Rituals of Passion

RITUALS OF  PASSION

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, July  2005

Ellora’s Cave  Publishing, Inc.

1056  Home Ave.

Akron, OH   44310

ISBN  MS Reader (LIT)  ISBN #  1-4199-0285-7

Other available  formats  (no  ISBNs  are  assigned

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mob     ): ipocket (PRC) &  HTML

RITUALS OF  PASSION  Copyright  ©  2005 LACEY ALEXANDER

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED.  This book  may not  be reproduced  in whole or in part  without permission.

This book  is  a  work of fiction and  any resemblance to persons,  living  or dead, or places, events  or locales is purely  coincidental. They  are productions of  the  authors’ imagination  and  used  fictitiously.

Edited by
 
Heather  Osborn.

Cover art by
 
Christine Clavel
.

Warning:

The following material contains graphic sexual  content meant for  mature  readers.
 
Rituals of Passion
 
has been rated  E–rotic by  a minimum of  three independent reviewers.

Ellora’s  Cave Publishing offers three levels  of  Romantica™  reading  entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and  X (X-treme).

S-
ensuous
 
love  scenes are explicit and  leave nothing  to  the imagination.

E-
rotic
 
love  scenes  are  explicit, leave  nothing to the  imagination, and are high  in  volume  per  the overallword count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy  material that  some readers findobjectionable,  such  as bondage,  submission, same sex  encounters, forced seductions,  and  so forth. E-rated titles  are the  most graphic  titles we carry; it is  common, for  instance, for  an  author to  use words such  as

“fucking”, “cock”,  “pussy”,  and  such  within their  work of  literature.

X-
treme
 
titles  differ  from E-rated titles only in  plot  premise  and  storyline  execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the  letter X tend to  contain controversial subject matter not for the  faint  of  heart.

BRIDES OF CARALON:

RITUALS OF PASSION

Lacey Alexander

Dedication

The Brides of Caralon series is dedicated to Leonie Daniels, who first encouraged me to try my hand at erotica, and to Anya  Bast, who gave me a helpful tip or two along the way.

Rituals of Passion

3585 A.D.

5

Lacey Alexander

Chapter One

Maven entered the large kitchen just after sunrise, jerking to a halt at what she saw.  Senya, one  of the maids, sat perched high on  the cook’s table, her pale leather dresshiked to her hips, her legs wrapped around the waist of Arleck, the fortress’ gardener.  Maven held in her gasp, aware they didn’t  see her. Her first thought was to retreat, leave them in privacy—yet an odd pulling sensation at her inner thighs urged her tostay. With her heart beating against her chest like the thunder of hooves, she ducked back into the shadows provided by the large stone oven.

“Tell me what you  want,” Arleck demanded hotly of Senya. His voice was tempered with just a hint of playfulness  that confused Maven. Was he angry or amused?

Senya’s answer was practically a growl.  “More of you. Deeper. Give it to me.”

Only as Arleck pulled her body toward his  in a rough jolt did Maven notice his hands were on the maid’s bare ass. Senya groaned at the impact, and Maven burned to see between their bodies, to understand exactly what feral act took place between menand women. Ares above, it was a curse to be  a daughter of royalty, kept in the dark about the act that everyone else seemed to  understand so well—and to indulge in with great frequency.

Just last week she’d come upon Senya in the garden with  a shopkeeper from town.  That time, their bodies had not been pressed together  like this —the man had instead knelt between her legs. She’d been seated on  a garden bench, seeming to tease the man by pulling her dress up one scant inch at a  time. Maven had  forced herself to  leave onthat occasion—due to propriety, and embarrassment—but now her curiosity was getting the best of her, dictating her decisions.  Curiosity, as well as the sensations that had taken over her body lately—sometimes a  mere tickle, other times a tingle, at worst an insatiable
 
itch
 
of sorts. She felt like an idiot watching them while not even understanding what she witnessed, but such was the fate of a royal girl in Caralon.

Arleck continued pushing his hips at Senya’s with great groans that Maven feared might wake the whole fortress. The maid released small sobs, but her face shone with such passion that Maven was convinced Arleck caused her no pain.

“Yes, lover,” Senya purred now, “just  like that. Hard. Harder. Mmm, yes.”

The entire room dripped with a raw sensuality Maven couldn’t comprehend, but which she felt just the same. It seemed to seep from the pair at the table and ooze onto her, causing a lately familiar  moisture between her thighs.

“Mmm, yes, Arleck, now,” Senya demanded, her voice turning harsher. “Now!”  The two bodies beat together in what Maven  sensed must be an ancient rhythm, as old as the land of Caralon itself, stretching back to the Before Times and beyond. “Oh,

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Rituals of Passion

Arleck,” Senya whispered, her movements slowing into something more sensuous than frantic, “that was very fine.”

“Tell me you want more,” he said, his voice going lower. “Tell me you want moreof my cock.”

Senya licked her lips in the dim morning light. “I want more of your cock, lover,” she imparted with a wicked smile. “I want you  to ram it into me so hard and deep that I scream.”

