Virgin Sacrifice: Bred to the Beast (2 page)

Lucas took her dress in both hands and pulled it up to bare her stockings and her naked thighs.  It caught on her knees only for a moment and left burned red skin when he gave a stronger yank.  He gathered the woolen fabric in a wad that sat on her lower back as he knelt behind her.

When he pulled down her underwear, Anja turned her head and said, "Lucas, please, I'm not ready.  The Wise Woman, she'll check to make sure.  You know we can't..."

"Don't worry," he growled.  "Your precious virginity's safe with me."  But the hunger remained in his voice, wild and uncontrollable, and Anja felt anything but safe.

Lucas slid his broad hands over her bare ass, then slapped it as he would a stubborn mule.  Surprised, Anja jumped and let out a yelp as a thousand needles prickled across her flesh.  Then something hot and hard pressed into the cleft of her buttocks, like a rod of iron wrapped in smooth silk.

Instead of trying to pierce her sex, Lucas slid himself up and down along her crack, his member still wet with her own saliva and something else, something warm and thick that seemed to drip from his swollen tip.  His rough thrusts pressed her against the tree root, and Anja struggled not to tumble over it.

Lucas wrapped a hand around her, and his fingers found their way up under her dress.  He explored her thighs and belly, circling the tuft of dark hair between her legs like a wolf circling a wounded sheep.  Despite his rough, fevered thrusting, her sex seemed to swell and quiver in anticipation of his touch.  She felt hot and wet down there - soaking, in fact - and desperate for him.

She arched her back, pressing her buttocks against his cock, moving against his rough thrusts and opening her legs so that his fingers could...

Anja shuddered suddenly as Lucas's hand stopped its playful circling and slid between her legs, parting her pink flesh to reveal that smooth, secret place.

He found her swollen, sensitive nub with such quick expertise that Anja wondered briefly where he'd learned such a thing.  Then a wave of pleasure rolled through her body, and she convulsed as it pushed all thought from her head.

Lucas bent over her now, and when he moved his powerful body, she felt like a leaf in the wind as he pushed and pulled her.  His hot breath warmed nape of her neck, and his fingers pressed against her sex, moving in quick little circles even as he thrust against her crack.  Anja's heart pounded in her chest, and she clawed the ground with her fingers, pushing the thick carpet of leaves into the dark, moist soil as her breath came in fast gasps.  In a high, reedy whine, she urged Lucas on.  "Oh yes, Lucas, please, more, please, I beg of you!"  His fingers moved faster, and as the wild sensation inside of her swelled and swelled, the bloomed with unexpected suddenness.  She felt a moment of pressure just before pure ecstasy swept over her.  Her screams rebounded through the wooded hills as intense sensation like nothing she'd ever felt rippled through her body in slow, pulsing waves.

She pressed hard against Lucas, clenching her buttocks around his hot, hard length.  She felt him shudder as his cock pulsed against her.  He grunted and pushed her dress up almost to her neck, pressing down on her back as something hot and thick and wet landed between her shoulders, followed a moment later by more.

As her own climax receded, Anja giggled in amazement as Lucas's seed spilled out over her naked back, coating her in glob after glob of sticky, warm fluid.

Finally, Lucas sighed and settled back on his haunches.  He gave her a gentle pat on the rear and chuckled.  "We'd better get you cleaned up, my dear."

When Lucas and Anja reached the village, the sun had fallen behind the mountain.  Nestled between two ridges, Krall was a hodge-podge of tall, slender houses and shops built of wooden planks with thatch or slate roofs.  Most of its folk scurried about their last evening duties, closing up shops and hurrying home to dinner, where candles and lanterns cast pools of orange light out into the dim evening. 

Anja hurried to matched Lucas's long stride as he led her through the winding streets to the village square, a wide, open area at the center of town with close-cut grass and criss-crossing footpaths.  At its center stood an ancient, gnarled oak far older and thicker than any Anja had ever seen.

