Dark (Beautiful Ashes #1), page 19
Silence closed her eyes and focused, bringing her jittery mind and erratic pulse back into her control. Again.
She was finally there. In The Hallower Chamber. She didn’t permit herself to look about but her peripheral said she’d been wrong. The torture devices and horrific tools she’d imagined hanging from the ceiling and walls, did not exist. She prayed for immediate forgiveness for thinking they would or should.
Six years. She could hardly believe it had passed. Six years as Silence ended today. The dream was seared into her mind, just as her lips had been seared shut in it. She’d delivered the nightmare to Master and by his gifts he interpreted the meaning. Contemplative Silence. She was to become that. She was to become Contemplative Silence, and she had. For six years to the day.
Master said she was special, not ill. That’s why she was chosen. She didn’t have to hate her visions and dreams anymore. People still looked at her with fear, but since Master came into her life and embraced the dreams and visions, called her curse a gift and her visions the illustrious voice of God, Silence had gained acceptance. Mostly. More importantly, the Queen approved.
Silence carefully slid her gaze to the single door leading in. She was impressed with the decorative black metal that held the thick wood slats together. Very noble looking. The entire room was black—walls, ceilings, floor—all a rough stone painted a shiny looking onyx. But empty except for the single slab of granite in the shape of a hobbit table where she sat in her ceremonial graduation gown that literally stole her breath. It reminded her of the wet binding cloth Master used to wrap her in for hours to teach her about control and restraint. Only this one was blood red. She’d never worn anything so pretty, even if she couldn’t breathe well. She saw herself as a single drop of blood—or life force, in the middle of the black room.
Would Master like the dress? Would he be the one to usher in the final phase? She secretly hoped so. She’d never met the Order’s Queen. She was not permitted to look upon her. Nobody but Master was allowed. Many speculated about the Queen and what she looked like. But Silence didn’t. She worried Master would somehow find out and punish her for the blasphemy. He seemed to be able to read her mind at times. And even though he’d trained her personally in the holy arts of pain and fear, she preferred to not test him. She was strong—he’d said so many times—but there were countless days she only believed that by sheer faith. Many days she didn’t feel strong. Or brave. Just the opposite. So many times she was tempted with the dark fears, the destructive ones that threatened the Order’s way. But the holy fear and pain, those were gifts from her Master’s hands. And only complete submission to it could provide the divine power she needed to fulfill her role as the Queen’s chosen Redemptrix.
Her calm insides jolted at the clang of the outer door leading to The Hallower. She assumed the practiced position—face forward, body erect in strict obedience, eyes cast to the floor in deference. The door opened and her peripheral vision picked up a nude form. The movements as they entered signaled the lopsided gait belonging to Master. She let out a silent breath mixed with anticipation and relief.
She kept herself perfectly still as he shut the door. One metal clank… then two… then three. Her heart hammered in her ears despite her steady breaths. It was always this way, no matter how practiced she was with Master’s training. Her body knew. Her mind and muscles remembered to never relax.
“Sweet Silence,” he said when he stood before her.
She stared at his hardened phallus, leaning to place the customary kiss on the butterfly tattoo wrapping its length. He stopped her with the long nail on his pointer finger pressing into her forehead.
“Not this time.”
Again Silence braced, mostly in confusion. She didn’t remember a single time when he didn’t require the Butterfly Kiss. She still remembered the day he had the vision to get the tattoo. The butterfly on the phallus symbolized that the lost would be ushered to heaven’s door by the seed of Master. During her Silent Contemplation she’d marveled over his interpretation, glad that he seemed to be getting some of her gifts.
She hoped he got all of them.
“You look beautiful in your graduation gown, Silence.” He stroked that same finger along her face, beginning with her temple. The soft scratch of his nail filled her mind with flashes of past disciplines. There was no part of her body he’d not trained in some way, for some sacred reason.
“Thank you, Master.”
She listened closely to his unsteady breaths, thick with the scent of fermented juice. “Are you nervous?”
The odd question stumped her. “No, Master.”
He gave several grunts followed by a series of strained groans. It meant he was having divine revelations right in that moment. “Six years of Silence to usher in the final phase.” The withered words came with the glide of his finger over her lips, lingering long enough for her to know what he wanted. But when she parted her lips to suck, he drew it away, bringing another unusual surprise. “Are you ready, little one?”
“Yes, Master.” The bad fears made her breaths shallow as she struggled with old flight and hide instincts. Why wouldn’t he let her suck it? It was always the not knowing parts that got her, it always was. What he would do each time. He liked surprising her, she was sure of it. It had become an unspoken duel between them—her to anticipate, and him to be unpredictable.
A gasp escaped her as she fumbled with the reigns on her control. Master was the one person she would always fear. She was supposed to fear him and only him. Fearing him was allowed, it was good, it was expected, demanded.
Think of the Hallowing Ceremony. Graduating to the next phase. Six years of silence is over.
Sudden terror hit her. The dream. The vision for her new name. What if he expected her to have it this time? He never told her.
