Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan (12 page)

Ailyn tore his mouth from hers and threw
back his head, howling as he pulsated one last time within her. Pushing hard
against her, stabbing his cock as far inside her as it would go, he held still
as the last faint jerk signaled the end of his release.

Breathing hard, sweat glistening on his
body, he rolled with her until he lay on his back with her blanketing him. She
had released her hold on his waist and shoulders so that her legs and arms
stretched out alongside his, his hands clasped together at the small of her
back.

“By the gods, I’ll never walk again,” he
gasped. His heart was pounding so violently, he feared it would burst.

“You’ll never walk again?” she countered.
She too was heaving in breath. Lowering her head to his chest, she could hear
the thunderous beat beneath her ear. “You’ve crippled me, Harmattan.” She heard
him snort.

He had not slept in days and he was so
tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He was drained—milked dry—and so
weary he simply could no longer stay awake. He didn’t try. Two more deep
breaths and he was sound asleep.

Shanee lifted her head and realized he was
sleeping. Tariq had told her he would not have had much sleep—if any at all—and
so she gently lay her head down again and there wrapped in the safe, protected,
loving embrace of his arms, fell asleep atop him.

* * * * *

Every villager on Theristes was in
attendance the next night. It was close to midnight—the traditional time at
which
Ceangals
were performed. Torchlight wavering from tall brass
braziers on tripod bases ringed the
Ciorcal Beannaithe
—the Sacred
Circle—and flickered on the pristine white stones that rimmed it. Even those
who had no love of clothing were dressed in the required maize-colored robes
that symbolized both thanksgiving for the couple having found one another and
hope for the joy and inner harmony wished for their Joining. The high priest
who would perform the ancient ceremony was dressed in the white robe that
denoted his authority. The two acolytes who stood beside him were clothed in
white robes with gold cord cinctures at the waist.

Quietly in the background, three young men
beat the limed goat hide drumheads of the
bodhrán
with double-headed
tippers, the tribal beat announcing the arrival of the groom.

For the first time in his life Ailyn
Harmattan was dressed entirely in black from long-sleeved silk shirt to tight
leather pants in the time-honored uniform of a Reaper warrior. He wore black
boots polished to a high sheen and a black leather tie and belt. On the collars
of his shirt were pinned a set of silver ravens. The only color on his ensemble
was a blood-red triangle with twin silver slashes bisecting the center, near
the shoulder seam of his left sleeve. He came to the gathering from the west
along with his best man Tariq, who was also dressed in the stygian clothing of
a Reaper.

From the east Shanee came attired in a gown
of silver, her long white hair flowing freely to her hips and pinned back from
ears with jasmine blossoms. She wore soft dark gray kid slippers and in her
hands was a bouquet of tropical flowers that trailed down to the hem of her
gown. Following her was her matron of honor Bahiya clad in a dark rose gown
that swept the ground just above her bare feet.

Ailyn’s heart thudded hard in his chest as
he watched his bride approaching. She was so lovely his entire body clenched
with desire. The elegant gown fit her like a second skin with thin net strands
of silver wire flowing from scooped neckline to the deeply scalloped hem.
Sparkles of light flashed from the silver net so that as she moved, the gown
sent out shards of multi-colored luminance. His palms were sweating as she drew
near and he swallowed hard. He had never wanted anything in his life as much as
he wanted this woman and the very soul inside him sang.

Shanee could not take her eyes from her
groom. His uniform heightened the tan of his skin and the muscularity of his
finely honed body. Someone had shaped his dark hair expertly so that it was
absolute perfection curling gently at the collar of his silk shirt. His amber
eyes glowed with an inner light that lit up his handsome face. She had never
felt such love and happiness ever and her heart swelled with pride as she
beheld the man with whom she would share the rest of her days.

The high priest spoke as Shanee came to
stand in front of Ailyn.

“Who comes to seek the blessing of Alel on
this ritual?” the high priest asked.

“I, Lord Ailyn LeVey Harmattan, Duke of
Kentsington of Riezell, have come to seek the Great God’s blessing.”

“And I, Princess Shanee Lykopis of the
Royal House of Iphito of Amazeen, have come to seek the Great God’s blessing.”

Ailyn blinked. “Lykopis?” he whispered.

“She-wolf,” his soon-to-be wife whispered
in reply.

“And who has come to seek a mate for the
Joining?” the high priest queried.

“I, Ailyn, have come to seek a mate for the
Joining.”

“And I, Shanee, have come to seek a mate
for the Joining.”

“Who vouches for this man? What say you of
him?”

“I, Tariq, Prime Reaper of Theristes. He is
a good and worthy man.”

“And who vouches for this woman? What say
you of her?”

“I, Bahiya, mate of the Prime Reaper of
Theristes. She is a good and worthy woman.”

“Is there one among you who has reason to
believe this Joining should not take place or that it would be invalid?” The
high priest looked about him.

No one spoke.

“Since I have tested this man and found him
worthy of Joining, and since he is free to take unto himself a bride, since I
have tested this woman and found her worthy of Joining, and since she is free
to take unto herself a groom, and since there is no one who believes this
Joining should not take place or would be invalid, I declare this Joining can
be made!” the high priest proclaimed.

The ceremony was a blur for Ailyn. He
mouthed the appropriate responses but his mind was on the woman at his side.
Her hand in his made his entire body burn with need. Her beauty was drawing him
like a moth to the flame. He had become lost in her eyes, reciting his words by
rote though they came directly from his heart. As he listened to her repeat her
vows to him, he felt moisture gathering in his eyes.

“Ailyn?”

He had to tear his gaze from Shanee to look
at Tariq.

“Your shirt,” Tariq repeated for his friend
obviously had not heard him the first time.

