Lucien's Khamsin

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Stumbling back from the push, Lucien mumbled his thanks although he felt the insult to the very bottom of his heart.

  Macmillan stomped over to the cave entrance and poked his head out. “Dawn’s coming, Sibylline! Get your pussy back here, bitch!”

  Lucien frowned. “You don’t think she will stay at Croì Cloiche, do you?”

  Macmillan snorted. “I know she won’t. Most likely she lost a bit too much blood and is having to—”

  A bright spray of skittering blue lights exploded through the cave, causing both men to throw a hand over their eyes. When they lowered their arms, Christina was standing in the center of the cave, her eyes wide as saucers.

  “Shit,” she said. “I’d never get used to traveling like that.”

  Lucien rushed to her for Christina’s legs gave way beneath her. He caught her before she could hit the ground.

  “You stink of female,” Macmillan complained, sniffing. “You’re one of those that gets her kicks from muffing.”

  Christina gaped at the huge man. She shuddered, alarmed at his immensity. “Who is he?” she whispered to Lucien. “What is he?”

  “I am your king, muff eater,” Macmillan introduced himself. He sniffed again. “And you smell of disease.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you diseased, muff eater?”

  “She’s a healer,” Lucien said quickly. “She’s been working on finding a cure for the plague victims.”

  The thunderous look on Macmillan’s face slowly disappeared. “A healer, eh?”

  Christina clung to Lucien. “Why is he here?” she whispered.

  “He came to fetch Sibylline.”

  Nodding, she seemed reluctant to take her eyes from the mountain of a man but turned her face up to Lucien. “I was no party to your lady’s disappearance, Luc,” she said in an earnest tone. “I am no spy for…”

  “He knows that, muffie,” Macmillan interrupted. “Tell me more of this plague.”

  “Why?” Christina asked.

  Rolling his eyes. “I believe the one thing I hate most about muffers is that they think they have balls.” He squinted. “You don’t and never will ‘less you strap ‘em on.”

  “He cured my migraine,” Lucien told her. “He might be able to cure the plague.”

  A suspicious look folded over Christina’s face. “Or make it worse.”

  Macmillan strode forward, jerked Christina away from Lucien, spun her around and lifted her to his eye level and held her dangling in front of him by her upper arms.

  “Not that I give a fuck what happens on this backward little planet of yours, but if Revenants are to thrive here, they will need good, rich sustenance. Diseased sustenance is of no use to them.” He cocked a head toward Lucien. “If he’s to be an effective king on your shitty little world, he needs to repopulate it with thralls that will provide him with a comfortable lifestyle.”

  “And you can do that?” Christina challenged.

  “I have fourteen inches of pecker that says I can!” Macmillan stated.

  Christina’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking,” she whispered.

  “Wanna see?” Macmillan countered.

  “No!” the healer denied, shaking her head. “Not even in my nightmares!”

  Macmillan grinned. “It’s a sight to see, lemme tell you, muffer.” He lowered her to the floor then draped a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Let us talk about this plague.”

  Christina looked as though she had a boulder resting on her shoulder but she allowed the giant to lead her to one of the rocks and they sat down.

  Lucien breathed a sigh of relief that Christina was all right but he was still nervous as he waited impatiently for Khamsin to be returned to him. He paced the confines of the cave, going often to the entrance to look out.

  “She will bring the girl back, won’t she?” Christina whispered, sensing Lucien’s worry.

  “As far as she knows I have her babymaker in my pocket,” Macmillan said. “She’ll be back for it.”

  Christina looked around at Lucien. “He’s a good man.”

  “So I keep hearing,” Macmillan said with a grunt. “You females are always being misled by a pretty face.”

  “He has that,” Christina agreed.

  “Aye, well if I was a cocksipper, I might be tempted but give me a dripping snatch any day,” Macmillan said.

  “Me, too,” Christina agreed with a giggle.

