I step up to the maroon-cloaked priestess. She grins as she hands the henbane off to me. I cup it in my hands as her spell petals against my skin like a gossamer spider web. I hurriedly toss my offering to the fire.
The smell of burning herbs is strong in the air. I suck in a deep breath, turn on my heel and stagger when the magic hits me so forcefully it seems to come from the Gods themselves.
My head falls slack against my chest, and I puff a breath as the magic ignites every cell in my body. It grinds me down and encompasses me, wholly and completely, reducing me to my most base animal instincts. Similar to the hunger I experienced under the effects of the Bonewalker but this is an entirely different type of hunger.
An entirely different beast.
The need to fuck—to reproduce—to deposit my seed in someone as instinctual as the splitting of a single celled organism. Something as primal and archaic as time itself.
My cock swells, rigid as stone, the tip pulsing pangs that are downright painful. My nostrils flare, pupils dilating. I shake my head, barely able to think past it. The magic of the henbane pulls at me, calling me to find this person and drive into them with a wild abandon.
That’s exactly what I intend to do. I take a single step forward and roll my shoulders as my body tenses in preparation—to hunt. I’m forgetting something.
Pandora.
This is exactly what she’d been concerned about, that the magic would call me to someone, and I assured her that it wouldn’t. Why now? It wasn’t like this last time. I was so certain this entire rite was a load of bullshit. There has to be someone here that wasn’t here last time. Someone who more closely matches my magic? But who?
This could not be more inconvenient. I can’t follow this pull. I have to get her out of here as I promised. I’m practiced at fighting off magic.Thisis a whole new level of restraint.
I’m not sure I’m restraining myself from it at all. Some morbid curiosity has me wanting to at least know who the magic is calling me to. I’m playing with fire as I follow that pull forward, glancing up just as Pandora emerges from the sea of bodies.
Her eyes are oddly glassy as she takes measured steps. She spots me, and halts in her path. She’s already made her offering. Good. She presses a hand to her face and trails a finger over her bottom lip, blinking slowly. She’s strangely dazed like she’s just woken up. What’s wrong with her?
She clasps a hand tight around her other forearm, her discomfort blatant. That strengthens my resolve. I’m not going to abandon her for some magical call to breed yet I continue following the pull in her direction just to see who it is. This might get awkward if it’s someone near her. I eye the women around her, studying each one. None of them stand out to me.
I’m halfway across the clearing when it dawns on me. The flames reflect in her eyes like those two perfectly matching fires of the omen.
It’s Pandora. The henbane is calling me toPandora.A series of images flash through my mind. Taking her, pushing her down to the ground, and….She takes a couple of steps forward, and my blood sings.
I stop dead in my tracks.
I can’t.
I’m being watched.
She stops, too, expression uncertain. Her eyes narrow on something to my left seconds before a woman strides in front of me to block my path.
“My prince,” she murmurs, peeking up from under a thick band of lashes. She’s attractive, tanned, long brown curls draping her shoulders above the heavy swell of her breasts. The sway of her hips is exaggerated as she strides closer but I barely see her, still trying to process the magic coaxing me to push past this intruder.
It just doesn’t make any sense. Pandora is a nought, without an ounce of magic to give. Nothing has made sense since the day she got here. A hand grips my cock, startling me from my thoughts. I snatch her by the wrist and quickly wrench her hand away.
“S—sorry,” she says, thoroughly taken aback that I haven’t welcomed her intrusion.
I heave a breath, staring over the top of her head at the host of eyes behind her, readying themselves to pounce before looking back down at the woman in front of me. She probably doesn’t deserve this with her forwardness but she’ll have to do.
“Somewhere more private,” I say, holding a palm out to the nearby Woods.
She nods eagerly, and I lead her toward the tree I marked, not allowing myself to look back in Pandora’s direction. Too afraid I’ll be tempted to go to her again if I do. Every step away from her feels wrong on a fundamental level. She’ll be shortly behind me, I assure myself.
Two erratic pulses thump from the mark on my hand.
Just follow me out, Pandora.
Once we’re a safe distance into the Wood, away from prying eyes, I turn my attention to the woman standing next to me. There’s so much gleeful hope in her eyes I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do. Her breath catches as I tug her to me and clasp a hand under her jaw.
“Sleep,” I command, letting the magic filter out of my palm to that spot just under her chin. There’s a final flash of surprise in her eyes before she collapses in my arms, and I carefully maneuver her to the ground. “Sorry about that,” I mutter to her limp form.
I draw a series of symbols with my hand to ward around her so no one will stumble upon her. She’ll likely wake within the hour and she can rejoin the party at that point if she so chooses. Another sweep of my hand summons our clothes and boots from their hiding spot.