“So much fear, little one.” His voice croaked with disappointment as he tilted her face up with that same finger, now under her chin. “I am sure you’re eager for your new name.” He began a slow trek to the right of her, his finger gliding off as he went. Silence refused to allow her gaze to stray from straight before her. So, he’d had the dream? The vision? “I too, am ready to hear it,” he finished.
He’d not had it. Terror raced back in and she swallowed at what this might mean. “I had no dream, no vision.” Her voice rang out with strength despite the quiver in her gut.
His deep chuckle just behind her, tickled along her spine. “I know,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly at her ear. “Because I was given the dream this time.”
The beat of her heart became a wallop in her chest. Breathe, Silence.
“I’m sure you’re eager to know it?” he said lightly, slowly coming back around on her left now.
“I am excited to learn it.”
“And I’m excited to tell you.” He came to stand exactly before her again. Silence gripped the bottom part of her dress in tight fists as he placed his hands on either side of her head. He pulled her to his phallus, moving his hips side to side lightly. She waited for his direction, knowing not to engage until he communicated firmly. “I had a vision of your new name, little one. A vision of a hand writing on the wall next to my bed.” The tip of his penis stroked errantly over her cheek and lips, meandering and without purpose. “Do you know what it said, sweet angel?”
She shook her head only barely. “No, Master.”
His fingers suddenly bit down in her hair, pulling harder than he'd ever done before. She fought to look him in the eyes the way he always insisted when she milked for his essence. But he shoved so far in, so quickly she hadn’t had time to relax her throat. Already it burned and hurt. “Talk to me Silence. One last time before you leave,” he growled, grabbing the hair on top of her head while he pinched her nose shut. “Tell Master how much you will miss him. How you will never forget him. How you will only think of him,” he hissed, pounding his penis harder against her throat.
Silence struggled to give him what he wanted, but she needed air. Her body refused his wish, it always did.
“Tell me!” he ordered between grunts and thick groans.
She tried again. She tried so hard.
His fist shot down and slammed into her forehead. A familiar numb buzzing filled her skull and ears as she sucked in air through her nostrils. “Tell me Silence, tell me how much you’ll miss me while you fuck our sacrifice!”
She did it in her mind, she gave him what he wanted. She screamed until she had no more breath. She screamed as loud and hard as she could, but it came as silence. Something had broken inside her years ago. She couldn’t remember the exact day, she just knew it had. She could no longer scream. It was as though she’d forgotten how or lost the ability. No matter how much he beat her or hurt her body, her mind disconnected from everything and she couldn’t. She could feel the pain but she was trapped in silence. Just like her name.
He was close to his brutal orgasm now. She could feel it as he fought to choke her with it. It finally came with a long roar and a single word that sent ice along her spine.
“Chaos,” he roared. “Chaos, Chaos, Chaos.” The words came with his last thrust and she fought not to choke on his divine essence. “No longer Silence,” he rasped. “Your new name… is Chaos. And today... Master will baptize you in it. Then deliver your body to Hell’s door.”
The next blow Master delivered sent Silence into the stone wall. She hurried in alarm to another place inside herself. Confused, she struggled to stay awake as he beat her like never before. Was he going to kill her? Was the final phase to be carried out in the afterlife? Did he realize he was killing her? She fought to trust him. He never hurt her beyond quick repair. He was a Master at that. She had to believe that and survive.
She began to pray so very hard. Please God. Please let me survive, please don’t let me die. Please keep me alive so I can finish Your will.
“Chaos!” he roared over and over, the sound echoing over a great distance. “Blood and Chaos. Pain and suffering! It has come! The Desecration of Desecrations is here! Bring him! Bring Solomon Gorge to God that he might purge the sin from this evil land!”
Bring Solomon Gorge. Bring Solomon Gorge.
Silence repeated the name, a lifeline to consciousness. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t fail. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge. I’m coming. You will redeem this land. You will save us all from the evil in this land.
Though Silence couldn’t scream it, she did. She screamed it into the darkness, commanding the grave back. Screamed it into the silence, into that never-ending night. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge.
Chapter Two
Solomon bolted up in bed, gasping and covered in sweat. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge. The echoed screams clawed through his brain and blood sending him flying off of the bed and out the front door. Running off of the porch into the dark, he searched the woods around him, looking for who had screamed his name. As he spun in circles, he realized he might have dreamt it. But it was too real, it woke him. It wasn’t just some scream, some animal scream, it was a woman and it was his name. Clearly!
You can read the rest of the story here: Desecrating Solomon: A Forbidden Romantic Thriller - http://amzn.to/1TG1jhE
Dark Veil: The Society Series Book 3 by Mason Sabre
Chapter One
Gemma Davies held the small plastic stick in her hand and stared at it as if it were something that had been born of evil intent, but maybe that was exactly what it was. Something evil—something to fear. The two blue lines mocked her. They were the worst image that she could have ever seen, and her heart sank with despondency, disbelief flooding her. They were the end of her life. Shit, she might as well go and write her own damn name on the execution order before Trevor got the chance to do it himself. Breathless, she gripped the edges of the cold, white porcelain sink to keep herself from collapsing to the floor. Her mind all but floated away as the world started to tip sideways.
