The Strangling

He moved his fingers over the water, but did not break his intense gaze.

"This is magic,” she whispered, a strange new awareness growing in her as she bore witness to two worlds at the very same time, that which was around her and that many leagues away.

When she looked at him he nodded. “Of sorts,” he said. “I want to you to hold the image, use your power to make it last for you."

She felt the strength of his will—just as she had the night before, when he had told her to take control and ride him—strong, but leading her on to be strong herself. Concentrating on the pool, she wished the picture would stay for as long as possible, so that she might see her family some more.

She watched, her eyes wide, as they moved around the table, eating, speaking. They looked sad and worried, but she noticed they were well, and she felt connected but oddly removed from them. They were part of her, but her life had changed, it was moving on in different ways. This was where she was meant to be now. With Bron. In that moment, she knew it. The pool showed her more than what was visible in both places. Her head lifted, and she looked again at the enigmatic man by her side, and she knew that her place was with him.

His expression was o

vercast; his mood grew darker, more troubled. “Take strength from it, Maerose.” He nodded back at the pool. “For we will need it."

Looking at him, she knew the magic was more than he'd shown her. It was in their bond. Passion and destiny had brought them into alignment.

* * * *

The atmosphere across the land was filled with nervous anticipation. Bron sensed it the moment he made contact with the outside world through the visior pool. The whole of Edren was troubled, as if under a dark, foreboding cloud, and it was growing all the time. News traveled from village to village about Maerose's disappearance, about the movement and action within the elders. They spoke in hushed tones about the ancient curse coming to pass. More than that, the very land itself shivered in anticipation, for the underworld stirred. He stood up and paced back and forth silently, watching Maerose as she leaned over the pool to view the images of her family and friends.

Her hair fell over her shoulders, tumbling down her back. He stroked it with his gaze, longing to hold her again. Her lips parted as she looked at her family, her eyes bright with wonder and withheld tears. He wanted to kiss the tears away and crush her mouth with his. He tore his gaze away, drawing his resources together in order to move their lessons on. At this time on the morrow, they would be at The Strangeling. There was much to do and talk about. The sands of time slipped through the hourglass; the moment of their departure would be upon them soon.

He took a moment to cast a watchful presence up and scent out the surrounding countryside, circling the enclave, his vision far above them, taking in what movement there was beyond the divide. The more predatory birds still circled, but the foreboding in the atmosphere had driven most of the smaller creatures to their burrows. A hungry wolf scouted for the pack that followed his trail. Skirting the forest, the need that had driven them out in daylight hours weighed heavy in the wolf's wake: hunger, awareness of the changing atmosphere. Bron observed and then beckoned the scout, drawing him closer with a scent trail. The wolf paused, lifted his head, and turned in their direction.

A tremor ran across the skies as he turned back to Maerose. She lifted her head, her expression changing. She looked at him for explanation.

"You feel it?"

She nodded and stood, walking over to him, her upturned face expressing resolve, a depth of acceptance that he had not seen in her before.

He reached out to touch her face. “The demon lords of the underworld stir, stretching their limbs. In the forest the small creatures take shelter and hide. Others sense the danger and hunt for food. They sense the darkness that comes."

She crept closer to him, her body against his. What if she couldn't shelter with him? He needed to know. Her instincts were true and pure, but was she strong enough to act alone, if necessary? He lifted her chin and assessed the emotions he found in her. “It isn't easy to be brave, in the face of complete darkness and evil. Death..."

She returned his gaze, steadfast. “If you are by my side, I am prepared to face it. I've thought about everything you've said and I will be ready. I would give my own life, for the sake of the village, for Edren. For those I love.” Her expression was earnest and she searched his eyes for his acknowledgment of her vow.

"You would forsake your own safety to win this battle, and trust me to lead you, no matter what?"

"You know it already.” Her eyes shone, and deep within her the spirit of summer was growing; the gift that she carried made real by their passion. Maerose from Riversbend was a woman now, a woman who carried a wealth of female power, as yet untapped.

He nodded, for he felt her soul rise to join his. In her heart he found the unspoken acknowledgement of their union in fate. Energy flared between them as they joined in purpose, in passion.

She reached to touch his lips with her fingers. “You are my master, Bron. Show me the way."

He captured her wrists in his hands, his will to have her growing fierce. Drawing her closer, he watched her lips parting with anticipation. She was so soft in his arms, yet so ripe and full of vital, life-giving elixir. He drew her hands behind her back and reached for her lips, his mouth bruising hers. She struggled against him, her body warm against his. Supple. As darkness shifted in the land around them, his need to brand her as his own took over.

"My master,” she whispered again, breathless. As he looked down at her she dropped to her knees before him, her hands trailing over his body, her touch making his blood roar. She was full of incandescent heat. She rested her face against his breeches, moaning softly as she rubbed herself against his growing cock.

"The power to make magic and change things is yours, Bron.” She looked up at him, her face flushed with arousal. She reached for the lace on his breeches, releasing his throbbing cock, her hand trembling against it. “I am your handmaiden in this,” she whispered.

"We are joined now,” he breathed, barely able to speak with her touching him so bravely. “We are as one now, in this and in all things."

She moaned with longing as she stroked his rock-hard cock in her hands. Tentatively, she kissed it. When her mouth opened and her tongue caressed its crown, he soared. Her mouth—warm and damp—took him in, sourcing him just as an elder would source the power from the sun. Lacing his fingers in her hair he watched her move, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth. Her sweet mouth worked its own magic, his sac rising, filled with seed, ready to burst. Power pumped through him and surged out of them both, crackling in the atmosphere all around. He felt like a king. And she was his queen. He wanted to claim her.

He drew back, stemming his fast-rising flow with a fierce grip. “Lie down, let me see you.” He watched as she obeyed, her arms stretching above her head. Her fingers clutched at the mossy grass, her breasts spilling to the sides within her loose clothing. She lifted one knee, her body filled with instinctive passion. The soft fabric of her clothing spilled down into the groove of her hips.

"Pull your skirts higher, let me see you.” He stroked his cock as he looked down at the soft skin of her inner thighs. The soft hair covering her sweet haven glistened with her dew.

She stared at him as his fist moved. “Bron,” she said, her voice filled with pleading. “The way you look at me burns me to a cinder. Make me yours."