Raine: The Lords of Satyr (13 page)

As they returned to their horses, Jordan felt something humming in the air between the three brothers. Questions unasked because she was present. Questions that would fly once the three brothers were sequestered. They chose other matters to discuss while she listened in.

“What of the lecture?” asked Nick. Though he addressed Raine, his eyes remained on Jordan, still assessing her.

“A waste of time. No progress was made,” said Raine.

“What lecture?” Jordan asked, unwilling to be shut out.

Something shifted in Raine’s eyes as he helped her onto her mount. “I had just come from a lecture along the Riva del Vin in Venice the night we met,” he answered once they were all headed home. “It involved the winery business.”

“Do tell,” she said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder what he’d been doing in Venice the night they met. The theater where she’d been on display had been on the same side of the bridge as his lecture. “What was the topic?” she asked, observing him closely.

“A disease that has been infiltrating vineyards across Europe,” Nick replied.

“What kind of disease?”

“Phylloxera,” Lyon supplied.

Talk of it occupied them for the rest of the journey home and much of the dinner they shared there. It was a typical Tuscan repast of bread, olive oil, roasted meat, funghi, vegetables, cheeses, and wine all enjoyed with typical Tuscan leisure. But once dinner was complete, the men seemed anxious to be rid of her company.

“Lyon leaves tomorrow for Paris,” Nick informed her. “You will forgive us if we borrow Raine for a business discussion for the rest of the evening?”

She had no choice but to agree.

As she made to withdraw, Lyon glanced toward the window, critically eyeing the sky. “Rain is threatening. Perhaps I should postpone my journey.”

Though it was barely dusk, Jordan could already see the first stars twinkling in the clear evening sky. His demur was obviously because of his reluctance to make the trip.

“Have you forgotten the pressing nature of your obligation there? I believe the message we received some months ago indicated that time was of the essence.”

Lyon heaved a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I’ll take myself off to Paris tomorrow morning. I will miss the harvest festival if I must.”

Raine lifted a brow. “A dozen hearts will be broken, I’m sure.”

“You flatter me,” said Lyon, grinning.

He took Jordan’s hands in his to kiss her cheek. “Welcome to the family. I’ll look forward to furthering our acquaintance when I return from Paris.”

The brothers were all standing now and obviously ready to see her gone, so she took her leave of them. They holed up in the salon immersed in discussion about the various workings of the vines, she assumed, leaving her to seek her bed alone.

In her chamber, she read for some time, listening for Raine all the while. Hearing a disturbance outside, she went to her window. Among the trees below, she thought she saw two-legged shadows move. But a moment later, all was still and she decided she’d only imagined it.

She waited for Raine until well beyond nightfall, then sneaked back downstairs to listen at the door of the salon where she’d left the brothers in conference. Hearing nothing, she cracked the door open. The room was empty. Only a trio of empty wine goblets remained to indicate that the brothers had recently occupied it.

The house was dark and quiet, for Raine had told her the servants were dismissed each night at dusk and returned to their homes. Only night servants, as he had termed them, were left. They would watch over things, and he’d said she had only to ring a bellpull to summon them.

Back upstairs, she tried the door to his bedchamber again. He was still absent, but she ventured into his room and into his bed to await him. When he never came, she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

A
s Jordan bided her time in futility, the Lords of Satyr slipped from the castello keeping to shadows as they silently treaded the path to the forest, just as they had treaded it every Moonful of their adult lives. It took them to a sacred gathering place at the heart of the family’s ancient vineyard, where a great ring of statues awaited.

The most imposing of them, Bacchus, reigned over the murky glen, forever imprisoned in stone. Though his pose was different, his avid, carnal features were twin to the effigy of him in Raine’s courtyard fountain. Grapevines tangled themselves into the shape of a wreath to crown the wild curls of his head. In one outstretched hand, he held an ornate wine goblet, offering a toast in celebration of the ritual the three brothers were about to perform. It was a rite their ancestors had enacted under the veil of moonlight over all the centuries past.

Solemnly, the lords sipped an elixir poured into goblets from ancient amphorae hidden among the altars that dotted the glen. They divested themselves of their Human clothing, oblivious to the chill of autumn. The pelts of hair on their haunches and legs thickened into fur, and their cocks swelled long and heavy—well beyond their customary dimensions.

