Moon Dance

MOON DANCE Vonna Harper

Chapter One Light from at least a half dozen small fires flickered in the dark. The nearly full moon cast silvery-red light on the endless sweep of vineyards surrounding the Rhine River as it flowed through southern Germany’s small, ancient towns and sweeping countryside. When she’d driven out of the hamlet of Siebenborn, thirty-something year old Derika Ritter hadn’t noticed the steep terrain. Now, as she climbed the narrow country road, the vista held her attention and fed her with energy. Despite the night’s chill, she kept the windows on her rental down. After all, a Chicago University Applied Mathematics and Numerical Analysis professor didn’t get to Germany that often. Soon enough she’d amass the logical argument necessary to putting an end to Great-Aunt Helga’s insane plan to buy and, with the help of some building contractor she’d raved about, renovate a 13 th century castle. In the meantime, what was the harm in soaking up the mystique of a land, seemingly, caught in the past. Yes, her cell phone lay beside her, her laptop was on the back seat, and she’d packed her high tech vibrator, but alone and touched by the moon, she’d already lost touch with the present, specifically her current grant-financed developmental work engineering computational tools. A castle. She was going to spend the next few days in a castle. The country road wound through what appeared to be individually owned and maintained vineyards—so much for industrialization. Occasionally her route took her within a few feet of small brick buildings where she assumed the farmers—was that what grapevine owners were called?—lived. She’d apologize for invading their privacy if she wasn’t so taken by the silent, moon-kissed vineyards. The plants appeared ready to put winter’s hibernation behind them, eager to begin spring’s growth. “They aren’t the only ones,” she muttered, surprised by the admission. She’d lived through a Chicago winter without really being aware of what was happening outside, but she shouldn ’t be surprised. After all, teaching three graduate level courses in addition to her independent work in electronic design automation had kept her chained to her computer through the long, brisk nights and short, cold days. Even several fierce storms had gone practically unnoticed. “It’s nearly spring,” she told herself. “On the cusp.” Sure is. And in spring, a woman’s fancy turns to her pussy—filling it with the requisite cock. You know, shaking off the cobwebs. A whiff of woodsmoke distracted her. She wasn’t close to any of the small fires, but the wind must be blowing smoke in her direction. Were the farmers burning plant trimmings?

No, nothing so ordinary. This is some kind of ritual. Where did that thought come from? You have no use for superstitious nonsense. Still, instead of punching the gas pedal and concentrating on what she had no doubt would be a wreck of a castle, she continued at a slow pace and tried to ignore the ache between her legs. Damn it, why had she started thinking about sex? So, don’t. I’m trying, she retorted to whoever she was having an argument with. What was it she’d told Aunt Helga before reluctantly agreeing to come here, that she simply didn’t have the time or inclination to play tourist? True, her mother’s side of the family’s roots were in Germany, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d put up the same argument two years ago when Aunt Helga had sent her a first class ticket to Frankfurt and practically forced her to join a tour group. She’d done so because, despite the old lady’s dogmatic nature, she loved Aunt Helga. Besides, Aunt Helga could afford to spoil her only great niece. Hell, she could afford a castle. So, would it be so bad? If it makes her happy, let her take title to something older than dirt— something bound to give new meaning to the term money pit. The road began a steep assent, and, thighs squeezed together, she concentrated on staying on pavement—at least she tried to tell herself that’s all she was doing. After a few more turns, she reached an overlook of sorts. Her vantage point afforded her a breathtaking view of the broad, slow Rhine, which came to life in the Swiss Alps and eventually emptied into the North Sea. Moonlight glittered off the river and turned it into something otherworldly. Coupled with the sweep of close-growing grapevines, the impact was enough to bring tears to her eyes, something she hadn’t done since—since the other time she’d been to Germany. The countryside was truly beautiful—at least it was this time of year with new grass pushing through the ground and the smell of young life in the air. At the thought, her free hand stole between her legs, and she pressed against the insistent throb. So move here if you love it so much. I don’t! I have a life where I live, an exciting and challenging and satisfying career. So turn around and go back. I can’t. I promised— What would you go back to anyway? An upscale, overpriced yuppie apartment, a filled-to-the-ceiling university office, fucking what’s-his-face when your vibrator doesn’t do the job? Don’t knock it. It works. Sure it does. Brought up short by the sarcastic comment, Derika pulled her hand off her crotch and resolutely turned her attention back to driving. Germany was not getting to her. It wasn’t!