  “Have you ever tried…”

  Lucien ignored the whispering and tittering going on behind his back. He knew the two were beginning to bond at his expense but it was better than having them glaring suspiciously at one another. He stood at the cave entrance, his forehead resting on his arm, staring out and—for the first time in centuries—prayed to a God he suspected had forsaken him long ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Khamsin turned over and drew her knees up to her chest. Her fetal position helped to control the violent spasms that were rippling through her body.

  “The reaction will pass soon and when it does, I’ll take you to Luc,” Sibylline told her.

  The coppery smell of blood permeated the chamber for Sibylline had lost a copious amount before packing her empty cavity with all the cobwebs she could gather until she became too weak to stand.

  “Son of a whoring bitch didn’t think about me bleeding when he pretended to pull out my womb,” Sibylline complained.

  Shuddering, Khamsin reached up a trembling hand to wipe away the tears that flowed from her eyes. “When he pretended to do what?”

  Sibylline waved away the question. “Sometimes he goes a bit far in making his fucking point!”

  The sight of the blood on the chamber floor was too much for Khamsin and she put her hands over her face and sobbed. It wasn’t just Sibylline’s blood but her own that was smeared on the floor.

  “Don’t you realize yet what a gift I’ve given you?” Sibylline snapped. “Stop that blubbering, girl!”

  Her throat was on fire, aching with a pain Khamsin could barely tolerate. It was an agony that made it hard for her to breathe and she was so weak, her heartbeat so slow, she feared she was dying.

  “Well, you aren’t!” Sibylline snapped. “You should thank me instead of lying there cursing me, you cunt!”

  The punctures in her throat throbbed with a life of their own and the venom from Sibylline’s fangs spread hot acid through Khamsin’s veins.

  “Perhaps I took a bit too much but, hell, I needed it,” Sibylline muttered. “I sure couldn’t take it from another Revenant. You were my only choice.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, my bite is more potent than even that of Lucien’s so that’s why you’re having a bit more reaction to it. My venom isn’t diluted as it would have been from sweet Luc.”

  Khamsin closed her eyes to the misery undulating through her. It was more than just the Revenant venom spreading through her, turning her into an undead creature, it was fear of the unknown that disturbed the young woman.

  “You won’t age and you won’t ever gain weight,” Sibylline lectured. “You will be immune to every illness.” She glanced at Khamsin. “And you will be with your lover for all eternity.”

  Opening her eyes to that statement, Khamsin felt a moment’s relief from the wretchedness that had washed through her.

  “He won’t thank you for doing this to me,” she said weakly.

  “The hell he won’t!” Sibylline disagreed. “He might have loftily agreed to grant you free will, girl, but he would have found a way to have you ask for the turning. He wants to spend his lifetime above ground with you.”

  “My blood was important to the Revenants,” Khamsin reminded her. “Now, you’ve made it worthless.”

  “That’s a moot point if Macmillan does his I-can-make-everything-right routine—as I know damned well he will!”

  The lethargy of having lost nearly every pint of blood in her body weighed heavily on Khamsin. The spasms were dying down and the pain was becoming more tolerable.

  “You fee
l up to traveling?”

  Trying to lower her knees, Khamsin discovered the pain could come roaring back quickly so stilled. “No,” she said. “I hurt too badly.”

  Sibylline turned her face toward the window. “Dawn is only a few minutes away on your world. If we don’t go now, we will have to wait until nightfall.”

  Spending another day in the company of the Revenant queen was a doom Khamsin had no desire to experience. She forced her legs down—groaning with the agony that shot through her—but managed to turn to her back. Swinging her legs over the bed proved to be an excruciating experience that almost brought on unconsciousness. She fell back with a scream.

  Sibylline sighed. “As much as I hate to do this, I see I have no choice. I’m afraid the leaving is a bit more dramatic than the arrival.” She strode over to the bed and scooped Khamsin up in her arms. “Hold on!”

  Light burst over Khamsin like a ball of fire and she squeezed her eyes shut, pain lancing through her head. Cold swept fiercely over her, making it hard to draw in a breath. Wind rushed around her, whipping her long hair about her head.

