by Lucian Bane
“Let it help you,” he said.
The pull gripped more of her body, and like giant, gentle hands, it eased her into the sphere. Once inside the center of it, a thick force passed over the insides of her whole body like a giant rolling pin, before pushing her slowly through.
She gasped and stood on the stage, trying to catch her breath.
“J.P. Howe. Son of Earth. You have been chosen as one of the Seven Sons of Zion.”
J.P. Howe. Shit, wow. The bright lights blinded her and Quasi appeared before her with a ring. He smiled up at her after putting it on. “You’re a girl,” he mused, sounding quite happy about that.
“I am,” she whispered.
He guided her to go stand to the right. “Sabre!” Charlotte hissed, grabbing his hand with wide eyes. “They chose me! For Earth!”
“They chose wisely,” he said smiling.
“Oh my God, what if they didn’t? What am I supposed to do? Did you ask that guy if you know him? I mean is he the guy you know?” she made motions to the Ruin giant on his right.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask yet,” Sabre whispered. “It’s only been like a minute since I got up here.”
“Right!” she hissed as Quasi announced the final son. “What other realm is there?” she wondered as the darkness flashed and the lightening boomed. She leaned to Sabre. “I was sitting in the seat one minute and I got dizzy! Is that how it happened for you?”
“Similar,” he said.
“Was there a dude on the other side of that circle, waiting for you? Asking you if you wanted the job?”
He chuckled, “Yes.”
“So none of us has to do this?”
“Nope. Free will.”
“Wow. Poe would be freaking out if he saw me, right? Do you think he’d be proud?”
“Very much so,” Sabre whispered.
“The final son of Zion,” Quasi announced grandly. Charlotte turned and stared at the form in the smoke. Another big one. “Jeramiah Poe, son of Octava. You have been chosen as one of the Seven Sons of Zion!”
Charlotte screamed at hearing his name. Quasi froze looking, and her shaky legs walked in a circle to see, she had to see. The smoke cleared before the man and she gasped at seeing him.
“POE!” she screamed again, covering her mouth with both hands. “POE!” she shrieked at him. “IS IT YOU?! TELL ME IT’S YOU, TELL ME!” She fell to her knees and his form stormed forward, silver eyes flashing down at her making her scream again. She reached for him and he suddenly appeared before her, his face right there, his strong hands clasping, his lips bruising hers in a hungry kiss.
“It’s me, Scribbler!” he growled right in her mouth. “It’s me! I’m here, I’m here.”
She hugged his neck tight. “Poooooooe!” she cried in agony. “Pooooooe! Poooooe!” She clutched him in a panic, drowning in fear all over again. “Don’t leave, don’t leave! Please be real, please be real!”
He lifted her, his arms a hard vice on her body, pressing her into his. “I’ve got you Scribbler,” he whispered heatedly in her ear. “I will never let you go, I’ve got you.”
****
Poe held his beautiful Contessant on the stage for the remaining duration of the ceremony. He didn’t care that she wailed non-stop in his ear, and he never tired of kissing, caressing, and holding her. Never.
He had no idea what had happened to him. Not until he saw her there, broken to pieces on that stage. Sabre said it had been three days since he’d died. To Poe, he’d just woke from napping. He couldn’t even recall if he’d dreamed.
“Take some time with her, Rider,” the Queen whispered to him as he made his way out of the auditorium.
“Thank you, my Queen,” he said gratefully, going to the room where Contessant had been staying. He entered the living quarters and brought her to the large bedroom joining the sitting room. At laying her down, she clutched his neck tightly, making his chest burn to take her fears. “Shhhh, I’m not leaving,” he whispered.
“Poe,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from so much crying. “Poe, I love you,” she said. Again.
“I know this without a doubt. Do you know that I love you even more?”
She shook her head, gasping on sobs. Poe kept his forehead to hers, his own tears falling finally. Her fingers slid over his cheeks, wiping the tears and her lips covered his, hungry. “I need you Poe,” she whispered.
“You have me, Contessant,” he whispered back. “Can I please lock the door?”
She stroked his face and nodded. “Okay. But… hurry.”
Poe quickly hurried to the front door and locked it then hurried back.
“That was fast,” she whispered, up on her elbows in the bed.
“Let me draw you a bath,” he said to her. He’d never seen her look so frail and weary. “Please.”
“Okay. If you stay with me.”
The constant fear of him leaving her, abandoning her, tore at him. “Of course I will,” he whispered.
“Okay.”
Poe went to the bathroom next to the bedroom and found a very large tub, perfect for soaking. It had every manner of bathing supplies one could want and none he really knew of. After he figured out how to operate the water spout, he inspected all the glass containers. He opened a few of them, smelling. When he got to one that smelled like violets, he smiled, remembering her dress and how beautiful she was in it. He poured some of it into the water and turned to find her standing behind him.
