After a few moments she gently moved away. Trillian turned his head to look at me. “Are you sure?” he mouthed.
I bit my lip. “Yes. Are you having doubts?”
He shook his head. “Never. I feel like we’ve been together for years. I feel like I already know you, know your body.”
And then Nori returned, a second priestess with her.
“Liliabett.” The priestess introduced herself.
Between them, they carried the table with inks and brushes over to the dais. Nori held her hands over my chest and warmth rained down from her body. Liliabett did the same to Trillian. Living beacons of passion, they were desire incarnate.
After a moment, Nori said, “We’re ready to begin. Camille Sepharial te Maria, do you undergo this ritual freely, of your own will, knowing that what will be done can never be undone?”
I licked my lips. “Yes. I do swear.” My voice was a whisper on the wind.
“Trillian Leshon Zanzera, do you undergo this ritual freely, of your own will, knowing that what will be done can never be undone?” Liliabett’s voice was the perfect counterpoint, as sultry and warm as Nori’s was cool and melodic.
“I do, by my oath and honor.” His voice spiraled up and then out as if he’d never said a word.
“Then we begin.”
Nori narrowed her brow, focusing on me as she lifted a fine-tipped brush and dipped it into a silver paint pot. With a steady hand, she began to trace an outline on my forehead, a swirl of glyphs, fine-lined and delicately fashioned. I closed my eyes as she worked, line by line covering my face.
The tracing tickled, but I remained perfectly still as she worked her way down my neck, leaving a trail of runes that sang as they touched my skin. Magic, her art was, and magic was the paint.
Onto my shoulders, working in silence, she deftly covered me. And then to my chest, making me suck in a quick breath as desire rose fiercely. She stroked my nipples with the tip of the brush, then the curve of my breasts, the undercarriage and down to my torso.
I began to drift, the rhythmic kiss of the brush lulling me into an erotic haze. The bristles flickered over my stomach, then down to my thighs and across my mound. She gently nudged open my thighs and spread open my labia, painting runes along my pussy and onto my clitoris. I shuddered, trying to control the hunger that flared as she touched me.
And down my legs, along my knees, encircling my ankles, she went. By the time she finished, I saw that Trillian was as covered—and aroused—as I was. The paint dried quickly, and we gently flipped onto our stomachs. The priestesses worked their way down our backsides, covering every inch of us with the silver glyphs and symbols.
When they were finally done, they asked us to stand. I gazed down at myself—a vision of silver fire on pale skin. Trillian cleared his throat. He was silver on black, the contrast incredibly beautiful. Like spun metal shining against dark velvet.
“Follow us,” Nori said, and the two women led us out of the main chamber and into a private room, in which there was a bed that sat atop a floor covered in runes. She held out a bottle as we knelt in front of her.
Liliabett reached for my hand and I offered it, palm up. She placed a silver goblet beneath my palm and with a curved blade, slashed an inch-long shallow gash across the pad. As I watched, blood spilled into the goblet. After a moment, she did the same with Trillian.
Nori poured the contents of the bottle into the goblet and a swirl of smoke rose, boiling over the rim. She held the goblet out to me.
“Take it.”
As I held the glass, she began to sing a low song in a language I didn’t understand. But her energy flared brightly. She was a shining jewel.
“Drink and bind yourself through your bodies, through your souls.”
I lifted the goblet, then glanced at Trillian. This was it. There was no going back. Before I could think about it, I swallowed a mouthful of the potion and fire raced through my body, arching me back. I would have dropped the goblet, but Nori caught it and handed it to Trillian, who tipped it to his lips and finished what was left. He shivered, clutching his arms to his chest as the pain took hold.
Nori stepped back. “And now, one thing remains to seal your union. If you do not consummate your relationship now, you will forever be half-bound, weak and hating each other. You must finish the ritual.”
She and Liliabett excused themselves from the room.
I turned to Trillian, barely able to stand, the spasms were so intense. But as I tried to sort through the pain, I realized what I was feeling was actually desire—aching, searing lust so strong that it was cramping my body.
Trillian lifted his head to look at me. Behind the veil of his sky blue eyes, I could see the primal god.
The lord of the forest, the lord of the rut, the lord of the horn.
He leapt to his feet and for a brief moment I was afraid, but then the cramps hit again and all I could think about was finding a way to ease the gnawing hunger.
Panting, I stumbled toward the bed and he followed, his gaze never leaving mine. As I danced to one side, he reached out and grasped my waist, his touch firm and demanding.
“I will have you,” he whispered, his voice almost a grunt.
Shivering, confused by the flurry of pain, I pulled away and he followed, grabbing my wrist to whirl me around and back me up against the wall.
“Let me in, Camille. Let me in.” His hands planted on either side of me, he leaned against me. My pulse fluttered as he lowered his lips to mine, and then we were bathed in a silver light as his tongue played over mine and he enfolded me in his arms.
We began to spin, around and around he twirled me as his chest pressed against my breasts. I gasped, trying to clear my head, then pulled him to the bed. He loomed over me, his lips seeking my breasts as his fingers danced their way onto my clit. As he stroked my fire, I cried out and grasped his shoulders.
“You’re the golden man,” I whispered. “You taste like honey, sweet and warm and rich and thoroughly fine.”
“And you’re my queen, and you taste like moonlight and starflowers and the echo of birds at sunset.”
