Sarina finished her chores early, and being she had the remainder of the day to herself, she decided on being herself. She returned to her room after the noon meal and placed Lady Lily on the bed for a nap. She then stripped off her working attire, black skirt, and white blouse along with her undergarments. From the bottom drawer of her dresser she took a long black knit dress and dropped it over her head, slipping her arms into the long sleeves and smoothing the knit material down over her naked body. The soft material did not cling or hug her tightly; instead it barely kissed her skin, flowing over mounds and curves as if in respect, and the cowl neckline fell in easy folds around her neck.
She brushed her hair until it shined, slipped black suede boots on her feet and swung a black velvet cloak with attached hood over her shoulders. Feeling more herself, she pulled the cloak over her head, walked out of her room, leaving Lady Lily to nap, and so as not to be seen she made her way quietly out of the castle.
She took a stone path toward the grove of trees that ran along the north end of the castle and with eager steps made her way to a place she would feel welcomed. Once amongst the trees and surrounded by the mighty strength of their age and wisdom she removed her cloak and shoes and planted her bare feet firmly on the ground. The dry leaves crackled beneath the soles of her feet, and the dampness of the cool earth tickled her flesh, and in seconds the earth’s energy reached up to greet her. Pure and radiant the pulsating energy raced through her, filling her with its enormous powers and renewing her strength and beliefs in the cycle of continuity.
She had missed the forest and all it offered her. Her journey had kept her busy, and she had failed to respect and honor her ways lately. That would not do and she could no longer neglect her heritage. She had always been proud of her unique ancestry and always paid homage to it as she had been taught and as she would teach her children to do.
She raised her hands to the Mother Sky, cast a prayer of appreciation for all her blessings, and then slowly sank down to sit with folded legs on the ground. She closed her eyes, listened to the enchanting sounds of the woods, and relished the beauty and peace of this moment.
o0o
Dagon hung the phone up feeling overjoyed. Sydney had done it. He would have an introduction to the Ancient One. A time and place was yet to be agreed upon, but that was a minor matter. She had agreed to meet with him, and that was what concerned him the most. The rest was incidental.
All he needed was the introduction; he could handle the rest on his own. He had no doubt he could charm the woman. Of course he would brush up on the history that predated his birth in case there was a time or particular period she favored or wished to discuss.
If tales and legends proved to be true, she was born with the dawn of time and therefore possessed a knowledge that far surpassed his. And of course there were her tremendous abilities. While his powers were above average, they certainly could not match hers, and he would not even attempt to impress her with menial energy.
No, he would rely on his charm and grace to win her affection and sound reasoning in suggesting she accept him as a lifemate. She had yet to mate and bear children, and all witches wished for their lines to continue, prosper, and achieve. This he could give her.
He had heard tell of a tale of a lost love, a love so strong that she refused to ever love again, and though he asked Sydney and others for more information, none had been able to relate the truth of the tale to him. Many believed it true, others thought it a legend, and a few refused to speak of it at all.
Sydney warned him that the Ancient One was not easy to deal with and that he should think wisely before proceeding with his plans. She cautioned him to look with open eyes and an open heart as he may just find what he searched for right in front of him.
He was aware that she was attempting to help him, perhaps save him from disappointment or even embarrassment. But he was determined to make a wise choice when choosing his lifemate. He did not wish to make a hasty choice or rush to mate and then regret a foolish decision.
He hoped to be attracted to her, though features mattered less to him than her knowledge and skills. And surely she would see the wisdom of his own actions and fully appreciate his reason for meeting with her. He would take his time with her, come to know her, and gently pursue her.
He shook his head, catching a flash of darkness pass by his study window, and he stood, hurrying to the window to see who was about on this cloudy afternoon. He caught only the back of the woman. She was dressed in all black, a black hood making it impossible to see her identity.
