“I think you might be crazy. Plus, what happens in a few hundred years when your believers dwindle again?” I dried my hair as best I could with the towel.
“You think you are the only one? I have been favored for a long time. Indeed, what I thought was the most foolish decision ever, coming here on a boat four hundred years ago, was in fact the best. Because all the other gods withered and died in the old country. But I survived in a boggy hellhole with my people. Forgotten and left behind by the world, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
But, still, I have lost many followers lately. Your grandmother Zara was but one of many. And when your very life depends on followers, and your numbers are dwindling, you guard your flock like a shepherd. I fight for every follower. I need every follower.
So, when the prophecy—not written by me, but by my followers all those years ago—when it appears right before me…when you appeared before me, I had no choice. The fact you make me insane with wanting you was secondary.
When I have living, breathing proof that to follow me is to follow the right path, did you think I would just let you go? Once you are mine my followers will be saved. It’s that simple. You will preserve and save my flock. And in doing so my own life, my legacy. The prophecy is very specific, Zara.”
“No,” I said weakly, dropping the towel to the ground. “Please no.”
“I won’t speak of this again, ever. You may make of it whatever you like. I suppose a person could assume I am lying to them just to gain sympathies, or you may think me a madman, or you may even choose to believe me, but I speak the truth.”
His voice echoed as he spoke. “I will have you. And I’ve never wanted anyone as much as you. Zara, come here.” The man had a powerful pull when he chose to use it. “I promise, I won’t harm or scare you again. There’s something I need to show you.”
Although I wanted to resist him, I also craved his body next to mine.
Why was I so drawn to him? I approached him warily. When I was just out of his reach I hesitated.
“Closer.” Cajoling. Warm. Softly threatening.
I took a deep, unsteady breath. I reassured myself that the bars gave me total protection, and I took the final step and stood before him.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I didn’t answer. His forearm slipped through the bars. He traced his finger along my arm. “When I first saw you, you looked so thin. And you had this intensity about you. Almost like you had dug in and were holding on to life with all you had. You looked beaten. Hungry.” His finger ran to my jaw, beneath my chin, and down my other collarbone. “I didn’t know you were the one, but I wanted you, even then.” He took a deep breath. “Now look at you.” Now his hand dropped lower again, until his finger grazed the outline of my breast. My nipple hardened beneath his touch, and I heard the faintest intake of breath from him. “Now you’ve blossomed right in front of me. Your curves drive me mad.”
He grabbed my hand and brought it to his crotch and I could feel the proof that he meant every word of what he said. My instinct was to gasp and snatch my hand away, but he held me tightly, and more, he pressed against my fingers so that I could feel every inch of him. I had this fluttery nervousness. A sharp pang of lust and the safety of the bars led me to be bolder than I otherwise might have been, and I gingerly, hesitatingly, cupped him. Such a quick response from him I didn’t anticipate, but his hand abandoned mine, and somehow rose higher to pull me tight against the bars, bringing me close enough to kiss.
My hand stayed put. And from the safety of the bars, and with his lips on mine, I explored him.
“You drive me mad,” he ground out. Then, “You should know how I suffer. You will know how I suffer.”
He held me so tight against the bars that I could barely breathe. Then, with his other hand, he slipped it down, lifted my skirt and touched the tender part of me.
The confident part of me that felt safe disappeared immediately. He was an expert, drawing me along his chosen path, playing me like an instrument. A finger inside me, one at the tender spot. Him kissing me on and on. Until I lifted a leg, hooked it on the crossbar and matched the movements of his hand with my pelvis.
“Go, Zara,” he whispered, and though I didn’t quite know exactly where I was headed, I knew I was headed somewhere. More and more I wanted, and when words slipped from my mouth unbidden, when his name fell over and over from my lips, and I wantonly moved my leg higher and pressed it against the bar so that he might go deeper, he stopped moving.
“Don’t stop,” I said, rocking my hips, trying my hardest to have him start again.
He was cruel, though, and he removed his hand. Stepped away.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You need to think about how important it is to get out of here. About how important your promises are, because in just a little while you will have to decide, Zara. I keep my promises. And I will force you to keep yours. Besides, it’s what I desire most.” I heard his footsteps on the floor. Heard the scrape of the door as it opened. He was leaving. But, he turned and told me one last thing. “I will hold you prisoner until the ceremony. You will not escape again, and you will keep your promise to me.”
“What about my aunt?” I asked. “She’s terrified of you.”
“Don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of her. I promise, and I keep my promises. You’ll see her after the ceremony.”
The door slammed. I was alone.
I ran to the door and pulled on the bars. I saw his dark figure waking away in the courtyard, and I shouted for him, but he never turned around once.
When he reached the wooden door that led back to the mansion, he paused. “You need to think about how important getting out of here is. About how important your promises are, because in just a little while you will have to decide. Zara, I keep my promises. And I will force you to keep yours. Besides, it’s what I desire most.” The door closed with a loud thud. He was gone.
Chapter Eleven
A short time later a woman came to the cell. She was older, with white hair, and came in carrying blankets, a nightgown, and a change of clothes for the morning. I looked at the skirt and blouse she carried and thought they must be June’s. “My name is Naya. I will be back in the morning with breakfast for you.”
