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Copyright ©2007 by Layne Blacque, Taige Crenshaw
First published in 2007, 2007
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Horsemen of Apocalypse Island: Sin
ISBN #978-1-906328-34-4
©Copyright Layne Blacque and Taige Crenshaw 2007
Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright September 2007
Edited by Michele Paulin
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Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning
Horsemen of Apocalypse Island
SIN
Layne Blacque &
Taige Crenshaw
Dedication
Layne Blacque
To those who love living in sin...
Dedication
Taige Crenshaw
To my mother who has always been my number one fan although you are no longer with me I know you are smiling down at my getting published.
Prologue
The End of Divine Sex
In the days before Evil came, all levels of beastly creatures walked the earth. These beasts were born of the illicit coupling of men and the divine creatures who'd left the home of the Great Father to mingle with, and cause trouble for, all mankind.
As time went on, these divine beings brought the human needs, desires and frailties to light. With this image of themselves, mankind saw who they truly were. Fear ran rampant in man, and they came together to rid the earth of these half-breed creatures.
The wise men of that time knew spells and herbal concoctions to keep these mighty creatures at bay. They understood how to maim, kill and entrap them. Men of renown, the giants who lived in those days, used strength to mangle and slay these terrible abominations. And for a while, the carnage ended, and the women who had been restricted were now able to move about freely.
But the pure-bred creatures, not born of man, could not be easily captured nor killed. These rebel swordsmen were known for their ability to enchant any woman who dared cross their path, making her swoon from pleasures no human man could ever create. For centuries, these beings roamed freely, pillaging the lands and granting sexual pleasures to every woman within their sight.
The Horsemen were revered for their sexual prowess. They were also known as shape-shifters, tricksters and magicians. Their every thought had power to grow and materialise anything they desired. If they willed something to exist, it existed.
These beings, in their true form, were a terribly beautiful sight. Men trembled in their presence. Even the most chaste of women succumbed to pleasures of the flesh. Animals cowered and ran away as fast as their hooves would carry them.
But the Horsemen had the ability to mesmerise all who came before them. And when they desired to do so, unsurpassed pleasures were to be had.
And this was how it was until one day, four great and holy men came together at the centre of the island to discuss these fearsome, beautiful beings. One of these priests held great anger toward the Horsemen. His sister's daughter had been carried away by one of the beings. At her return, the man prayed over the young woman, only to have her laugh decadently and raise her robes to expose her femininity to him. No longer an innocent, she became a known harlot, bedding any man who would have her, copulating with all comers in her futile attempt to re-experience the most pleasurable night of her life.
After days of talks, the holy men concluded the beasts could not be slain nor captured in the usual ways. Many sleepless nights later, the harlot's uncle called upon his fraternity, and together, the men convened on the edge of the island. They stopped before a Cyprus sapling. A purposeful place, to be sure, for the young tree sprouted in the very place where a Horsemen had ravaged his sister's beautiful daughter.
On a piece of blessed parchment, they inscribed a spell to bind, hold and torture the sensual warriors:
Beastly acts which thee elicit
For all thee has wrought
Fleshly torments made exquisite
Bind thee to this tree of pain
Know thy anguish of unrequited pleasure
Carnal lust no longer reigns!
The men burned the parchment and scattered the ashes within the tree's soil. Soon thereafter, the Horsemen's anguished cries were heard throughout the island as the curse robbed the once mighty creatures of physical form—carrying them as dark clouds into the centre of the tree.
All at once, life seemed good, at least for the men of Apocalypse Island. As generations came of age and centuries passed, their women lost the memory of these virile whom beings many had secretly prayed would capture them. Only the more magical and superstitious among the people relayed tales of the mighty men said to conquer and stir the passions of the fairer sex. Yet, as time progressed, even these tales were relegated to legend, and few modern people would believe.
But the stories of these great beings would once again be told.
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, when the land was sold off from the estate of a Greek billionaire, the enchanted island changed hands several times. The most recent buyer, a wealthy American woman, built a resort on this prime real estate, and unknowingly unlocked treasures as seductive and exotic as the warm, blue waters.
The ancient Cyprus tree crashed down and the spirits of the mighty Horsemen fled the astral realm to materialise again on earth. Now free, they sought another release, the kind that would require them to resume their physical forms. But these sexual demons needn't have worried for long. If the human spirit can triumph over the worst of circumstances, the spirits of the divine could more than triumph—they could thrive.
And so it began with the tears and loneliness of a frustrated woman that the first Horseman of Apocalypse Island reclaimed his corporeal form.