What startled and annoyed him was that rare few witches wore black. Only those schooled in the ancient arts of the craft were allowed to wear the sacred color. The misunderstanding concerning the color had started many years ago, and while there was a basis in fact for the belief it signified evil, there were even more facts signifying its true meaning.
In darkness light is born, and so black represented the dawning of light and the wisdom it brought to the world. Those witches who wore black possessed knowledge as old as time itself. They were the wise ones who had lived through centuries of ignorance and had not only managed to survive but managed to gain wisdom and bring light to the lesser beings. They were respected, admired, and revered.
And one presently walked his land.
She was certainly welcome here, but who was she? Could it be the Ancient One satisfying her curiosity? No, she would not be so careless as to let him see her. She cherished her anonymity and would keep herself from being seen. Then who was his visitor?
He didn’t know but he intended to find out.
o0o
Foolish.
The word felt like a kick to her backside and she certainly deserved it. She was plain foolish for walking past his study. She was in a hurry to return to the castle and therefore had taken a shorter route back, yet a more dangerous one of discovery.
She rushed up the two flights of steps to her room and hurried out of her garments, then quickly folded them away. She then slipped on a long cotton lavender dress, folding the long sleeves into a double cuff and slipping on a pair of thick white cotton socks. Her hair she tied back with a white ribbon missing several strands that feel freely around her face. She then scooped up a yawning Lady Lily and rushed back out of her room and down the stairs and out the back door of the service entrance. She wanted all to believe that she had spent the afternoon abed relaxing and was just now taking Lady Lily out for a breath of fresh air.
A mistake since Lady Lily took off as soon as her tiny pink paws hit the chilled ground.
“Lily!” she yelled and took off after her.
Dagon turned the comer of the castle just as Sarina had shouted and watched her chase after the little kitten. He had never seen her dressed in anything but her servant attire and he was fascinated with the long shapeless dress she wore, especially since the straight lines alerted him to the fact that she wore not a stitch of clothing beneath it.
With a wicked smile he took off after her.
Sarina caught up with Lily in the stables. She laughed as she chased the tiny ball of fur around and finally caught her, plopping down in an empty stall on a thick mound of hay. Lily wiggled free of her grasp and snuggled on her chest as if announcing she had enough exercise for one day and it was now time to rest. Sarina gave her no argument and patted the yawning kitten.
She yawned, her time of solace and her recent hasty actions bringing her a combined sense of peace and tiredness.
“You’re a lazy one,” Sarina said to the kitten, whose attention was perked up by a noise. She looked about, saw nothing that interested her, and proceeded to stretch herself across Sarina’s chest.
Dagon watched from a short distance away. They were a pair, the two. Completely unpredictable and totally lovable.
Sarina looked surprisingly appealing in lavender, or maybe it was the fact that her breasts were free of any restraints and no panty lines marred the cotton dress, and then there were those white socks. The thick cotton hugged her ankles and he could think of nothing more than her completely naked, except for the socks. Damn but the fantasy caused his body to erupt into lusty chaos which his groin responded to instantaneously, and gave him a good sound reason for stepping out of the shadows.
His unexpected presence surprised Sarina, though Lady Lily meowed, jumped off her chest and proceeded to investigate the hay.
“I saw you chase Lily and thought you might require help,” he said, explaining his presence as he strolled over to the stall where she lay and leaned casually against the door frame.
“Strangely enough,” she said with a laugh, “I don’t need any help.”
“You rested this afternoon?” he asked, making casual conversation and giving him a reason to remain.
Her sojourn into the woods was indeed a rest, so she felt she spoke the truth when she said, “Yes, I had a peaceful afternoon.”
He suddenly recalled his reason for being outside, and his curiosity concerning the mysterious, dark clothed stranger returned. “Did you by any chance see a woman dressed in all black?”
“All black?” she asked, hoping to divert his question.
“I know,” he said, shaking his head, “a few rare witches wear the sacred color.”
She nodded and sat up, folding her legs beneath her. The toes of her sock-covered feet peeked out, a tempting sight to Dagon.