Slowly, she raised her gaze and glared at her reflection in the mirror. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Pregnant.
The word burnt through her mind and sent shivers of cold down her spine. Her mind refused to accept what it was she was seeing as she wrapped her fingers around the tester stick and crushed it as she tried to force the result away.
It was wrong.
Wrong.
It had to be.
The flimsy plastic in her hand gave way with a crack and splintered. She winced as the plastic splinters bit into her flesh.
These things give false-positives all the time, she reassured herself. She was just one of the unlucky ones. That was all. With a newfound sense of urgency, she flung the broken tester stick into the discarded carrier bag and then fumbled with the box for the second test. She had bought a double test. This would come out as negative—she knew it. She could feel it in her gut as she tore it from its wrapper.
Three minutes—three goddamn minutes of excruciating waiting. The first test hadn't taken this long, so why had time suddenly decided that it was going to stand still? She breathed in and exhaled slowly to calm herself, but that proved impossible. Every sense she had was on alert. With a twist of her wrist, she gave her watch a shake and then tapped the glass.
Fifty seconds.
She got up nervously to look at the test, gulped and changed her mind, flipping it back over before she could see it. She sat down on the edge of the bath and bit down on her lip.
Forty seconds.
The test stared at her from the back of the sink. It sat there like judge and jury over the rest of her life, getting ready to stand up and issue her with a death sentence.
Twenty seconds.
Her hands grew clammy and she wiped them down the legs of her jeans and glared at the test.
Ten seconds.
Gemma tapped her foot against the floor and wrung her hands together. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.
“Everything okay in there?” Stephen’s deep voice echoed through the door, making her squeal and jump. “You’ve been in there almost an hour.”
“What are you? The bathroom police? I didn’t realise there was a time restriction.” She rubbed her face and scowled. She shouldn’t snap at her brother. “I’m fine.”
He tried the door handle, making it rattle, and she froze. He could snap it and force the door open if he chose to. The rattling was just shit and Stephen trying to scare her, and she knew it. She watched wide-eyed as the handle twisted again and the wood strained under Stephen’s hold. In her mind, she could hear the echo of the crack it would make if he forced it open. “Gemma, let me in.”
“I’m using the bathroom. I like to do it in private.”
He ignored her. “Open the door.”
She bit down on her lip and stared at the door, willing him to go away.
“If you don’t open this door, I am going to break it down, and then Dad will hear it and come and see what is going on. I get the feeling that you don’t want that.”
Gemma scowled at the door. How did he do that? All the time. It was like having a damn lie detector around the house. He seemed to know everything—literally everything. It was more than coincidence. He was right so many times.
“Open the door, Gemma.”
She loved her brother with all her heart, but right now, she wished that he would just leave her alone. Could he not just keep out of her life? Live his own? Why had he decided that keeping his sister safe was his job? And by safe, she meant stalked and prisoner. Now it would seem he had upgraded to bathroom supervision.
“You have until the count of three,” he said calmly, his voice sure and laced with authority. “One …”
“For god’s sake, Stephen.”
Both Stephen and Gemma were shifters—tigers to be exact. She knew that if he wanted in the room, he would get in. Opening that lock would be as easy as the door not being there at all. No lock or barricade would stop him. That was why he was protector to the alpha—their father—and the best damn fighter the Society had.
“Two …”
She grabbed the test from the back of the sink and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans before yanking the door open. Stephen stood there with his big arms folded over his chest and a smug expression upon his face.
“Smart girl.” His green eyes scanned the room behind her, his expression giving nothing away, as usual. Although Gemma was by no means a short woman, Stephen’s incredible height practically dwarfed her. His entire presence was big. It was impossible to block his view, even though she tried.
The test stick in her back pocket pressed against her as a reminder that the three minutes were now up. She had to fight the urge to pull it out and look. She couldn’t think so much right then as Stephen blocked her way. She just wanted to pull the stick out and confirm that it said negative. One line—that was all that would be there.
She was sure of it.
“What do you want?” she finally asked.
“I want to know what you're doing in here.” He nodded towards the bathroom, but his penetrating green eyes didn’t leave hers. “You were almost an hour.”
“I was using the bathroom. Can't I have privacy to do that? I didn’t know there was a time limit. Do I come in here and ask what you're doing when you spend hours upon hours flexing your muscles and admiring yourself?”
He cocked his head to one side. “No, because you know exactly what I am doing. You don’t need to check.”
“Don’t be a jerk.” Of course Stephen was back to looking across every inch of the room. “What are you looking for? It’s a bathroom. You know … where people do bathroom things.”
He smirked at her, his all-knowing smirk. “Apparently.”
Gemma stormed past him and out of the room, hoping that her dramatic exit would make him follow her. She was two feet from the door when her step faltered. Oh god. The bag. The fucking bag. Heart pounding loudly in her chest, she wheeled around and raced back to the bathroom, but it was too late. Stephen was standing there with the test in his hand. His eyes lifted and met Gemma’s, the gold flecks in his eyes flickering with the same intensity that she had seem many times in her father’s eyes when she knew she was in trouble.