I lay down on the stone bench, curled around the blankets and surprised myself by falling right to sleep.
In the morning, Naya brought me a tray of food. Although I tried to plead for her help, she simply shook her head. “You shouldn’t try to run away,” she said. “We need you. You are to save us.”
“From what?” I asked her in exasperation.
“That I don’t know. I don’t worry about it. Let the gods decide. I just bring you food.”
I felt admonished as well as angry and afraid. When Naya brought me lunch, I asked, “Can’t I at least sit in the courtyard? It’s fenced. I can’t escape.”
“I’ll ask Navarre,” she said. She left and later returned carrying the heavy keys in her hand. “He said it was okay,” she said while unlocking the door to my cell. I stepped outside. I had the brief thought of hitting her and then trying to run, but I knew that it would be foolish. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt Naya. She was a sweet woman.
I took the chair and placed it beside the small pool. Naya left, locking the door behind her. I looked around. At least there was an oak tree next to the pond. Although the oak was scrawny it provided some shade. I spent the afternoon lounging in the shade, even falling asleep once or twice. A small ripple in the pool caught my eye. At first I thought it was a bug landing on the surface, but as I looked closer I realized that it was bubbles rising to the surface. I watched them for a while, remembering my day with Everett.
When it grew dark, someone came and lit the torches. I changed into my nightgown. Much later, Naya brought me dinner. As I ate beside the pool, a curious thing happened. A great big bubble rose from the bottom of the pool and popped at the surface. Then the water bega
n swirling and bubbling as it drained away, leaving only slick sand exposed. It was eerie to watch. I stood up and ran to the wooden door and banged upon it. Naya came and opened the door a crack.
“I need Navarre,” I said. “I have something to tell him.”
“What is it?” she asked, sounding suspicious.
“This is no trick to escape. I need him. Or if not him then Everett.”
“Everett? He left yesterday to return to work.”
“Then Navarre. I need him.”
She hesitated.
“Look!” I said, pointing to the now empty pool. I explained what happened. Finally, I heard her sigh in exasperation. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I waited in the twilight. The door creaked open and I saw the outline of Navarre.
“Navarre, the little pond just drained for no reason.”
He laughed, completely unimpressed. “You brought me out here for this?”
“I’m serious. I think we should tell Everett. He’s very interested in these things.”
He sighed. “Zara, no matter what you say, or what strange excuse you come up with, you are staying in there until the ceremony.” The door optioned a fraction wider and I felt his eyes take in the sight of me. “Unless,” he said slowly, “you want to see—”
“What?” I asked, interrupting him.
“It might scare you.” There was something about his voice. A hint of wickedness.
“No. I promise it won’t.”
He laughed. “Of course you would want to see. I should have known.”
He took me by the arm, firmly enough that I knew I was still his prisoner. He walked right next to me, guiding me across the terrace. I saw a few people lounging on couches. Torches were aflame all around us. The people sat in pairs, two and three in a cluster. When my eyes adjusted to the light I saw them all turn to face me, and I saw, too, that they were nude, and entwined in passion.
A man lay on the ground, a woman sitting on his waist, rocking her hips back and forth. Taking a few steps backward in shock, I tried to peel my gaze from the debauchery before me. But I couldn’t. Sweaty flesh, curves, thin bodies. A shadow of hair, a mewl of pleasure.
I took a step back, shocked, and ran into Navarre’s warm chest. He dropped his grip on my arm and encircled me close to him. My mouth could not form words. My lungs couldn’t breathe. I could only feel—the night air, his body next to mine. Nothing else mattered.
“Do you see what they do?” he asked.
How could I not? In front of me was a garden of flesh abloom with sin. I didn’t answer him with words but rather with the gasp that slipped from my mouth.
Navarre took me by the hand. “Come with me,” he said.
He led me to the gardens, where the sweet aroma of night blooms greeted us. The stone statues lay cracked and broken among the roses. Fallen soldiers in the war of love, I thought.
We came upon a barrier of high hedges. Navarre stepped through a small opening and pulled me behind him. We had entered a secret space. There was a couple twisting on the grass beside us. We walked on, past the wild lovers.
Deeper, until we came to a dais of white stone. A man, his face obscured to me, lounged on the dais. I saw his body, beautiful and muscular, imposing even at rest. His well-muscled arms were extended, encircling the hips of a beautiful woman, his hands grabbing her pelvis as she straddled his legs.
Since I was so focused on him I had barely noticed her. I took full measure of her. I didn’t recognize her. She was pretty, in a dark and petite way. But passion had turned her sensuous. As she straddled him her mouth was parted in a small O of pleasure as her hips followed the lead of his hands.
Navarre whispered in my ear. “See that? Look how he throws his head back. There is no better feeling in the world, than to be buried inside a woman. Her heat all around your cock.” When he whispered that naughty word in my ear something wild sprang to life inside me, and I gasped.
“Do I shock you, little one?”
“No,” I whispered, trying my best to sound in control when I very much was not.
