Chapter Fourteen #3
“Do we …” Aoife’s voice cut through the blood pumping in Shadach’s ears. “I’m not sure how this ritual works now. The priestesses really only told me about the dance.”
Shadach looked at her, all sincerity and curiosity. This couldn’t truly be a ploy to betray him, could it?
“From here on,” Shadach said, “the worship is ours. I don’t suppose they would have told you much.”
“They said something about the blindfold, though?” Aoife nodded to the crumpled fabric in Shadach’s hand. To him, it was made of poison.
“They did,” Shadach tried to smile, “didn’t they?”
Then, it happened. Shadach contemplated the worst. The unthinkable.
What if he lied? What if he told Aoife the blindfold was optional?
That the ritual was, truly, as he had said, theirs and not anyone else’s to define?
Not even the God himself? a voice bellowed in Shadach’s head.
He could lie. Aoife would believe him. She didn’t know much of the God’s worship, what was considered proper and what was not. He could lie.
Staring at the cloth, Shadach relaxed his grip. Yes. He could. He could also become the very thing he despised most in this world. With a fractious sigh, Shadach held the cloth out to Aoife.
“If it isn’t too presumptuous,” he said, “I do believe yours is the feminine spirit here.”
Aoife smiled, lovely and unassuming as she took the blindfold, running her fingers over the soft silk. Shadach’s heart skipped, remembering the way those fingers had touched him, explored his body as if he were a work of art unto himself.
Could he do this? Could he allow this? Could he give of himself in the way the God demanded?
He was about to find out. Aoife circled to the back of him, her robe swishing the pillows beneath them.
Shadach knelt, allowing her to settle the blindfold in front of him with ease.
Shadach watched as the dark fabric moved closer. Closer. Closer.
The blindfold pressed against his eyes. The fabric was soft, but to Shadach it felt like fangs digging into his skin.
And then … darkness. Shadach’s breath hissed, his heart thundering as his mind struggled to cope.
He would do as the God demanded. He would allow himself to be blinded.
He would force himself to trust Aoife, to trust the God.
And then the knife would come. From where?
From whom? He didn’t know. But he would be helpless to stop it.
“Is the blindfold too tight?” she whispered in his ear.
“Just right.” Shadach was caught between ripping the veil from his eyes and leaning deeper into Aoife’s whispers.
“Good,” she said. Then, “I’ve never done something like this before.”
“Me neither.” Shadach’s breath came in tight jerks.
“Really?” Aoife’s voice moved closer. “I would have thought …”
When her voice trailed off without a hint of returning, Shadach said, “Thought what?”
Aoife laughed. Nervous. “I just assumed you’d done a lot of … adventurous things. Worshipping the God and all.”
The way she said adventurous, so loaded, so daring, it nearly made Shadach moan. But how could he be thinking about that when he knew what was coming—
She kissed his neck and hot sensation poured through him. She kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier. Making his anxious mind drown in a sea of heat. Shadach felt her soft lips kiss down, down, down his neck until she reached the fabric of his shirt.
“Is this okay?” she asked. Ragged. Sultry.
“This being simply ‘okay’ would be a grave understatement,” he breathed. Her whispery moan sent shivers through him. He reached for her with unseeing eyes, the darkness suffocating him as her warmth against him gave him air.
She nestled against his body, him kneeling, her standing. She raked her hands through his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp, the motion rippling down to his shoulders and draining the nervous tension there.
Shadach yielded to her touch as Aoife explored his fully clothed body.
She touched his chest, his back, his arms, feeling every bend and bulge of muscle.
She teased his ear with a nip that made him sway, then lingered carefully, deliciously on his collarbone.
Who had taught her such seduction? he wondered.
And then, a flash of jealousy, unexpected and ferocious, for whoever had been given that honour.
“Do you mind if I …” Aoife tugged at the hem of his shirt.
“This is your seduction,” Shadach said. “I’m yours. You needn’t ask anything.”
Shadach heard Aoife’s sharp inhale, the sound devastatingly erotic.
