Terran Times - Violet Visions Part 4

For the briefest of instants it occurred to her that she might have to, might even be expected to, take charge of the situation.

And for that same briefest of instants it also occurred to her to wonder if she would prove any more capable than he of bringing about the only possible resolution short of death. For either of them.

But even as she stopped to wonder, an amazing thing happened.

Their positions reversed.

Twila had no clear way to know who did what to make it happen. It seemed the world just suddenly and naturally tumbled around its own axis. It seemed everything she had known before s.h.i.+fted effortlessly beneath and around her. As if a hidden force of nature was hard at work behind the scenes, she found herself inexplicably levitated. Into an all-new position. Atop him. Still joined with him, still intimately and excitingly a part of him.

Energy like none she'd known before kicked in.

Tired as she was, and ready to collapse, that fresh strength infused her every vein and artery, every muscle and sinew, with impossibly wild bursts of energy. With many, many successive bursts of energy.

The heat of it flowed through her. Ricocheted through her.

And she became an inhuman creature. She became a force of nature in her own right, created outside the constraints not only of human strength and agility but impervious to the flow of time and s.p.a.ce as humans understood them.

Possessing Bishop already, she found herself wanting to possess even more of him.

To that end she raised her hips in a rapid stroke that slipped 28 eXtasy's Collective Mind her body easily along his scoring length. Her way was no longer dry, no longer resistant. It was soothed now, and smoothed by the now non-stop s.h.i.+mmer of moisture exploding inside her.

Pressing hard into the cus.h.i.+ons of the couch they shared, pressing her knees deep into its resistant yet supporting softness, she used every bit of her newfound manic strength to raise herself and lift herself all the way up. All the way back, so that only the piercing head of his c.o.c.k remained with her, throbbing heavily between the parted, encapsulating ridges and folds of her greedy flesh.

Bishop murmured restlessly. Uneasily. He ground out a wordless growl that seemed to try to resolve itself into words, though of course it was pre-destined to fail.

Groaning herself as a long, quivering rapture rippled through her, Twila allowed herself to drop. Reclaiming him, she entrapped him for all time with flesh that closed snugly and jealously around him. She reclaimed him completely, with full intention of never surrendering him again, to any man or any woman who might demand it.

It was all she could force herself to do to lift again. But she had to do it. So that she could make one final, mind-and-soul-altering plunge, amidst a great and exuberant throbbing inside her head, and every other single part of herself. Amidst a freshening rush of steamed-silk moisture bursting between her legs.

They cried out. Both of them. In unison.

Each voice built upon the other and each voice complemented the other. Each gave new depth and meaning to the other.

They cried out as one, at the instant of their mutual peak. A peak so perfectly orchestrated that they burst simultaneously, with cataclysmic force. With force that threatened the end of 29 Violet Visions existence...all forms of existence.

"G.o.d!" Bishop screamed. Face contorted, head tilted far, far back so that its top very nearly met the divan's cus.h.i.+ons, he grimaced. Tight cords stood out at either side of his throat, rigid enough that they appeared ready to explode through taut skin, prepared to add living crimson to the kaleidoscope of sudden, unexpected heat and damson-purple rapture that filled the small room.

"G.o.d," Twila echoed much more reverently, though hardly more quietly. Rocking frantically atop him, clinging ever more persistently to him with woman's flesh that lost more and more of its substance and ability to cling even as she tried, she worked with mounting frustration to find more pleasure. More satisfaction, where naturally, as a function of sheer human release in the name of survival, there could be no further pleasure. Or satisfaction.

She ached. Ached, with the fresh agony of finis.h.i.+ng. Of a final bursting that mixed her most vital essence with Bishop's, and his with hers. She ached with the supreme agony of detecting the very first sign of softening defeat in the rock-hard c.o.c.k that still pierced her through and through. As it seemed to have pierced her forever.

All too soon she would be forced to leave him entirely, and tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. First a few, then a veritable flood of them drained the very last of the life from her as she understood that he was utterly finished while she had so very, very much more to give and to take.

Bishop's next sound, almost a.s.suredly his dying one, was a protracted and guttural cry that expressed at least as much agony as Twila felt when she collapsed, finally, away from him.

She nearly tumbled backward off the divan. Nearly driven off by a tremendous thunderclap that seemed to come from within, 30 eXtasy's Collective Mind but might just as easily have come from some place completely outside and separate.

The thunderclap seemed to rock the room. It seemed to rock the entire building, and even the ground upon which the building stood.

"What the h.e.l.l?" someone asked.

In her dazed state, struggling to come to terms with the after effects of the o.r.g.a.s.m to end all o.r.g.a.s.ms...an o.r.g.a.s.m made all that much more sweet by its very unexpectedness, and the way it seemed to scroll on and on and on with no end in sight...the only sound Twila could absolutely hear was the stammering thump-and-thud of her own laboring heart trying to escape through her ears. And maybe, possibly, though the certainty of it remained in grave doubt, the rasping of her own breath as it clawed its way laboriously into and out of lungs that would not expand enough to grant more than the narrowest margin of s.p.a.ce. But she could hear no other sounds, surely. No voices, all but certainly.