  “Hold on,” Sibylline repeated.

  * * * * *

  Christina laughed at something Macmillan said then leaned closer to him as he spoke so softly Lucien could not hear.

  Already the pulse of dawn was beginning on the crest of the eastern horizon and fear was clouding Lucien’s mind. Despite Macmillan’s reassurances that Sibylline would return, Lucien wasn’t so sure. He was afraid the woman would keep Khamsin just to spite him and the thought hurt so badly, Lucien had to sit down. He went to the far end of the cave, slumped on a rock and buried his face in his hands.

  “Where did you come by your unusual looks, Your Majesty?” Christina asked, studying the strange appearance of Macmillan.

  Macmillan grinned. “My ugliness you mean?” he countered.

  Christina shook her head. “I wasn’t suggesting that you…”

  “Don’t have a clue what my parents looked like but I suppose I must bear a resemblance to at least one of them,” Macmillan interrupted. “I was brought here—or sent here, don’t know which—to this world many millennia ago—me and the old ball and chain both. All I can tell you for a certainty is that we are not of your world.” He put a finger to his eye and drew the lower lid down. “That’s a story best left for another time, though, I’m thinking.”

  “Will you stay around long enough to tell me?” she asked.

  “Let me tell you about what it means to go To The Ground, muffie,” Macmillan suggested. “Vampires, now, they go for that eternal rest of theirs, you understand? They smart off about how the soil heals them, revives them and all that drivel. For a Revenant, it is just a time to laze about without having to worry about feeding and the like. You store up enough blood to last you for as long as you think you want to be there and you take with you a comely lass or two to while away the time.” He grinned. “Or five or six. It depends on how addicted you are to the fucking, you see.”

  “In other words, it’s like a vacation,” she said.

  “Exactly!” Macmillan exclaimed. “A vacation!” Macmillan slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her down. He looked around, spied Lucien and sobered. “The boy is suffering,” he observed. “He must love the human.”

  “He has been alone for so long. Khamsin is the only woman he’s touched other than Sibylline,” Christina said. “I had almost given up on him ever finding happiness.”

  Macmillan dropped his wide chin into his massive hand and studied Lucien. “Shall I take away his pain, muffie?”

  Christina shook her head. “He wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  “Likes to suffer, does he?”

  “Sometimes I believe he does.”

  “Humans,” Macmillan said with a snort. “Such strange creatures, you are. I once…” He stopped, sniffed the air, and then grinned hatefully. “Her bitchiness returns.”

  The sparkling lights did not burst over the cave this time but a harsh wind roared through the area so violently, small loose rocks and sand was whipped up like a mini cyclone to sting the eye and pelt the flesh. Those in the cave cursed, hiding their faces in the crooks of their arms.

  Lucien lowered his arm to a sight that turned his blood as cold as ice. He slowly came to his feet, his face a mask of sorrow.

  “Oh, get over it, Luc,” Sibylline snapped. “She’s alive.”

  Khamsin was draped over Sibylline’s arms, her head hanging down, her long hair sweeping the ground, her arms limp. The brutal marks of Sibylline’s fangs stood out in high relief against her very pale throat and a streak of blood was caked on the white flesh.

  “You couldn’t resist turning her, could you?” Macmillan accused.

  “You made sure I would have to when you made me bleed. I was being drained and had to drink from her whether I wanted to or not,” Sibylline snapped. She walked over to Lucien and extended his lady toward him. “Take her. She’s heavy.”

  Christina turned to Macmillan. “You knew she’d turn Khamsin?”

  The giant shrugged. “She had to replace the blood loss from somewhere. Any handy human would have sufficed but she took what was at hand.”

  Lucien dropped to his knees, cradling Khamsin to him. Her stillness, the boneless limpness of her body, the pallor of her skin made his heart ache. He lowered his lips to the swollen red punctures on her throat and kissed them. Gently. Beneath his mouth, he could detect the slightest beat of her heart and he knew she would survive. But what had been done caused him such intense fury he raised his head and glared at Sibylline, wishing he could pull out her black heart and squeeze it to pulp.

