them an array of new sensations.
In the next instant they lay tangled in each other’s arms. Eve realized she was on the master bed back on the second floor of the Gregoire estate. The cool of the silk sheets under her back felt delicious as she lay gently pressed onto the feather mattress. She felt his hands move up from her waist and slip inside her blouse and under her bra. He cupped his long fingers around her breast and fondled her nipple with the tips of his thumb and forefinger. His fingers felt hot, like wet tongues that sucked and pulled on her flesh. Her back arched, offering itself. His body shifted from burning hot to a sudden rush of cool and each change in temperature commanded her nipple into an erection and her skin to quiver. His other hand moved down the side of her ribs and slipped around her back cupping her buttocks and squeezing her into him. He grabbed her muscles and rubbed her flesh against his as he pulled her into him. He pressed her pelvis into his while he twisted his hips and memberless mound in small, sensual circles, rubbing against her pubic bone. What came next surprised and frightened her. She saw the long, thick, blue tail sway. Its tip opened, flowering into a single tongue covered in undulating follicles. Eve watched as it oozed a thick, golden honey substance then, with a sensual undulation, it disappeared behind his back. Eve’s eyes widened as she felt his tail slip down her outer leg and coil ar
ound and around as it snaked slowly up between her thighs. Rubbing and sliding, wet and hot, it inched closer to her lower lips that lay between her legs. She could feel each gentle brush back and forth, again and again until the tip of the erotic appendage opened. Each side pressed the mounds of her flesh apart as a thousand tiny tongued follicles sensually licked and rubbed and fondled every inch of her clitoris. Eve’s body was electric, quivering, liquid, more alive than she’d ever felt. Her mind connected with his. She knew his pleasures as if she’d become him and he knew hers. His body was overwhelmingly sensual. All he offered her in terms of pleasure, physical, emotional and intellectual, defied logic. It should have been horrifying and hideous, but it held an untold beauty and a sweetness she could hardly describe. He was tantalizing her with what no one in her world had to offer.
Eve’s hand reached into his hair. Each curl was liquid silk, warm and alive. The moment she touched the strands they coiled around and caressed each finger like a million, tiny, hot, living tendrils licking and sucking the skin of each finger.
Her curiosity pulled at her. She reached down and felt the tail like appendage that coiled around her leg with the other hand. Her logic and all she’d been taught wanted her to recoil, but her body refused to obey. His throbbing, blue phallus felt long, hot, firm and unbelievably wet. She stroked it and it responded to her touch.
The tongued follicles that had flowered from the tip closed and swelled into a ball and Gathian slipped himself gently inside her. Eve moaned at the pleasure it gave her. She could feel the ball flower again. Each time he slid in and pulled out, the follicles stroked her insides and she began to undulate in waves of pleasure. The feeling surpassed anything she had ever known from a human. He was making love to every inch of her body inside and out. His hands went from her mouth to her breasts and back. Her breath quickened. Her heart raced. Her body hungered for more, curious to know and understand what unfathomable pleasure lay in the arms of this godly master of sensuality. Eve could hear Gathian’s breath building with hers. He was hers: vulnerable, ready.
A sound broke through her pleasure. Far in the distance Eve could hear the pounding of metal atop metal. Someone or something was coming through the gate. Mac, she thought.
Gathian plunged his phallus deeper, slipping in and out of her, building the rhythm to a faster pace and gently pulling her from one reality into another. Her mind swirled back to him, drawn by the mounting pleasure. He was everywhere all at once: mouth, tongue, fingers. His amazing, erotic phallus went only deep enough inside her so that her pleasure rose, building with every thrust. His complete focus was on one thing…pleasing her. Eve closed the inside walls of her pussy down, wrapping around the love appendage. He returned her internal caress by swelling bigger inside her. Gathian slipped in and out of her, alternating between slow and fast; wild, pulsing rhythms, building to some unknowable crescendo with her every breath. Her sighs and moans guided him. He was always gentle, but each time she felt him go harder and a little deeper. She heard deeper mournful moans, first her own and then Gathian’s. He moaned a low song and his breath matched in rhythm with hers. He had completely lost himself to her. Now, a soft voice whispered in her head. Now.
Eve looked down past him, through the realms to her feet between the white and red lines. She stepped back between the red and black. Slowly she lifted one hand from his hair and slipped it sensually down his face and then his neck. She moved her fingers to her own neck and let them drift down until she felt the jacket she wore in the first realm. Eve reached under the lapel of her collar. Her finger brushed the silver spike; it felt warm and hard. She knew there would be only one chance… one opening…one moment.
“She means to kill you, brother,” a calm voice said from across the room.
Eve glanced over to see a young handsome Millard Le Masters stepping into the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
“All that pleasure she’s receiving from fucking you and she lays there ready to destroy the only hope you have of existing,” Millard said, smiling.
