Nights of Roshan

by London, Billy

  Faith. Okay. She held out her hands for the statue and took it from him. “Yes. Just… just follow me.”

  Slowly, with the statue raised above her head, she circled the field of wheat. Just as she’d been taught, she sang the hymn to the god gripped in her fingertips. The words had always been said with increasing desperation before this, but with the chill of the December night and the light graze of Roshan’s hands on her hips, she felt them. Worship. Praise. Hail. Strong armed Lord of Awe. Her arms began to tremble with the weight of the ivory in her hands, but Roshan placed his over hers, keeping her steady and bringing her body to his, feeding his strength into her. Their steps slowed even further, allowing them to move in unison. He joined in the hymn after the third repetition, his breath lightly stirring her hair. The rumble of his baritone pulsed over her skin. She halted, her body charged with energy and something else she couldn’t begin to identify. Roshan’s fingertips trailed over the undersides of her bare arms to rest once more on her hips.

  “What would you like me to do now?”

  Clearing her throat, she placed the statue at the line of the field with shaking fingers and indicated the scythe. “You need to cut the wheat. If you can, cut a path to the pole. It’s erm… symbolic of your… erm… virility.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “As you wish.”

  He flipped the scythe in his palm and began to hack at the wheat. Watching him work, Neiri became all too aware why Roshan had determined the ceremony celebrated male virility. The strain of his muscles, bulging with exertion more than convinced her. Soon, a light mist of sweat covered his back in pearl-tinted beads. She stared so hard, she could almost taste the salt of his skin. Her mouth watered and beneath the pleated linen, her nipples pushed up for attention. The only way to talk herself down was to recite the hymn to Min aloud. Even when Roshan bent to move the cut stalks from his path and the material of his loin cloth tightened over the sleek curve of his arse, she closed her eyes and recited louder.

  Finally, he struck the scythe against the pole. “Success!” he bellowed.

  His enthusiasm tickled a smile to her face. “Can you bring the ribbons down from the post? We need to wrap them around.”

  With a flashing grin, Roshan disappeared and his tiger pawed the ground. He arched his back, feline rear shaking in preparation, gas-blue eyes focused on the pole. In three leaps, the tiger reached the top of the pole and snatched the red, green and white ribbons in his teeth and jumped down. Unable to look away, she struggled to breathe as he changed back, his nude body only enhanced by the moonlight. He fixed the loincloth about his hips and began to gather the wheat. She glanced down at her arms and saw white light glittering over her. The same light seemed to be surrounding Roshan while he piled the harvested wheat to one side.

  “Is that everything?” He asked her, briefly looking up at her.

  “Not quite.”

  And from that moment, Neiri would swear until her last day, she had an out-of-body experience and would never, ever claim responsibility for what happened next.

  Chapter Five

  Roshan scooped the sheaves of wheat under his arm and placed them at the edge of his roof-top wheat field. He’d never witnessed a ritual like it. The charge of energy in the air, the lyricism of Neiri’s voice as she recited the hymn, even the scent of the wheat in the brisk winter air. He felt at one with the elements. Deified. Masculine. His gaze instantly went to find Neiri. With the statue cradled against her belly, hair softly drifting across her forehead, and that dress, a thing sure to haunt his dreams for an eternity, she resembled priestesses of the ancient world.

  He had the briefest vision of her placing down the statue, unravelling the dress from her frame and allowing the moonlight to caress her naked skin. Just like he wanted to. In his mind, she would wander through the cut wheat path and turn her back to the climbing post. She would raise her arms above her head, and silver light would brush her dark nipples as she wrapped the ribbons around her wrists. He blinked. Neiri arched her back, her eyelids low and her mouth parted. He had to be hallucinating. He blinked again. She still stood before him. Entirely nude.

  “What…?” he began.

  “We’re going to make sure this worked.” She beckoned to him, a siren call, with the simple raise of her leg, her sole pressed to the base of the post. “Finish the ceremony.”