He continued his search for the elusive stranger. “I thought perhaps we had an unexpected visitor.”
“Do you know many wise ones?” she asked, plucking at the hay in an attempt to hide her trembling fingers.
“None wise enough to wear the sacred color and none ignorant enough to tempt the fates. Do you know any?”
Her hesitation caught his attention, and the longer she remained silent, the more he realized she was attempting to hide something. He waited patiently for an answer.
She cleared her throat, a diversionary tactic that did not succeed. Dagon simply stood quietly in his relaxed posture waiting for her response. She certainly could not lie to him, and she definitely could not tell him the truth. Somewhere between the two was an answer, but she was having difficulty finding it and the longer her silence grew, the more suspicious he became.
Finally she found words that would suffice. “Wise ones do not always like their presence to be known.”
Not a direct answer but one that led him to believe she was familiar with a wise one, and perhaps it was she who this mysterious stranger had visited with. A thought suddenly struck him and he asked, “Are you acquainted with the Ancient One?”
Her response was quick. “Who does not know of her? Her wisdom exceeds the common knowledge. She is truly remarkable and I would imagine truly lonely.”
Her remark surprised him, and he ignored the fact that she had not actually answered his question and asked, “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged and chose her words carefully. “She is said to be born with the dawn of time, therefore, she was born into darkness, a pure void of nothingness. Yet within her was the ability to gain knowledge and with that growing wisdom the power to shed light upon the darkness.”
“And bring to the world knowledge, ridding it of darkness.”
“No,” Sarina corrected. “Controlling the darkness. The Ancient One and wise ones wear the black to signify just that. Darkness is part of every one of us, but it is only in controlling the power of darkness and light that we gain true wisdom. And think of the loneliness the Ancient One must have experienced in her pursuit of light.”
“But once obtained—”
Sarina shook her head, silencing him. “Once obtained she had to teach it, to shed the light on the darkness. Therefore, her knowledge surpasses all and she unselfishly gives of herself. Do you not think that at times she would be lonely?”
“She could love, mate, share her life with someone?”
A sad smile crossed Sarina’s face. “Who would truly understand the depths of her being and who would truly be able to love her?”
Dagon walked over to where she sat in the mound of hay. He sat down beside her, a look of concern on his handsome face. “There is a tale that speaks of a lost love.”
“Yes, I have heard of it myself.”
“What did you hear?”
She shook her head. “Just that she loved and lost.”
“No one seems to know the truth,” Dagon said, disappointed.
“I hear she guards her privacy well.”
Dagon reached out and plucked a piece of hay from her hair. “Can’t say I blame her.”
The sudden urge to kiss him grabbed hold of her and refused to let go. His lips were inviting, hinting at pleasures and promises, and she ached for the strength of his arms around her, and the feel of his gentle touch. She shivered.
“Cold?” he asked and looked at her oddly.
A quick nod and a cautious glance at his eyes told her that he was no fool and that he knew exactly why she shivered. Whatever was the matter with her? If she were honest with herself, she would admit that her reaction was not at all sudden or unexpected. He had appealed to her senses as soon as he had entered the stable. Maybe it was his walk or saunter since he swayed with sensuality when he walked. Or it could be his hands? His fingers being long and lean and when in motion they moved with an orchestrated confidence. Then of course there was the color of his eyes, an indescribable blue, mysterious, erotic, and charged with a heated passion that betrayed the senses. But then her senses had been betraying her on a regular basis lately.
Betraying?
Or were her senses attempting to tell her the truth?
“Are you cold, Sarina?” he asked again.
She smiled and slowly shook her head. “You know I’m not cold.”
“Yes, that I do,” he said and leaned over to brush his lips across hers before stealing a much wanted kiss. His arm slipped around her waist, and he eased them both down together on the thick cushion of hay. Once there he kissed her senseless.
