Concentric Circles (7 page)

“Yes.” She fished into her blouse, and pulled out a locket. “Mom said the nuns gave her this when she turned eighteen. It’s a locket with two pictures in it. One is of mom with her parents. The other is just mom when she was a baby.” She opened it and turned it so he could see.

He leaned in, took the heart shaped locket gently in his fingers and studied the small photos. “Aye, that’ll do.” He pressed forward for a quick kiss.

The taste of his mouth brought warm tickles to her stomach, brushing her insides with promises. He took her hand, and they continued through the garden to the Vesica Piscis Pool.

Once there safely, Meekal gave her another kiss and then left wearing a soft look of contentment on his face.

She watched him slip into the shadows, and then she caught sight of the tip of a black tail cruising around the holy thorn above the flowing cascade of water into the pool’s concentric circles.

Gail’s voice was calm and melodious. “All right ladies, gather around.”

Excitement charged the air, sweeping around Shayla, intense yet soft as a night breeze. An owl hooted from somewhere off in the distance.

Gail motioned. “Ladies, form a circle, please.”

Shayla watched as another woman began to walk the perimeter, lighting nine torches. The flames danced, shining with brilliant blue and orange fingers, reaching into the night, swathing the garden with their glow. When the torches blazed, the electric garden lights went off.

She breathed slowly, caught up by the beauty of their surroundings. Shadows moved, bringing everything in the garden to life. The mingled scents of autumn leaves, burning herbs and earthy essences filled her senses. The crescent moon glazed with the extra blessing of its silvery light. She felt a smile grow to match its brilliance as comfort, laced with newfound inner peace embraced her.

Gail began with a prayer, giving thanks for the year’s blessings. She then spoke about each woman present.

“Blessed Mother, please take note of Peggy. She has battled breast cancer this year and is winning. Please watch over her.”

“Ayes,” spoken with softness, went around the circle.

“Blessed Mother, Annie’s about to give birth for the first time. Please watch over her during those precious moments.”

Gail asked for blessings five more times before she came to Shayla.

“Blessed Mother, Shayla is new amongst us. Please guide her in her rightful destiny. Blessed Be. Amen.”

Nine women, said in unison, “Blessed be.”

With slow deliberate movements, everyone began dancing around the circle.

Shayla was filled with elation and a feeling of warmth as she joined in and their pace picked up. Some of the women began clapping.

The soft tha-thum of a drum vibrated through the garden. After several minutes, everyone shouted in ecstasy and sat in a circle, breathing rapidly from the excitement.

“Ladies.”

They silenced. The sound of falling water and flickering flames blanketed them.

Gail passed a glance around the circle. “As you all know, October is the time when the veils between the two worlds are at their thinnest. Each of you has brought something that is of familial importance. We come here tonight because the Wells have long been associated with bringing women together with their ancestors. When we honor them, we become much closer to who they were.”

Everyone pulled her artifact out.

Shayla fingered her locket, the gold filigree in her fingers invoked sudden uncharacteristic shyness. She tried to swallow the sensation and focused on the stone pathway beneath her. She had this small token, but she knew nothing of her family. Her mother’s face flashed through her mind. “This is all we have,” her mom said. She shivered at the boundless mystery of her past.

“Shayla, would you like to begin?”

The heat of a blush rose from her neck. The taste of her lip, memory of Meekal’s kiss upon it, calmed her slightly. She pulled the chain over her head. “I’ve been told this belonged to my grandmother. My grandparents died in an automobile accident when my mom was five. She grew up in a convent. This is the only thing I have of them.” Much to Shayla’s surprise, previously unshed tears fell.

Gail took the locket in her fingers. She studied it, and then whispered, “This is very beautiful. You are lucky to have such a treasure. There’s something else though, isn’t there, Shayla?”

A flash of energy went through her, rocketed forth by denial. “No!”

Gail’s eyes glistened, golden in the torch light. “Your boot, Shayla.”

She jumped, feeling the painful wideness of her eyes. While looking at Gail, she reached into her boot and pulled the black adamant handled
sgian dhu
out for all to see. “I bought this last month at a Celtic store in Cleveland. It has nothing to do with family or ancestors.” The small knife rested comfortably in her palm, filling her with a sense of comfort, the same as when she found it.