The Sending Tree, it was called, and it had been here even before the village.  Torches mounted on iron poles surrounded its trunk, brightly illuminating the tree and the smooth circle of bare wood on its trunk, where the Beast would leave its mark to call the Sending.  That circle was unblemished now, and Anja prayed it would stay so for another year.  She shuddered and gripped Lucas's arm more tightly, and they hurried past the tree without a word.

Anja lived in a small cottage on a gentle rise overlooking the square.  Her father must have seen them coming; he stood waiting on the low porch as they crossed the small garden.

"About time you got home," Bren grumbled at his daughter.  His brow furrowed as he took in the wet, stained knees of Anja's dress.  He lifted the cloth cover of her basket and peered in at the truffles.  "That's all you gathered?"

"All I could find, father," Anja said.  "The days are getting shorter."

"And so you squandered part of this one traipsing around with Lucas here?"  He glared at Lucas with an open frown.  "I thought you at least had more sense than to keep a woman from her duties, boy."

"Apologies, sir," Lucas said with a bow that contained no trace of his usual light mockery.  "But it's not like that.  I've spent the day hunting.  I only saw Anja on the way back to town, and she asked for an escort."  He pulled one of the rabbits from the brace on his belt.

"Would you like one of these, Bren?  I'm afraid I killed more than my family can eat tonight, and Anja gave me one of her truffles."

Bren hefted the rabbit, nodding his approval.  Even though he had blessed the marriage, Bren hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of Lucas as his daughter's future husband.  Even so, he respected Lucas's ability as a hunter, and meat in the stewpot was always good.  "We're just getting dinner started.  Stay and eat with us?"

Lucas glanced up at the sky, a deep orange fading into purple, and shook his head.  "Thank you, sir, but I'd better get home before dark."

Anja took his hand and gave an imploring squeeze.  "Please, Lucas, stay a while!"

Lucas squeezed back gently and smiled.  "I'll see you tomorrow, my dear.  Sleep well."

Anja didn't want to let him go, but he pushed her hand away with gentle firmness.  Since the owl's cry in the woods, she had felt unsettled, safe only in his strong arms.  She watched him stride off into the night, then ducked into the cottage.

Dark came quickly, and dinner was a silent affair, but for the crackle of the fire and spoons scraping the last dregs of rabbit stew from wooden bowls.  Several times, Anja's father pushed back the edge of the curtain to peer out at the square.  When Anja asked what he was looking for, Bren smiled and said too casually, "I thought it might snow tonight."  But he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes.

In the morning, Anja went to the window, hoping to see snow, but the ground was bare and brown.  She dressed and went outside.  Down the hill, a scattering of villagers hurried about their errands in the chill morning air.  A crowd had gathered around the Sending Tree, and her heart sank.  They huddled in small, nervous groups, shifting from one foot to the other.  Now and again, one would glance at the smooth place on the tree trunk.  A dark blemish marred the smooth white circle now.  Anya leaned forward, trying to make out the symbol that hadn't been used since before she was born.

"Anja?" A man's voice startled her, and she turned to see Dal Marson, one of the Village Elders.  Two men she recognized as blacksmithing apprentices flanked him, wide-shouldered lads with grim expressions.  "You'll need to come with us, dear."

The cottage door opened, and Bren burst out.  He saw Dal first, then jerked his head toward the square.  His eyes widened in alarm.  "No!" he shouted, reaching for Anja.

As though expecting this outburst, the apprentices leapt forward and seized Bren's arms.  He struggled uselessly in their iron grip as they dragged him back toward the cottage.

"Bren, everything's going to be fine," Dal said in a deep, soothing tone.  "You know this has to happen, but there are twenty-one girls for this Sending.  Gods willing, you'll see Anja again tonight."

With a growl, Bren threw himself at Dal, but the two men held him fast.  "Not my Anja, Dal.  She's not old enough yet!  Damn you, Dal, not my girl!"

When she saw the murderous glint in her father's eyes, Anja stepped forward and took his hands.  "Father, it will be okay.  Please, if you hurt someone, I don't think I could bear the shame.  I'll be home for dinner."  She kissed his cheek, then turned to Dal.  "I'm ready."