***** The castle—as far as she knew, it didn’t have a name—had been built near the top of a low mountain. Even with the aid of the moon and headlights, her impression of the place was sketchy at best. The country road had turned from pavement to gravel about a half-mile back, and she hadn’t noticed anything resembling power poles. As castles went, based on her limited knowledge of such things, this three-story affair was on the small size, maybe about four thousand square feet, and surrounded by a stone wall complete with what looked like guard towers at the corners. She was disappointed not to find a moat, but stuck on a low

mountain the way it was, she couldn’t imagine invading armies sneaking up unseen anyway. Did the people who once lived here ever get lonely? Probably the kings were busy invading and being invaded, but what about the ladies? And if their men were killed, what were the rest of their lives like? The square, stark-looking structure in the center caught her attention. Had anyone ever been locked in up there? Did the place have a dungeon? Surely it had a central gathering or meeting room, a kitchen or what had once passed for one, bedrooms for the lord or king or knight or whoever’s family. What was it made of anyway, some kind of natural stone? Oh fine, no problem making sure the walls have structural integrity or getting replacement rocks hauled in. It’d only take a few thousand workmen. There was a heavy duty pick-up in an area defined by crushed rock near what she assumed was the front door, and she took it as proof that the so-called builder had gotten here ahead of her. Swell. Aunt Helga, this is not what I had in mind when you said you wanted me to set up shop here instead of at a motel. “Fine,” she muttered and cut the engine. “The sooner I deal with this joker, the better.” Don’t be in such a rush to get rid of him. You ought to check out his equipment first, if you get my drift. Will you shut up? I don’t boink muscle heads. Since when? By the time she’d gotten out of her car, she’d slightly amended her opinion of the driver of the pickup. What was it Aunt Helga had said, Theodoric, the elderly man she was considering buying the castle with, had an American great-nephew who was an award-winning building contractor. “I trust him completely,” Aunt Helga had reassured her. “If Theodoric has no reservations about his competence, neither do I.” Of course you don’t. After all, you’re so in lust with Theodoric you can’t see beyond that. Never mind that the old fart might be playing you for a sucker. What if he’s a gold-digger, or a scam artist? If he was, Derika promised herself, she’d send the old fart packing along with his shirt-tail relative or whoever this so-called award winning builder was. Aunt Helga might be blind to reality, but she certainly wasn’t. She dealt with numbers, facts. If it couldn’t be calculated, she had no use for it. Bolstered by the unnecessary reminder, she stepped into an arched passageway in the outer wall. She found herself in a yard of some kind, maybe designed to keep horses and other livestock, although what the heck did she know? Straight ahead was the three-story structure. For a moment, she felt swamped by ancient impressions, sounds even. Hundreds of years ago, this place had throbbed with life. Could the people have left something of themselves behind? A little unnerved, she looked around for the front door but didn’t find anything resembling one. Instead, she finally determined that the only way into the structure was via some outside stairs. Climbing them, she found herself at a wooden door set in another arched doorway. Wondering what the hell she was doing, she reached for the large iron bar holding the door in place. She had to use both hands to lift the bar from the metal bracing and slide it back. The moment she did, the door swung a few inches toward her. So much for security. She deliberately hadn’t knocked because she wanted Mr. Pickup to have the message that she had every right to be here. Cussing herself for not having a flashlight, she started down a hall, of sorts, with a high ceiling. Light flickered in the distance.