His voice was low and eerily calm. It was the same, but different.
Eve’s eyes widened as she watched Millard move into the room. He looked younger and more vital than when she saw him at the dinner party. Smooth skin and dark hair, animated and alive, cocky and arrogant. He stopped as if someone had turned off a switch. He stood frozen and lifeless next to Beau: two human suits hanging motionless as if waiting to be worn. But Eve could see life in both their eyes: Beau a prisoner, Millard a willing host. Through the immobile Millard stepped the red demon, Kirakin.
Her heart, still racing from the pleasure of Gathian’s passion, quickened. She looked down at her feet, still in her shoes, standing inside the black and red circles, Gathian’s feet inches from crossing black iron to join her in her trap. She had one last step to take back and she could be at the center of the pentagram that waited behind her…safe. She wanted to move her feet, but she could not.
Gathian pulled away from her with the speed of heavy smoke caught on a gale force wind. His blue form turned dark as lapis lazuli and his arms opened like great wings. He rushed to Kirakin and slammed the full force of his body into his brother. Eve could feel it: Gathian was protecting her. Why?
Kirakin moved with the agility of a bullfighter. He used the force of Gathian’s forward thrust and grabbed him mid-air, twisted to the side and flung him across the room. A blue haze of flesh and muscle flew into a large oak chest and shattered it with a thunderous thud. Wood splintered into shards the size of a babies arm as the chest exploded with the force of a volcano. Gathian struggled to regain his wits. Kirakin glared over at Eve. Kirakin turned his full attention on her.
Kirakin’s eyes blazed, violet fire from two open holes in the top of his face. His powerful head boasted a mane of living, black curls, squirming as alive as Medusa’s tendrils. His face was the color of blood, his purple lips curled into a smile of victory. He advanced on her. In four long strides he was across the room. His arms reached for her. Eve screamed, desperate to step out of this nightmare realm and into her pentagram. No matter how hard she tried, she could not make her feet move. She recoiled. Kirakin’s massive hands were inches from her. Gathian gathered himself and leaped. He flew through the air with the grace of a large bird of prey and landed on Kirakin, knocking him sideways and away from Eve, sending him crashing down to the hard wood floor. Gathian wrapped his long blue fingers around his twin’s neck and squeezed. Kirakin’s color undulated in and out of deep, dark shades that shifted from burgundy to ruby, radiating wild waves of fury and rage.
Eve looked at the brothers. They were a perfect physical match but for their unearthly coloring. Kirakin’s eyes were the black of deep space while Gathian’s the blue of a new day. The glow under Gathian’s skin cooled to a stormy blue-gray and Kirakin’s shifted from the color of bright, fresh blood into the red of a blood-soaked battlefield churned with mud after a great melee.
Gathian struggled to hold the advantage as he looked up at her.
“Get out,” he commanded.
“No!” Kirakin commanded, freeing one arm to grab for her leg.
Eve felt the searing rush of burning heat from his hand as it scorched her skin. With his touch she realized she could move. She kicked him with every ounce of strength she had. She kicked again and again until his fingers opened enough to allow her to jerk free. She leapt to her feet and started running. She grabbed the strap of the cream lace gown that had been pulled half off and struggled to untangle it. It fell loose, the tail of the gown trailing behind her as she ran frantically from the room.
Eve ran through the second floor, racing down the long upper corridor and headed toward where she remembered the front stairs should have been. She wanted out. She had to get out. She turned the corner entering what she thought would be the upper balcony that hung out over the entry. It should have connected to stairs, but only another corridor appeared before her. She kept running. She looked down at her feet. T
hey stood motionless inside the circle. Distracted for a moment, she slammed into a wall. She felt the sting of flesh against wood. Eve gathered herself and turned, running as fast as her feet would carry her. She could feel the air move past her face, heard the beating of her heart and the padding of her feet on the floor. She was fleeing? Wasn’t she? This is an illusion but how do I get out? How do I get back?
She noticed Aria standing at the far end of the long corridor.
“This is Kirakin’s doing. He has you in a maze. Do not stop. Do not believe anything you see. Keep running,” Aria said.
Eve raced past the child. She looked young again. Young as the day they first met.
Eve ran past an open door. The furniture was old and covered in dust and spider webs. A figure caught her eyes. Millard Le Masters, old and drawn, stood looking at her. He smiled. His teeth were brown and rotting. Maggots crawled from the corners of his eyes and mouth. He opened his arms for her to come inside.
“Come,” he said. “Trust me.”
“No! Get away from me,” Eve shouted.
She turned and kept running. She passed another open door and stopped. It was the same room and in it stood the pregnant girl who had helped her.