by Devin Morgan
His thick lips pressed into the hollow at the base of her throat. She felt the bow of his mouth rise and fall as, time and again, he kissed her tenderly. She felt rather than smelled his musky fragrance, filling her with such sweet desire she almost cried out. His kisses traced her skin to the soft, dark hollow between her breasts.
As his lips found their mark, the sensation of Sarah’s yielding flesh caressing his cheeks drove him to crave more of her. He steadied his desire as his hand slid from her erect nipple, over her smooth abdomen, to its resting place on the blond nest of curls covering her woman’s mound. Having his mate lying next to him and offering herself to him in a way he had never before experienced opened a whole new world of wonders to him; feelings he wanted to explore slowly. To cherish.
“Aris.” He lifted his eyes. Her lips were parted, moist, inviting. He moved to kiss her.
At first their kisses were sweet, gentle, exploring. Slowly he outlined her mouth with his tongue until she stopped him by drawing it inside. The taste of him made her want to devour him. Their kisses grew deeper, more fiery, driven by months of denied passion.
While he could still contain himself, he drew away from her, turning her to face away from him. Curling around behind her, he lifted her hair to expose her pale, tender shoulders. He would mark her as his mate. His searching lips found the nape of her neck. She felt she would faint with longing as first his lips and then his teeth trailed softly across her skin. The very essence of her being cried out to have him take her.
Slowly, Aris’ bite became more demanding; his canine teeth descended and broke Sarah’s delicate skin. The penetration was superficial, a shallow bite, yet the sensation of him marking her drove her into a frenzy. Before either of them knew what had happened, she twisted away from his grip then spun toward him. Throwing herself on him, she overpowered him, slamming him face down on the bed. He fought to get free as she held him, unable to control the fierce madness driving her to taste his venom. Sarah ripped at the back of his neck with her newly pointed teeth. Waves of rapture drowned his reason and for an instant, he thought he was lost. Even though the venom that ran through his veins fought to respond to her primal demand, he knew that once he touched her, he would lose control to the animal within him; he feared he would harm her. From a source he didn’t know he had, he found the strength to hold back.
He grabbed her hair, dragging her off his body. Twisting to face her, he took hold of her. Scarcely controlling the drive to ravish her, he held her securely by the shoulders. Her eyes were glazed and her lips were covered in the venom she had drawn from his body. “Sarah. Sarah.” His voice demanded she return to her senses. “Sarah.”
“Oh Aris, Aris. What have I done?” Her shoulders sagged and she hung her head. “What have I done to you?”
“Nothing, my darling. You have just marked me as your mate. Here, see? It’s almost healed already.” She leaned to look where he pointed at the back of his neck. There was nothing there but two small rows of red teeth marks. She knew she had ripped him open.
“But I know I tore your flesh. I taste it in my mouth.”
“Immortals cannot be killed other than by impaling, but the human-ness of our bodies can still be injured. But, you can see, the injuries heal almost instantly.”
“What happened to me, Aris? Why did I do that?”
“Immortal passion. You are only just changed and cannot yet control it.” Drawing her close, he whispered. “And darling, I am quite glad that you cannot.” He kissed her deeply.
Settling close to him, Sarah closed her eyes, giving in to all the new sensations of their first love making. She disappeared into their kisses, their caresses, their whispered words of love.
Their hands stroked each other’s bodies as if they were blind and only able to see through their heightened sense of touch. His skin felt as smooth as marble warmed in the sun. They breathed together as if this most human act of love-making made it necessary. Their breath was heavy as he slid his hands under her, lifting her to receive his aroused manhood. She watched as he entered her only to be lost once again to sensation.
As he moved inside of her, Sarah was overwhelmed by wave after wave of endless bliss. With each thrust he dove deeper toward her heart, toward her very soul. With each thrust, her body opened more fully to take him in. He spoke words to her in a language she had never before heard, yet she understood. Without doubt, he spoke words of eternal love.