Her shoes made a soft clicking sound on what might be stone flooring. For someone who didn’t think she had much of an imagination, she easily pictured knights and ladies waiting for a banquet and entertainment to begin. There’d be music and drink, flirting and maybe some not too discreet groping. Then the lord of the manor or feudal lord or whatever he was would appear and— No, not a powerful landowner, but not bad. Not bad by far. Feeling as if she’d been gut-punched, Derika sagged against the wall and stared. She was looking at what had to be the main room—they could put a bowling alley in here—but she barely noticed the long stone dining table and chairs, a raised area with a couple of massive wooden chairs on it, the benches around the sides, the wall-hung metal candle holders. She gave little thought to several modern oil lamps set on the dining table. What did any of that matter? She’d spotted him. The man crouched before a huge fireplace near the raised sitting area, feeding the flames. His back was to her, but she didn’t mind not seeing his face yet, not at all. Her mouth went dry. In contrast, her errant pussy flooded with wet heat. She felt weak and alive at the same time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. How dare he challenge her with that broad and muscled naked back, the tight, dare-you-to-touch-it ass encased in tight, faded jeans? Jeans? Why couldn’t he be dressed in limp slacks like her fellow staff members or lost in the folds of sweat pants like Buddy always wore. Oh no, he had to have a rear end made for jeans, hard thighs capable of splitting the sturdy fabric. And a back, shoulders, and arms that screamed of physical labor. It wasn’t fair! He was primitive man, animal man, blue-collar man minus the collar. As if that wasn’t enough, he needed a haircut. Even with his back to her, she had no doubt his hairline wasn’t receding; there wouldn’t be any gray in that coal black mane. Her fingers itched—no, they burned—to explore the considerable bulge between his legs she knew she’d see the moment he turned around. Swell! The man now poking a couple of logs against the back of the fireplace as if he’d been doing it all his life had her hot and bothered. “Seen enough?” he asked as he stood and turned toward her.

Chapter Two Ritter Reinhard managed to keep a kiss-my-ass expression on his face, but it wasn’t easy. When he’d heard light footsteps a moment ago, he figured his expected, if unwanted, guest had arrived. Fine, let the games begin, he’d thought. Uncle Theodoric had said Helga’s great-niece was some kind of university professor. As a result, he’d expected someone a hell of a lot older, thicker, plainer. Instead, as if things weren’t complicated enough already, he was going to have to deal with a broad who reminded him of how long it had been since he’d fucked and been fucked. “Ms. Huber, I presume,” he said. “And you must be Mr. Reinhard.” “So far we’re batting a thousand.” Noting her glance at his cock, he reassessed his earlier impression of who he’d be up against. The lady might be an academic complete with one of those short, sophisticated hairstyles designed to impress other women who gave a damn about such things, but she was also aware of the opposite sex. He’d be a fool not to use that to his

advantage. “I didn’t know when you’d show up,” he said. “Certainly not in the middle of the night.” “It’s hardly the middle of the night. Besides, what concern is it of yours when I arrive?” Ah, a spitfire. He loved bedding a hot-blooded woman. Wondering how long it would take him to get his cock up her cunt, he stepped to one side of the blazing fire. “Come warm yourself,” he encouraged. “It’s getting cold out there.” Her look plainly said she knew he was challenging her to get close. To her credit, she took the bait. Despite his vow not to let her get the upper hand, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her well-rounded hips and even more rounded breasts as she walked toward him. She was shorter than he liked—long-legged broads had more muscle to wrap around his, but he couldn’t complain about the package. Neither was he immune to the space she created between her legs with every step. She had on what he thought was called a shirtwaist blouse tucked into expensive looking, form-kissing slacks. The blouse was modestly buttoned—or it would have been if her breasts weren’t so large they caused the buttons to strain. It wouldn’t take much to set them free, not much at all. And if she hadn’t wanted men to notice the merchandise, she would have hidden it better. So what was she, a tease? Maybe. The label didn’t quite fit. “How long have you been here?” she asked as she held out long, slender fingers to catch the fire’s heat. “If you want a minute accounting, I can’t give it. I also don’t think it matters.” She looked over her shoulder at him, big hazel eyes narrowing. “It was simply a question. No need to get defensive, Mr. Reinhard.” Not tonight, unfortunately. Fucking Ms. Huber is going to take time. But then, there’s the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the conquest. “Defensive?” He shrugged. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.” “And I don’t know you well enough to judge the validity of your statement. I’m simply attempting to get an idea of how much of an advantage you have over me.” She turned her back to the fire and placed her hands behind her beg-to-be-fondled ass. “Advantage?” he questioned to keep himself from gaping at what her stance was doing to her beleaguered buttons. “An interesting term. You’re making it sound as if this is a competition.” “We don’t know yet, do we? But there’s a strong possibility.” There it was, the ground rules laid out. On the brink of going for the jugular and demanding to know whether she supported her aunt’s offer to team up with his beloved Uncle Theo in his plan to turn near-rubble into a showplace, he decided not to risk turning into adversaries so early in the game. Determined not to let her get to him in a physical way, he turned his back on her. Earlier, he’d taken advantage of the loose mortar and removed a couple of the ancient glazed windows in an attempt to get rid of some of the mustiness. Although the openings cut down on the fireplace’s effectiveness, it was worth it. Faint music—something resembling a drumbeat—started up down the hill, capturing his attention. Derika must have heard it too because she’d cocked her head to one side. The straight line of her mouth softened, and her lips parted. He swore she’d begun to sway in time with the barely-discernible sound. “What’s that?” she asked, whispered really. “I’m not sure. I heard it last night—not long after I arrived.”