Then, he felt the slow, caressing tug of his shirt being lifted up, up, up his chest, off his arms, and over his head.
He heard the flutter of the fabric hitting the pillows and Aoife’s contented sigh.
What he wouldn’t have given to see what she looked like and not just hear her.
Shadach’s entire body tingled, waiting in anticipation for her touch to be his once more.
He didn’t have to wait long.
She reached for him with her delicate fingers, her hands caressing the muscles of his chest, her lips peppering him with soft, eager kisses. No part of him went untouched. No part of him went unclaimed.
Shadach wondered if this was how the God had felt as Tamar had danced for him. Helpless under her spell and never happier to have been that way.
“Don’t you have a secret to tell me?” Aoife whispered.
The blissful eroticism fled him and fangs of fear dug into Shadach’s throat.
“I have no secrets,” he said. Lied.
Silence.
Had he spoken too harshly?
“I thought they said that was part of the ritual.” Aoife’s gentle laugh was cautious. Nervous.
Of course they had said that. But how could he give of himself?
How could he risk? Whose ritual is this?
Yours or the God’s? That voice, unforgiving and unrelenting, bellowed in Shadach’s head.
He swallowed, his throat thick. Would the God allow Shadach to be destroyed in his own temple? Would Aoife?
Find out. Shadach didn’t want to find out. He wanted to take off the bloody blindfold and keep his secrets to himself.
“Is everything okay?” Aoife sounded worried, the heat in her voice gone. Shadach felt shame, more than he’d expected, at dousing that heat. Not to mention guilt at being afraid when he should have been brave. He wanted the heat back. He wanted the ritual back. He wanted her back.
For that, he’d need to tell her something.
Something hidden. Tell her he could see Shadows being created?
No. Tell her about his other gift, his most secret of gifts that he guarded more closely than his life?
Never. Then tell her who you are, echoed in his mind.
Perhaps, these really were the God’s whispers.
They were far too terrifying and relentless to be his own, not asking the world of him, but asking more than enough.
There was one aspect of himself he hid. But not from everyone. The problem was that everyone who did know was Halcin. Aoife wasn’t. What if she tried to use this knowledge against him? What if she tried to destroy him because of it?
What if she doesn’t?
“Shadach?” The heat and lightness in Aoife’s voice was gone.
Shadach’s heart thundered. His secret played on his lips even as he felt he was suffocating.
“I’m a Halcin prince,” Shadach said through strained teeth, every instinct in him begging him to be silent. The God was stronger. “Of a sort. My mother is the head of the Halcin council.”
With that came power. Access. All the resources of the Halcin were available to him in ways non-existent to others. Drugs, stolen art, weapons and other illegal resources. At least, they would have been available to him if he hadn’t been shunned. But most Selats didn’t understand that.
How badly Shadach wanted to rip off this blindfold, to see Aoife’s face, to witness her thoughts in her eyes. Perhaps this was the moment he would find a knife in his chest. Perhaps now, he would pay for trusting.
“I guess being Emperor will be easy then.” The tenderness, the humour in Aoife’s voice caught him off guard. That was it?
“Lie down,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath was hot, the lustiness coming back into her voice. Shadach hesitated. Was that really it? A little joke and nothing more?
“Don’t you … want to talk about what I said?” Shadach was nearly holding his breath. Surely, she must have something to say about it. He had power. Strength and connections she could use. Wasn’t she the least bit curious?
“Is this still my seduction?” she said.
“Of course.”
“Then there’s things I’m more interested in doing with you than talking about your family.” Her laugh was soft, sweet. “Lie down.”
Shadach sat slowly, feeling the ground with his hands. Wherever he touched, there was nothing but softness. He reached to his right, feeling the edge of Aoife’s robe, the heavy fabric soft against his fingers. She moaned ever so slightly as she touched his chest, guiding him to the ground.
A slip of fabric. The tap of a finger against a wooden button.
Shadach’s breath hitched. Aoife was undoing his trousers.
The blood roared in Shadach’s ears, his heart pounding as he felt her fingers working their way between his body and the waist band.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, she worked the trousers down his hips. Down his legs. Down his feet.