His name was Sin. And Sin was good ...
Chapter One
The Awakening of Beastly Desires
Alana Dorchester's raven-black hair caught the wind, lifting off her shoulders. Teeth bared, she shook her cell phone, desperate to find a signal. “Damn it! Why won't anything in this p
lace work?"
For the sixth time that morning, she questioned her decision to buy the island paradise that had caught her eye the previous year. Perhaps the name of the stunning stretch of land—Apocalypse Island—should have made her move with caution. But when she'd visited the ancient isle and walked upon the white sand beaches, gazing out at the unkempt, but stunning olive, palm and even pistachio trees, she'd been hooked. Only a few thousand residents lived on the island full-time, and most of them were descendants of the original settlers who, some claimed, had arrived thousands of years ago. While many people left to start lives elsewhere, very few new families ever took residence. Hence, the depressed main street area and small, privately-owned businesses that barely broke even.
Alana felt confident the Artemis Beach Resort and Spa—her massive hotel complex and luxury playground—would infuse money and fun into the flailing island.
She and her father, millionaire, real estate tycoon Stanley Dorchester, had flown over the tiny Greek isle during a helicopter ride to Crete last year. Several months and millions of dollars later, Alana, with help from her father, bought the twelve-mile long strip of land, and immediately relocated from her New York City condo to the island.
Every morning, she climbed the stairs of her four-story, Mediterranean-style beach house and used binoculars to watch the progress of her two hundred-man team. She grinned at the sight of the budding, hotel complex, with its one hundred twenty-four suites, five dining venues, four Olympic-sized pools and two golf courses. Only a couple of days ago, she and the architect had finally, after many arguments, been able to agree on designs for the sports and fitness centre, tennis club and golf course.
The complex would sit only yards from the ocean's warm, blue waters.
Usually, she looked to her father for assistance—but not this time. If Stanley had agreed to help her more, she might not have battled insecurity. As it was, his phone calls, faxes and emails usually served to make her feel powerless and incompetent. As far as Stanley Dorchester was concerned, his very generous financial donation would be enough to help his daughter's latest business scheme get off the ground. The rest, of course, would be left up to Alana.
Four months had passed since construction on the resort commenced, but things weren't moving fast enough for her. The cell phone tower still wouldn't hold her signal!
Not that it mattered. Michael Kirkland, her sometimes boyfriend, hadn't returned her calls in days. His emails were noncommittal and dry. Her stomach dropped when she realised she'd probably lost him for good. He'd been unwilling to leave his cushy Wall Street position for what he disparagingly called “beach bum fun” and hadn't even visited to see what she was doing.
This lack of support wasn't new in their relationship. Alana sighed. Sadly she had gotten used to it. All her friends marvelled at her relationship with Michael, believing they were a power pair. Little did they know how untrue that was. He was drop dead sexy but a tad self-absorbed. Everything was always about Michael. Since coming to the island she'd discovered how little she actually got from the relationship—especially in sexual part of the relationship.
Michael made love the same way he did everything. Cold and by the numbers. She could have read a book while he fucked her, and he wouldn't have even noticed. Usually she'd gone into the bathroom to finish the job after he'd finished and rolled over to fall asleep.
Two years was a long time to put up with lack lustre sex, Alana decided. He just doesn't love me. And, now, I don't think I love him, either...
Alana blew out a breath and shifted. She accepted the little Michael gave her because of her need for companionship. She wanted someone who she could share things with. Someone who'd actually listen to her when she spoke and not just act like they were listening.
Picking up her cell phone, Alana tried for a signal. Finally getting one, she hooted and dialled.
It rang then was picked up. “Hello."
Alana was so startled to get Michael on the phone it took a moment for her to answer.
"Hello."
His impatient voice snapped him out of her daze. “Michael, it's Alana."
"Alana.” He sounded cold. He was making her decision much easier.
"We're through,” Alana said.
As far as she was concerned, this was a formality. The four months they'd been apart had ended their relationship.
"That's for the best.” His voice was still cool.
His lack of emotion had always been the problem in their relationship. Alana listened as he started to talk about finding someone else but not wanting to cheat on her. She had heard the lie in his voice. Cutting the conversation short, she hung up on him. A sense of freedom and sadness filled her.
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Alana saw the men moving around the construction site. She often took the ferry across Athena Bay for lunch and light shopping, but other than polite nods and helpful salespeople, she had little communication with any of her neighbours. Sometimes, she thought about putting on her red bikini and sauntering down to the work site. She'd pick up any hard-bodied workman who caught her attention, bring him back to her house and fuck him senseless.