  “I thought you said it didn’t involve sex.” He spoke, but he had no idea why he was disagreeing with her. His body moved closer, step by step, obeying her command. His brain wanted to know the catch.

  “It’s not for me,” she reminded him. “Come here.”

  Lust moved him, shoving him with near-blind desperation through the cut wheat to the goddess at the post. He knelt at her feet, his head resting against the warmth of her gently rounded stomach. Yes, he would worship… Pearl light deepened her skin to a rich ochre, glowing. His hands stroked over her legs from ankle to hip. His fingers framed the width of her bones in nothing less than pure admiration. The touch translated to him everything he needed to know. She was an intensely sexual being. Something that had scared her husband. Her sexuality had been beyond his control. She would be an excellent if strict mother, and she was more than made to carry tiger cubs. It amazed him that she thought she was deficient because she hadn’t had children with her ex-husband. The truth was, her body was attuned to a shifter only. Not any weak, ignorant man but a male. Him.

  He lowered his hands to one of her ankles, lifting her leg to his mouth, and pressed his mouth to the bone. She shuddered; a cold breeze passed over them but when he touched his mouth to the other side of her ankle, she shook again. A heated, spicy scent trailed from her, speaking of Neiri’s desire. All for him. His willing offering to Min. He would not offer her. The god could have whatever else He desired, but Neiriouri belonged to him tonight.

  His kisses brushed higher until he felt a dampness beneath his lips. Such delicious wetness made him crave more. “Hold on,” he commanded, in a growl that was more beast than man. He felt his canines elongating as he hooked her thighs over his shoulders. A shriek left her throat but she tightened her legs around him. Trapping a thigh to his body with a huge forearm, Roshan parted the soft petals of her sex, his fingers instantly glistening from the smallest of grazes over her.

  He glanced up at her. “What’s the lucky number for your ancestors?”

  “Three.” She breathed the word, arching against him.

  His lips lifted in amusement. “We can do better, I think.”

  The taste of her was sweet ecstasy, slipping down his throat in nectar-like trickles. His canines tingled with sensation. Grazing then lightly over her flesh only made him harder. So damn hard. She felt so silken and so plump against his lips, he feared he would pierce her with his teeth if he didn’t take care. The way she moved against him, chanted his name and yelped, the goal of three seemed too much of an easy target. His hands tightened about her thighs as she undulated frantically. Without warning, she jerked again and his teeth sank into her. He lifted his head to see where he’d caught her. Four pinpricks marred his view. Slowly, he drew his tongue over each impression and within seconds they healed over. Lucky. He wasn’t sure how her cat disposition would change if he scarred her.

  He set her trembling limbs on the soil and rose to his full height. Taking the ends of the ribbons, he rubbed the silken material over the buds of her nipples and pressed his thigh between hers.

  “I think you should say the hymn again.”

  “What?” She opened her eyes, looking clouded with confusion and lust.

  “Say it again.” He pressed his thigh more firmly against her, until she moaned so hard it pulsed through every vein in his cock. Grabbing it by the base, he moved his thigh to keep hers spread and drew the swollen head over her drenched pussy until they both vibrated with pleasure. She whispered each word of the hymn, faltering when he could feel her rising towards an orgasm.

  She pushed down against him, until the head pressed inside her.
A shudder stiffened his whole frame, every nerve focused on the grip around his cock. With her delicious juices slipping over him, he followed on instinct and grabbed her by the buttocks, lifting her to meet his thrust.

