Prologue
England, 1761
O n the night of the Equinox, a devil’s moon pierced the treetops, casting silver light into the clearing. Camilla lay back on the luxurious fur by the roaring fire and watched storm clouds race by. She heard the solemn rattle and jingle of the caravan making its way down the hill and into the valley, knowing her family’s vardo would be among them. Knowing she would never see them again.
She sighed deeply, then smiled as her new husband knelt beside her, his sunkissed hair shimmering in the flame’s light. “Are you ready, my sweet?”
She knew how lucky she was, knew English gentlemen did not marry poor gypsy girls, but that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d walked into their camp, even as her people were loading their wagons, and begged her to stay with him. Demeter the Gypsy King married them on the spot as her mamma wept tears of joy, knowing she’d be protected now, and living in privilege and wealth.
A mischievous grin lifted William’s lips. He pushed up her blouse, ripping the gossamer fabric. The fire’s heat warmed her as he caressed her breasts, softly at first, then harder, using the palm of his hand, the tips of his fingers, the dull edge of his nails. His fingers kneaded and pinched the sensitive nubs, until she ached to push herself closer, wanting more of his sweet touch.
“Do you love me?” she asked, and swallowed a nervous giggle even as the warmth spreading through her veins clouded most coherent thought except the longing, the wanting, the fire surging within her.
“I love every inch of you.” His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting, devouring. She pulled him closer, wanting his chest to push into her breasts, wanting the feel of him, his touch, his taste, his scent to cover her—everywhere.
Her breath quickened as his lips moved over hers, hard and demanding. Then he moved lower, suckling her breast, sending a spike of pleasure zipping straight to the core between her legs. She loved how much he wanted her.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she heard the silent approach of her wolves. One by one, they encircled the clearing, sitting between the rose quartz pieces she’d placed at the five points surrounding the fire. Their opalescent eyes caught the flame’s reflection and shone red in the night. She smiled, then gasped as William’s hand reached beneath her long colorful skirt and raked up her thighs.
He stroked her moist intimate parts softly, with one finger, then two. He pushed inside her. She drew a quick breath, her eyes widening as his fingers moved in and out of her in quick succession. Liquid warmth melted her insides, heating her to a frenzy, and she could no longer think how awkward it was, all she could do was feel how much she wanted him.
She squirmed, trying to draw him deeper. He shifted, moving on top of her, his heaviness covering her, his hard sex touching her soft curls, pushing, probing. This was where he belonged, where she’d wanted him to be since the first moment she’d been lost in the depths of his forest-green eyes, since the moment his raw masculine voice had scraped across her senses.
His thumb moved over the small nub between her folds. “Please,” she begged, afraid he would stop, but not sure what was happening, and slightly afraid her lungs would burst with her next breath.
Without warning, he thrust into her. White-hot pain pierced her belly. She cried out, biting down on her lower lip. He halted, waiting.
“Hush, the worst is over. Now you will stretch, wrapping around me as though we are two parts of one, meant to be together.”
She felt him melding into her skin and knew he was right. They were meant to be together.
Forever.
He started to move. Slowly at first, pulling himself out of her. Little by little, she felt his hard warmth withdrawing and she almost cried with the loss. “No,” she murmured. He pushed forward until the length of him filled her insides. She expanded around him, tight like a satin glove.
“Oh, darling, we fit together so nicely, as if we were made for this moment, made to be together.”
“Two pieces of a whole,” she whispered and lost the thought as he pulled out of her once more, then slid back in.
“Do not do it again,” she begged, trying to clamp her legs around him, but the harder she squeezed, the closer to an unknown brink it sent her. She was losing control of herself in sensations she’d never felt before, and it thrilled and scared her at the same time. She was approaching a cliff, and feared what would happen if she fell.
“Do what?” he said with a laugh as the fire’s flames danced in his eyes.
“Do not leave me,” she begged, holding him tighter, as his quickened movements pushed her closer and closer to that unknown edge where the heavens weep and the eagles cry with the absolute joy of being alive.
He shifted her body, pulling her forward, and rocked, bucking his hips until the fire swept up and consumed her, hurling her over the edge. She screamed and the wolves tilted back their heads and howled, paying homage to the bloodred moon.
She could think no more, nor move, could only breathe, and feel him, the man she loved with all her heart, wrapped around her.
A horse snorted and stamped its foot as it entered the clearing. The wolves stood, growling. Camilla pulled herself out of her stupor and opened her eyes. William looked up, his face frozen, his jaw hard.
Fear tensed Camilla’s heart. “William?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
A flaxen-haired woman in soft velvet sat proudly on a snow-white stallion, her icy-blue gaze narrowing with cold hatred. “What do we have here?”
William stood, righting his clothes and leaving Camilla cold and alone to fend for herself. Quickly, she stood behind him, pulling the animal skin up to cover herself from the lecherous stares of the four men flanking the woman’s sides.
“When we are married, William, I won’t cater to you rutting with gypsy whores.”
“Amelia,” William cajoled, muttering platitudes, but Camilla didn’t hear them. She couldn’t. Her mind was screaming. What did she mean, when we are married? William was her husband. Maybe not in the eyes of England, not yet, but that was just a formality. He’d said so himself. Hadn’t he?
