Chapter 31 Roman
Roman
I’m wearing my robe and standing alone in the altar room, preparing myself for what’s to come.
This is important to me. Yes, it’s going to involve sex, and that part will feel good, but this is a deeply spiritual moment between us all.
In fact, I’d say it’s my way of us marrying Ophelia.
I don’t speak those words out loud because I know Cain wants us to marry her for real, or at least as real as we can since it won’t be legal for all three of us.
He wants a traditional ceremony, where we all say vows to one another, but this is my version.
It doesn’t only bring Ophelia closer to us, but it binds us three men, too. Mal was right when he said that if Cain leaves, this won’t work. It doesn’t work if any of us leaves. It’s a finely balanced situation. Like a three-legged stool, remove one of the legs and the thing falls over.
We have been through so much, and I’m hoping tonight will banish some of our demons of the past.
I sit on the floor, cross-legged, and gather the things I need from my altar.
I take the knife with the curved, wooden handle and place it the deep pocket in my robe.
Then I pray to the gods of wisdom that I don’t let anything go too far.
Things can become heated when we’re amid a ritual with Ophelia.
I pray to the gods of love and sensuality that we gain the intimacy we need.
Asclepius, Isis, Thor, and Brigid are all asked for their help in healing through this difficult time.
Once I’ve quietly talked to the many deities I believe in and gathered what I need for the ceremony, I put on my mask and exit the altar room, my supplies in hand.
In the living space, I find Cain already in his robe and mask. He’s leaning against one of the walls, and he cuts an imposing figure with his height and build. There are only lamps burning, and the low, flickering light in the room adds to the building sense of magic.
Malachi joins us—also in his mask and robe—and we wait for Ophelia. As the minutes tick by, I worry that she’s freaking out and wonder if I should go to her, but then I hear light footsteps on the stairs.
She walks into the room like a fucking vision. She’s wearing a light blue dress, so pale it’s diaphanous, and underneath, nothing. I can see her nipples, already erect, and the dark shadow of her pussy.
My mouth waters, but I tamp down my desire. I need to be in control for this to work. We all need to be in control and not let things get out of hand… or at least not until we reach the peak of the ritual.
Her hair cascades past her shoulders to her waist, and she’s wearing no makeup except for what looks like lip gloss, or maybe balm. She doesn’t need it. With the spots of color turning her cheeks pink, she’s a vision.
“You’re beautiful,” Cain says, his voice low and rough.
“Thank you.” She clasps her hands in front of her, staring around at the three of us. “So, what do we do now?”
“We head to the clearing, the one a few minutes’ walk from here. Then we can begin the ceremony,” I state. “I already prepared a fire, so we just need to light it.”
She raises her eyebrows. “We need a fire?”
“Yes, for me to prepare the tincture.”
“Couldn’t you have done that before?” Malachi asks from behind his mask. “I saw you grinding stuff.”
“I got the herbs ready, but as for the tincture, we must do it when the blood is fresh.”
We move toward the door, but I pause. “Wait.” I grab a long coat and put it around Ophelia’s shoulders. “Wear this for now. I don’t want you catching your death.”
I’ve got a blanket already at the spot we’ll be using for the ritual. It’s thick and warm and is draped over a tree branch. I checked the weather app, and it’s going to remain cool but dry, and best of all, no wind. I don’t want Ophelia getting cold.
She gratefully clutches the coat around her and holds it tight at her throat.
Walking through the woods, we are all silent, and the sounds of the night cover us like a cloak. Twigs crack as small creatures scurry around us. An owl hoots, and I pause as, in the distance, a coyote makes the familiar, high-pitched yipping sound.
“There are bears in the Adirondacks, right?” Ophelia asks nervously.
“Yes, but there’s never been any seen within the college boundaries,” I reply. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any bears near us.”
“And if there are, I have my gun.” Cain taps his waist.
I glance at him. “You do?”
“After what we’ve been through, you think I’d go anywhere without it? I’ll put it close by when we begin the ceremony.”
In a way, he’s not wrong, but it also shows me how traumatized he still is from all this. There’s plenty of security at the college.
I smile to myself as I recall the guard’s face when I dropped him a few hundred dollars to make sure the drones don’t fly near our tower for a few hours this evening, the way I always do if we’re planning a ritual.
He’d known we were up to outdoor sex, for sure.
He won’t have guessed the rest of it. Or, maybe, he will. After all, our reputation precedes us.