  “More,” she groaned. Meeting him each time he moved, she accepted him inch by inch until at last he pressed his full length inside her. Something about the light of the moon, the taste of her cream and the briefest taste of her blood on his tongue, the movements they made against one another was utterly primal. It spoke to his baser needs. To his tiger. It forced his cock to widen, lock deep inside her until his pubis rubbed hard over her own. He barely recognised himself, only the need to roughly drive into his goddess until the sun rose in the sky. The ribbons were taut in Neiri’s hands and she pulled on them in unison with their bodies. He lowered his lips to her arched torso, nudging the ribbon ends out of the path of his searching mouth, his fingers almost clawing into the cheeks of her arse. His orgasm took him by surprise, ripping from his balls to coat her womb. He rested his mouth against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Reaching up, he unravelled the ribbon from her hands and sank to the soil, his cock still buried deep inside her.

  “Where did you read this part about the ritual?” he asked, still catching his breath.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she muttered. “And, just so you know, you’re one orgasm off a really lucky number so…”

  He rested on his back, his hands braced on her hips. He rocked her slowly against him and with his cock still lodged firmly in her, he watched her shiver in a growing arc. “You’re welcome,” he grunted.

  She touched her fingertips to his torso, tilting her head back. “So are you. Ooh…ooh, and that’s nine.”

  His palms drifted over her buttocks, smiling when she shivered. He didn’t feel the cold but he was certain she would soon enough. But she hadn’t moved. Her head still rested back and her hands were still braced on his chest.

  “Neiri,” he said softly. She wriggled against him, and it took nothing less than the greatest effort in his soul to slip out of her.

  The motion seemed to bring her to her senses. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said eventually.

  “I didn’t, but if you wanted me to…”

  She slapped him on the torso. “Not appropriate right now. Not when I’m having a mini mental breakdown.”

  It’d be a fundamental waste if he did. Her pretty skin wasn’t made for that. Unable to help himself, he leaned up and sucked one nipple into his mouth. A hint of neroli oil teased his taste buds as her hands thrust through his hair, pulling him closer. “Let’s,” he said around her delicious breast, “go inside.”

  He didn’t wait for her to agree. He sensed disagreement in the tension of her muscles and would rather they argue without the risk of her suffering hypothermia. Carrying her back down the stairs, he abandoned the instruments of the ritual and their clothing for the heat of his flat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get food. And then you can tell me about any other ceremonies you’ve come across.”

  “I told you I don’t know what came over me. It was just… all a bit intense.”

  “Uh huh.” He walked her into the kitchen and sat her down on a high-backed stool. She folded her arms over her chest and crossed her legs. Disappointing.

  He washed his hands briskly in the sink, then turned on the industrial-sized grill that sat beneath a huge fume hood and removed the tray of marinated meat from the side.

  “How do you like your meat?”

  “Normally wrapped,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” He laughed at her tone. “Not what’s swinging between my legs, I meant rare medium or well done.”

  She hid a grin behind her hands. “Ah. Well, what do you have?”

  “A variety of cuts of beef. And a rotisserie of wild boar that should be perfect.”

  “And you’re going to cook?”

  He scratched his chin. “Yes. You’ll note we’re on our own, and there isn’t a team of servants catering to my whims.”

  “Just me.”

  Roshan rested his hands on the marble counter and leaned into her. “You want to satisfy my every whim?”

  She clapped her hands over her eyes. “God’s sake. That’s not what I meant.”

  His gaze ran over her flushed face. “Enlighten me.” He watched her mouth as she stumbled over her words.

  “I’m not… Well, look, I just…”

  “Not enlightened.”

  “Oh, be quiet,” she snapped. “I don’t always make sense after…” She waved a hand in the direction of the roof. “So let’s eat and then I’m going to my flat.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers briefly. “No.”

  She touched her hand to her lips then demanded, “What do you mean no?”

  “Exactly that. No. You can stay where you are until you feel articulate enough to let me know what you’re thinking.” Serving up pulled pieces of meat from the rotisserie, he retrieved couscous, spiced rice and a range of sauces for her. Quickly, he grilled the marinated meat for himself. It was grilled for politeness only. He had no issue with meat served tartare. She ate ravenously, only pausing to demand water.

