Witch Hunter Page 15

The chieftain, his son Callum, and a graceful woman rushed over to him.

  “Are you well?” Laird Phillip asked.

  “I need to get him out of here,” his father said.

  “Nae,” Lachlan answered. “I must stay and help.”

  Callum leaned him forward to survey his back. Rhiannon’s uncle waved his hand over the wounds and suddenly his back healed as if the cat’s claw had not cut him at all.

  Lachlan’s father stepped back in disbelief. “Who are you people?”

  “That does not matter,” Lachlan replied. He grabbed Callum’s coat. “We must save the king before she slays him.”

  Laird Phillip held the hand of the lady with dark, straight hair. “My daughter, Drucilla, and I will save the king, but you must distract Rhiannon.”

  Lachlan nodded.

  “Nae,” his father said. “We must leave.”

  “I cannot go. I love her and she needs me,” he said and placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Thank you for releasing me.”

  Lachlan moved with stealth around the scaffold to find the sorceress standing next to Rhiannon on the charred platform.

  A grating sound came from the castle. Large chunks of boulders carved from the walls flew at the Celtic witches. Together, the enchanted family blocked the sorceress’ rocks. Rhiannon watched the attacked, her eyes eerily glowing with little emotion.

  He climbed up the back of the platform, the ladies unaware of his presence.

  “Destroy them,” the sorceress commanded Rhiannon.

  She lifted her hands and her family flew back several paces, breaking the pink protection light around them.

  The sorceress jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Slaughter the king,” she said with glee.

  Rhiannon turned to where the king stood, disbelief stunning his features. Phillip and his daughter appeared in front of the royal, blocking His Majesty from sight.

  “Ah, there is my traitorous daughter,” the sorceress said. “Execute her too, Rhiannon. Kill them all.”

  Rhiannon moved to raise her hand when Lachlan grabbed it.

  “Stop it,” he ordered.

  She hissed at him and yanked her hand out of his grasp. His body went flying over the platform, landing in the mud. The breath was knocked from his lungs, but thankfully, that was the worst of his injuries. He glanced over to find Drucilla placing her hands on the king and her father, and then they disappeared. His Majesty was safe.

  Rhiannon growled with frustration.

  Lachlan rose gingerly to his feet and climbed the scaffold again.

  “Never mind the foolish king. Like the rest of the world, he will bow at your feet upon the morrow,” the sorceress pledged. “Come my dear, let us away. We have much to do.”

  The sorceress placed her hand around Rhiannon’s waist and Lachlan lunged for her feet. His vision blurred before him and his stomach churned. He resisted the urge to retch and held onto the foot with all his strength. The ankle wrenched from his hands.

  He looked up to find Rhiannon and the sorceress glaring at him. He scrambled to his feet and glanced around an exotic chamber filled with centuries old furnishings.

  “How did he get here?” the sorceress asked.

  “He grabbed me before we left,” Rhiannon answered. “Do you want me to kill him?”

  Lachlan stared at Rhiannon; her eyes held the coldness of a murderer.

  The sorceress circled Lachlan. “Nae. He is your chosen one after all. You can use his sexual energy to increase your powers.”

  “I can take any man for that,” Rhiannon replied.

  “Aye, but mortal men lose their personal strength after a few years, making them possessive and jealous of your attentions.” The sorceress poured a glass of wine from a golden chalice. “Your grandfather, Dougal was such a man. Fucking me made him crazed with yearning until he betrayed his loyal friend, Laird Phillip.” She took a sip. “Of course I had to kill him in the end. I grew tired of his weak will.”

  Rhiannon stood right in front of him. He tried to see through her eyes, into her soul, to search for some sign of the old Rhiannon, the good and loving witch. She flinched at his scrutiny.

  An unnatural sensation touched his spine and then his body was lifted from the ground and thrown against the wall. His wrists were pinned to the stones.

  Rhiannon crossed her arms. “How is the chosen one different from other men?”

