Harlequin E Shivers Box Set Volume 4: The HeadmasterDarkness UnchainedForget Me NotQueen of Stone

by Tiffany Reisz

  I cannot account for the change in my demeanor, but thinking about Everett witnessing their ceremony later that night made me green with envy. The tug of war inside me raged on, but at that moment I had switched sides. I knew that I courted trouble, and I wonder if I wasn’t excited by the prospect. It didn’t matter.

  I smiled to myself, remembering June’s warning to stay away. “No,” I whispered, thinking of Navarre standing in front of those stones.

  Chapter Eight

  All that afternoon I toyed with my plan. At first I considered sneaking over the fence, but decided that I might get lost in the swampy forest. Luckily I remembered the old trail that led to the sandy beach of the tributary. I knew that what I planned was wrong. Knew it to the bottom of my soul. Yet, with the logic of a person who is already guilty of a crime, I would relish the experience.

  I spent the rest of the day in a blur of anticipation. I made dinner, but my thoughts were on the stones. As I did the dishes, I remembered Navarre’s touch and delighted in the twist of lust that accompanied it.

  As the last rays of the sun faded away, I tended to the garden. I pulled weeds, clipped dead and dying stalks; all the while my thoughts centered on the small tributary that ran, not far away from where I worked, straight to the standing stones.

  That night as I lay in bed, listening for the telltale snoring coming from Aunt Cleo, I watched the full moon rise. Fat and silvery orange it hung above the trees, illuminating the outline of canopies.

  Sleep did not come quickly to my aunt. In fact, I almost fell asleep before she did, but when I heard the strange beats echoing in the night air, I snapped to attention again.

  Then I paid close attention, standing by the door and listening. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I heard her measured breaths. I was free. Not bothering to change my cotton nightgown, I bolted into the night.

  I tiptoed downstairs and out the door on bare feet. Outside, the silver light of the full moon poured over the swamp. Though I probably wouldn’t need it, I still couldn’t resist lighting and then taking the lantern that dangled beneath the nail on the porch railing. At the last minute I decided to take the machete with me, and grabbed it, as well. I pressed through the bushes, swinging the machete to clear a path.

  Once I reached the sandy beach of the river, I rested the sword against the trunk of a palm tree and started down the bank. At first, I used the lantern—I was far enough away at that point that I didn’t need to worry about the light revealing me—but the eerie yellow glow as it lit across the river and into the forest scared me more than it helped me, so I blew it out. I moved as quickly as I could, and as close to the tree line as possible. I was afraid of stopping, afraid of what might lay in wait for me, so I moved fast.

  I came to a pile of fallen trees that I recognized from the canoe trip. I climbed over the rough wood and continued on until I saw the turn in the river that signified I had come to the clearing where the stones were. The cries and shouts were loud, the drums pounded seemingly in my chest.

  Once I drew close enough, I slipped into the wood. Slowly, as carefully as I could, I crept through the branches until I saw the ghost-white glow of the stones. The orange rage of a bonfire. Closer still I crept, scraping along my belly until I came to the outer ring of the stones.

  The bonfire loomed just beside the river and the flames were so massive that I could feel the heat on my cheeks. Shadows moved across the stones like fingers. The people, faceless dark forms, moved in a line that threaded and snaked between the boulders.

  More drums burst into sound. The figures matched their pace to the primitive beat. I heard a chorus of low and reverent voices in unison, chanting in a language I’d never heard before. Sounds and movement braided together and wound around me even though I merely watched.

  A figure emerged from the archway, adorned in a white robe.

  It was Everett!

  June was at his side. He walked slowly, almost reluctantly toward the riverbank, stopping in front of the bonfire.

  There was Navarre by the bonfire. He wore a robe that was open to his waist. The fire loved him. The flames roared higher, danced before him and threw light over his beautiful body. He held his arms in the air, and I noticed one hand held something in it, which he passed to June. June, in turn, led Everett to the stone table.

  As I watched in disbelief, Everett climbed onto the table and reclined. Around him, the revelers began to chant a new verse, a different more demanding verse. My heart was wild now, and I was prepared at any moment to run out into the crowd and try to save Everett’s life, for I knew they would sacrifice him.

  The beating drums grew faster and faster and I felt the anticipation of every person there. In a crescendo of sound and movement June jumped onto the stone table in one swift movement. She towered above Everett; the crowd chanted all the more. Then June dropped her robe, revealing her perfect nude body. She reached down and ran her hand along Everett’s body, pushing the robe from his shoulders. I gasped to see his obvious arousal. Now June danced over him, shaking her breasts and her body.

  The drums ceased suddenly, and the only sound was my shallow breathing, hollow and fast. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I never wanted to see something so badly in all my life. Every person there waited for what was going to happen. And then, it did.

  He shouted and leaned up, wild, grabbing her, putting his mouth onto her breast. But his hands were everywhere, roaming and almost out of control. She threw back her head and cried out. The crowd danced and clamored around them. I couldn’t see anymore.

  So, very carefully, I shifted positions and when I looked up again, the worshippers were weaving in and out through the stones, circling Everett and June.

