India Masters - The Soul Collector, page 1
THE SOUL COLLECTOR
India Masters
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www.loose-id.com
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This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
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This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.
The Soul Collector
India Masters
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © August 2007 by India Masters
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-525-8
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Sherri Lynne
Cover Artist: Croco Designs
Dedication
To the two Sheri’s in my life:
To Sheri Livingston, for mentoring a novice and for being the best crit partner and writing partner a girl could ask for. I’ve never laughed so much in my entire life as I have this last year knowing you.
To Sherri Lynne, for liking my little story, and for having the patience of a saint as we worked on edits. Maybe one of these days we’ll make it to the Big Easy and I’ll buy you a café au lait at Café Du Monde. I said it once and I’ll say it again — you rock!
Thanks to my sister for, well, everything.
Lastly, to Jessica/Dana, for dragging me outside my comfort zone, even if I did go kicking and screaming.
Prologue
Cedlan Tunnock knelt between his wife’s legs as she pushed, screaming in agony as another contraction rippled her belly. The passing hours had been sheer hell and still the midwife had not arrived. Anhia grew tired and the babe refused to come. Each moment drew more of her waning strength and Cedlan feared his beloved would pass into the spirit world. Another scream and Anhia pushed, expelling the child from her weakened body. Cedlan stared, horrified.
He looked around the room to assure they were alone. The babe, a female, had been born with a caul. Cedlan, tore the membrane from the child’s head. Just in time, for the door flew open, admitting the driving wind and rain along with the midwife and her apprentice.
“Sheabb,” the Druid priest cried to the midwife. “At last! The babe has just arrived. See to Anhia; there is much blood!”
She hurried to Anhia’s side and lifted the sheet covering the young mother, then turned to Cedlan, a grim look on her careworn face. “Go to the temple, Cedlan Tunnock, and pray for your wife, for I fear she will not last the night.”
The Druid high priest gave a strangled cry then donned his cloak. The door was nearly ripped from his hands as he left the cottage. The wind moaned, buffeting him from all sides, driving the rain into his exposed skin like tiny spikes.
Cedlan fought his way across the ground and entered between the standing stones, throwing himself upon the altar. “Danu! Hear my plea!” Tears mingled with the rain as the priest lay prostrate on the altar. “I offer my life and the life of the child! Our lives for hers! I beg of you, Divine One! Spare Anhia and I will sacrifice myself and the child to your glorious mercy!”
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Samhain — fourteen years later
Midnight approached and Lillith shivered in the filmy robe as the procession made its way to the temple. She had prepared for this moment her entire life, but fear of the knife gripped her heart. The pain would be fleeting, this she knew, and her parents would be at her side to guide her from this world and into the new. Danu waited on the other side to breathe new life into her.
At the stroke of midnight, the fires were extinguished. Lillith approached the altar and disrobed. Stretching out on the cold stone, she raised her arms above her head, baring her ribcage for the thrust of the knife. On her left, her father raised the ceremonial knife to the full moon. On her right, her mother knelt beside her in prayer. With those she loved near to her, Lillith closed her eyes and listened to her father’s invocation.
“Hear me, Danu! Now is the promised time. This holy daughter begs your guidance to the Otherworld. Hear my prayer, Divine One! Take her hand and lead her into your light, that she may be reborn to your service. Remember all who have passed before her, grant them passage that new ones may be born to live in the glory of your name! Into your loving hands we deliver our daughter, Lillith!”
The tip of the knife was cold and sharp against her skin. Her father murmured words of love to her as the knife thrust into her, driving deep. She felt it pierce her heart and her eyes flew open. With a gasp, Lillith turned her eyes heavenward as the shimmering hand of Danu reached for her. She took the hand as she slipped the mortal coil.
Oh, the beauty of Danu! Her body was the Earth, her hair the waters. Air was her breath; sun and moon lit her eyes. Lillith rose from her mortal body, looking down impassively as the blood pumped from her wounded heart to stain the altar. In that moment, all was known to her. She would walk the earth, immortal, collecting the souls of the dead, both good and evil. As time passed, a man would come to her…The crowd dispersed to the village center as the runners approached with the torches from the need fires in Uisneach. The Samhain feast had begun.
Lillith gasped as Danu breathed life into her deflated lungs. Rising from the altar, she walked naked to the nearby spring to bathe. For the rest of her time on Earth, she would bear the mark of her father’s knife. Drying herself, she made her way from the temple and entered her parent’s cottage. A new gown hung from a peg by the bed. She donned the garment, tied the silver cord about her waist and shouldered a leather pack. She stood in the doorway, giving the place one last look, then turned and walked away into the night.