  The sorceress stood behind her and placed her arm around Rhiannon’s shoulders. “The chosen one can give endless power without declining. Powers you will need for this eve when we rid the world of Celtic magick forever.”

  The sorceress flicked her finger and Lachlan’s tattered clothes ripped from his body, leaving him completely naked. She waved her hand over her face and instantly appeared exactly like Rhiannon, even wearing the same emerald dress. “I challenge you to tell us apart now, witch hunter.”

  Lachlan strained against the invisible binds. “Let me go, Rhiannon.”

  They both walked up to him, and in truth, he could not tell them apart. Their eyes glowed red with a lustful glaze. One Rhiannon ran her finger down his chest, burning a line of passion in its wake, while the other grabbed his cheek, guiding his face toward her so she could kiss him.

  Lachlan wanted to defy the sexual hunger heating his blood, but his manhood had other ideas, especially when one of the ladies placed his faithless member in her mouth. The warm, velvety concaves surrounded him, sucking and licking, urging him to forget his precarious position and enjoy the sensations.

  Soon both were down there, cupping his orbs, taking turns of swallowing his shaft all the way to the back of their throats. This would be any man’s dream, but he had to fight the overwhelming desires.

  Tongues, lips and hands were everywhere, torturing his resistance.

  He closed his eyes. Dear Lord, they felt so good.

  One of them stood up and pressed her body against his. She shoved her fingers in his mouth, and a musky essence infused his taste buds.

  “Do you like that?” she asked in a silky voice.

  It was definitely the taste of Rhiannon’s juices. That he could not mistake for another.

  He moaned and sucked her fingers with relish, his breath panting with exertion. “Rhiannon, what are you doing to me?”

  “We are stealing your energy,” she replied in a sweet tone.

  “Nae,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Do not fight it, my love.” She nibbled on his ear, then forced her tongue into the sensitive hollow.

  A moan escaped his lips; his body craved release.

  Rhiannon lowered herself again. Two tongues swirled around his sensitive helmet tip. The swelling in his loins could no longer be denied. Rhiannon seemed to sense his downfall as her mouth sucked harder, increasing its rhythm. The vibration of her pleasurable moan upon his member broke his resolve.

  Clenching his jaw and fists, his muscles strained then shuddered. A deep growl erupted from his chest with intolerable pleasure. His seed spilled into the warm embrace of her expert mouth, her fingernails biting into his buttocks. She pulled him out, allowing the other Rhiannon to take the last of his release. His body jerked and his muscles relaxed.

  Standing, they laughed and wiped their mouths.

  Lachlan noticed the burn on the back of one of their hands. The burn he had caused Torella.

  The sorceress changed back to her seductive beauty. “I will send my sex slaves to bathe, oil and prepare this man for the eve’s festivities. Until then,” Torella said, and kissed Rhiannon’s cheek, “enjoy your chosen one.”

  When the sorceress left the chamber, Lachlan ordered, “Rhiannon, released me.”

  She waved her hand over her shoulder and walked to the wide bed.

  Lachlan’s wrists peeled away from the wall, his ankles freed.

  Rhiannon sat on the bed and crossed her legs, her foot shifting restlessly, her eyes watching his every move.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, unsure what t
o do or say. A fresh breeze with the smell of salt floated through the round window, and he shivered.

  “Cloak,” Rhiannon said and clicked her fingers.

  An oversized cloak appeared around his shoulders, covering his nakedness. A spark of hope entered his heart. “Rhiannon, if you are in there somewhere, talk to me.”

  A wide grin broke across her stunning face. “I am Rhiannon. This is me. I have always had evil within me. But like a fool I tried to deny it. I pushed away my natural instincts.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “This is not the Rhiannon I know. She would never hurt others or try to harm her family.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. The shrill sound sent chills all the way to his toes.

  “I knew you would never accept me as a sorceress. Your love has shriveled with fear, just…like…I…predicted.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. “I care not that you are a witch or a sorceress. Good, evil. I love you no matter what the color of your eyes or hair.” He touched a black strand and kissed it.

  She shifted her eyes uncomfortably and she stepped back. “Stop it.”