Bishop seemed to suffer no such after-affliction. Visibly exhausted, his c.o.c.k now shrunken in full retreat, he sprawled across the opposite curve of the divan. But he was aware. He had to be aware, because as the ringing clamor inside Twila's head subsided the smallest amount, she heard quite clearly his response to the supposedly imagined voice.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Instantly a hot spiral of need and eager excitement began again inside Twila.

Here was something new. Here was something not entirely unexpected, looming suddenly in her future, as brightly as a beacon of...

The other voice said something. But she was not aware enough yet to make out specific words or to attach meaning to 31 Violet Visions them.

Bishop moved.

Rolling to his side, he nudged her gently with the knuckles of a balled-up fist. "Twila!" he urged with a note of eagerness rising again in his voice. "Are you with us, Twila?"

Us?

Who?

"Uh...huhhhhhhh." She struggled to focus upon his face. But it kept s.h.i.+fting. Kept wavering in and out of view, victim of some strange dark shadow that kept trying to constrict her vision to nothing.

"Sandra's here." The rising note of antic.i.p.ation in his voice was hard to miss. Even for one as unfocused by pa.s.sion as Twila.

For an instant her stomach quivered. For an instant it quavered. Nervous. Uncertain. And then, surprisingly, interested.

Maybe...

Bishop propped himself up on an elbow next to her. His eyes twinkled in the most enticing way. And so did Sandra's as she pressed a knee to the top of the divan, her hands already at work on the b.u.t.tons of her scarlet-silk blouse.

Perhaps...

"Menage a trois," Bishop murmured.

Dinner at the Tavern had definitely been called off.

32.

eXtasy's Collective Mind Everscape Dark Night of the Soul By K.A. MuLady he scope and depth of the darkness in the Shadow World was T a thick ma.s.s of moving blackness smoldering in the grey shadows that blanketed my mind, my voice, and even my limbs. I felt like a dark void in an eye of emptiness.

The blood flowing in my veins was warm and heavy-thick as it coursed through my body. So much so that I could feel the weight of it slithering its heavy ma.s.s through my flesh, like leech-worms struggling to move as they grew fat on the feast that was my life-blood.

The oppressiveness was forcing my limbs immobile, and yet I could feel an internal chill rus.h.i.+ng over and through me like arctic winds from the north country were stripping away layers from my flesh, and I knew I was but moments away from my bones being exposed to this vile Darkness.

33.

Violet Visions I wanted to scream, to lash out, but even the stale putrid stench of death that clung to the air was too heavy to take into my lungs. I caught the faint whiff of lilacs tinged with old blood and I desired to let go, to drift freely into this dark abyss that stole over me, as I thought I heard the call of the city of the dead beckoning me. Calling my name. Requesting me to join them.

I'm certain my council would have had a great feast at my demise and celebrated my pa.s.sing. And then they would finally have been able to take over my lands, and run my people into the ground, stripping them of their lives, their liberties and of every piece of coin they had ever prospered to gain from at my reign.

This terrible thought made me want to weep from this sadness. I yearned to shed an ocean of tears for all of those who would suffer and die at the hands of these vile men. Men who my people thought were loyal to them. Those leaders who sat at my council and broke bread with me. Drank my wine.

Those who spent years after my mother's death teaching me the proper etiquette and portents of a ruler to a great land and a prosperous people. Those who plunged this dagger of lies and deception into my very spine.

Those who thought I was too feeble-minded to recognize their deceit.

I lay with the weight of the Lands of the Dead pressing in on me, attempting to steal my very essence, and I wanted to cry. But immediately following this tumult of weakness was the need for vengeance. Hatred, vengeance and fury. I wanted to rip out the hearts of every single one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds whom I called my friends.

The need to punish them, to physically split open their chests while I watched their bodies spill their life-blood as I tore the very hearts from them rushed through my body with a kind of euphoric delight-and the oppressive weight paused, and 34 eXtasy's Collective Mind listened to my madness.

My rage echoed through my mind, begging with the full weight of my fury to gouge the eyes from their sockets-and the Darkness receded just a little. I wanted to tear each of them limb from limb and bathe in the warmth of their blood as the halls of my castle ran red in a crimson tide of their suffering and I reveled in their destruction and demise-and the opaque obsession that was my own destruction released me.

I awoke in a tangle of silk bedding, my lungs bursting from the scream that tore its way from the pit of my stomach and past my parched lips as it echoed off the stone walls of my room.

Valen burst through the door like a dark rampaging G.o.d h.e.l.l bent on someone's destruction-his dark wings spread out behind him, his bronzed chest bare, and the blade in his hands, bigger than my body, gleaming in the iridescent light of the hearth flames.

"My Queen," he growled as he scanned the darkness, his golden eyes quickly taking in the entire room. He pulled me from the bed, uncaring and completely oblivious to my state of undress-his only concern being my protection.