  Then, with a feminine howl, June pushed him down and positioned herself above him, using her hands to guide him between her legs.

  I held my breath.

  She impaled herself onto him, and from her cries, I knew it was exquisite. She ground against him, riding him, leaning back at one point and resting a hand on the stone. I was dizzy watching it because even though I had been raised on a farm and knew such things, I knew nothing about this.

  Wind blew and the fire flared higher, drawing my attention toward Navarre, who seemed as transfixed as I was. In the blazing light, I saw June’s face clearly. She was lost in ecstasy, her lips parted, her eyes closed.

  The blaze dimmed again and she went to shadow. But I could still see Navarre. My stomach tightened, though I was relieved he wasn’t touching the women at his side.

  Everett stood up. He lifted June, placed her on her hands and knees, and then pounded into her. He was in control now. The group went wild. In all the excitement, I stood up and in doing so, tangled myself a bit awkwardly among the branches. I could still see, though.

  Their movements tossed giant shadows of their coupling onto the stones. The shadows were lifelike and the whole act seemed larger than life and symbolic somehow. Then he was entering her slowly. Pushing inside her while grabbing her hips and grinding against her. Every time their hips met she cried out in pleasure.

  How long I remained, watching the ceremony, I don’t know, only that when he climaxed, pumping into her over and over, I couldn’t even breathe. I even stumbled in the trees. In an attempt to right myself, I grabbed on to one of the limbs and the lantern clattered to the ground. The fall had somehow sparked the lantern, and a damning beam of white light coursed from the trees and right out into the middle of the ceremony.

  I reacted without thinking, jumping to the ground. To my horror, I couldn’t switch the flame off, and my efforts only swung the beam of light chaotically against the bushes. The worst thing was happening, and all I could think to do was run. Noisily, falling over limbs, and scratching my arms and legs in the process, I tumbled onto the beach and bolted along the water. I tried turning the dial, and mercifully the light extinguished. I ran as fast as I could, until I recognized where I was, and just before I made it to the little path that
led to the cottage, I turned around.

  It was quiet, only the river with a slick streak of moonlight that shone on it. I let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, I had made it back undetected. I hunched over, taking deep breaths until I felt calm enough to go home. I was just about to pick up the blade when I heard a movement behind me, and before I could even spin around, I heard a voice.

  His voice.

  Then, quick as lightning, he was behind me, his arms encircling my body, holding me tight against him. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said. He was very free and loose with his hands, and they roamed over my stomach, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. “Tell me,” he whispered, “why did you run and not join us? Did you see something that scared you?” Navarre’s deep voice spoke at the base of my neck.

  I wanted so badly to lean against him, to give in to his hands, but I sensed a danger in doing that. I knew exactly what would happen. I had just witnessed it. “Let me go,” I managed to say.

  He did. His hands just fell away from my body and the loss of his touch was acute. I stumbled forward a few steps before turning around to face him.

  The moon hung behind him, and perfectly illuminated his male form. All I could think about was Navarre and I dropping onto the sand, and me rolling on top of him. Positioning myself above him…

  He smiled. “I think you saw something you liked,” he whispered.

  I took a few steps backward, and was surprised when I bumped into the blade of the machete. A plan was forming in my head, but I required a bit of time to pull it off, so I spoke whatever words came to my mind. “I was only curious. And I heard the drums…” My words trailed off.

  “What did you see?” He took a step closer. “You look…flustered.”

  “I saw everything,” I whispered in a rush. I leaned back and my hand gripped the sword. “Every single thing. Don’t come any closer.” My words were stern, but the sound of my voice was high and breathy.

  He ignored me, took another step.

  Quickly, I swung the machete in front of me. The long blade glowed in the moonlight as I brandished it between us. “Stay right there,” I warned.

  He laughed. Not even a laugh, more of a chuckle. He took a purposeful step forward, until the point of the blade jabbed into his bare chest. He leaned his head to the side to reveal the soft skin of his neck. “Zara, strike true and hard. When you are going to take a life, your first blow must do the job. Or else don’t bother.”

  “You sound like you know from experience,” I hissed, raising the blade.

  He dropped back. I saw his leg move and suddenly there was a burst of pressure on my hand, forcing it upward. A flash of silver split the sky as the machete twirled end over end and disappeared into the river with a splash.

  He collided with me, and his mouth covered mine. He tasted of revelry and naked lust and I was wild for him. I rose to his kiss, returning it with equal—no, greater—passion than him. I was beyond fear; I was entranced.

  The erotic images of passion and ecstasy propelled me. I felt his fingers on my skin; I knew exactly what they promised me. I saw the look on June’s face, and I wanted the same for me.

  No more could I resist that urge than I could hide from the light of the moon. So, I gave in to the feeling, moaning and leaning against him. He swept me up, kissed me deep and long. I grabbed his hands and shoved them between my legs, begging him to please work his magic again. But he resisted and stiffly yanked his hand from mine.

  “If you want me you must come with me. To my world. I’ll make it easy for you. You can come with me now, stay with me forever.”