  He swallowed. “Why?”

  “I do not want to hear…these lies,” she said in a small voice.

  “I love you, Rhiannon. Now and forever.”

  She put her hands over her ears. “Stop saying that.”

  “I love you.”

  “Nae, nobody could love me like this.”

  “I do.”

  “Nae!” she cried.

  “Rhiannon,” he placed his arms around her slender shoulders.

  “Argh!” She put her hands up and he flew backwards, landing on the floor. “I do not want to hear it.”

  Turning, she ran out the door. He tried to go after her, but the door would not open. He banged on the solid oak, shouting for Rhiannon, but she did not come back. No one came.

  He paced back and forth, wondering what was going to happen this eve that would destroy Celtic magick forever. Would Torella command Rhiannon to slaughter her family? He could not let that happen.

  He went to the window and looked over the edge. The room overlooked a steep cliff. The ocean pounded against the rocks far below.

  “You cannot escape that way, slave,” Torella’s voice greeting his back.

  Suppressing a groan, Lachlan turned on his heels.

  The sorceress glided into the chamber with six black men holding a bronze tub and buckets of water. She had changed into a low cut gown of black silk outlining her voluptuous curves.

  “Where are we?” he asked, resting on the windowsill.

  “We are in the hidden forest of Maim Moir.”

  The sound of the waves crashing entered the chamber. He pointed over his shoulder. “It does not look like a forest out there.”

  Torella tilted her head. “’Tis an illusion.”

  Lachlan turned and stared out the window. He should be shocked by witnessing such magick, but since meeting Rhiannon, he had a new perspective on powers he could not imagine.

  “Do not waste your breath calling the Celtic witches. They cannot hear nor find you within these walls,” she said, her eyes hungrily devouring his body.

  Lachlan closed his cloak and crossed his arms. “Release Rhiannon from the hex and I will not take your life.”

  She laughed. Her slaves shifted uneasily, seeming eager to be gone from the chamber.

  Torella stood close. “Rhiannon’s powers were meant for great things. She is going to rule the world, changing the fate of every pathetic human. The devil will walk among us in the heart of every man, woman and child.”

  The sorceress stared at the sea, her arms crossed. “You saw the vindictive residents of Edinburgh; they are already halfway to accepting evil into their souls.”

  “I will stop you,” he said, towering over her.

  She smiled with self-satisfaction. “I have waited a long time for this.” Torella walked around the tub and went to the door. “Nothing can stop me now.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Endless hallways led into each other without going anywhere. Rhiannon rested against the wall looking down three paths, each just as confusing as the others. No matter how far she ran, thoughts of Lachlan invaded her mind. She had to forget about him. Destroy all feelings for the chosen one. He made her weak, vulnerable. She wanted to remain cold and unfeeling like Torella. Power was her only love, one she can count on.

  She needed to have sex, boost her energies. Aye, that would take her mind off her problems. This was a sorceress’ keep; there had to be someone having sex around here. Closing her eyes, she imagined the violet mist gathering around two people while they enjoyed their bodies.

  She opened her eyes and stood in front of two closed doors. A violet mist oozed from beneath the doorjamb. Rhiannon smiled, and held her hand out, filling her powers with the energy.

  As she opened the double doors, the sounds of pleasure invaded her ears like a fine melody. The scent of sex wafted around her and she breathed deeply.

  The chamber was filled with naked men and women. Their slick bodies writhed against each other in varying positions. Sex slaves were on chairs, tables and on the floor with soft coverlets and pillows. In the corner, a dark man bent another male over and slowly entered him from behind, while a woman lay on a thick rug, licking another female as she straddled her face. The chamber held every nationality of the most beautiful and handsome people, all with superior bodies.

  A thick mist hovered in the air filled with the energy only she could see. Only she could partake of its wondrous powers. This was heaven and she felt right at home.

  A pretty young blonde and a brunette came over to Rhiannon and helped her out of her garments. Her skin sizzled with yearning. She wanted to take every one of them into her body.