“Fascinating,” Gail said, yet not taking the small knife. “It’s an antique. Didn’t the shopkeeper tell you that?”

The adamant handle, looking brand new, hummed through her skin. “No.”

She experienced a slight sense of discomfort and protectiveness when Gail leaned forward and studied it closely without taking it.

“I don’t touch it, Shayla, because it’s your sacred artifact. In fact, if I recall its symbolic carvings correctly, it’s of the House of Asp. Its presence blesses and will guard you always.” Gail handed her locket back and turned to the next woman.

The rest of the Gaderian went by in a haze, Shayla’s mind preoccupied with the idea of buying a knife in Cleveland, Ohio that would bring her here tonight.
Just another hint from the White Lady?
Thoughts spun on a spiral of mystery as her fingers moved over the cool handle in her palm, pulling her mind back to the sleepy little shop, Circle’s Threshold into Ancient Journeys.

The glass case shimmered before her vision. There it was, lying on blood-red velvet. The sensual idea of having such a treasure pulled her like a persistent beacon toward home. “How much?” she asked, passing a hand over the glass case with longing. Connell, the man behind the counter, winked and passed the knife’s alluring power to her.

Everything after that blurred into memory’s oblivion
.

* * * * * *

The cool stone wall of the Tor Sunset cooled Shayla when she leaned against it. She looked into Meekal’s eyes, feeling his soul reaching out to her. “Kal,” she whispered breathlessly. “Do you really have to leave?”

He moaned and leaned in, pressing her against the wall of the Tor Sunset Inn.

She reciprocated with her own sounds of pleasure, and tilted her head into his caress. She bit her lower lip, her breathing rushed in passion’s determination. “Stay.”

He nibbled her lower lip for her, and then pulled away. “Don’t you want to have some time alone to think about what’s happened? I mean, White Lady, stray cats and Thyrzas. That’s a lot for one day and everything was strange for you.”

His breath on her face teased with an utmost yearning. With fierceness, she pulled him to her mouth, kissing him hungrily. Tremors of anticipation raced through her. She wanted to change his mind. Her leg joined in, moving up the outside of his, on its way to express desire. His racing heart beneath her fingers signaled the possibility of acquiescence. “I can think about it later, Kal. Stay.” She blew warm breath against the sensitive spot over his racing pulse.

He hissed like a cat and delved into her mouth, exploring and stroking.

She absorbed the pleasing sounds, feeling their combined breaths, and fondled him, thrusting her hips forward at the same time.

“Room number?”

“Nine.”

On a spiral of air, they arrived in her room. Their hands flashed in eagerness, clothing started flying, landing all around the room. Laughter, and then she pulled her blouse over her head.

Meekal drew back, eyes wide, and gasped.

Shayla leaned forward, letting his fingers explore her tattoo. On her left bicep, a snake wrapped a Celtic Triskel dagger. The esoteric symbolism represented an image of absolute protection. The snake’s body curled around to her back and over her shoulder. The head looked straight at Meekal with brilliant emerald eyes.

His fingers feathered over her, sending delightful little sparks in their wake. “When did you get this?”

She moved into his caress, absorbing him through her skin. “Twenty-first birthday. Mom had fits. Said I was trying to be…”

“Be what?”

“Well…” She sucked her lip in, eyeing him closely, feeling a bit tentative. “You know.” She sighed. “It’s because she never approved of me using magic. She said it was because of cultural influences; the kind that came across the Pond and engulfed everyone’s life regardless of age. Just because an author becomes famous with an interpretation of magic that sweeps the nation with surprising influence doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where a tattoo comes from.”

She looked at her arm and ran a finger over the dagger’s blade, mesmerized even now by its presence. “Mom just didn’t get it,” she murmured softly. “It goes deeper than that or some cultural phenomenon. It’s a deeper part of me.” She raised her eyes to his, seeking understanding.

A grin spread across his face. In one swift movement, he pulled his tee shirt off, exposing his tattoo. An asp slithered through the concentric circles of the Vesica Pisces Pool resting to the left over his heart—protecting both. “The House of Asp. That was our clan.” Meekal’s voice was soft as he traced fingers over her shoulder, and then down to her breast.