The two younger men stayed with Bren, and would until the Sending was complete.  As Dal escorted her to the growing crowd on the square, Anja felt suddenly alone.  She craned her neck to search for Lucas, but he was nowhere to be found.

As they crossed the green, Anja saw the rune on the Sending Tree's trunk clearly for the first time.  Drawn in blood that had dried to a reddish brown so dark it was almost black, the two diagonal lines joined at the top represented fertility, and the  a third that slashed downward through them represented death.  The Sending had been called.

Dal led her to a wide, low tent of heavy canvas that stood at one corner of the square.  The canvas was dyed the same reddish brown as the mark on the tree, and a thin ribbon of smoke rose from the hole at its peak.  None of the people bustling about the green came near; they somehow knew to avoid the tent, but Anja had never heard of it.

"What's this?" she asked.  "Aren't we to draw?"

Dal nodded and dropped his eyes.  "You'll draw soon enough, Anja.  But first, you must visit Rela."

Of course.  The Wise Woman would ensure that she came to the Sending a virgin.  Girls she found otherwise were expelled from the village, a severe penalty that would force them to look for work in the lowlands, where it was said many eventually found themselves in brothels.

Dal stopped well short of the tent and nudged Anja forward.  "Go, I'll be waiting."

Anja walked slowly forward, her hands gripping the seams of her dress until her knuckles turned white.  When she pulled back the tent flap, warm air wafted out, carrying the sharp scent of burning herbs.

"Enter, child," a woman called from inside.

Anya ducked into the low tent and let the flap drop behind her, cutting off the morning sunlight.  The tent seemed bigger somehow on the inside.  Smoldering coals glowed in six braziers around the edges, bathing the tent in a dim red light.

Rela, Krall's Wise Woman, stood in the center, wrapped in a thick bearskin.  Her long golden hair spilled over her shoulders, woven with dark feathers.  The bearskin hung open in front, and Rela's full, round breasts were only partially concealed by the tangle of bone necklaces that hung about her neck.  The points of long fangs, too large for a wolf, pressed against those soft, pale swells.

Her long, slender legs were bare, and her skin glistened as though oiled.  Rela was old, far older than any woman in the village, but she had the ripe body of a woman Anja's age.  A secret of herbs and witchcraft, some said.  Her body drew men's eyes, but none would approach her; all feared that she would cast some spell to whither their manhoods or enslave them to her will.

"Anja, daughter of Bren," she intoned.  "Today you will draw for the Sending, if I find you virtuous."  She raised a hand, and several bracelets rattled on her wrist as she beckoned Anja forward.

"Remove your clothes, child," Rela said.

Anja fumbled the buttons on the back of her dress, the same she'd worn the day before with Lucas...  Her cheeks reddened at the memory, and she glanced nervously at Rela.  Would the woman know?  Would what they had done be enough to cast her out?

As though she could hear Anja's thoughts, Rela smiled at her discomfort.  "Fear not, child, I will not harm you."  She glided across the tent until she stood face to face with Anja, then shrugged the bearskin from her shoulders.

Heat from the braziers cut the chill air, and Anja felt beads of sweat form on her neck and trickle down between her high, firm breasts.

Rela's green eyes reminded her of a mountain cat sizing up its prey as she swept her gaze down across Anja's naked curves, and one long-nailed finger touched Anja's jawline, then followed a droplet of perspiration downward, over the curve of her left breast to brush lightly against the nipple before plunging to Anja's flat belly.

Anja tensed, waiting for that finger to move lower, but Rela pulled her hand away, and her lips curved up in a wicked smile as she stared at Anja's neck.

The Wise Woman brought her face within inches of Anja's own, sniffing and moving around Anja with sinuous grace.  She touched Anja's neck, the same spot where Lucas had sucked at her skin only the day before.  Had he left a bruise?  Anja's hand went up involuntarily to cover the spot.

Behind her, Rela let out a low chuckle and pushed Anja's fingers aside.  "That's not all he's done, is it?"  Rela's own lips closed on the same place, and Anja gasped as the woman's tongue moved against her flesh.

"I... don't know what you mean," Anja stammered, grateful for the flickering red light that hid her blush.