Their melding together went on and on, a never-ending dance of rapture until she felt she was no longer made of flesh. She was the embodiment of the pure desire that possessed them both.
Without warning they each froze, as if turned to stone. Their breathing ceased simultaneously. An essence ejaculated from him into her only to return to him once again. Over and over, time and again, the exchange occurred, body to body. Soul to soul. They shuddered, convulsing, reaching a state of ecstasy only accorded to the gods. They felt death and birth. Joy beyond dreams. They floated on a cloud of endless bliss, and then were silent, unable to speak or move. They lay enraptured in one another’s arms, each made whole by the sacrifice of the other.
Sarah lay spent in Aris’ arms, her legs wrapped around him, her head resting on his chest. He brushed her damp curls from her face, kissing her eyelids gently. “You must rest. This is all so new for you. It is too much to absorb all at once.”
She sat up quickly. “No. I must learn all I am able to learn as soon as possible. When do we leave for Spain?”
Aris drew her into his arms once again. “Darling.” His words sounded strained as he spoke. “You cannot come with us to Spain. You are but a newborn. You have no control of your powers. You do not even recognize all of them. We are on the doorstep of our journey. If you work night and day, you will still not be ready to fight those bastards in the Spanish coven. You must give up the notion of coming along.”
“Absurd.” She tore herself from his arms springing from the bed to her feet. “It is not a notion.” Her voice was determined as she wrapped her robe around herself, tying the belt around her waist in a square knot. “I will learn all that I can and then I am coming with you.”
Drawing his eyebrows together, his tone grew harsh. “You do not understand. You will be helpless against the soldiers of the Spanish army. You will stay here with Jane and Henry. There are a few hundred Immortals who will remain in the Catacombs to protect what is ours in case any of the enemy should escape us to come here. You will watch with them.”
Pacing angrily, she spoke, her words clipped and short. “If I am strong enough to defend the Catacombs, why do you say I am not strong enough to face the Spanish?”
“Sarah, please.” He grimaced. “Let us not have this discussion now. Our friends wish to see you, to wish you welcome into our world.” He turned her to face him. “Let us get dressed and meet with them at the Sanguinaria.”
Seeing the resolve in his eyes, Sarah dropped the subject, but she knew, one way or another, she was going to Spain and nothing was going to stop her.
They were all sitting around a large table laden with gifts, tall silver carved pitchers and goblets. When Sarah was ushered to the table, Aris at her side, they stood, applauding her. Gabriela was the first to reach to embrace her new sister. Then Jane. Richard and Sebastian waited their turn to welcome her as a member of the Catacombs. When they all had kissed both her cheeks, she turned to face Henry.
“My dear.” He wrapped his long arms around her, holding her close. She had always wished her human father had shown her affection, but he never had been demonstrative of his love. This new Immortal mentor filled the empty space in her heart as she accepted his welcome. “We have so much work to do. When will you come to me to begin?”
Sarah knew it was subterfuge. Aris had arranged to have Henry ask her to begin work with him immediately. Her mate thought it would take her mind off Spain, however he had no idea how determined she was to do her part for the Catacombs.
“Soon, Henry. Soon.”
Packages wrapped in lovely paper and tied in colorful ribbons were stacked in a pile in front of Sarah. Jane motioned to them as she spoke. “Open them, Sarah. After all, today is your first birthday.” They all laughed as Sarah reached for the tallest box.
When the last present was opened and the gifts of jewelry and clothing from the Catacombs were placed neatly in a pile on a chair, Gabriela filled the goblets. She raised hers to her new sister as she spoke. “Welcome to the world of the Immortals, Sarah. You have brought us great joy.”
All her friends raised their cups in welcome. Then, all the Immortals drained the liquid to the last drop.
CHAPTER 39
Sebastian, Aris and Sarah rested on a bench along the rail of the training pavilion as they watched the latest arrivals work with the impalers. Aris had led the session and now they watched as the Immortals spun and lunged in mock attack. Off to one side a group of four worked on deflecting an enemy’s blows. Echoes of the loud groans and thuds the soldiers made when they were thrown to the ground rang throughout the cavern.
