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  • Home > Yasmine Galenorn > Sisters of the Moon > Priestess Dreaming (Page 34)     
    Priestess Dreaming(Sisters of the Moon #16) by Yasmine Galenorn
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    The figure emerged from the shadows. It was the Merlin, with his huge antlered headdress riding high, the rack thrusting into the air, tines sharpened and stately. He wore a long green cloak, and it fell open, revealing his chiseled and defined stomach, and below that, the perfect V leading to his erect cock—long and rigid, lined with veins that pulsed with desire.

    He had eyes only for his lady, and as he moved toward her, she swept off her cloak. The sheer material of her dress parted in the center, and she swept it back, the thatch of her hair dark against her mound. She reached down to stroke herself, then raised her fingers to her lips and slowly licked them. At that, the Merlin moved in, stalking her as she began to tease him around the circle.

    I caught my breath, feeling the fire rise as my hunger grew. The dragon stopped her circling, and I knew what I had to do.

    I whirled, motioning to Morio. “Get over here. Now.”

    He slipped into the circle and the dragon resumed her spinning, but now a wall of mist began to form around the coffin, cutting us off from the rest. I slid off my cloak, oblivious to the cold, and then shrugged out of my clothes. Morio asked no questions. One glance at the coffin and he seemed to understand exactly what we needed to do. He stripped, his chest glistening in the ghostly illumination of the pale green mist. I tapped the staff and the beating of the drums grew stronger. Morio began to sway to their rhythm and the bond between us—the Soul Symbiont bond—told me he could hear them through our connection.

    I gasped as he stood na**d before me. His long dark hair gleamed, a curtain of black against his skin. The slant of his eyes, the tint of his skin, the smooth, lithe muscled body, never failed to make me hunger. He reached out and gripped his c**k firmly in one hand as his gaze never left my face. I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand as he roughly stroked himself, the look on his face hungry and demanding.

    Like the priestess in my vision, I set aside my staff and began to circle the coffin, beckoning my priest to follow me.

    Morio danced forward, the dance of the Hunter, the dance of the predator following his prey. He stalked me, deliberate and cunning, as I danced widdershins around the coffin. I began to clap to the drumbeat, then, using my body, I drummed on my thighs and my butt, teasing him, turning so he could see my ass, waiting till he was almost within reach and then darting away.

    Around we went, the Hunter and the Priestess, weaving the magic with our bodies, with our passion, building the energy with our offering. The dragon circled still faster as Morio leaped toward me. I turned to run, leaving a wave of faerie fire in my wake. He inhaled deeply, sucking in the magic with his breath, and the haze of magic now sparkled from his eyes. And then—the energy was so strong that I couldn’t move. I froze, arms stretched wide to my sides, legs spread.

    Morio dropped to his knees by my feet. He gazed up at me, longing and hunger, fire and passion all rolled into one look. “Honored Priestess, may I worship at your temple?”

    The mood shifted and I closed my eyes, the energy crackling through my body like lightning incarnate. The scene from long ago faded, and now the only thing that existed in the world was my priest, myself, and the coffin beside us. And there was one way to wake up the ancient one who needed to be walking among us.

    “You may.”

    Morio kissed the tops of my feet. “Blessed are the feet of the Priestess, that she might walk the path of the Moon Mother.”

    My feet began to tingle as his lips touched my skin, and I was running through the night, with the Hunt, wild and feral. The Moon Mother shrieked and her cry pierced me with longing and spurred me on, as I swept through the night.

    Morio kissed my knees. “Blessed are the knees of the Priestess, that she might kneel at the sacred altars.”

    My knees began to tingle, and I was kneeling before a bonfire that raged out of control, mirroring my lust and desire for the consort of the goddess—the Hunter was coming in from beyond the great mountains, from the ancient forests and deep woods, and he was driving a host before him.

    Morio kissed below my belly button. “Blessed is the womb of the Priestess, that she might embody the passion of the Moon Mother.”

    The drumming grew louder, and a lone, sinuous flute began to weave through the pounding rhythm. I began to breathe heavily, my body aching for release, hungry for touch. I wanted to f**k, to f**k the priest of the god and by doing so, f**k the God incarnate.

    Morio stood. He faced me, then leaned down to kiss my br**sts. “Blessed are the br**sts of the Priestess, that the love of the Moon Mother might shine through her.”