Sarina warned herself to keep her hands at her sides. She scolded herself for even considering touching him and cautioned herself that it would do little good to begin something that was yet to see fruition or may never be culminated. And yet her hands itched to explore him, come to know him, lose herself in him.
She purposely stretched her arms above her head, reaching out above her, far past him. While he in turn did exactly as he wished—he touched her. Slow and steady he explored her as if wanting to acquaint himself with every inch of her.
Having no undergarments on made his touch all the more erotic. She could feel the heat of his hand through the soft cotton, and he made certain that the cotton teased her skin in the most intimate of places. He was persistent and insistent in his endeavors to please and excite.
And he did excite her, to the point where she was totally mindless and completely willing to surrender. But still her arms remained above her head. If she dared to intimately touch him, all would be lost, and it was too soon, much too soon, to take such a daring chance. Small chances now were wise choices; major chances were better left for a more opportune time.
Now all that remained for her to do was to keep a minimum of control on her senses.
Dagon had other ideas, and Sarina was unprepared for his ability to seduce with words. “Afraid to touch me, dear heart?”
He prevented her from answering with a sensual kiss that had her curling her toes. “You know you want to.”
Good lord, did she ever want to touch him. No, no, she ached to touch him. And yet she remained silent.
He laughed near her ear, and with his teeth gently nipping down along her neck, he said, “I want you, too.”
She groaned and he laughed harder.
“I want those sweet, bumbling fingers of yours running all over me creating complete havoc.”
Would she be clumsy at that as well? The absurd thought brought a sudden frown to her face.
Dagon quickly kissed her frown lines away and ran his hands slowly up her arms to capture her hands in his. “I think your hands hide magic, and I want you to perform your magic on me.”
She shivered at the truth of his words and the sudden realization of her imminent problem. She needed to learn more about him, understand him better before she committed to a situation that could prove either lifesaving or disastrous. And yet she wanted nothing more than to do as he asked. She wanted to touch him and make magic together.
She was grateful for Lady Lily’s intrusion. The little kitten insinuated herself right under Dagon’s neck and began licking him and meowing.
“I want your tongue there, Sarina.”
The man knew how to entice and excite, and she licked her lips in a slow hunger.
With a gentle hand he removed Lady Lily and with tender words and a confident stroke he assured the kitten that if she waited patiently she would receive a special treat, right after he received his. The kitten curled into a ball to wait.
He then looked to Sarina. “Taste me.”
She swallowed hard and her body went limp, though her tongue licked eagerly at her top lip.
“Taste me,” he ordered sternly.
A taste, a simple taste, what could it hurt?
Dagon pulled back his long dark hair and offered his neck to her. “Let me feel you quench your deep hunger.”
His neck was smooth, his veins thick with the heated blood that raced through him, and his scent was strictly male and all passion. She licked her lips one last time in appreciation and reached out to taste.
Her tongue touched, first skimming the surface, acquainting herself with his flavor and savoring every delicious taste. Her teeth followed, nipping his flesh, feasting on the now familiar taste of him and feeling even less satisfied than before. She wanted more, so much more from him. Now that she had tasted she was famished, and her outrageous appetite needed satisfying.
She turned on him like a ravenous creature bent on assuaging her lusty craving.
He in turn allowed her to feed her need, relishing in her unbridled passion for him. His groans filled the stable. His moans echoed deep in his throat, and his own desire soared past reasoning.
He pulled his head back away from her, and her disappointment assaulted him as strongly as the passion that raced through him. “You can feed on me as long as you like, but know there will be consequences.”
Her breathing was labored, her heartbeat erratic, and her desire insanely out of control. It was obvious she had never experienced such extreme desire, and that realization quickly sobered him.
Dagon brought a swift end to this madness. He moved off her and stood but not before scooping Lady Lily up into his hand. He turned to leave, stopped, turned back around, looked down at her, and shook his head. “Don’t dare wear those damn white socks again.”
With that he left and Sarina broke into a fit of laughter.
Socks.
Socks excited and upset the handsome witch. She would have to remember that.