Off. His trousers were off.
One part of Shadach relished the air against his skin and couldn’t wait to see what Aoife would do next. Where she would touch him next. The other part of him wanted to know what she planned to do with his secrets. Did his bloodline, his power really not matter to her? Was that even possible?
Beneath the dark of the blindfold, Shadach saw a shadow, a movement. Aoife kissed him, soft yet commanding, daring him to wonder and worry while her lips were on his. It was a dare he could not accept.
Shadach softened into the pillows, into Aoife’s touch, as she felt her way down his abs, seeming to relish the feel of every. Single. One.
“I didn’t know someone could be this hot,” she whispered in his ear.
Shadach smiled despite himself. “You should see the rest of me.”
“I plan to.” Aoife reached her hand down, teasing his lips with her tongue as she grazed his cock still caged in his underpants.
As if his body was hers to control, hers to master and command, his cock went hard in her hand, stretching at the fitted fabric.
Aoife moaned into his ear. His chest was thick with the scent of her, his mind overwhelmed by the feel of her.
Shadach ran his hands over her robed body.
How he wanted to rip off that fabric, to taste and feel and touch.
To claim her as she was claiming him.
“Now, now,” Aoife whispered in his ear, a smile in her voice, “this is my seduction, remember?”
Shadach’s cock went even harder. “How could I possibly forget? With what you’re doing to me.”
Shadach groaned as Aoife slipped his underpants over his bulging cock and down his legs. He throbbed, tensing and relaxing with ever kiss Aoife gave him as she worked her way up his legs. Her hot breath touched him.
Shadach couldn’t breathe. The anticipation of her touch. It was too much. Her mouth, hot and wet, encircled him. He lurched from the intensity of it, the tip of him touching the back of her throat and making him moan even harder.
Aoife caressed him with her tongue as she pulled back slightly then drove him deeper into her mouth.
Shadach gripped the pillows beneath, gripping them so hard he feared they might rip as her tongue lapped over him, sucking him like he was a decadent sweet.
The slight moan she gave every time his cock lurched in her mouth from the sheer pleasure of it drove him into a lustful frenzy.
Pre-cum gathered at the tip of him and Aoife swallowed, her entire mouth closing around him.
Shadach felt himself getting bigger. Harder. Ready to come the minute she commanded it of him. Somewhere, a part of Shadach told himself to be careful. That this was the moment. This was when he was most vulnerable. Most able to be destroyed.
The rest of him didn’t care.
He was clay in Aoife’s hand and she could do with him what she would. And oh, the things she could do. Shadach’s hips fell into the rhythm of her sucking, reaching up to meet her mouth as she came down on him, then relaxing into the pillows as she moved away.
The rhythm grew hotter. Faster. As she sucked him, licked him, drove him wild.
Shadach’s body tightened as Aoife lapped up his cock, raking her hands over his thighs.
Demanding he let her have him. He tried to breath, tried to relish this moment, this feeling, this unspeakable pleasure. But Aoife was not to be denied.
He came hard and fast, exploding into her mouth, his hands gripping the pillows below without mercy. He hovered on a plane of perfect bliss for one second, two second, three—
Shadach collapsed into the softness beneath him, his chest heaving in air as quickly as he could.
“Even the great Tamar of legend,” Shadach gasped, “could not have seduced the God of Lust with such perfection.” He felt Aoife’s fingers against his face, tugging at the silk blindfold. The darkness in front of his eyes turned to soft candlelight, Aoife’s smiling face looking down at him.
“Really?” Her hair clung to her neck. Sweaty. Her eyes bright and feverish. He hadn’t been the only to be caught up in the moment.
“Without a doubt.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. Then another kiss. Then another. It seemed impossible, but Shadach could feel the heat stirring in him again. Insatiable.
“What’s that?” Aoife pulled back, and it took everything in Shadach to not bring her right back. Instead, he listened.
“The bell.” Shadach lay back with a frustrated sigh. “The ritual is over.”
And he had not been destroyed. In fact, he had never felt so alive.