    A cold fire raced through me. Love—honest love, tough love, the love that both created and destroyed when it was time—blossomed forth. I wanted to embrace the world with my love and both destroy and create it anew.

    Morio leaned in, and kissed my lips. He barely pulled away to whisper, “Blessed are the lips of the Priestess, that she might speak the words of the Moon Mother.”

    “Take me.” The Moon Mother spoke through me to the Hunter, as I spoke to my priest.

    And then, slowly, his gaze fixed to mine, he leaned in again and roughly fastened his lips to mine, his tongue gently darting between my lips. I lowered my arms, enfolding him in my embrace, my hands sliding across the smooth skin of his back. Morio moaned, low and muffled, his mouth pressed against mine.

    Sliding my hand down to cup his perfect, tight, ass, I caught my breath as his c**k pressed against my stomach, erect and rigid. As I shifted my hips, he broke away from the kiss, his eyes flaring with desire.

    He picked me up and swung me on top of the casket. I braced my feet against the smooth crystal, spreading my knees. Morio let out a hungry laugh and crawled between my legs, his c**k primed. Whimpering, I pulled him down, and he drove himself into me, as he filled me up to the hilt. I was wet, slick, and he slid in with a soft sound, stretching me wide, yet that did nothing to relieve the tension, but just merely stoked the fire.

    As he began to thrust, my br**sts rubbed against his chest and he leaned down, lowing his lips to my right nipple, tugging it with his teeth, teasing me as he held still, deep within me, forcing me still. Impaled on his cock, I shifted my hips, begging him to move, to drive himself into me, but he held fast, building the heat between us, and reached down to stroke my clit.

    I whimpered, wanting to be driven over that edge, to soothe the itch and growing pressure. I tightened my pu**y around his cock, squeezing to firmly hold him inside me. That pushed him into action, and he drew back, then drove himself in me for all he was worth, ramming his c**k deep before sliding out for another thrust.

    Drunk with lust, I met his pace, f**king him with every ounce of energy I had, pouring all the pent-up hunger and desire into the mix. The dragon picked up her pace, whirling around us, whipping our passion into a cloud of mist that covered the circle we were in.

    Another moment, and I suddenly felt myself on the edge, teetering on the rocks, and then nothing could stop me and I fell, bucking as I came. I screamed out the name “Myrddin” and a flash filled the circle, blinding me as I orgasmed. Morio cl**axed, pumping with one, final thrust as he cried out. The energy we had built spiraled into a cone, and then, swirling, dove down again and disappeared into the coffin.

    We froze for a moment—a lifetime?—and then, he slowly relaxed into my arms as I went limp, all the energy dissipating.

    The dragon slowed her circling, and an inner nudge pushed me to sit up. Morio climbed off the coffin and helped me down. As we turned, I wasn’t surprised to see that the mist now also filled the casket.

    “We have to get it open. Quickly.” I shrugged into my clothes as fast as I could. The cold had returned and whatever altered space we’d been in had just vanished.

    Morio hurried to dress, a goofy smile on his face. He was a loving and passionate partner, and when magic entered our sex, it was mind-blowing. While he finished putting on his boots, I hurried over to the coffin and looked for a way to open it. There, on the side, I found a recess. I slid my fingers inside and felt a button.

    “Hurry—we need to open this now.”

    As Morio fastened his belt, I pressed the button and a soft sigh issued from inside the casket. The mist began to swirl out. Morio joined me, helping me swing the lid open. The hinges were strong and kept it from bouncing against the floor.

    The last whiffs of the mist wafted away, and the dragon slowed her circling as the rest of the room came back into focus. Delilah and Tanne had pulled out flashlights and the cool beams lit up the room. Morgaine, Mordred, and Arturo began to edge forward. Bran was keeping his distance, and Delilah and Tanne were keeping an eye on everyone.

    I turned back to the casket, as did Morio. Now, I could see the man lying within had coiling blue snakes tattooed around both forearms. As we watched, his open eyes, blinked, and he slowly turned his head.

    “Where am I?”

    The Merlin had woken up.