  She licked her lips; her nipples peaked as the last article of clothing fell away from her responsive skin. Her eyes darted around the room. Whom would she start with?

  Led by the women who removed her gown, they walked her over to a marble table and urged her to lie down. The smooth table chilled her backside, cooling her heated skin. After sucking Lachlan, her aroused body needed release from pent-up frustration.

  The voluptuous blonde spread Rhiannon’s thighs. She watched while the girl lowered her pink lips to Rhiannon’s moist folds. The slave’s tongue lapped at her core and she arched in wild response. The wench was so beautiful between her legs, her long eyelashes closed while her face rose and fell with each sweep of her delicious tongue.

  The other short slave with brown almond eyes fondled Rhiannon’s breasts, lightly pinching her nipples to hard pebbles, causing a cascade of pleasure throughout her body.

  A slender finger entered her and the tongue suckling on her nub pushed her over the crescendo of passion. She groaned and exploded into hundreds of pieces with the hot sensation of total release.

  The wench between her legs rose with a grin, her mouth still wet with her juices.

  A tall muscular black man stood behind her, his rock hard arms bigger than her thighs. He shoved the woman out of the way and held a large penis in his hand. In a deep voice he asked, “Are you ready for a man?”

  A thrill went through her blood. She smiled and opened her legs wider. “Aye, ’tis time for a man.”

  He entered her slowly, allowing her body to get used to his bulky size. It glided in and out with ease. Sex and power was a potion she enjoyed taking. This place was intoxicating.

  She reached out and slipped her fingers between the wench’s thighs, enjoying the slick wetness she found there. The woman opened her legs further apart and Rhiannon inserted her fingers into her silky womanhood, arousing her to greater heights.

  The male slave impaled her flesh and pulsating waves of pleasure rose within. Just before she reached her crest, she screamed Lachlan’s name over and over again.

  Cursing her foolish weakness, she swung down from the table to find another man. Even while fucking, she could not for
get about the witch hunter.

  * * * *

  Lounging on the chair, Rhiannon watched from the high dais overlooking the chamber. She was exhausted and a little annoyed that she could not dispel Lachlan’s image from her mind. Rotten chosen one.

  Torella stood at the doorway with two appetizing men on her arms. She seemed refreshed and excited in her black satin gown. The corset made of delicate lace emphasized her round breasts and slender waist. The sorceress looked upon her sex slaves like a loving predator. They rose and clapped when she entered, bowing and curtsying. It sickened her how easily they were manipulated.

  Torella gracefully walked up the stairs toward her. A spark of irritation flashed across her face. “You are in my chair,” she grumbled.

  Rhiannon sighed with boredom, unaffected by her disposition. “Then summon another.”

  Torella opened her mouth to say something but then closed it, instead showing a false smile. “I hear you have enjoyed my sex slaves.”

  “I have gorged myself on their bodies and energy,” she said and conjured a silver goblet of French wine into her hands. “But ’tis not enough.”

  “Perhaps entertainment will cure your apathy.” Torella clapped her hands. The slaves moved to the sides, lounging on the stairs and positioning near the walls.

  The doors opened and two oversized slaves escorted Lachlan in. With only a loincloth covering his groin and two leather bands around his wrists, his muscles glistened with oil. He looked masculine, sexy and angry as a wild boar.

  From her finger, Torella swung a metal chain attached to a wide collar made of pearl. “Show your slave who is dominant.”

  Rhiannon glanced back to Lachlan; his eyes darkened with fury. Rising from the chair, she handed her goblet to a nearby servant and took the chain from Torella.

  “I am no one’s slave,” Lachlan warned, holding a proud chin high.

  She gave him a lopsided smile and slapped him. “You are my slave,” she snarled.

  She opened the collar then roughly closed it around his neck and yanked him forward to follow her back to the high chair.

  Rhiannon pushed him to the marble floor at her feet.

  “Stay down,” she commanded and whipped the excess chain around a white pillar. Rubbing her forehead, she sat back in the sorceress’ chair.