The Burning (14 page)

Seven

Stephan stood in his room at the Hammer and Anvil as the blackness drained away. With it, the terrible need the girl had engendered in him subsided as well, leaving him feeling empty and dry. It had been foolish to take her into the house. What did he care for her reputation? As for the fear that leaving her bloody would generate questions, he could have avoided that by just killing her. It had been stupid to let her live. If she woke knowing what he was, she would scream for the magistrates. Having the entire town storming after him with burning brands would make it inconvenient to wait where Kilkenny could easily find him.

He had been rash, all the way around.

He’d think what to do about that later. Now he must do for himself what he had done for the girl. He stripped off his tattered clothes and wiped his body with a towel wetted in his washbasin. But he couldn’t get his mind off her, what she had done for him, what could be keeping her unconscious for so long.

He wanted to know. He didn’t want to be the cause of yet
more distress. Especially since she had tried to help him.

He rolled his clothes up with hers. Tonight he would bury them somewhere in the forest. Now he needed rest. Suddenly, he was so exhausted he could barely stand. The first rays hit the closed shutters. He toppled into bed. Rest . . . he had to rest.

But the contact with the girl, undressing her, moving his hands over her body . . . He tossed in the bed, trying to forget. But his body remembered. Even now his member began to throb again. He could thank them for that. The Daughters and their training . . .

MIRSO MONASTERY, DECEMBER 1819

The small room in the bowels of the monastery was hot. A fire blazed in the huge gaping maw of the hearth. There were three chaise longues, upholstered and modern. They contrasted with the wide bench of rough-hewn stone centered in front of the fireplace. A large cupboard of carved wood, Tudor perhaps, sat next to the doorway. On the left hand against the wall was a long table laid with plates of hothouse fruit and sweetmeats, and several decanters of red wine. The walls and floor were stone as well, only partially covered by two thick Turkey carpets, one on each side of the stone bench, and several tapestry wall hangings. The room was comfortable only on the surface. Underneath, it was hard and unyielding
.

Behind him one of the sisters, he thought Estancia, closed a heavy wooden door strapped with iron and studded with bolts that were blackened with age
.

Deirdre drew herself up and clapped her hands, once. “Pay attention, Penitent,” she said sharply. Stephan felt a snap of annoyance. It must have shown in his eyes, for she approached and laid a hand along his jaw. He went still. Her hand slipped around his throat just above his cravat. He knew she could snap his neck or tear out his throat without even exerting herself. She was that old and strong. Nothing he could not heal, of course, unless she resorted to actual decapitation. But there were even worse possibilities. A thrill of fear wound around him
.

“Penitent,” she whispered, so close now he could feel her breath as she caressed his throat. “Let us be clear. You have chosen your path. Your path is through us. We can banish you from Mirso forever. Or we can keep you here and work to improve your attitude. But
you
do not control here
. We
control your destiny.”

This was what he feared most. The two others slid around their sister and put their hands on him, light threats in support of their sister. Stephan found himself sweating in the heat of the closed room
.

“What happened to the willing acolyte we saw in our father’s rooms?” Estancia whispered. She touched his hair, his ear. “You must submit to our tutelage.”

Stephan clenched the muscles in his jaw against a shiver that wanted to go down his spine. He knew his job here. He knew what he wanted. He knew he deserved whatever was to come, no matter how difficult. There was no room for pride or disobedience. They were right. “Show me the way.”

“Is that a command?” Freya asked softly, in his other ear. They were all clustered about him, their hands moving over his back, down his hip
.

“No,” he corrected himself. “I beg you to show me the way.”

“And so we will,” Deirdre said. “But first we must assess your vigor.”

“We must know where to begin,” Estancia echoed. Her hands moved under his coat. They pulled it over his shoulders
.

“How much natural energy you have . . .” Freya continued
.

Deirdre was unbuttoning his waistcoat. Estancia picked at the buttons on his breeches. The room was so hot . . . his head began to spin, whether with the heat, or from the proximity of their old and powerful vibrations, he didn’t know. What did they mean, “assess his natural energy?” Why . . . why were they undressing him? Their hands moved over his body, underneath his shirt. Freya pulled at the ends of his cravat. Their power hummed in the heavy air. He swayed. They had him naked to the waist. Estancia pulled at his breeches. Deirdre pushed him gently onto the wide stone bench. It was warm on his bare buttocks. Deirdre sat beside him and licked his throat just under his jawline where she had touched him earlier. Her hands ran through the hair on his chest and plucked at one nipple. He felt his loins tighten. Estancia and Freya tugged at his boots. His mind was reeling as if he had drunk too much. Then he was fully naked. Their hands pushed him back on the bench. It was wide enough to be a bed of sorts. They stroked his belly, his thighs. The satin of their gowns caressed his skin. He knew he was fully erect and throbbing. They . . . they were going to make love to him? Deirdre brushed his lips with hers before she kissed him full on, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth, pushing, searching. Even as she kissed him, he felt one of the others, the buxom one, Estancia, slide up against him and begin sucking his right nipple. She had slipped the silk from her shoulders. Her naked breasts pressed against him, her nipples nubby with passion. God, the third one, Freya, was cradling his sac, rubbing the stones gently together. He groaned into Deirdre’s mouth as his cock throbbed harder. Freya stroked his cock directly. He lifted his hips, needing more. What was happening to him? He had never been so aroused. His senses overwhelmed him. Estancia’s hand stole from caressing his hip to massage his balls, as Freya grasped his cock and slid her hand up and down. Yes! God, yes! How long had it been since he had had relations with a woman? But three women? He should . . . he should what? He couldn’t think
.