“Is Demetri certain Mariska’s army is en route to the castle? Has he seen them actually move out or was it word-of-mouth? It could be false information. It certainly would not be the first time.”
“Demetri did see them leave the caves and head south. They need DeMarco’s army. Our people overheard the Queen and Esteban talk. We are certain they are heading to the castle to join him and march to London.” Sebastian’s tone was stern. “We are out of time. We must begin to send our troops immediately.”
“Come,” Aris rose, drawing Sarah to her feet. “Sebastian, gather the captains for a final meeting with the Council. We leave tonight.”
With a heavy heart, the newly-wed couple silently walked the length of the corridor to the Council Chamber. Aris gathered her into his arms, whispering into her hair. “Go to your chamber. I will come to you before I leave.”
Drawing away from him, she raised her eyes to meet his one last time. Fighting tears she turned and hurried down the hall, determined more than ever before to fight by his side in Spain.
All members of the Council were in attendance as were all eight captains. Aris and Sebastian had the floor.
“Travel arrangements have been finalized.” Aris’ words were clipped and his sentences short as if there wasn’t enough time to express all the necessary information. “The uniforms have all been distributed. Each warrior has made the decision as to what should be done with his remains if he should be overcome in battle.”
“How will you be told of their decisions?” questioned Bartholomew.
“A zipper compartment in the breast of their leather jackets will hold their request. We will abide by all decisions made.”
Bartholomew nodded in agreement.
“The runners delivered the final weapons to the forest surrounding the castle a few days ago. They guard the arsenal and wait for the rest of the army to join them.”
“Aris, are they honestly ready?” With the time of departure just hours away, Bartholomew could not help but think about the Immortals that wouldn’t return. “What is the chance of victory?”
“Ask the captains, Bartholomew. They will tell you.”
Gabriela rose to face the Head Council. “They are ready. More practice would do them no more good. They are strong and willing. They are Immortals.” She spoke with pride in her troops.
“Psychologically, they are sound. It is not a war of aggression, but of defense. While each soldier despises the need to kill another being, they know we have no choice.” Richard paced in front of the long table as he spoke, then came to a halt. He was silent for a long moment before speaking with deepest conviction. “I believe they will do what is required of them by our Queen.”
“Then go.” Bartholomew moved around the table to shake the hand of all those who would risk their very existence to keep the Catacombs and London safe from harm. “Go and return quickly to celebrate your victory.”
Aris held Sarah close for a moment, then he kissed Jane’s cheek, preparing to leave their chambers. The final hour of his travel to Spain was nearly upon him. The troops who would fight in the forest had left and were en route to Spain already. Aris would depart with those who would fight DeMarco at the castle after a final meeting with the remainder of his captains. Leaving his mate filled him with dread, but his responsibility to his commanders was overpowering. Before he left the room, he assured her he would return for a final farewell.
As the door closed, Sarah turned to Jane sitting next to her on the sofa. “Jane, I know you trained to fight even though you are not traveling with the rest of the Immortals.”
“Yes. Everyone trained, even Henry. We are all very able to use the weapons of impalement. If the evil ones make for the Catacombs, we will be ready.”
Touching her friend’s hand, Sarah whispered. “Jane, you must teach me. I must go with Aris. I can’t stand staying here, not knowing what’s happening to him.”
A pained expression crossed the young woman’s face. “I cannot. He has forbidden it. He forbade any of us from showing you the use of the weapons. You must not leave the Catacombs. You are just newly born.” The white wolf, sensing his mistress’s sorrow, whimpered as he laid his head on her knee. She reached to stroke his brow.
“Jane, you don’t understand. I can’t let him go without me whether I’m trained with weapons or not. I’m going to Spain and I will stand beside him and fight to my extinction if need be.”