If she was aware he answered her question after all, she gave no indication. Instead she walked over to the nearest opening and leaned out. Her short journey had taken her into shadow where she became less of a modern woman and more sprite-like, a residue from the castle’s past. All day, he’d busied himself with the seemingly insurmountable task of trying to document everything the castle needed to make it functional, let alone livable. But even when he was checking the timbers beneath the upper-story floor for structural integrity, he’d been aware of a blurring of the lines between past and present. He’d easily imagined this huge room filled with knights and damsels and half believed he’d heard whatever musical instruments were in use back then. He’d even begun to understand what had appealed to Uncle Theodoric about the place. And now, with Derika Huber sharing the space with him… “I saw several small fires on my way here,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Maybe the music is coming from them, some kind of celebration.” “Maybe,” he said and made the unwise decision—if there was a decision involved—to join her by the opening. They’d have to stand shoulder-to shoulder for both to see out. Instead of stepping back so he could have his turn, she stood her ground. Not at all sure he was doing the wise thing, he slid in next to her. Yep, it was night out there all right. The moon helped, and when he concentrated, he faintly heard other musical sounds beside the drum. What he had no intention of telling Ms. Huber was that his damn cock now stood at attention. Well, shit, no sense fighting. He’d pin her to the nearest wall, rip off her damn clothes, force her legs apart, and mount her. He’d pound into her until she cried uncle—and then some. What the hell was going on? Much as he liked—all right, much as he loved sex, lust hadn’t hit him this hard and fast since he’d been a teenager. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was in rut. She leaned her shoulder into him; maybe she’d done so while he was busy battling his cock. Before he could decide what to do about the intentional or otherwise contact, she turned full toward him. Moonlight stole over her features, giving her an otherworldly look. Shadows hid her short, practical hairstyle and placed all focus on her eyes, mouth, and iridescent skin. Last night, alone, he’d felt the presence of the castle’s ghosts. Now, it seemed, one of those spirits had come to life. Perhaps she was a country maid bringing farm produce to the lord. If so, her belly and breath would be tight with nerves at the thought of being so close to the man her family relied on to keep them safe from invaders. Yes, that was it. Derika Huber had walked up the steep hill on virgin legs carrying milk, eggs, perhaps a basket full of vegetables. To her surprise, she’d found the door open. She’d called out before creeping in. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she’d spot the lord —him—standing in front of the blazing fire, waiting for her. Come here, my child, he’d say. What have you brought me? My—my father commanded me to bring tokens of our appreciation. Gratitude for the protection— Ah maid, there is only one token I am interested in. Come closer, closer. Let me look at you. Yeah, right, Ritter chided. You’d make a great lord of the manor. Especially the part about being head of the household when you never had anything resembling a family until Uncle Theo rescued