Suddenly, the full moon emerged from behind the clouds to observe them with its brilliant unblinking eye. With the coming of its light, cramps seized the brothers, ruthlessly undulating over their rigid bellies. Bent low by pleasurable anguish, they grimaced, their features turning savage as the last physical change of the Calling night occurred.

At length, the lords rose again almost as one. They were freakish beings now, as much animal as man, for the last Change of Moonful had endowed each with a new shaft of bone-like sinew—a second cock torn from the flesh of his own pelvis.

Raine averted his eyes from the twin cocks that now sprang high and hard from him. Very nearly the size of the enormous rod already rooted just below in his thatch, his new second phallus strained and twitched for the scent of a woman.

They’d taken care that no one would see them like this or observe what they would do here tonight. The force of their combined Will kept prying eyes from ever discovering this most secret part of their estate.

At the lords’ silent commands, an iridescent vapor began to stir in the stillness of the air between them. Glimmering forms solidified from it, shapeshifting into Shimmerskins—the insentient females who had attended the Satyr since ancient times.

The mist stilled and a dozen of them stepped from it, going to the brothers. Their soft hands and lips and lush bodies worshipped them, stroking over chests, flanks, and shafts.

A woman that was half-Human and half-Faerie stepped from the shadows then, moving among the Shimmerskins to take Nick’s outstretched hand. As prearranged, his wife Jane had been waiting for this moment to make her appearance. She, too, was naked.

The Shimmerskins included her in their ministrations, running their hands over her and Nick as the couple embraced. Raine and Lyon watched, envious, then they moved apart to pursue their individual pleasures with the conjured creatures.

A golden Shimmerskin favored Raine with an alluring, vacant smile. He followed her, letting her lead him to one of the altars. Bending forward, she spread her feet, planting them wide as she prepared to fulfill the role for which she’d been specifically designed. Her belly met the cold stone slab of the altar, and she placidly awaited his pleasure as enumerable beings of her kind had awaited that of his forebears over the centuries.

Raine moved close behind her. His cocks bobbed for her like divining rods sensing water. He would avail himself of both of her nether openings for this first fuck. But after one ejaculation his newly awakened second phallus would recede from her anus and back inside him. There it would remain, satiated until next month’s Moonful when it would return, ravenous for womanly flesh once more.

The light overhead strengthened. He lifted his face to it, letting it bathe him in its creamy caress. His cocks jerked under the impact of a sudden bolt of vicarious pleasure. Lyon. He glanced toward his younger brother and saw he’d just plunged himself into the Shimmerskin bent on the altar before him.

Somewhere nearby, he heard Jane cry out as Nick mated her. Another bolt of desire shot through his pricks. As always he experienced his brothers’ pleasure almost as though it were his own.

He stared down at the plump, glimmering ass before him. Raw, greedy lust twisted. His instincts had turned more bestial than Human now and his mind was riveted on one goal. He gripped her hips.

With a harsh growl, he plunged both cocks fathoms deep, losing himself in the welcome of the body before him, in his salacious enjoyment of the night. Her spine arched and she moaned, giving every appearance of libidinous relish. But he knew the truth of things. Shimmerskins didn’t experience pleasure. They only excelled at imitating it.

Raine desperately ploughed the woman under him, repeatedly ramming himself inside her with rough, staccato slams. His flesh heated and his rapture spiraled out of control, building on that his brothers were experiencing.

The savage slap of flesh echoed through the hushed glen, punctuated only by masculine grunts and feminine sighs. From his perch above them, Bacchus smiled down on the scene, gratified by the sight and sounds of their debauchery.

Raine fisted his hands on the altar on either side of the body prostrated before him. He heard Nick’s triumphant shout of release. It was quickly followed by Lyon’s.

A strangled groan escaped him. Lured by his brothers’ ejaculations, hot, wet seed blasted from his twin cocks to flood the Shimmerskin’s orifices. The pace of his coming was fierce and fast. A welcome relief. When it eventually slackened, his breath sawed in his lungs.

It was over. For the moment.

The glow of the Shimmerskin beneath him dulled as if it were waning candlelight. Her body slowly faded back into the nothingness of the mist from which she’d first issued. Another would take her place shortly he knew, and his fucking would continue until dawn. But for a moment he was left with only his tortured thoughts.

And the knowledge that he’d pretended the body under him had been that of Jordan.