  “Never,” I barked, angry that he could even mention any world other than the small one we stood on right now. Already the guilt swirled around me and then settled on me. I wrenched away from him. “What kind of spells and magic are you doing over there? What has come over me? I need to get away from you. It’s a sickness inside me! I couldn’t resist coming tonight, and I couldn’t resist climbing over the fence.”

  “I left it down for you, by the way. Think of it as your own doorway.”

  “No, this is a sickness, Navarre,” I whispered.

  “No. Never that.”

  “Then what is it?” I was mad, and didn’t wait for him to respond. “No! Don’t even tell me. I’m going, and even if I have to move I hope to never see you again!” I ran away but not before I heard his quick, forceful words following me. “You are mine. I will wait no longer!”

  He scared me so much that I ran home as fast as my legs could run. When I reached the cottage and slipped inside the door, my heartbeat and my breaths were so loud, and my cheeks so flushed from the heat of what I had experienced, that I woke my aunt Cleo. She called to me from her bedroom. “Zara, are you all right?”

  “I am, Aunt Cleo. I just went outside for some fresh air.” I swallowed my deep breaths, held them in to hide the noise and crept into my room.

  I tried to fall asleep that night, but my body was on fire. My mind raced with images and sensations. Somehow my ring had become bent, and one of the vines pinched my skin. I slipped the ring from the ribbon and carefully placed it under the bed, so I could get it in the morning. Finally, I fell asleep, heady with passions and anger, completely unaware that my world would unravel the very next night.

  Chapter Nine

  The sun rose as it always did, and yet I felt different as I lay in bed the next morning. It was as if a door had opened, or perhaps had closed. I had not the foolish guilt of a child, but instead the deeper regret of shame. Images floated in my mind and my body burned with the memory of Navarre’s touch. What had happened to me that caused me to lose all sense of right and wrong? And why did I want him so badly that I was willing to do almost anything?

  I heard voices from outside my room. Dressing quickly, I came down from my bedroom to see the pastor standing at the door and chatting with my aunt. I knew right then that there could be no doubt of my errors.

  “Zara!” said the man, walking toward me to shake my hand. “How nice of you to finally wake up and join us.”

  I pulled my hand from his quickly, unnerved by his presence in the house. Especially in light of every sin I had committed the night before. “Good morning,” I finally managed to say.

  His gaze lingered on me. I fidgeted beneath it, knowing for certain that he could somehow see inside me, and was taking stock of all my wrongs. “What brings you here today?”

  “I came by to say hello.” He took a deep breath. “I had…a feeling that you might need guidance.”

  His instincts were not entirely wrong, but he was not the person I would share things with. The man frightened me. “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Well, I want you to know that I am here for you should you need anything. If you find yourself in any type of trouble.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I offered a reassuring smile, full of brightness and happiness and hoped that it worked.

  “You know the sheriff is worried about you. Especially considering the company you’ve been keeping lately. It’s not too late. I urge you to reconsider.”

  “Reconsider what?” my aunt asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied, giving him a stern look. He was wrong. It was too late. I had been branded by what I witnessed and by what I craved.

  He held my gaze before he finally spoke. “I suppose I should be going. I’ve stayed long enough. I wanted to say a friendly hello, and let you know I’m keeping my eyes on you, Zara.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, as I shook his hand goodbye. I was so nervous that my palm was moist, but somehow struggled to say, “But I think I’m doing okay.”

  The screen door snapped shut, but he hovered just outside. His eyes gleamed. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” He swaggered away, and I watched him leave, certain he knew everything.

  My aunt turned to me. “What was all that about?”

  “I have no idea, Aunt Cleo.”

  “He is a strange fellow,” she said. “But nice enou
gh. Dear, would you mind pouring me a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d be delighted to.” Anything at all to change the subject.

  I poured both of us coffee and after having a quick breakfast, I spent the rest of my day in the garden, understanding that labor was a type of penance and hoping it counted for something. And still the day lingered. I rather looked forward to bed, as I would put another night between the present and last evening. I wanted all the distance I could get.

  We ate dinner on the porch, and when the familiar drums started again, they were accompanied by images. Images from last night. Images of Everett and June—and of course Navarre and myself.

  Sleep came quickly and I dreamed that I rode in the canoe, straight out into the Gulf of Mexico, and the water was perilous around me. I had no oar by which to steer. Something from the water was pulling on the canoe. I was afraid I would fall in the water. Then the dream was fading, dissolving right before my eyes.

  I was awake. There was a hand on my shoulder.

  Aunt Cleo. Upstairs. She never came upstairs.

  I bolted upright in bed and heard her panicked, heavy breathing. “Aunt Cleo, what is the matter?” I asked her.

  Her thin hands trembled as she reached for me and tried to pull me from the bed. “Water,” she said. Her long white hair glowed in the darkness.

  “Water? There’s water in the kitchen.” I felt it then, a cold dollop that fell upon my nightgown. Then another, and another.

  “Water,” she said again in a mumbled panic. “The house is filling with water.”

  “What?” I jumped up.

  She must be mistaken. But her whole body shook and dripped with water. She was drenched. “You don’t understand. It’s like that night. Like when I was a child. Zara, whatever did you do?”