The words made Maven flinch. She’d never  realized the act was so…violent. What

Senya asked for sounded painful. And still Maven’s crotch felt silky and wet, anxiously awaiting more of their performance as she peeked around the oven.

Again Arleck pulled the maid to him, even  fiercer now, although Maven would not have believed it possible. And just as she’d  requested, Senya let out a shriek each time their bodies  collided.

Maven’s
 
own
 
body dripped with sweat.  Partly from the oven—their morning breads were baking. In fact, that was why  she’d come—she’d awakened early, hungry, perhaps from the gnawing ache that grated at  her thighs and breasts these past months. So far, she’d found nothing in the kitchen to
 
ease
 
that ache—it continued to grow andexpand, leaving her certain some of her perspiration could also be attributed to watching Senya and Arleck thrust themselves together with such wild abandon.

Soon Arleck’s cries joined Senya’s, and Maven felt the tension between thembuilding, rising, even from her spot in the  corner. Finally the gardener let out a long,low moan before slumping over  the maid, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

When he rose to face her a moment later,  his eyes took on the amused look Maven had seen earlier. “Naughty Senya. You always start my day off right.”

The two shared a giggle and Maven suddenly  understood that this bizarre act ofpassion and violence had likely taken place  in the kitchen before—perhaps often. She drew in her breath. Imagine—this going on, right here in her own home, and her none the wiser!

“When you  manage to get here first,” Senya said with a wicked laugh.

Arleck chuckled, too. “I’m sure Ragan and  Elger were most disappointed to find I’d beaten them this morning.”

Maven warmed even further—from the oven  or the conversation, she didn’t know.  It sounded as if Senya kept their kitchen even  busier than she’d first thought. She bit her lip at the implication of Senya knowing so  many lovers. Maven would never have that  opportunity. Not that she was even certain she’d want it. At the moment, the act  between man and woman seemed less appealing than usual—she’d never imagined there would be such screaming and struggling involved.

Even so, her thighs grew  damper still. Perspiration, she told herself. From the oven.

7

Lacey Alexander

Yet as she watched Senya and Arleck kiss and cuddle, finally finding a good time tosneak from the room, she couldn’t deny the yearning in her breasts, the tingle in  hercrotch, all for the strange, secret rituals that awaited her in the marriage bed.

* * * * *

Later that day, Maven sat near the window, practicing with the Maran tiles as her younger sisters, Teesia and Laela, watched. Laela studied the pyramid of wooden tileswith rapt fascination while Teesia only glanced down from time to time, trying to hide her interest—but Maven knew both sisters were as mystified and curious about the tiles as she. Their time to learn the sacred game, however, would not come until after Maven had been gifted as a bride.

She supposed it could be any day now, given that she’d turned bride’s age a fullweek ago. Perhaps that was why her curiosity, and the tingling sensations, had escalated lately. Her stomach clenched with nervousness as she studied the tiles, unableto find another move.

“Oh, there —those match,” Laela said  eagerly, pointing at two tiles.

Maven raked her long  blonde braid over her shoulder and scowled. “Quiet! I am to play the game, not you.”

Laela pushed her bottom lip into  a pout, her pale chestnut plait seeming to droopalong with her expression. “Only trying to help.”

“Well, no one will be there to help me at my  wedding rituals, will they? If you two wish to watch, I expect  you to be silent and allow me to concentrate.”

“Sorry, Maven,” Laela murmured  meekly, even  as Teesia  rolled her eyes at Maven’s tone. But Maven didn’t care—she had every right to be emotional over the tiles. As with all brides of royalty, she didn’t know what  significance the Maran tiles held in the wedding ceremony, only that  it was  important she be skilled in the game.

Just then, the large wooden door to Maven’s chamber opened to admit her maid,  Lavonia, who had cared for her needs since her childhood. All three girls looked up with a start from where they  sat around the Maran board.

Lavonia cast a typically teasing look. “A good thing I am not your mother, yes?”  Traditionally, the Maran game was so sacred that the bride-to-be was not to  practice it in the presence of younger siblings.

“Please don’t tell, Lavonia,” Laela implored.

Lavonia planted her  hands on  her rounded  hips, looking skeptical. “So long as you girls are not hindering  Maven’s play, not interfering in any way.”

Maven thought her youngest sister looked guilty as sin, blinking rapidly as she said, “Oh, no, of course not. Just watching. And…well, wondering.”

For the first time in a while, Teesia spoke,  leaning her head in a persuasive tilt.  “Lavonia, won’t you tell us now?”

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The maid flashed a derisive look. “You know  better than to  even ask. The secret of

the tiles will be revealed to  Maven on the night of her wedding. As for the two of you,  you shall find out in good time.”

“Not even a hint, a clue?” Laela begged.  “We wouldn’t ever tell that you told.”

Maven continued studying the tiles, but her heart beat with the same curiosity she heard in her sisters’ voices, that same curiosity that
 
haunted
 
her these days. Why must the wedding rituals be so secretive? She’d  have given anything to know what relevance the Maran board held in store for her.