“Clan?”

“Aye.” He stopped talking to kiss her deeply.

His fingers on her flesh fed a need like never before. Somewhere in her mind, she vaguely wondered about such intensity, but then succumbed to its power. She moaned, arching up and clutched his head to her breast. A shiver went through her when his wet tongue circled her nipple, pulling her skin into tight nubs.

Meekal clutched her tightly, gentleness becoming heated passion. He nipped playfully while his fingers explored.

She opened for him, moaning. The agony of blissful craving overcame her. “Kal!” She thrust her hips, encouraging him to take her.

He nipped her ear, and then breathed across it. “Not yet. We rushed before.”

A shiver at the resonance of his voice journeyed to her toes. She circled his erection with eager fingers.

He growled and delved into her mouth, stroking as though his life depended on her very presence. Pulling back when air became necessary, he ground his cock into her pelvic bone. “I want to feel you, slippery and wet around me. Stroke you till you scream.” A grin returned and then he flicked his tongue.

Laughter bubbled upward when she saw the gift magically conjured there. The condom, wrapped in gold, rested on the tip. He reached up, gripping the foil between his teeth and pulled. His fingers, so fast in preparation, jolted her anticipation to new levels.

Then mischievousness gave way to impulsive action. In one quick movement, her legs wrapped him with heated insistence. She gave a victorious cry when he slid into her.

Meekal thrust, pulling her legs higher, deepening into her slippery desire. He groaned and buried his cock within her while plunging his tongue into her mouth. “Beautiful.” He pulled away, his voice rasping with hunger. “Wet. Hot. Perfect.”

She squeezed, the sensation journeying to her heart. The feeling of him against her root sent her flying. His inward push propelled a sound of elation from her throat. She heaved upward, taking him fully within.

He called out, increasing momentum, driving into her. She met him, thrust for thrust, raking his back with her nails.

“Shayla!”

Wave upon rapturous wave took her soaring into new heights—the boundlessness of magic. The edges of her being shimmered and faded, melding her into him. Within synchronized breathing, they rested in a tangle of blankets, sated.

Meekal purred.

She closed her eyes, dazed from their blissful journey. Her fingers caressed circles on his back and she sighed. His purr titillated her spine. Now, she understood his purring; he expressed his bliss.

“Shay?”

She pulled back, looking into his shining eyes. Her fingers trembled when she raised them to his mussed hair. The sensation of such softness against her skin elicited a sound from her throat she had never made before.

His face changed from one of blissful afterglow to wariness. “Shay, I should’ve said something before.” His voice merged with a strangely oppressive silence.

A charge went through her. Twice now, he acted strangely afterward. Her breath caught as she studied him. “Said what?”

He swallowed and pulled away.

The simple motion propelled her heart forward in a leap. “Meekal!”

He didn’t speak; instead, he stood and reached for his jeans. Heart thumping at an unprecedented rate, she reached for a pillow and pulled it protectively across her lap. “You’re scaring me again.” She watched as he pulled his jeans on and adjusted the zipper. Her lip, with his lingering taste upon it, rested between her teeth as she waited.

He began pacing in front of the windows, his shadow, cast from a single candle, moved across the bed with each pass.

“Kal.” His name came out like a sob. She tingled and shook, fighting mentally with the physical sensations she experienced from his distance.

He started to move closer, but stopped in mid-stride. “I’m sorry.”

This time the sob came from her belly. The hot tears on her face did nothing to absolve the feelings. “Sorry?”

He pushed a hand through his hair, leaving it spiked in the wake of the stressful movement. “I should’ve explained everything to you first. I got carried away.”

A knife plunged through her, twisting painfully. She flung the pillow aside and rose to her knees. The urge to lash out pummeled to the forefront. “You got carried away?” she screeched.

“Shayla, this isn’t easy.”

Instinct took over. She flung her hand, sending the lamp next to the bed flying across the room.

He ducked and lunged, pouncing on her. “You said you didn’t believe in magic,” he huffed, trying to hold her while she writhed beneath him.