  He wondered if there was any tiger lineage in her heritage. She certainly had all the traits. A healthy appetite, demanding and snappy. It would explain why he put up with her. That and the overwhelming instinct to please her.

  “Are you really allergic to cats?” he asked.

  “Can’t be if I’ve had sex with you.” She shrugged. Her eyes widened briefly and she glanced up at him. “Which I did not mean to happen.”

  “It’s all right. The power of Min and my all-encompassing masculinity made you.”

  She nibbled on a rib. “Well, yeah.”

  “It was just the ritual.”

  “And the moon. I’m a woman. The moon does strange things to us.”

  He nodded slowly, pushing a rum and raisin custard pie towards her. “I concede, that does happen.”

  “And with the relief of finally being free from my ex-husband… My feelings are a little skew whiff.” She took a big scoop of the pie. “This is amazing. Did you make this?”

  “I made a few.”

  “So what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked, munching her way through the dessert. “I’m sure you've got lots of cubs or whatever you lot call yourself coming to rain terror.”

  “I told those lot not to come.”

  She paused. “Why would you want to be alone?”

  He blinked slowly. “Do you want to meet them?”

  She held up her hands, her breasts bouncing as she jerked from the counter. “Whoa, no! Holy God! No no no. It won’t look good on you. The moon-mood divorced lady who had to swallow your fur in her pool.”

  “You can handle yourself. I’ve no concerns about that. Christmas, I’m quite content to stay here. I’d like it if you stayed too.” Being solitary didn’t count if he was solitary with Neiri. He’d never been swayed by the apparent mandatory requirement of companionship for the holiday before, but it would certainly have more meaning if it was shared with her.

  She made a moue with her lips. “Will you have more of this pie?”

  “Yes.”

  “And more boar?”

  “Yes.” He removed the spoon from her fingertips and stroked a palm from her collarbone over her breast down to her rounded hip. “And anything else you want. There’s no need for you to be alone. Not when you can be with me.”

  He watched her breathing hitch. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked breathlessly as he touched his mouth to her neck and nibbled on her. He’d never wanted to bite down into the softness of her flesh more than he did at that moment. Just mark her all over her body…

  “About?”

  “Being a rebound?”

  He lifted his head. “Not possible. Tell me, Neiriouri. What’s your husband’s name?”

  Neiri made a face of complete confusion. He rested
back against the counter, patiently waiting for her to recall the man she’d spent five years of her life with. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, her hands pressed to her cheeks.

  “Don’t think that’s his name,” Roshan said.

  She slipped off the stool with a huff. “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “Your bed, and we don’t mention this again.” She pointed a finger at him as his lips twitched in amusement. “Or I’m going back to my flat.”

  “I thought I said no to that?” He wrapped his hand around her fist and gently rubbed until she relaxed. “It’s all right, Neiri. Whatever else happens tonight, you can blame Min.”

  Chapter Six

  The fourth night…

  The stinging sensation on her shoulders woke her. She’d let that bloody man bite her. Everywhere. She’d let that bloody man do a lot of things to her. All because he’d quite literally fucked her husband’s name out of her head. Letting him do what he willed with her was a fair exchange, she supposed. Blinking, she turned her head to see the enormous man who’d played with her until the early hours of the morning had transformed into an even more enormous tiger, snoring beside her, the bristles of his fur digging into her skin. She sneezed and the tiger sprang up onto his paws.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I think it’s just when you’re a…” The sneeze interrupted her.

  The tiger shook himself until Roshan appeared, crouched on the mattress. “I apologise. I’ve never shifted in my sleep before. Where are your tablets?”

  “In my dress. Which is probably a frozen little pile now.”

  She sneezed again and he disappeared. Sitting up, she blinked until her eyes felt less irritated. Roshan jogged back into the room with her packet of antihistamines in one hand and her dress in the other. He gently draped her dress over the base of the bed, took a cup from the dispenser and poured her some water to take with the tablet.