Rampant

Prologue

THE UNMISTAKABLE SOUND OF A WOMAN BEING pleasured echoed through the woods above the village of Carbrey. The sound was deeply sensual, and powerful—as if she dared anyone to defy her needs. The witch master watched over her with a sense of satisfaction, breathing in the sexual power that filled the atmosphere. The woman was his willing acolyte, and he nodded at the other members of the coven who circled nearby, eager for a taste of her.

Midsummer moonlight filtered through the trees, lighting the spot where she lay naked on the woodland floor. Her knees were pulled up, legs open. With one hand she stroked herself. With the other she beckoned to the tall young man who stood between her feet, inviting him to come closer.

“Take me,” she urged.

“I’m ready,” he replied. Stripped to the waist, his finely-muscled body was taut with restrained lust, the muscles on his back flexing as he grappled for the belt on his jeans, undoing it even as he dropped to his knees between her legs. He looked down at her writhing body with undisguised hunger. The coven master circled them, watching with pride.

Her ecstatic moans grew louder when her lover locked his hands around her hips, holding her steady while he buried his face in her pussy, sucking on her clit before he ran his tongue deeper, lapping at her eagerly.

Satisfaction flowed in the coven master’s veins as he anticipated all that would be made possible here. The sexual power that would manifest through their union would be his. The two powerful witches bucking together on the forest floor would open a channel through which he would commune with the Hidden World.

The female acolyte’s pale body glowed in the semidarkness as she arched with pleasure. Juices glistened on her thighs; her breasts were tilted up, the nipples peaked and hard. Her chestnut-colored hair spilled across the ground, tangled here and there with leaves and earth. She looked over her lover’s shoulder and flashed her eyes at the master. Recognizing what she was showing him, he smiled. She had access to strong magic and he had done the right thing choosing her from his coven for this task. She was powerful, an intelligent young witch coming into her mature period. The sexual ecstasy she radiated created an arc of energy that glowed in the atmosphere around them, heating the earth below the spot where she lay, breaching the boundary between this world and the spirit world.

“I feel her, I feel her spirit close by,” she cried, her back arching again.

The coven master felt destiny closing. Both power and lust were potent in his blood. Between them, they could achieve this task, this thing that had called to him all these years—the resurrection of the soul of Annabel McGraw.

All had been properly prepared. Five small fires had been lit in a circle, and the acrid smoke from their sacrifice drifted between them, a numinous web that united them in purpose. A silver salver had been placed on the ground nearby. Some of Annabel’s relics had been arranged on it—items the coven master had retrieved from her home after her death—a lock of her hair, a pendant she wore, fabric from her clothing. They were ready to commune with her spirit, to begin the awakening.

The master chanted the ancient words of occult ritual, while his male acolyte drove the length of his shaft inside the woman. Her cry was exquisite. Their sexual energy fuelled the ritual and the master watched them drive and thrust, anticipating joining them in their frenzied lovemaking when the time was right.

Lifting his hands he breathed deeply and began to speak, his voice ringing out across space, time and worlds. “Lord of all that is powerful and mysterious, hear my call. Help us in our task, for we seek to rouse the spirit of your most worthy of female acolytes. Give us the means to resurrect the soul known as Annabel McGraw, who was taken from her coven nearly three centuries ago.”

For several long moments the grunts of the rutting couple on the woodland floor were all that filled the silence, and then the wind lifted. An ethereal mist moved though the trees.

The coven master chanted louder. “We beseech you to enable her to unite with us, her true brethren.”

The mist that wisped around them was heavy with female allure, as if Annabel’s spirit had stepped out of the trees when she heard his call. The master’s head lifted, hope filling him. Annabel, my Annabel. So many years he had been alone, so many years that he had dreamed of his lost lover. Soon she would be with him again.

The mist whirled in on itself over the spot where the couple mated, and the master’s loins instinctively flooded with desire, his erection throbbing. He thrust his hands into the mist, desperate to capture it. Power surged through his hands and into his body.

“Grant us the power to give Annabel new life—she who could capture souls in a glance, enslaving them to her. She whose magic was destined to be the most powerful witchcraft in all of Scotland!”

As he spoke, he unzipped his fly and grasped his cock in his fist, stroking it, his lust increasing. “She who hovers betwixt your world and ours, walking through Her Haven in ghostly form, waiting for this moment. She who will make our coven whole and invincible.”

He stroked the length of his shaft, anointing it with the fluid that oozed at his cock’s head. The power in the atmosphere intensified, the spirits of the forest emerging from the trees, awakened as they were by the ritual. Sprites and nymphs, the ethereal woodland dwellers of the Hidden World, darted hither and yon, magnifying the psychic energy on the atmosphere, playing with it as they looped around the unfolding ritual.

The witch on the forest floor was lost in her climax, her head rolling from side to side, her eyes glazed.

“She awakens from her slumbers,” her young lover blurted, his back glistening with sweat. “I feel her, too. Join us, feel her essence rise from the earth.”

Dropping to his knees, the master mounted the man’s back. Working his palm over the engorged head of his cock, he drove it inside the kneeling man’s anus.