“Would you like me to give you privacy?” he asked, his gaze lingering on her neck and the hard flutter of her pulse.
“No. Stay,” she whispered.
Poe stayed. He stayed rooted to the exact spot he stood as she undressed. He didn’t move and he barely breathed as she shamelessly bared herself to him. The trusting act made his body burn and ache for her. For so many things with her. Things she was not ready for while only half alive after burying the man she loved.
She climbed in the tub and lowered into the water and Poe felt it was safe to venture to the vanity and stand next to it.
She patted the large area next to the tub. “Come sit.”
Divinities. This would be quite a test of his will power.
Poe sat and kept his gaze averted, studying everything located above the tub level.
“Smells so good,” she murmured.
“Yes. Like violets.”
“Feels so good, too” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so happy. And safe.”
“I’m so relieved to hear that,” Poe said softly, wanting so badly to touch her without needing to worry about that brutalizing hunger. It had hardly lessened for her. No, he was sure it had grown now that all of this had happened.
“Poe,” she whispered.
The softness in her voice, the ache in it that called him to love her, heal her, wasn’t helping. “Yes, my love,” he whispered.
“Touch me.”
A dozen words flitted across his tongue before he settled on the one he wanted to say the most. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” she whispered, her voice breaking with need. “Bathe with me,” she gasped.
He knew he’d not deny her a single thing and Poe stood with his back to her and began to undress.
“No. Let me see.”
He slowly faced her and removed his upper clothing.
“So beautiful,” she whispered, roaming her eyes over his chest then lower. “So magnificent.”
Poe removed his lower clothing and she took every part of him in with a hungry gaze. Her lips parted and her eyes finally locked to his, making every single part of his body harden and pulse with fire.
She sat forward and pulled her knees to her chest, indicating she wanted him to get in behind her. Poe climbed in and sat. She guided his legs on either side of her and slowly slid her body back into his.
Poe let his head fall back at the rush of madness when she pressed her entire body into him while sliding her hands along his legs.
&nbs
p; He traced his fingers along her arms, locking his eyes on her breasts. His body throbbed in harsh response to the beauty there, turning his breaths ragged as he studied every perfect facet of the jewels taunting him. His palms slid over her arms and his fingertips grazed over those perfect peaks as he did.
She gifted him with a gasp and pushed her bottom into him. He continued with the same movement over her arms, his fingers tormenting her, causing her breath to become strained and shallow.
He decided he liked very much the idea of luring her to where he needed. If she made him go there, he would not deny her. And getting her to make him was something he was prepared to take his time doing.
She turned her face up to his, begging him to taste her. He lowered his mouth to her cheek, sliding his lips up to her temple, his fingers so very slow and methodic over the very peaks of her breasts.
“Poe,” she barely gasped, fighting to push against him more.
He lifted his legs and put them over hers, holding them against the tub. Pulling his feet in forced her tighter to him and his breath came in harsh bursts from the ecstasy that brought.
“Scribbler,” he rasped when her hands circled beneath his upper thighs and she raked his muscles with her nails. She pushed against him again, raking harder. “Scribbler, Scribbler” he whispered, winded as he moved a hand up her chest and neck then clutched her lower jaw, squeezing it in hunger.
Every breath she exhaled, every cry she gave, moan, whimper, sigh, Poe recorded it so he could learn exactly what to do, how to do it, and when.
Scribbler was taking her own notes, raking her nails along intimate places, bringing that reckless hunger. “Make love to me,” she whispered.
The most divine words in all the realms. “I need you where I can do it properly,” he said in her ear. Not on a lavatory or a tub where he might bruise her.
“Take me there. Wherever it is,” she begged, fighting to kiss him now.
Poe took her to the bed and laid her in it, his mouth hungry on hers as his body pressed even hungrier. She received him with an eagerness that stole his breath and all his slow, gentle intentions burned up in a matter of seconds.
Soft touches were now desperate, their nails engaged, raking over skin, teeth scraping over sensitive flesh. Poe’s mouth raced in hungry abandon, anywhere, everywhere, over every inch of her. The need to taste was unbearable, to suck as much of her into his mouth as he could, and bite—divinities, he loved, craved to bite her. He needed the sharp breaths she gave and took when he did, he treasured with all that he was, making her sing, that’s what it was to him as he varied the hunger in his bites and she answered with her moans and cries—delicate begging to deep, harsh, demanding. It was a divine rhythm in their bodies that he had to bring, he had to have.
“Poe!”
She was there. He was there. It was that part he lusted for, the hard ride. He didn’t know what else to call it, but having her beneath him like that, feeling her strength and power burning with his, their breaths clashing, kisses bruising in a contest of passion and wills. For her every cry and moan she gave, he claimed victory and gloated in that triumph with harsh and sweaty grinds. He could never go deep enough. Or hard enough. And certainly not long enough. The best and worst of it, was the glorious torment of never wanting to stop trying.