you. Just the same, he couldn’t shake—or more honestly, didn’t try to shake—the fantasy of having the run of all females, especially ones as comely as Derika Huber. Comely? Where did that come from? “You’re staring at me,” Derika said. Instead of moving away, she stared back. “Am I?” “Yes.” Her breasts were so close all he’d have to do to get his first feel of them was lean forward. “Maybe I’ve been alone here long enough for the place to make an impact,” he offered although he really didn’t care whether or not he came up with an explanation as long as they remained side by side. “Impact?” Are you playing games with me, lady? Seeing how many of my buttons you can push? You don’t want to know how many you’ve already triggered. Belatedly realizing she was talking about the castle and not herself, he shrugged. “The ghosts.” Instead of laughing at him, she nodded, the movement slow and graceful and just a tad more than his overloaded libido needed. “I wondered,” she said softly. “The moment I spotted the castle, I started thinking about the ties with the past.” She frowned and ran her fingers through her hair. “Strange. I’m not into history, much to Aunt Helga’s chagrin.” Touch yourself again and I’ll show you how it’s supposed to be done. “Me either,” he muttered. The faint music increased in volume. He swore he felt the beat in his veins, particularly the ones responsible for directing blood to his cock. “Your aunt pushes history at you?” he finally thought to ask. “Pushes? Why do you put it that way?” “Because my great-uncle does the same thing.” Instead of asking for further explanation, she nodded. The breeze coming in the small opening now felt warm, although maybe Derika, and not the environment, was responsible. She looked like a woman of heat, not in the way she dressed of course, but a something subtle any red-blooded man could pick up on. And he was red-blooded. “I guess a night like this blurs the line between past and present,” she whispered. “And with spring coming…” Since reaching Germany, land of his so-called ancestors, he too had been acutely aware of spring’s approach. What else did they have in common? Determined to find out, he took hold of her upper arm and angled her so they could both easily look out the window—not that he cared about the view. Instead of breaking free or ordering him to get his hands the hell off her, she looked at his hand on her. Once again her lips parted—kissable lips. He felt something akin to a fist grinding into his pelvis. With his next breath, he smelled her—a subtle hint of woman unmasked by perfume. He liked that. Hell, he liked everything about this moment, even his lousy hold on self-control. In his mind, his hands moved to her blouse and the taxed buttons. It took no effort to free her breasts. Even with the lacy bra between his fingertips and her nipples, he’d know her nipples were hard, proof of her arousal. She wouldn’t wait for him to unfasten the bra but would handle that little chore herself. She’d end with a little flourish, waving the now unneeded garment in front of him before draping it over his shoulder.

In his mind those things were happening. In reality, he continued to stare down at the absolutely last woman he needed to come through the door tonight. “What—what are you doing?” She covered his hand with her own. Isn’t it obvious? Belatedly concluding she too felt off-balance, he captured her hand and brought it to his lips. He’d worked this maneuver many times on many women and expertly sucked three fingers into his mouth and nibbled on the tips. Like countless other women, she sighed. The only thing different this time was he’d never heard quite that sound, never felt quite this way—new. She sagged a little, then locked her knees and straightened. Her breathing sounded ragged, but then his wasn’t what he could call steady. A gust of wind found its way through the opening to fan his face and throat. Something was happening here he couldn’t get a handle on but had no interest in ending. He continued to work her fingers, by turn nibbling and washing them. Fantasy again swamped him. Naked and vulnerable from the waist up now, she stood waiting for him to do what he wanted with her. He didn’t ask permission before taking hold of the slacks and unhooking them. Unzipping was a more complex task than he’d expected, but at length, the garment slipped to her hips. They hung up there, requiring yet more effort on his part. Feeling as if he’d never done this before, he drew out the delicious task. By slow degrees, he swept the garment down her flesh, all the while using his fingers to educate himself about her curves and her reaction to his touch. This woman became molten lava, a volcano on the brink. The right trigger and she’d explode. He could pretend she’d been waiting all her adult life for this one night—for him to turn her into a real woman. A real woman. Before he could berate himself for being so presumptions about his sexual talents, he dove deeper into the fantasy. In his mind, the slacks pooled around her ankles. She closed her hands around his waist to balance herself and stepped free. Laughing low and deep, she turned their attention to the wisp of briefs barely clinging to her hips. “I’m wet,” she said in his mind. “The crotch is sticking to my lips.” “Then I’m the man for the task,” he told her and slipped his hand between her legs to assess the amount of sex-driven cream. “What are you doing?” Derika demanded. Yanked out of his fantasy, Ritter fought his way back to the here and now. Damn, he had indeed tried to run his hand between her thighs. She’d stopped him by digging her nails into his wrist. Determined not to let her know how much pain she was inflicting, he twisted his arm to the side and freed himself. “Sorry, lady,” he heard himself say. “Guess I picked up on a message you didn’t intend to deliver.” “Of course I didn’t!” She backed away and would have taken another step, if the stone wall hadn’t stopped her. “What do you mean, didn’t intend to deliver? If you think I’m at all interested in a—you know, you’re mistaken.” If he trapped her between his body and the wall, what would she do then? Continue to pretend she hadn’t given as good as she’d gotten during the brief physical exploration? His question caused his head to pound. This wasn’t him! He’d never pushed a woman and never would. “Whatever you say, lady,” he shot at her. “Just because one of us is in heat is no reason for us to do something we’re both going to regret.” “In heat! I can’t believe you’re—”