A
t that very moment, three very different brothers lurked nearby in the Satyr forest as well, growing ever more impatient. In contrast to Raine and his brothers, their words were soundless amid the poppies that grew thick around them, their breath as still and cold as death.

He’s here, in the glen,
the youngest of them whispered.
She’s alone, available. Close. We must act.

But he wants her. Has other plans for her,
the second brother worried.
He’ll not make it easy for us.

He’s weakened by his wanting,
scoffed the eldest.
Distracted by his worry over the pox we’ve brought to the vines of EarthWorld. Once we have her mind, she will do our work in bringing the pox to Satyr land. Our crossing of the gate will quickly follow.

What will tempt her closer? What will bring her to us?
the two younger ones wondered.

Desire for her mate—the second Satyr son,
the eldest replied.
We will be him to her. And lure her with his call.

Yes!

With that, the brothers’ intentions intertwined and strengthened, becoming one Will. Like separate musical notes combining to form a single chord, it reached out as a tangible force, riding on the air and creeping stealthily toward the lone female it sought. Coming upon the glen ringed with statues, it paused, sensing heat. Males. Satyr. Three of them. They were engaged with females, one of whom had ElseWorld blood in her veins. But an aura of protection surrounded her. It had been woven by many months of mating with the eldest Satyr male, they knew. Though invisible, it was as strong a deterrent as chain mail armor.

The Will of the others turned away and continued on through old growth forest where moss and lichen grew, where leaves and pine needles decayed sweetly on the woodsy path. Still it crept on, reaching land whose wildness had been tamed. Onward through gardens of thyme, mint, and mums. Over the brick of paths and around hedges and fountains and beyond wrought iron fencing.

And then, it met with a sheer wall of gray stone and butted against it, finding no break that would allow it entrance. Undefeated, it moved upward along the vertical face until it found a window. Locating the thinnest of cracks between mullion and glass, it slipped through like a trail of devilish smoke.

It slid along tiles of Italian marble, past ankles clad in black cotton stockings that rushed here and there doing mundane Human chores. It whooshed up the stairs. Along a hall. Beneath a door. Into a bedchamber.

It slid across the carpet there, up along a claw-footed bedpost, and higher. Amid the pale bedcovers, it sought the warmth it sensed there. A woman’s warmth. Floating softly, it hovered just a moment over Jordan’s sleeping body. Then it slipped under the bedcovers and found her.

And finding her, it entered her dreams.

J
ordan had been dreaming. Again she’d seen the dove, only now it bore her mother’s features. Her mind turned away from the crushing pain and she again saw the blue stockings, and then the snake.

Then something new entered her dreams. Something unexpected and evil. It called to her in a hypnotic voice. A voice that was three male voices blended into one.

Come,
it called.
Come to us.

Its Will was strong.

Bewitched by its power, she rose from Raine’s bed, slipped from the room, and fairly floated downstairs. To her left, she heard servants. But she padded past them and from the house, wandering she knew not where.

Come. We await you.
The voice that was three voices beguiled her, drew her onward.

By and by she found herself passing a circle of statues. But she didn’t notice those who were engaged in concupiscent pastimes there under the fullness of the moon. And they didn’t see her.

She followed the triad of voices farther, beyond the glen.

Then she abruptly jerked to a halt, somehow sensing that she was being led to the last of her three-part dream—the snake.

“No,” she breathed.

Come. Do not fear us. Come.

But she opened her palm and looked down at it. Saw she held one of the precious ribbons Raine had given her—the red one. Abruptly, the voice’s hold was broken. She slumped to the ground.

When she awoke she found herself in the garden behind Raine’s home, alone and still in her nightgown. Her feet and the hem of her gown were dirty.

Her hands were bruised and tired. She glanced down at them and was startled to see she held a pair of garden shears. She’d used them to cut the red ribbon into many short lengths.

Even stranger, it appeared she’d collected dozens of sticks as well. Each bit of red ribbon had been tied around a pair of them to form them into an X. The bizarre objects now lay spread around her on the mosaic tile of the courtyard floor like ridiculous, gaily wrapped gifts that no one in their right mind would want.

That no one in their right mind would create.