We arrive in the clearing and, as I glance at my two friends—Mal in his smooth white mask, and Cain with the black hood over his head—my heart rate speeds up. This is so like the first time we all took Ophelia, except this time there won’t be any chasing.
I’ve set everything up at the base of an American mountain ash, since they are good for protection, in my opinion. It will provide us with the safety we need to carry out this deeply meaningful ritual.
Setting my bowl down on the ground, I begin to take out the small packets I had filled with the herbs we need from the internal pocket in my robe. Slowly, I empty them into the bowl I brought with me.
As I empty each herb, I ask for its help. Mugwort, camomile, lavender, and liquorice, too. Along with hawthorn for healing and moving on from past personal boundary infringements, which we’ve all dealt with to one degree or another. The hawthorn helps people process pain and move through it, too.
I mix the herbs in the bowl and add water from the bottle I had placed here earlier. Once I have a thick paste, I transfer the contents into the iron pot sitting by the fire stack.
Then I add the hibiscus-steeped water, which I kept in a small flask, hidden under a bush growing up against the back of the slender tree trunk.
I’m conscious of the others watching me in silence. I appreciate that they’re taking this as seriously as I am. Expectation and energy charge the air around us, and I know we’re already existing on a higher level than anyone else at Verona Falls.
I had steeped the water long enough for it to turn a deep red and, as I pour it into the bowl and mix it with the herbs, a zing of anticipation jolts through me.
Taking out the long matches from inside my robe, I strike one and light the fire. It’s far enough from the base of the tree not to harm it, and I will put it out as soon as the ceremony is finished and clear everything away.
The flames take a while to get going, but soon they’re illuminating the air around us with a warm glow.
It’s a full moon tonight, but there are some clouds, so every now and again the white light it provides is vanquished, plunging us into true darkness.
The fire will light our way even when that happens.
Taking the pot, I place it on the fire and walk to the ash tree.
I snap off a twig, thanking the tree for its help, and use it to stir the iron pot.
As I stir, I say the words needed. The plea to the gods of the forest, the gods new and old, Greek, Viking, Egyptian, and Celt.
I invoke whatever positive and helpful deity is listening to help us grow our love together, heal our pasts, and tie our souls together.
It's time for the blood to be taken. I turn to the other Preachers, and Ophelia. She’s still wearing the coat around her shoulders, and I need her in only her dress for this part.
I slip the coat from her shoulders and look at the two Preachers. “Take your robes off but keep the masks on.”
We’re all naked beneath our robes. They do as I say—kicking off boots at the same time, and Cain removes his gun holster—and I also put my cloak to one side. They’re both hard, and so am I. We all know what is coming.
“Hold out your hands,” I tell them.
Each one does as I say, and I pause, their trust in me giving me a moment to consider what we’re about to do.
I clear my throat. “Listen, you must be sure you all want this. As I’ve said before, this is not baneful magic, and it’s not dark, but…
it is powerful. This will help us all become ever more closely tied, and if that’s something that gives you pause, then you don’t have to give your blood. No one will judge you.”
I don’t want them doing this lightly, and I don’t want them to do it if it’s not how they truly feel.
“I want to marry her,” Cain growls, “and I want you both to marry her, too. What part of that isn’t about a lifelong commitment? I know what I want.”
“I want to have your babies,” Ophelia adds, making my heart lurch. “All three of you. So, yes, I want the deepest commitment.”
“I love all of you, even if you are fucked up.” Mal grins.
Trust Mal to lighten the mood, but he’s right, I love them all, too, and we are fucked up.
“Okay. Cain, you first. I’ll prick the end of your finger and then hold it over the pot, okay?”
He nods. I reach for the items I brought with me and take out a small pack of alcohol wipes. First, I wipe the blade, and with a second wipe, Cain’s finger. I made sure to bring enough. We don’t want to get bacteria in the cuts, even though they’re small.
When he’s ready, I hold his finger over the pot and make a tiny cut in the end. I squeeze it until a bloom of blood forms. Then I let several drops hit the mixture in the pot before nodding.
“You’re done, thank you. Clean it with one of the alcohol wipes.”
He does as I say, and I repeat the process with Mal, then do myself.
Finally, I turn to Ophelia. “Your turn.”
She steps forward, and as she does, the latest heavy cloud clears from the moon and silvery light hits the clearing. It guides her path to me, and lights her so she looks ethereal and almost unreal.
I can see the outline of her lithe body under the diaphanous dress, and my cock jerks, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.
I can’t wait for the next part of the ritual to begin.