Through the haze of chaos that had become my mind as I cowered behind him, I realized that is why Valen Resnek was a Shadow Guard. And this was why he was chosen as my Guardian.

He was the elite of my Shadow Guards-his skills unmatched and his loyalty to the throne of Alm unprecedented. He stood six feet eight and was the warmest shade of bronzed oak that I had ever seen-from the top of his mane of gloriously long, wavy coal black hair to the rounds of his feet. His wings were a mixture of white, tan, taupe, earth and darkness all blended together in an arch of feathered beauty.

Valen Resnek is a Night Hawk-a master hunter of the midnight skies. And in that moment, as the Darkness dissipated 35 Violet Visions from my mind and sulfuric tang of death and lilacs clung to the back of my throat as I relearned to breathe, I was grateful for his strength and his protection.

"Valen," I whispered from the s.h.i.+eld of his wings. They s.h.i.+fted and I knew that he scanned the room once more- searching for the threat. Seeking something to kill.

"Valen," I said again as I laid my palm against the softness of his feathers. He slowly turned and faced me.

"It was but a dream, Valen," I whispered as I looked into the golden turmoil that had become his swirling brown and yellow eyes.

He stood silently before finally realizing that there was no physical threat within this room to kill. It was then that he finally realized that I stood naked before him. I could feel the s.h.i.+ft of his heart rate, feel the madness of the bloodl.u.s.t leave him as other awareness took over.

It was strange this knowing. It had been happening more and more since my twenty-first birthday. I would see people, my friends, my advisors, and I would know what they were feeling, what they wished for. And at times, I almost felt as though I could give it to them. Or simply take it away, leaving them with nothing.

Nothing but the cold empty ache of longing and darkness.

And something in me reveled in the Darkness, and that scared the h.e.l.l out of me.

"My Queen," Valen whispered, his eyes finding mine.

"I'm fine, Valen." I wanted to say more but the feel of the silk as it settled around me brought a chill to my emotionally charged senses.

"You should not sleep so, My Queen," he told me his voice as thick as the night clouds beyond the castle's windows. "Should we have need to leave in a hurry or if you are attacked it will make your travel and protection difficult." He tried to scold, his 36 eXtasy's Collective Mind voice stern as the vibrato of its tenor rolled through me. But his eyes never left mine and I could feel his desire for me emanating in waves. I knew it was an emotion he would never act upon on his own. So I stepped into the hollow s.p.a.ce between us and closed the distance.

"Do you want me, Valen?" I asked him. I could feel his every emotion rolling through the air between us. Crawling beneath my skin like the waves of the ocean. He wanted to kiss me and so much more.

"My Queen, you have but to ask and I will die for you."

I knew that it was so. So I did the only thing I could think of to do. I pressed my lips to his and sealed the vow between us.

His lips were at first gentle against mine as he considered his duty then he tossed his sword on the bed, clutched me in his arms, and kissed me like a woman was meant to be kissed.

Putting aside for the moment his duty to a Queen. His tongue delving into the heat of my mouth, as he tasted my surrender was all the entreaty he needed.

I was immediately lost to the frenzy of his need as my own rushed through me and I wound my arms around his neck, plunging my fingers into the depth of his hair as he lifted me from the floor and wrapped my legs around his waist.

The heat of his mouth on my neck sent shards of desire wafting in waves down my body to pool in the center of my womanhood as his deft fingers knowingly trailed fire down my flesh until they found the liquid heat of me.

Slowly he prepared me for his entrance, stroking and caressing me until I writhed in his capable arms.

"Valen, you must take me," I gasped praying that this pa.s.sion would keep the Darkness from returning to me.

As he drove the thickness of his shaft deep into my core and my body erupted into a million fragments of light I knew I had 37 Violet Visions been granted this one reprieve.

Dawn brought a cavalcade of emotional turbulence as I prepared for the Gathering. Diiun-Nar, the High Ward to the Lands Between had come to see me, and with him a sealed doc.u.ment of my impending doom.

Chosen. I had been chosen as a contender for Ward of the Lands of the Dead.

"But how is this possible?" I asked as I paced before the flames of the hearth in my solar.

"The Wards have spoken child," he said his old voice weathered with time and the lines of his gray face making his features sunken and hollow. Diiun-Nar was said to be a thousand years old and from the darkness of his eyes and the reed-like frame of his willowy body he appeared more dead than alive.

Perhaps this is what being a Ward would do to you, I thought as I considered the ramifications of this news.

"But I did not enter my name. Do I not need to consent?" I asked. "Do I not need to be willing?"

I knew I was being disrespectful to the Ward. He did not have to bring me this news himself and yet he had. But I had not chosen this course and I could not keep the panic or upset from filling my voice. I looked across the room to where Valen stood as sentinel and only found regret and understanding in his eyes.

There was nothing that he could do to aid me either. Once my name was entered, it could not be withdrawn.

"It matters not child. You have been chosen. And rightly so,"

Lord Diiun-Nar said as he stood before me taking in my appearance.