“Sarah, be reasonable. It is too late at any rate. The first groups have begun to travel. They will all be there by week’s end. There is no time.” She lifted her hands in supplication. “Please, Sarah, you must listen. It is not going to come to pass. You must wait here with the rest of us. They will come back.” Even though she knew to the contrary, Jane spoke with conviction. “Aris has no fear they will lose the battle. He is sure of victory.”
“Yes and I’ll be there to share in it.” Sarah smiled as a plan formed in her mind.
“Alright, Jane.” If Jane had known her better, she would have been wary at her giving in so easily without a fight. “I suppose I do understand. I am just a newborn and not ready to fight a war.” She laughed and changed the subject as she returned to sit by her friend. “So, we have some time to kill, don’t we? Why don’t we do a session. You were so close to the truth the last time you were in trance. What do you think about that?”
Relief bubbled in Jane’s voice as she spoke. “That sounds perfect. Shall we begin right now?”
“Yes, I think now would work very nicely.”
JANE HOWARD, transcript, Session 5
It was an autumn morning perfect for the hunt, cold and crisp, the sun shining brightly and the sky dappled with a few brilliant white clouds. A biting wind blew as the Queen’s hounds barked and strained to be off while the riders waited for the stewards to bring the stirrup cups. The courtiers, too, were impatient, yet we knew the mulled wine would warm us against the icy chill of the morning and so we waited to be served. My mount whinnied, pawing the ground, ready to race across the meadows in the chase.
A sound caught my attention as I reined my horse, holding him tight to keep him from making way before the others were ready. It was Essex on his huge black stallion. He greeted the other nobles and their ladies briefly then made for my side, reaching me just as the steward came along. Wrapping the reins around the pommel of his saddle, Essex leaned to reach for two cups from the tray. First mine. It appeared that he would spill it, yet he did not. I took it from his hand. Then he raised his in a toast to the morning and the Queen. I drank the warm wine. It had a strange taste to it, but I thought it might be some new spice the kitchen had added to enhance the flavor.
The fanfare was played and we began to trot. Soon we were away from the palace grounds. Suddenly I became dizzy, my head swam; I felt I might faint. Pulling up the reins, I halted my horse. The other riders were far ahead when we began so no one noticed I had fallen back even far
ther. I closed my eyes to stop the spinning of the ground beneath me. Without warning, I teetered in the saddle as my horse began to move. Holding tight to the pommel to steady myself, I opened my eyes. There sat Essex with his hands on my reins.
“Never fear, fair maiden.” His eyes flashed wickedly as he licked his full lips. “I will take care of you.” His laugh was evil as he reached to pull me from my horse and onto his. He held me tight to him as we galloped toward the nearby forest. I tried to scream, but the words were lost somewhere between my spiraling brain and my tongue.
In what seemed the blinking of an eye, we were at the forest’s edge and he was pulling me from the saddle. He threw me on the ground, ripping at my riding skirt.
In that instant, I found my voice. As I opened my mouth to scream, he slapped me hard across the face. Fighting my way through the fog, I bit his hand as he covered my mouth.
“Bitch,” he cried as he lifted me by the front of my riding habit. He hit me again and again. My head swum and I tasted blood on my tongue. “I’ll beat the fight out of you. In a faint or awake, I will have you today.”
Suddenly a loud, ferocious growl sounded just behind him. As he threw me back to the ground, my head crashed onto a sharp rock. I could feel the blood rushing from the wound to saturate the ground around me before all went dark as I lost consciousness.
Yet I remember. Her words were clear, strong, without fear as she told the story. I remember. Yes, even through the blackness, I remember. It was a white wolf. It was Hawke. He raced from the forest, and slammed his huge body into Essex, knocking the knave from his feet, tearing at his clothes, his flesh. As Essex reached for his knife the wolf tore at his hand. A scream broke the otherwise silent morning as the great animal ripped his teeth through the arm and wrist of my attacker. A river of blood poured over his white ruffled sleeve. As Hawke lunged for his throat, Essex knew he was beaten. Jumping on his horse, nursing his wound, he rode away shouting curses over his shoulder.