“You first, Dee,” Freya whispered to Deirdre. “You are eldest.”

Deirdre pulled away from his mouth, lifted her black silk skirts, and straddled his hips with her long legs. Estancia scooted up and began sucking his lower lip, her teeth just grazing it. Freya came round and sat at his other side, stroking his forehead or occasionally pinching his left nipple. Deirdre was sliding her wet slit along his aching cock. The heat, the overpowering smell of sweat and cinnamon, the hard, hot stone beneath his body, the ripples of sensation across his body where they touched him, the crackle of the fire, and the low sounds of the women as their own lust cycled up, all blended into one exquisite sensation so intense it was painful
.

Deirdre slipped him inside her and began riding him. His hips thrust up in counterpoint. He wouldn’t last long at this rate. He could feel sensation ramping up past his ability to control it. Even as he thought that, Deirdre whispered, “Not yet. Only when I say you can.”

He felt a light shower of their will. It came from all three of them. He looked up and saw the red of the reflected firelight in their eyes grow more pronounced. Deirdre rode him harder. Estancia ran her tongue inside his mouth while Freya watched all, caressing his forehead with one hand and plucking at his nipple with the other. He teetered on some impossible edge of feeling, but he didn’t fall. The pleasure was so intense it was almost excruciating. They . . . they were keeping him from his release until they could get their own satisfaction. A tendril of panic made his eyes widen, but he was powerless to do anything but thrust his hips and kiss Estancia’s pouty, bowed mouth. They were totally in control here
.

“Shussh,” Freya soothed, stroking his hair back from his brow. “Be calm. Enjoy. There is much more to come.”

And he was calmer, in spite of himself. He thrust his cock into Deirdre until she began to gasp and make small sounds in her throat. He could feel her clench around him. At that moment, they let him go, and he cascaded over his cliff edge into the ecstasy they had denied him. White exploded in his brain even as his cock pulsed in its own explosive ejaculation
.

He lay there, trembling, hardly conscious
.

“Let’s see how long it takes him to come up again,” one said from somewhere far away
.

“I can’t wait.” Which one was that? A hand slapped his face lightly. “Focus, Penitent!”

He blinked in response. Estancia loomed above him, her red silk dress hanging over the gold filigree girdle at her waist, leaving her breasts bare. They were full breasts. Her skin was tawny, her nipples large and the color of chocolate with milk in it. She leaned over him. He knew what she wanted, though she said not a word. He lifted his head, reaching for her nipples with his lips. He ran his tongue around her nipple then sucked gently. She lifted her head and moaned. Her throat arched. “Harder,” she whispered. He pulled at her breast then switched to the other as it dangled, heavy, above him. She squeezed the breast he had just left and rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. As if she could stand it no longer, she straightened, pulled her red silk skirts apart, and straddled his shoulders
.

Her buttocks were smooth and warm against his chest. He could smell the musk of her. She reached into the dark thatch at her groin and spread her nether lips. “Let me see your skills, Penitent.” Stephan felt as though he was dreaming. But he did not question. He licked her, his tongue running up and down the moist folds of flesh until it found the nub of passion, already roused. Sucking and licking, he felt her moan above him as her hips jerked
.

He applied himself assiduously. He was not surprised when he felt himself tighten again. His erection throbbed to life. Freya, dressed in pristine white satin, moved toward him. “Look, sisters,” she said, behind Estancia’s moans of pleasure. “Already he rises.” She straddled him behind her sister and slipped him inside herself. Then they were both bucking and riding him, using his mouth and cock together. He gasped and heaved. It did not take long before Estancia was shuddering and shrieking, her hands knotted in his hair, and Freya cried out in her own release. He came again in wrenching unison with them
.

“He has potential,” he heard Deirdre say as he sank into a stupor, heat and sex and sweat and female musk overwhelming his senses at last
.

That wasn’t the end, of course. God! Stephan ran his hands through his hair, sweating even two years and a thousand miles away from that night. They hadn’t made love to him. One couldn’t call it that. They had used him. Had he not been willing to be used? He couldn’t withstand the pressure of their need, that night or any other.

He pushed down shame. It had been necessary. They had shown him that. He only wished he had been a better vessel for their teachings.

“Again, anyone?”

Stephan cracked his eyelids. Deirdre lay draped, naked, over the chaise longue closest to the fire. The flames were only a flicker. The shadows and light moving over her face made her look like a demon. “He’s finally spent himself, but I can bring him up again if you like.”

“No, no, my dear. I couldn’t.” Freya fanned herself with her hand and fell into the other chair. She was lithe, an athlete, with muscular calves and delicate muscles in her back. “Three is my limit tonight. Or was it four?”

Estancia spoke in a childish, high voice. “I must admit I haven’t been so pleasantly exhausted in years.” She came to stand over Stephan. She lifted his chin with one finger. “I think he has potential, don’t you, sisters?”

“Potential for what?” Stephan managed to ask. “This is no kind of training—”

Estancia slapped him so hard his head snapped to the side. “Never, never question us.”

“Come here, Penitent, and kneel.” Deirdre’s voice was steely with the command of her Companion’s compulsion. Stephan felt every one of her thousands of years in the power that throbbed through him. He fought the urge to obey, but she was stronger than he was. He struggled off the stone bench, staggered over to the chaise, and fell to his knees. She leaned forward and glared at him. “You will not speak unless spoken to. We will tell you what you must do, and what you need to know.” She rose and walked around behind him. “You will obey quickly, eagerly, and silently.”