“There is nothing better,” he repeated, “than hearing those little moans come from a woman’s mouth. It drives a man wild. Then you have to grab her—” at that he grabbed me roughly by my pelvis and slammed my body back against his “—and grind inside her.” I felt his hardness against my bottom. Threatening. Huge.
Holding me firm against him with one hand the other snaked around to the front of my nightgown, cupping me between my legs.
I bit my lips to try to hold back the moan.
“You are already wet through your nightgown, little one.” He lifted the gown to my waist and bent me over slightly, putting his fingers inside me from behind.
Now the woman’s eyes were closed. She was lost in ecstasy. She lifted her hips to mount him, and between her legs I saw the man’s hardness. Far bigger than I imagined could fit into a woman, but she sank slowly, leisurely upon him, moaning the entire time.
And with Navarre’s fingers deep inside me, I joined her. He was stroking my wetness, sliding his fingers inside me and then pulling them out again. Navarre pulled me back up, tight against him. I leaned against his body, lifted my arm and wrapped it around his neck. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.
“Never,” he whispered hotly in my ear, his hand tormenting me on and on. His other hand swept over my breasts, cupping them, toying with my nipples.
Her moans and cries filled the night, and I realized what she was seeking. I found I couldn’t help but join her. I lifted a leg, allowing Navarre to press his fingers more deeply inside me.
Now the woman was wild. She lifted up and down on his lap, her hands upon his knees, her breasts pressed together. She began to move her hips in small circles, honing in on her pleasure. Then she moved faster and I did, as well. Her cries of passion mingled with mine in the night air, and when she reached her climax I was already there, bucking against Navarre’s hand, reaching back and clutching his neck.
We didn’t move, stayed locked together as I returned to earth. When finally Navarre urged me to leave, I did so, reluctantly, hating to leave such a cloistered place. As we stepped from the gardens I looked to the sky to see the belfry a white dagger pointing to the sky. Against the moon, I saw the small darting shadows of the bats as they returned to their nest.
Navarre returned me to my little cell. “Don’t leave me,” I said.
“I have to. You can’t be trusted. I think you will run, especially if you feel guilty. But, don’t worry. By this time tomorrow night, you will be a Lucian.”
Chapter Twelve
A weary sun rose on the morning of my initiation. I watched pale rays fall upon the little oak tree beside the cell. The oak, too, seemed weary, its limbs dragging along the ground and the sunlight giving it a hazy ring. I dressed quickly and waited for breakfast. But there would be none. For when Naya arrived she did not carry a tray.
“I’m sorry, but today is your initiation. No food or drink for you.” She looked at me apologetically, but I knew I would be getting no food from her.
“That’s horrible, Naya. How could you think to starve me?”
“It’s not for long,” Naya said. “Besides, it is initiation. It’s our tradition. You must fast on the day you become one of us. It cleanses you before you join and you come to us pure of mind and body. No food and no water until after the sun sets and we have the ceremony. Then you will drink the pure water Navarre gives you. It will taste like heaven.”
Later that day, June came and got me. “I’m to get you ready for tonight. You’ll need to come with me.”
I must have looked at her with a shocked expression for she said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a simple ceremony. I don’t think you’ll be too shocked. Not tonight, anyway.” She took me by the hand. “Come, we don’t need to worry about your Aunt Cleo. She’s resting, and one of the older women will keep an eye on her. Come to my room, where I’ll find an outfit for you.”
H
er room was down the hall from Navarre’s and covered in rich white carpet, the walls dripping in red fabric. A pile of colorful blankets concealed the bed. She went to the bed and patted it. “Sit here,” she said. “I’ll find something for you.”
I sat down. She stood above me and eyed me for a moment. “On second thought,” she said, coming to me and putting her hands gently on my hair. “May I take it down?”
“Yes.”
She pulled out the pins and my curls fell down and covered my shoulders. June gave a small gasp. “Your hair is so beautiful. You must wear it down tonight.” She thought for a moment. “I know exactly what you need to wear.”
She went to the closet and started yanking out clothes, tossing them to the ground. “Hmm,” she mumbled to herself. “Where is it?” With a triumphant cry she said, “Here it is, my favorite.”
She spun around and I saw the dress. No, not a dress. A long skirt and separate halter top that tied beneath the breasts. The garments were a muted red color and generous of fabric in the skirt, which fell to below the knees. She held the skirt higher, swung her hand beneath the fabric to display it better. I saw long tassels hanging from the edge of the skirt. “You won’t believe what this can do. Take your clothes off, and put it on.”
I felt self-conscious so I changed quickly, and while I did she sat on the bed. I put on the halter top first. It barely covered my breasts and left my midriff completely bare. I took off my skirt, and pulled on the new skirt, feeling the buttery fabric slide over my skin.
The waist of the skirt rested just beneath my belly button, and the rich folds fell in volumes around my legs. Those strange tassels dangled and tickled my skin.
“Oh, my,” said June, “there will be no resisting you.” Her words, so bold coming from such an assured woman, gave me a thrill of confidence. I took a few steps, and the fabric swayed as I walked. The strange tassels almost touched the floor. I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself, seeing a different woman.
“Spin around,” said June.
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