She jumped to her feet, preparing to run inside the castello and find her bed before anyone caught her at this bizarre occupation. But after a few steps, something stopped her. Some instinct made her kneel again and spread the lap of her gown in front of her on the stone floor. With fingers that trembled, she raked the odd little packages into her skirt. Then she gathered the fabric around them and clutched it to her belly. That done, she leaped up and ran back into the house via the wine cellar door.

In the cool dimness within, she stumbled and fell. Her packages scattered. Frantic, she scrabbled to gather them. Why? Why couldn’t she just leave them? She wanted to.

Suddenly there was candlelight. Hands joined hers, searching and finding the wooden Xs. Gently each was placed back in the lap of her gown.

Two strange creatures had knelt beside her. Both were Humanlike and wore necklaces of tree bark and twigs. Circlets of leaves crowned their unbound hair.

“Let us help,” they crooned.

She’d seen such creatures in her dreams before, long ago when she’d first changed from girl to woman at age thirteen.

“Who are you?” she asked, eager to solve this small puzzle of her childhood.

“We serve the master and all who dwell under his protection,” they said in unison. Their dronelike voices held little inflection, and there was an unearthly calm about them.

“The master? Raine, you mean?”

“Master Satyr,” they crooned.

Just then Jordan heard the lilting notes of a panpipe. She lifted her head, listening. The two women stood and turned to go, moving in the direction of the music.

She grabbed one of their hands and found it soft and cool. “I understood all the staff departed at dusk.”

“We are the night servants,” the girl replied in a monotone.

“Do you live on the premises? Or away from the estate in the servants’ quarters?”

The girl raised her hand and touched Jordan’s forehead. “Sleep,” she whispered.

“Jordan?” a familiar voice asked. A hand warmed her cheek.

She opened her eyes to see a somewhat disheveled-looking Raine and Lyon bending over her.

She yawned, stretching, then sat up. “What time is it?”

“Dawn,” Lyon supplied.

“What are you doing here?” Raine demanded softly.

She touched his face, reassuring herself he wasn’t a dream. “I had trouble sleeping and wandered here. I’m afraid I’m occasionally subject to nocturnal phantasmata.”

“Good grief, what the devil is that?” Lyon inquired.

“Nightmares,” she said, yawning again behind her hand. “A physician once suggested I should not slumber on my back since he believed it heats the cerebellum. But heeding his advice had no impact on my complaint.”

“I once had a dream I was imprisoned within a big cheese,” Lyon ruminated. “I had to eat my way out. What do you suppose your physician might say regarding that?”

“That you are a rat?” Raine suggested with good humor.

Lyon gave his arm a lazy punch. Then bidding them farewell, he took himself off, whistling.

Raine lifted her and she wrapped her arms around him. Her lips found his throat, nibbling.

She felt his subtle withdrawal and hesitated. She’d rejected someone’s affections herself in just such a way several months ago. Back in Venice, Paulo’s younger sister Jeanette had developed a regrettable attachment toward Jordan, whom she’d understandably believed from all visible evidence to be a young man. Once his sister fixed her affections, she’d flirted, teased, and shadowed her.

One afternoon, Jeanette had cornered her as she awaited Paulo in a downstairs salon of their home. She’d shyly begged for a kiss. Not wanting to offend her, Jordan had complied.

Her cock had stirred pleasantly under the other girl’s embrace and she’d wondered what would happen if she were to marry Paulo’s sister one day. She could rule a wife such as this, she’d realized, and play husband to her in darkness. She could school such a wife that she was never allowed to let her hands wander over her husband’s body.

Jeanette would probably accept such a situation and never know the difference. But their marriage would not make the girl truly happy. And it would not have satisfied Jordan either. She’d yearned to play the woman herself and to experience the lovemaking of a man. She’d wanted to feel the strength of a male body against her. Inside her.

Unfortunately, with that single kiss, Jordan had managed to convince the inexperienced Jeanette that she was a masterful lover. As the girl’s stalking had grown more intense, Jordan had begun to cringe whenever she spotted her.

Did Raine now cringe from her show of desire as she once had from Jeanette’s?

“Would you prefer that I not touch you?” she asked him bluntly.

“I—” Raine began, halting as though it were a difficult question. “I enjoy your affections. I’m just not accustomed to being the object of them.”

Relieved to read the truth of that in his eyes, she planted another kiss on his jaw. “Could you not get used to it?”

Yes, he could get very used to it, thought Raine. He feared he already had.