Yeah, right!
She laughed aloud, quickly dismissing the thought. She had enough trouble with the crew, already. The architect and the foreman believed because she was a woman, she didn't know what she wanted. If she began fucking the help, construction probably wouldn't be finished in a timely manner. She'd probably become a laughing stock—one of those rich, lonely old broads who preyed on blue-collar dick.
Except at twenty-seven, Alana wasn't old. But the other part—the preying part—could fit. She was this close to giving up on love. Why not get my body worked on by a guy who makes his living with his hands?
A bitter tear slid down her cheekbone. She swept a shaky hand across it, obliterating the unacceptable sign of weakness.
Satisfied with the work she saw, she stood up and cinched her robe under her small, but high-perched breasts. She hadn't eaten breakfast, yet and was having a hard time deciding between yoghurt and grapefruit or plain cereal with skimmed milk.
That's when she saw him.
He strode down the beach confidently. His bronzed chest glistened beneath the sun's rays. His wavy, white-blond hair stopped just above his broad shoulders, tresses so beautiful and well-behaved Alana didn't know whether to admire him or be jealous. Though she knew she was staring, try as she might, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Not only was he impossibly gorgeous, but he barely had on a stitch! The white loincloth he wore did little to detract from his obvious bulge.
Suddenly, the man stopped. He turned from the water and looked up at Alana's house. Her heart sped up while her nipples pebbled as her gaze connected with him. Impossibly blue-violet eyes shone out of his beautiful face and seemed to grow more lovely as he stared at her. Even from where she stood, she could see his sharply carved cheeks, full pouty lips and firm chin.
The man spoke quietly, but his voice carried all the way up to her attic window, making her stomach feel heavy. “Woman, why do you cry?” PAGE BREAK
Chapter Two
The Reclaiming of Divine Love
Alana backed away from the window quickly, so quickly in fact, that she stumbled over her own feet. When she tried to pull herself up, a strong, masculine hand encircled her waist.
How had he gotten into the house? How had he gotten into the attic so damn fast?
The big man leaned down and smiled. “Do not be discouraged. Whatever your troubles, you should not allow it to make you sad."
Something isn't right.
Any normal woman, a woman who valued her life and safety, would be yelling for help or running by now. But this strangely beautiful man, though powerfully built, didn't threaten her. She wanted to reach out to touch him. Her pussy creamed at his nearness. She stood dumbfounded, staring into his magnificent eyes, daring herself not to drown in them...
Her voice shook as she questioned him. �
��Who are you? You're not..."
Oh my God. I'm in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Or something.
He bent his tanned, powerful knees and reached out, caressing a gentle hand over her thigh. Alana surprised herself by not pulling away. “What if I told you I'm just a man?"
Despite the eighty-degree heat, she shivered. “I wouldn't believe you."
"What would you believe, Alana?"
"How the hell do you know my name?"
He shrugged and licked his lips. “I know many things, lovely one. I carry memories and secrets going back to antiquity. But most importantly, Alana, I know a lot about making women feel better."
He reached for her hand. She accepted it. They stood together, saying nothing, each openly appraising the other. Alana's thoughts turned to images of hard, toned flesh and a ramrod, stiff cock. His smell, both spicy and sweet, assaulted her senses. She imagined that his lips must be as sweet as his scent—that his cum would be like liquid sugar as it flowed down her throat.
"I can't take my eyes off you,” she admitted. “This is the best dream I've had in ... well, ever."
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I am no dream, sad, pretty girl. I am Sin."
"Yes, you are,” Alana chuckled. She looked down at her hand and realised that it still rested within his. “Some sweet sin."
"No, you don't understand. I am Sin. My name is Sin."
"Yeah? Sin? Really?” She pulled her hand free and looked up into the big man's lusty, blue eyes. Lord! Those things are like glaciers. Sexy-ass glaciers! “Why on earth would your mother name you something like Sin?"
He shrugged and moved closer “There was a time, long ago, when my name did not conjure images of lawlessness and transgression."
Alana's lips trembled as he bent toward her face.
When the sinfully delicious man spoke again, his warm breath brushed against her lips. “I don't have a mother—at least not in the traditional sense. The Great Father breathed life into me before the dawn of man.” He cast his eyes to his perfectly formed feet. “Unfortunately, Father and I had a falling-out. I left home early on and set out on my own."
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