    *   *   *

    Out of the coffin, Myrddin was even more beautiful than he was in it. His hair was shoulder length, and the burgundy locks tumbled around his shoulders in a cascade of curls. The scruff on his chin gave him a rugged look, and he stood with authority. I don’t think there was a person in the room—including Bran—who wasn’t at least a little in awe. Morgaine stared at him with shining eyes, and I’d never seen her look so happy.

    Myrddin let out a slow breath, and as he did so, the dragon wound herself around him in a sinuous hug. He reached out and lightly stroked her head.

    “Áine, my love.” Affection filled his voice, and he lightly kissed his fingers and pressed them to her forehead. “You are still with me.”

    The dragon—apparently named Áine—let out a soft croon and went back to circling the room, but at a slower pace. She seemed at peace now, almost comforted. As I watched her, memories of the woman in the vision filtered back and then I knew who Áine was.

    She’d been the priestess—the Merlin’s consort and partner. I hung my head, wondering how long she’d waited for his return. Had she always been a dragon-shifter? A young one, she’d had to have been when they were first together, if she’d watched over him for thousands of years. But then, Smoky was a young dragon and he had lived before the Great Divide.

    “Welcome back, Lord Myrddin,” I finally said, not knowing exactly how to approach him. I had no clue what title he preferred, or if he had any idea what year he was now in.

    Myrddin turned to me, and then glanced over the group. “You have the advantage. You know who I am, but I have no clue who any of you are. Or . . . even when I am. Introductions, if you would, and tell me what year is this?”

    His English was impeccable. How the hell he adapted to our language without even hearing us talk confounded me, but then I glanced over at the dragon. She tilted her head and I could have sworn she winked at me. Somehow, she’d played a part in it. I wasn’t sure how, but women had a way of letting other women know their secrets.

    I curtseyed. I was used to curtseying before those I considered royalty and the practice felt as natural as breathing. “My name is Camille. I’m a Priestess of the Moon Mother. This is my sister Delilah, a Death Maiden for the Autumn Lord. Morio, one of my husbands. And these”—I turned to gesture to each in turn—“Morgaine, the Queen of Dusk and Twilight. Her nephew Mordred, and . . . Arturo.” I wondered if Myrddin would even have a clue who they were—he’d been imprisoned before any of them had been born. It had been Meher who had played the Merlin to Arturo’s Arthur.

    But Myrddin walked over to Morgaine and gazed down at her—he was close to six feet without his headdress, and Morgaine was short. “You remind me of someone.” He turned back to me. “You, too. The both of you remind me of my Áine when she took her human form.” His expression fell, and I had the feeling there was something we didn’t quite know about the dragon-shifter. He must have seen the question in my eyes. “Do you know . . . of the battle that took place—”

    “The Great Divide, when the Fae Lords separated the worlds into their own realms?”

    He nodded.

    “Yes . . . we were taught in our history courses about it. Well, over in Otherworld. You are Earthside, by the way.” I wasn’t sure how much information to pile on him at once.

    But Myrddin merely nodded. “I thought as much. I rather doubted they would imprison me over in the new realm. When we stood at trial—Aeval and Titania, Áine, and I—they chose to imprison the Fae Queens and me. But Áine was young, and they took pity. They laid a spell on her, forcing her to forever be locked within her dragon form.”

    That was so many shades of wrong. The more I was hearing, the more pissed off I was at the Fae Lords. “Couldn’t they just let her return to the Dragon Realms?”

    Áine silently glided up, bumping lightly into the Merlin’s arm. She rubbed her giant head against him and he laughed, stroking it. “My love . . . I begged her to, but she wouldn’t leave my side. They locked her here as a guardian for me. She’s been alone all this time, watching over my body.”

    Morgaine’s eyes narrowed. “There are reasons that many of the Fae stayed Earthside.”

    “But what year is this? And how did you find me to wake me up? Dreams have come and gone, and so many visions that I have no clue what might be real and what isn’t. I have my memories, now that I’m awake, but there are some images that haunt me, and I do not know if they were actual, or if they were simply paintings on my mind’s canvas.” Myrddin was soft-spoken but the authority behind his voice echoed through the chamber.

    I sucked in a long breath and told him what year it was, watching his eyes widen. “Morgaine knew how to find you thanks to Meher, the acting Merlin who trained her.” Standing back, I had the feeling that Myrddin would have some questions for her.

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