“William?” she said tentatively.
He turned and looked at her, but the man standing before her now wasn’t the man who’d just made love to her, this man was a stranger. There was no warmth, no sparkle of love in his eyes. Instead, they glinted with triumph, with laughter. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, “Sorry, sweets, but you really should have known.” He walked toward the woman with the long blond tresses and touched her golden hair. “I’d do anything to make you happy, Amelia. You know that.”
She nodded at him. “Then tell the girl to go away and to never show her dirty face to me again.”
“You won’t have to look on her again. I promise.” Long slender fingers that had just taken Camilla to places she’d never been before, moved up the woman’s thigh, stroking her beneath the soft blue velvet of her riding gown.
“No,” Camilla whimpered as raw pain burst within her. Tears flooded her eyes. He’d deceived her, deceived them all and now she was left here alone. She dropped to her knees, her hands reaching toward the sky, her head tipped back as a roar of heartbreak erupted from her chest to fill the night.
The wolves howled with her, a cacophony of torment.
“Call off your beasts,” William snapped. “And stop that wailing!”
But she couldn’t stop, any more than she could stop the thunder from assaulting the sky.
“I said stop!” He stormed toward her and struck her hard across the face.
She gasped, standing, then stared at him in frozen shock, her hand rubbing the sting from her cheek. “You said you loved me.”
His gaze hardened. “How could you expect me to love a gypsy nothing like you? I only wanted to part those lovely virgin thighs.” He leaned in close. “And you were well worth the wait, darling. Worth the game. Maybe later, we can play it again, eh?” He grabbed her bottom, and gave it a hard squeeze.
“You will never be happy with her,” Camilla gritted. “You will never know love. Your soul will never know peace as it will be forever searching for me, for my love.”
“You?” he started to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a full-throated laugh that started deep in his belly and bubbled forth like sour frothy milk.
Cold fury unlike anything she’d ever felt before filled her. She stood, lifting her hands toward the sky, dropping the fur and turning in a tight circle.
“Circle marked upon the ground;
“Wolves moving round
“Incense rising to the sky
“My power now is moving high
“Chant the words and ring the bell;
“Work the magick, weave the spell.
“Forever you will search for love that can never be found
“Not even after your corpse lies cold in the ground.”
“Witch, witch!” Amelia screamed. “Stop her.”
Camilla turned faster. William groped, trying to stop her.
“Golden beauty you will bear.”
He grasped her hair.
“A lineage of pain to befall your heirs.”
He yanked hard, stopping her, holding her fast with her back pressed up against his chest.
“Tragedy will be your legacy.”
Her eyes pinned the woman, her red-hot gaze melting Amelia’s icy-blue stare and turning it to a puddle of fear. Camilla smiled. “Your children’s children will never know love, for the moment they do, my curse will rain down from above.”
“Kill her,” Amelia screamed.
Consumed with pain and hatred, Camilla barely felt herself being lifted into William’s arms—
“Asmos,” she yelled. “Hear my plea. Take my heart, my soul. Give my vengeance life.”
—barely heard William mutter, “Die, witch,” as he dropped her.
—barely felt the flames bite, as the demon’s essence poured into her, every orifice expanded, filling with liquid heat that cooled, becoming sluggish and thick. She couldn’t breathe. Muscle spasms cramped her stomach. Laughter reverberated through her mind, and she knew she wasn’t alone.
She’d called Asmos, the demon of wrath. And he’d come.
She stood in the middle of the fire, and yet, the flames parted, dancing and licking her feet, but not touching her. Searing tendrils of pain grasped her insides. Fear slammed into her chest, as she bent over and clutched herself. Blood flowed from her nose and between her legs. She vomited, expelling all that was human as demon strength and power filled her, possessing her.
The wolves cried in disharmony their pain and anguish. For her?
She looked at them, looked into their eyes and reached deep into their minds. Don’t be afraid, my pets. Our time has come. Our night of vengeance has just begun. They stood as one, howling a song of unity of spirit. Camilla straightened, standing proud, her lips curving into a dangerous smile.
Amelia screamed, turned her stallion and rode quickly into the night. Her four escorts didn’t follow, but instead stared mesmerized by Camilla’s beauty, by the fire alive in her eyes.
“How?” William asked, backing away from her.
She could feel Asmos’s strength pulsing through her, giving her vitality and a yearning she’d never felt before. The horses neighed, their eyes wide with fear as she drew closer.
They pulled back, their hooves lifting and falling in a nervous dance.
“Shh,” she whispered, calming the one closest to her, her sharp ruby-red nail lightly stroking down the long column of its neck, breaking open the skin. Blood ran in small rivulets, its coppery scent sending the wolves into a frenzy of hunger.
In sheer terror, the horse bolted upright, knocking its rider to the ground. He ran screaming into the forest. Chaos ensued. Horses raced in every direction, men screamed, wolves attacked, making a merry chase.
And then there was William.
His eyes were wide. He no longer looked at her naked body with lust; no longer did she hear his laughter at her pain and humiliation. Now, all she saw on his face was fear, and she liked it.
As before, she wanted more.
She wanted to hear him scream.
She lunged.
20-11-07, 08:01 PM
Rising Darkness- Cynthia Cooke *Silhouette Nacturne 2007
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