“My shirt?” Ailyn repeated, completely at a
loss.

“Unbutton your left sleeve and fold it
back,” Tariq said, his lips twitching with his effort not to laugh.

Though he had no idea why he should, Ailyn
did as Tariq ordered more because the Prime Reaper’s subliminally directed
voice bid him to do so without question. He unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and
folded the cuff back twice. He stared down at his bare wrist as Tariq stepped
forward and slid a golden bracelet over his hand and onto his wrist.

“Where did you get these?” Ailyn asked.

“I made them for you,” Tariq said as Bahiya
slipped a similar band upon Shanee’s arm.

“The outward sign of your union, your link
to one another, your eternal reminder that you are now responsible to another
for your actions, is the Band of Devotion that will be placed on each of you by
your attendants. With this symbol, you will be joined for all time. Let all who
witness the placement of these bands know you are one to another, forever as
one, never to be parted by anything or anyone under penalty of death.” The high
priest laid his hands on each of the bracelets they now wore. “As this woman is
now a part of you, Ailyn, and this man a part of you, Shanee, so shall these
bracelets be a part of you. As your wife and your husband may not be taken from
you, so must these bracelets never be removed for they are the symbols of
eternal union sanctioned by the gods, endorsed by Reaper Law, witnessed by
those gathered and blessed by my own hands as a representative of Alel on this
world.” He lifted Ailyn’s and Shanee’s arms above their heads.
“Before gods and man, I declare this man and
woman husband and wife,” the high priest pronounced. “May nothing sever their
Joining!”

A loud
resounding cheer rang out over those assembled.

It was a very
sweet, chaste kiss that bound them together before the villagers. Their lips
touched briefly but their eyes were locked in a fiery dance of passion that
made them both shiver.

“I love you,”
Ailyn told his bride.

“As I love
you,” she said.

“Feast!”
someone called out, and before another word could be spoken by the couple,
eager hands latched on to them and escorted them to the long plank tables where
thick cushions on the ground eagerly awaited the diners.

Long into the
early hours of the morning the villagers celebrated the Joining. The food that
had been prepared by the women was excellent and filling, the wine free-flowing
and heady. Music added to the festive air and couples broke away from the
tables to dance to the live jigs played with
bodhráns
, tin whistles,
concertinas, fiddles and
uilleann
pipes. Children scampered about long
past their bedtimes on such a wondrous occasion as a wedding and played tag
with one another.

In the spreading
mango tree where Ailyn in his raven form had sat the day before, another man
now sat with his body close to the trunk. No one saw him there in the tree for
he had placed around him a cloak of mist so that should anyone look his way, he
would be well hidden from their view. He sat there watching the festivities
until the Joining couple rose from the table and walked toward their hut. His
hungry gaze followed Shanee until the Reaper swept his bride up into his arms
and carried her into the hut.

Fierce longing
for what he knew he could never have flooded the watcher and he sighed deeply
before vanishing in a swirling mist of black vapor.

* * * * *

Ailyn set his lady gently on her feet and
put his hands to her cheeks to pull her face slowly to his. The kiss he gave
her was no less chaste or soft than the one he’d given after the Joining. It
was a reverent kiss that held passionate promise.

“What’s on your mind,
ehemann
?” she
asked as he stepped back and swept his gaze down her silver net gown.

“Ripping that beautiful thing from your
body, but it is too stunning. Where did you come by it?”

Shanee smiled. “Would you believe Jared
fashioned it as you do my clothes from time to time?”

Ailyn’s left brow quirked up. “Jared?”

“He came to me and asked that I envision the
perfect Joining gown and said he would create it for me from my thoughts as a
wedding gift.” She smoothed her hands down the gown’s skirt. “This is what came
from our collaboration.”

“Is he…?” He shrugged and flung out a hand.
“You know.”

“He prefers men, aye,” she said with a
smile. “And he has his cap set for Colton.”

“Colton, the Barbarian?” he asked, his eyes
wide. “The body builder who looks like a rhino?”

“The one and the same,” she said. “They’ve
been keeping company for about a year now.”

Ailyn released a long breath. “I kinda
thought Jared was a bit—well, you know—with that odd hairstyle of his.”

Shanee turned her back. “There won’t be any
ripping of this fine creation so unbutton me so my daughter can wear this…” She
stopped realizing what she’d been about to say then shook her head firmly. “My
daughter-in-law-to-be can wear this gown.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and drew
her back against him. “Does it hurt you that we can only have sons?” he asked.
He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“I won’t lie to you,
ehemann
,” she
said. “I have always wanted a daughter but I am not bemoaning the fact it isn’t
to be.”

“I’ll give you as many sons as you’ll ever
want,” he said, and slid his hands to the myriad silver buttons that ranged
from neckline to waist and began undoing them.

“Three, maybe four, will be enough,” she
said with a little laugh.

When he had the buttons undone, he slipped
his hand to her shoulder and pushed the gown down her arms and chest. Once over
her shapely hips, it fell into a shimmering pool at her feet and he drew in a
ragged breath.

“Shanee!” he gasped.

She turned and stepped out of the circle of
her gown. “Aye?” she asked as she kicked off her slippers.

Ailyn’s gaze turned hot as the fires of the
Abyss. His lady had worn nothing at all beneath the silvery gown and she had
shaved away the lush triangle that had graced her lower body.

“Why did you…?” He could not stop himself
from turning his hand and placing his palm against her bare juncture. He was
stunned to find her already wet for him.

“As much as I like that uniform, e
hemann
,
I’d just as soon you do your molecular thingie and…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish for Ailyn
flung out his free hand and the black silk shirt and black leather pants, tie,
belt and boots were history. He stood there with the largest erection she’d
seen between his thighs to date.