He lowered himself to the outer lips of my pussy, setting off a string of explosions. Firecrackers sizzled one after another along my body, and all I could think about was that Trillian was about to slide his gorgeous, smooth cock into me and how much I wanted every inch of him, in every possible way.
“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Don’t make me wait any longer, please fuck me. Hard. Take me hard and rough—I don’t want gentle.”
Trillian let out a guttural laugh and plunged, driving himself into my core.
Under a shower of sparks that ricocheted through my body, I moaned and shifted my hips as he picked up the pace, pumping gently at first, then grinding into me, each thrust sending me into a shockwave of pleasure.
As we rode the wave, I began to notice through the sex haze that my skin was hurting. I glanced at Trillian’s shoulder and gasped. The silver markings had begun to writhe, they were boiling like a swarm of creatures across his body and I knew that my own runes were doing the same. But the friction of our heat pulled my attention back to him.
I clung to him as he thrust, deep and hard with that silken cock of his. His skin was warm against mine, a perfect fit and in some little corner of my mind, I realized that I’d never had it so good in bed, never felt the same sense of connection before.
Everybody else saw me as the rock, the anchor, or—in the case of men—just a good fuck to hook up with and leave behind. But Trillian’s eyes gazed at my soul; he was staring down at me and he was seeing me. All of me—
both sides of my heritage
, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
As thought began to slip away, and I came to the edge, the markings on my body began to burn. I let out a sharp cry as Trillian grunted, wincing.
“What’s happening?” I flailed, unable to stop either the pain or the rush toward orgasm. Every rune had become a flaming brand and with every move, their flames grew brighter.
“The ritual—it’s part of the ritual,” Trillian gasped out. “Can’t stop . . . would . . . kill us . . .”
Everything took on the color of violet fire as the magical silver on our bodies burrowed deep beneath the skin, hissing and tattooing themselves through muscle and skin. Goading me with as much pleasure as pain, they pushed me toward the edge, toward the final release.
And then I looked up at Trillian. But instead of seeing his face, I realized I was looking through his eyes at myself. The braid that had spontaneously bound us had melted into a thick cord of silver and flame and passion and lust. The beating of his heart synchronized with mine, and in that moment, I felt his spirit pass through me and back into himself. Then, in a cascade of silver fire, came release.
THE pain subsided as we lay there, exhausted. I shivered and Trillian drew the blankets up to cover us. He slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. The markings had disappeared from the surface of our skin, but they were there, beneath muscle and bone, tattooed into our spirits, binding us forever.
“What next?” I asked. “Where will this lead? What’s going to happen now?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I only know that you belong to me. You are
mine
, Camille. Even if you share yourself with others, you’ll always belong to
me
. I’m your
alpha
. I’m your mate.”
As he spoke, an image flashed through my head. A dragon circled overhead as a fox watched from below. Quickly the images came, and just as quickly, they were gone. I blinked, wiping my eyes. I was tired and spent. But in my heart, I knew that they related to the future—to our future. Just like I knew that a shadow loomed, waiting for me to discover it. And Trillian would be there to help me weather the approaching storm.
But I left all of that unsaid. Instead, I kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips on mine. “Yes, I belong to you. And you belong to me. You saved my life, you saved me from humiliation at my boss’s hand. And I think . . . you saved me from myself.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was low.
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. But in time I think I’ll understand. And for some reason, the idea of that knowledge makes me very much afraid.”
“Hush,” he said, tapping me on the nose. “Don’t worry about what might happen. Live for today. There may be no tomorrow, so for now, enjoy what we have and revel in it. I know I’m going to.”
Trillian sought my lips again, and in the silver fire of his kiss, I forgot about visions and shadows and the future. For now, there was only his touch and my touch, and the merging of souls and bodies.
Playlist for
Etched in Silver
Blue Öyster Cult:
“(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”
David Bowie:
“I’m Afraid of Americans”
“Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed”
Death Cab for Cutie:
“I Will Possess Your Heart”
Dead Can Dance:
“The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove”
“Yulunga”
“Indus”
Fleetwood Mac:
“The Chain”
“Gold Dust Woman”
Gary Numan:
“Bridge? What Bridge?”
“War Songs”
“Sleep by Windows”
Gorillaz:
“Every Planet We Reach Is Dead”
Nirvana:
“Heart-Shaped Box”
“You Know You’re Right”
Police:
“Every Breath You Take”
“King of Pain”
“Invisible Sun”
Rolling Stones:
“Play with Fire”
“Gimme Shelter”
Simple Minds:
“Don’t You (Forget About Me)”
Thomas Dolby:
“She Blinded Me with Science”
Thompson Twins:
“The Gap”
“Watching”
“Love on Your Side”
“Sister of Mercy”
Midwinter Memories from the D’Artigo Sisters
I asked Camille, Delilah, and Menolly what their most striking memories from their childhood Yule celebrations were, and here’s what they had to say:
Camille:
What I remember most from my childhood is how our mother loved the holidays. She’d taken our customs, added her own, and created a truly beautiful blend for the Midwinter celebration. She would fill the house with holly and evergreens, and white poinsettias and red carnations and starberry flowers the color of gold.
Each year Father brought in a tree and we’d decorate it with spikes of polished quartz and delicate porcelain ornaments that Mother had made, and we hung baked cookies in the shape of stars and suns and moons from the branches, along with garlands of strung berries.