Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
It was gratifying as it was so soon after he spent himself inside the vessel.
And it was gratifying because it was so beautiful to look at.
The priest dropped to his knees and took the shaft deep into his mouth.
And more gratification at the rumbling groan.
He tasted her for a but few strokes.
After that, he tasted only man.
Later, his snowy robes cast aside, naked on all fours in the moonlight, taking hard, thick cock through his arse, hands and knees in the blood-soaked earth, the priest’s head jerked back, and he called his pleasure into the moonlit night as he spent his seed into the dirt.
His chosen one milked him dry before his thrusts grew in violence and he shot deep inside.
Finished, he ground there, murmuring, “Gods, but your arse is tight and hot.”
“You really must remember to bring oil, Rupert,” the priest muttered.
He felt his lover curl over him, still hard inside.
“You like the pain,” he whispered in the priest’s ear.
Indeed.
“Pull out. Needs be we’re away.”
Knowing precisely how he liked it, the end of the penetration was rough, making the priest moan.
“Oh yes, he likes the pain,” was whispered above him.
The priest ignored that as he took a moment to rub his seed into the dirt.
There was no growl at that.
Just a hum.
And having done this, just like this (though with different partners), for over a decade, the priest knew he was the only one who felt the hum.
So he knew who the Beast’s true master would be.
2
The Standing Stones
The Great Coven
Silbury Henge, Argyll Forest
AIREN
In the clearing of the forest, the first flash of light came before the first of the five standing stones.
It was marine blue.
As the woman stepped forward out of the flash, immediately, the stone next to her lit with red light.
And that woman stepped forward.
The next, the light was green.
And after that woman stepped forward, a flash of bright white.
That woman joined the others at the slab at the center of the circle.
A slab that in ancient times had known the blood of humans, then the blood of animals.
But for millennia, it had known no offering but the wind that shorn its edges curved and smooth, the rain that beat its height into the dirt, the sun that bleached its color.
Just as the standing stones around it. Once standing tall and proud over two stories toward the sky, now, they stood just over one, the edges dulled, one having taken a strike of lightning, weakening it, so a fragment broke off and plummeted, bedding itself in the earth by its sister’s side.
The four women turned.
The fifth light flashed coral and through it came Ophelia, Queen of the Nadirii Sisterhood.
“Sister.”
“Sister.”
“Sister.”
“Sister.”
“My sisters,” Ophelia murmured in greeting, taking her place amongst her sistren at the slab.
“Fare thee well?” Rebecca of the Dellish asked, her gaze sharp on the queen.
“Not tonight. The disturbance has occurred again, right on cue,” Ophelia replied.
That was not the answer to Rebecca’s question and Ophelia knew it.
Rebecca did not prompt.
“We have work to do,” Lena of the Mar-el noted, moving closer to the altar.
The rest followed suit.
Lena began.
Touching the stone with her fingertips, she stated clearly, “The moon.”
Nandra of the Firenz touched the stone. “The blood.”
Fern of the Airenzian touched it. “The star.”
Rebecca followed suit. “The dirt.”
Ophelia went last. “The sisterhood.”
A frisson of energy slithered up their arms, singing under their feet, vibrating in the stones, and the simple ritual complete, the circle united, the coven present, they took their hands away.
“They rouse the Beast,” Rebecca told them what they all already knew and had, for some years now.
“They are cloaked. At the power of the last rousing, I spent the fortnight trying to find them and naught else. No sleep, no food, deep in meditation, casting spells that have not been attempted in centuries. And I could not,” Lena declared.
“They have a powerful sorcerer among them,” Ophelia murmured.
“Go’Doan?” Nandra asked bitingly.
Ophelia looked to her sister, sharing her dislike of the Go’Doan, at least some of them, (well, truly, most of them) but not showing it. “I suspect, but I cannot be sure. I cannot feel them either.”
This was a surprise.
Especially after all these years of trying.
They were the most powerful witches of their lands, Ophelia by far the most powerful among them.
That was not strictly true.
They were the most powerful witches anyone of their lands knew.
At the now.
It would seem the others would need to be revealed.
“The prophecy must commence,” Fern shared.
All the witches closely watched Ophelia after this was uttered.
But it was true.
When the Beast was banished, the coven had risen.
And every generation for millennia, the daughters were selected.
And the sons.
Just for this happenstance.
In order that they could banish it back.
“We can delay no longer, Ophelia,” Rebecca said kindly. “We’ve all attempted to find them. We’ve all cast repeatedly to stop them. We’ve spent the last two years in these endeavors. It’s come too far. The Beast has awoken. He rises closer to the surface. I no longer need to feel the earth move to know this is true. I feel…it when they feed him.”