The climax was nearly brutal and Poe would have it in no other manner. It mattered not how many ways he planned it different, planned it soft and gentle, tender. He knew that once he began, he’d not stop until he shattered both of them, crushed them to smithereens, until they were unidentifiable, their beings such a chaos, that no soul or entity could ever distinguish he or her, but rather them.
And that, for Poe, was the only way to make love.
The softness… the gentleness… that was for after, he realized. Not during. Never during the war he ravaged her body with when loving her that way. But certainly after, he very much enjoyed holding her softly, petting and cherishing with a confounding awe. His bride. His wife. His Contessant Juliet.
The Scribbler and the Muse Rider, as one.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They would go to Earth and fight a war. The Seven Sons of Zion sat in a small room at the top of the Queen’s Castle. They sat in a circle along the floor and the Queen herself stood in the center of them, royal lavender robes flowed around her feet, her brilliant white hair hung in perfect curls from her crowned head, and she held a silver scepter bearing a lavender ball in its tip in her right hand.
The Seven Sons wore the colors of their realms. The Son of Heaven wore white, the son of Hell wore black, the Son of Dance wore red, the Son of Sound wore gold, the Son of Art wore Purple, the Son of Octava wore blue and the Son of Earth wore green. And their rings did bear the reflection of the same.
The Seven Sons sat in small circles at seven equal points on the floor. Before each of them there was a circle the size of a quarter, shaped in the seven pointed circle. In the center, the Queen stood in an 8th circle.
With the end of her silver scepter, the Queen touched the floor within the circle she stood, and it lit with glowing lavender. Poe held Contessant’s hand on his right, as the walls around them began to slowly spin, seven plates moving in opposing directions of each other.
The walls began to spin faster, creating a whirring sound in the stirring air around them.
The Queen pointed her scepter at the ceiling and lavender light shot into its center and spread through seven points on its surface. “Son of Sound,” the Queen called in a loud voice. “Look! Look and play, the music of the Universe.”
The ceiling opened up and vast colors flowed in chaotic patterns across a type of solar system that Poe had never seen. The Son of Sound used his wand and pulled particles from the air around him and created a cacophony of sound of perfect chaos.
“Son of Dance,” the Queen called out in a loud voice. “Listen. Listen and dance to the music of the Universe.”
Abren entered the circle with the Queen and began to dance. Majestic leaping, twirling, and spinning into the air, dancing to the perfect chaos of music growing louder in the air.
“Son of Art,” the Queen called in a loud voice. “Look! Look and draw the music of the Universe.”
The solid black man angled his head left and right at the floor and black ink issued from his fingers, a slow billowing of floating ebony across the floor.
“Son of Octava,” The Queen called in a loud voice. “Look! Look and speak the music of the Universe.”
At that moment, the ink on the floor thinned to reveal words and Poe spoke them. The language of perfect chaos.
“Son of Earth,” the Queen called in a loud voice. “Listen! Listen and write the music of the Universe.
Charlotte scribbled the words that Poe read. Scribbled the words of that perfect chaos.
“Son of Hell,” the Queen called in a loud voice. “Take! Take the music of the Universe!”
The man with the tattoos filled the room with a red fire storm, heating the air around them and filling it with a near deafening roar.
“Son of Heaven,” the Queen called in a loud voice. “Restore! Restore the music of the Universe!”
Sabre placed his fist on the circle in the floor before him, and his white light exploded within the room, jolting through their bodies.
The Son of Hell placed his fist in the small circle before him, and it glowed with his black light.
Now Scribbler placed her fist in the circle before her, and it glowed with her green light.
Poe placed his fist in the circle before him, and it glowed with his blue light.
Son of Art placed his fist in the circle before him, and it glowed with his purple light.
Son of Dance placed his fist in the circle before him, and it glowed with his red light.
Son of Sound placed his fist in the circle before him and it glowed with his gold light.
And finally, the Queen herself, struck the circle she stood in with the bottom of her staff.
Poe saw it then. The room they sat in was a crystal vessel! It trembled violently and Poe looked down below. The Eight Knights straightened and took hold of the vessel in their enormous hands. A loud screech sounded above, and Poe gazed up to a dark hole, twisting and churning with a growling sound, while the light from inside the room swirled in a rapid cyclone around them.
“Crystal Knights,” the Queen called out loudly. “Launch the Ark of Octava!”
The valiant roars of the Knights shook the air and room, and the faithful Guardians infused with the power and might of all of Octava, launched them through the Seven Realm Portal, leading straight to Earth.
TO BE CONTINUED…. ON EARTH…. AS IT IS IN HEAVEN! (LOL)
I truly hope you enjoyed Scribbler Guardian 2, Seven Sons of Zion, as much as I enjoyed writing it! I had a blast. Thank you so much for reading my work.
You can find my other works here:
Other Works By Lucian Bane
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