Chapter One
New Orleans, Louisiana, 2007
More often than not, I prefer a shower, but there was a chill in the air so I decided to soak in the large spa tub. As I luxuriated in the heated water, I recalled Attila the Hun’s fascination with the Roman’s hot baths, remembering I was there when he humiliated Theodosius and the Roman Empire, then collected his soul as he drowned in his own blood on his wedding night. The world had changed drastically since I was reborn as a Soul Collector. People often romanticized the past, unable to comprehend the grinding poverty and disease that afflicted those who lived in those times. I raised my foot and flipped the lever to drain the tub. Enough reminiscing, the sun had just set over Lake Pontchartrain and I was late meeting Anton at Café Du Monde for coffee.
As I leaned over to open a drawer, I was grabbed from behind, spun around, and thrown over the back of a leather club chair. A forearm across my back held me in place and I heard the sound of a zipper sliding open. My legs were shoved apart and I gasped as my attacker penetrated me from behind.
“Don’t make a sound” He pulled back to thrust into me again. His hands grasped my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumb and index fingers. His hips moved like a piston, fucking me with long hard strokes.
“Ah,” I sighed. “C’est tu, chéri. Dur, baises-moi dur.”
Anton chuckled. “I’ll fuck you hard, cher.” Each word followed a hard thrust. He relinquished one of my breasts and reached around my hips to delve between my legs. He stroked my clit, making me mumble gibberish as his cock pounded into me. “And, by the way, you’re late, as usual.”
“Oh, ooh, darling, I’m going to come while you’re fucking me like this!” Jesus, but he felt good, so long and thick, riding me hard and fast. I could feel my body beginning to clench, the familiar heat igniting from deep inside my pussy, building to an almost unbearable crescendo. I practically screamed at him to finish me, and he did, taking my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing, the friction guaranteeing the fire he sought. I screamed like a nutria as the dam burst, thrusting my hips back to meet his every stroke until all I could do was sob and shudder as I came.
He hadn’t come. As I sighed and went limp, he lifted me and carried me to the bed. It was a massive affair, imported from Italy, and large enough to hold four adults. An intricately scrolled wrought iron headboard took up most of the wall.
“Put your arms up and grab the headboard,” Anton demanded. Naturally, I did.
“Now, raise your legs and put your feet on the mattress.” Again, I cooperated. “Spread them wide, let me see your pussy.” I smiled, having been the beneficiary of his little games before. “Wipe that smile off your face, wench.” Aaah, the lord of the manor and the naughty upstairs maid. I liked this one.
“Yes, sir,” I squeaked. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Tell me, wench, do you value your positio
“Oh, yes, Mr. Anton, I do.”
“That’s good, Lily, very good indeed.” He smiled down at me, slowly removing the rest of his clothes. “Look at me, Lily. What do you see?”
I looked at my lover, widening my eyes in make-believe shock. “Oh, sir, it’s…it’s so big!”
He nodded, pleased with his little maid. “Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to you, Lily?”
“Y-yes sir.” I made my voice as timid sounding as possible.
Anton climbed on the bed, stroking my inner thighs with skilled hands. His touch was whisper light, sending shivers down my spine as his fingers grazed the crease of each leg. With each touch, he came closer to my pussy, but never actually touched me there.
“First, I’m going to touch you.” His voice was as soft as his caress. Then, finally, one finger traced the outline of my labia, teasing until the moisture began to flow. Next, that same finger slid under my outer lips to stroke the velvety flesh beneath. “You’re very soft, Lily. You like what I’m doing, don’t you?”
I shuddered. Goddess, yes, I liked it. “I…yes, sir.”
“That’s a good girl,” he crooned. His finger dipped inside my liquid center and I moaned. As a reward, I got another finger, both moving deeper this time.
“Oh, Mr. Anton,” I sighed.
“Are you ready for more, Lily?”
“Oh, please, sir!”
“All right, Lily. Now, do you know what I’m going to do next?” He stretched out on the bed, his head between my legs. “I’m going to put my mouth right here.” He touched my opening, and I shuddered. “I’m going to kiss you, and lick you, and suck every drop of juice from between your legs.”
I groaned as Anton’s thumbs opened me to his questing mouth. His tongue advanced, licking at my opening, dipping in, penetrating, and then moving on. My clit, sensitized from
his earlier ministrations, jumped to attention the second his soft tongue stroked it, and I moaned loudly, thrusting against his mouth.
“That’s my girl. I’m going to eat you until you come, cher, and then I’m going to fuck you good.”
“Oh, oui!” His tongue stabbed at my clit and my hips jerked away.
“Ah, ah, ah. We’ll have none of that, Miss.” He grasped my hips, holding them tight against his hungry mouth as he drew my clit between his lips to nurse.
My hands came off the headboard to pound the mattress and he stopped to scold me.
“Keep your hands on that headboard, girl!”
“Yes, sir!” I squeaked, my entire body tensed to explode. His tongue lashed me and I cried out, over and over! My body nearly levitated off the bed as I came, legs thrashing, headboard pounding the wall. “Anton!”