  “When you have time to consider what I’ve done for you, you will thank me,” Sibylline said, raising her chin.

  “I doubt he ever will,” Christina disagreed. She went to squat down before Khamsin and placed a hand on the young woman’s chest. She looked up at Lucien. “She will be okay, Luc.”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His strength was waning with the spreading light of the dawn he could feel seeping into his bones.

  Macmillan picked up two heavy boulders in the wide span of his meaty hands and carried them to the cave entrance as though they were no more than feathers. He piled the rocks across the opening and turned to gather more to block the intrusion of light that would soon bother them all.

  “I want my womb back,” Sibylline said. Her movements were not as slow as Lucien and Christina’s but she yawned for sleep was needed.

  “I’ll lift the mental suggestion and you’ll get it back when we leave this accursed world,” Macmillan told her. “And not a minute before then.”

  Sibylline grunted and went to sit down with her back to the cave wall. She slid down, crossed her legs and arms, and lowered her head. Just as quickly as that, she was sound asleep.

  “Bitch,” Macmillan said. He finished blocking the entrance then went to where his wife sat. He plopped down beside her, turned and laid his head in her lap, turning on his side with his back to the others in the cave.

  In her sleep, Sibylline lowered one arm and twined her hand through the giant’s hair.

  “They are quite the pair,” Christina remarked. “I believe they love one another but just can’t live together.”

  Lucien nodded. He was tired, his eyelids drooping but he rocked Khamsin slowly against him, crooning softly to her in his native tongue.

  “Lay down, Luc,” Christina said. “You looked like undeath warmed over, my friend.”

  With Khamsin’s head resting on his shoulder, Lucien stretched out, his arms protectively around her. His lady moaned in her deep sleep but her hand crept up to press against his chest. Lucien smiled.

  Christina lay down, bracing her head on her outstretched arm and before her eyelids closed, was asleep.

  * * * * *

  Lucien stirred, drawing in a long breath, and then opened his eyes to the midnight darkness surrounding him. He could smell the warm scent of his lady and listened
closely to the strong beat of her heart as she lay against him. His arms tightened and he smiled for he sensed she was awake, looking up at him through the lightlessness.

  “Can you see me?” he asked.

  “As clearly as though we were in bright sunlight,” Khamsin answered.

  “Being a Revenant has its rewards,” he said.

  “When did the others leave?” she asked.

  Lucien lifted his head and surveyed their environs. They were, indeed, alone. He laid his head back down. “I don’t know.”

  “Can we go home?”

  That one word made Lucien’s heart soar. “Whenever you’re ready, milady,” he replied.

  “I’ve been ready,” Khamsin said, sitting up.

  Lucien lay there for a moment and watched her. Her long hair was spread like a cape of daffodils around her shoulders and when she ran her fingers through the thick mass to drape it down her back, he sighed for her breasts flexed, and his cock pulsed.

  “She was furious you did not give her a child.”

  He shrugged. “Had I known that was what she was after, I would not have laid hands to her.” He reached up a hand to cup her cheek. “Do you understand I never would have had you been safe at Modartha?”

  Khamsin clasped his hand in hers. “There is no need to explain, my love. I am as sure of your love as you are of mine.”

  His heart soared and he sat up, crushing her to him, his mouth closing over hers in a heady kiss that left them both breathless when he ended it. They gazed into one another’s eyes for a long time then without speaking he reached out to cover her breast with the palm of his hand.

  “May I show you just how much I love you, milady?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she said. “Let me show you.”

  Holding his gaze, she leaned forward to run the tip of her tongue across his taut nipples.

  “Wench,” he warned and would have put his hands to her but she pushed him to his back then made quick work of his belt. She pulled it from his waist then ran her fingers through the buttons of his fly.

  “What are you doing, wench?” he asked, his fevered gaze burning.