He gave me a few moments to come back to earth, then moved up my body, draping my legs over his shoulders.
“Now, I’m going to fuck you, cher.” He plunged into me, his cock hard and hot. I had no control in this position, and Anton liked it that way. He could fuck me hard, then slow down. It drove me wild with need when he withdrew and slowly sank into me again. He teased me with slow, gentle thrusts then slammed into to me with a violence that took my breath. The man knew how to fuck, and that was what this session was all about. Later, we would make love, but right now he was hungry and he wanted to fuck. I tightened the muscles of my vaginal wall, gripping him, making him groan. “That’s right, mon amour, hold me tight!” He moved faster, nearing his own release. “God, you’re so hot, and wet, and tight. You feel so good.” He let my legs slide down his shoulders and close around his waist as he lunged his mouth against my neck. “‘a beon d’un goû de to bebe.” I need a taste of you. It’s been so long!
I turned my head, granting him access. His canines elongated, scraping the skin, then found their mark, sinking into my neck. His moan of ecstasy shuddered through me with his final thrust and I came with him, my fingers uncurling from around the headboard. With a sigh, I stroked his hair, his shoulders, whispering nonsense as he came down. He released me, licking the wound to close it.
“Thank you, Lillith,” he murmured into the hollow of my neck.
Chapter Two
The temperature on this April evening was a pleasant seventy-two degrees and the air was still. The trip from my building in the Vieux Carré to Café Du Monde was a short walk up Royal to Pirate Alley where we cut across Jackson Square to Decatur Street. Most of those we encountered were locals and we exchanged greetings, stopping to chat with a young Cajun couple renting an apartment in one of my buildings.
“Lillith, Anton!” Emil and Antoinette Reynaud cried in unison. Antoinette laughed and smacked Emil’s arm. “Jinx ! Tume dois un coke.”
Emil smiled and shook his head. “I try to learn English, and always she is speaking French to me. What means this ‘jinx’?”
“In this sense of the word, jinx means something that is predestined,” I explained.
He looked confused so I translated the word to French. “Prédestiné. It means to imply that you are so attuned to one another you say the same word at the same time. The one who catches it owes the other a Coke.”
“Ah,” Emil said, then twirled his index finger next to his temple. “C’est fou, non?”
Anton laughed. “Oui, mais elle est américaine.”
Antoinette stuck her tongue out at Anton. “Just because I am American doesn’t mean I’m crazy. You Parisians are just too snooty.”
Anton gestured as though plunging a dagger into his heart.
“Snooty?” Emil asked.
I placed an index finger under my nose and tipped my head back.
“Ah, the nose in the air. This means too proud.” He gave this some thought, then shook his head. “Non, a Parisian may never be too snooty.”
Antoinette snorted. “By the way, we were just headed over to Lola’s for dinner if you’d care to join us.” She looked directly at Anton as she spoke.
It was never a good idea to get too friendly with people you do business with, especially when the business came in the guise of landlord and tenant. Besides, I’d had enough of her flirting. As always, Anton came to my rescue, wrapping his arms around me possessively.
“Another time, perhaps. This is my night off, and I’m not sharing my girl with anyone. We’re going to Du Monde for a café au lait and then to Tujague’s. We love the shrimp remoulade and bonne femme chicken.”
I backed against Anton’s chest and reached up to stroke his cheek. “And I intend to eat my weight in bread pudding.”
He leaned down to nuzzle my cheek, drawing my eyes to his. “You’ll get fat as a cow and I’ll divorce you for a much younger, much skinnier woman.”
Already, the rest of the world began to fade away. With Anton’s arms around me, his warm breath on my cheek, no one and nothing intruded.
Emil cleared his throat. “We will leave you to your evening together, then.”
We said our goodbyes, and Anton held my hand as we started across the square. We stopped in unison, exchanging a kiss when we heard Antoinette tell Emil how she hoped they would still be so much in love when they were our age. If only they knew.
One of the advantages of being sanctioned by The Divine One was that Anton had evolved over the years. Unlike some vampires, he was able to eat and drink as a normal person did. When instructed to relocate to the States, Anton requested we move to New Orleans, as it was the one metropolis in America most like European cities. We’ve lived in the Vieux Carré and have been patrons of Café Du Monde since its inception in 1862. Our combined powers shielded us from prying eyes that would question why we never appeared to age. As far as the locals knew, we were descendants of the first families of New Orleans who had the unfortunate tendency to name their firstborn children after themselves. New Orleanians have always had enough quirks of their own to not bother questioning why Anton never seemed to eat. For a number of years, all he could do was sip café au lait, but now he enjoyed all New Orleans had to offer in the way of cuisine. Café Du Monde, however, continued to be our favorite haunt. Anyone looking for Anton and Lillith knew when all else failed, wait at the cafe and we’d turn up.