“Whatever.” Giving her a dismissive shrug, he turned half away, the gesture designed to hide his cock’s condition more than anything else. “The sellers haven’t done much to make this place appeal to anyone, but they did bring cots into a couple of the servants’ quarters on this floor. There’s even bedding. I’ve claimed the one closest to this room. You can have the other.” She jammed her hands in her back pockets which forced her poor buttons to work overtime. “What? You can’t stay here.” “Too late. I already am.”

Chapter Three Derika lay on the sagging cot and stared up at the trio of candles flickering from a wall-hung holder. At least the sheets were clean and the pillow comfortable, not that she expected to get much sleep tonight. Getting a handle on the idea that she really was spending the night in a castle filled with who knew how many ghosts should be enough to keep her awake, but although she might lie to Ritter about his impact on her, she couldn’t lie to herself. After all, sexual frustration was all but impossible to ignore. Cursing under her breath, she turned on her side and shut her eyes. Her trusty vibrator was still in her suitcase, but if she couldn’t get a handle on things, she’d have to haul her tool out and rev it up. Or you could knock on Ritter’s door. Shut up! Just shut up! You’re not that kind of girl. How do you know? The question scared her. Unnerved, she struggled to turn her thoughts to mundane but essential matters. Ritter had been doing some kind of inventory of the castle’s many faults. In the morning, she’d insist on seeing his list and use it as ammunition to bring her aunt to her sanity. It shouldn’t take long. After all, Helga wouldn’t have sent her here if she didn’t respect her opinion. It wouldn’t take much to amass a compelling argument against the purchase. In a day or two she could get back to her life. Or not. Sighing, she flopped onto her back. Although she warned herself to keep her legs together, they parted just enough to allow her to slide a hand between them. Ritter had done exactly this not long ago, all but diving into her pussy as if he had every right to it. Well, he didn’t! The thing was, she admitted as she expertly slipped a finger between her lips, if she could believe the look on his face, he’d been as surprised by his maneuver as she’d been. She wondered if he knew she’d let his fingers press against her not once but twice before expressing righteous indignation. I am so lonely, she heard a female voice whisper. I loved him. He was my life. When he died— how will I go on living? Why? “Who’s here?” Derika asked in alarm. “What’s happening?” I am Lady Mina. This is my castle, mine and my lord’s. It—it was his before he was killed. Now I am alone, my tears endless. “This isn’t happening.” Yes, it is. Soon—soon you will understand.

Instead of being afraid, Derika simply and completely accepted and waited. This…this ghost named Lady Mina would reveal herself at her own pace. Her nightgown, a silk wisp of deep red, had twisted around her waist during her attempts to find a comfortable position for masturbation. Buddy had given it to her prior to a weekend they’d spent at a luxury hotel. She ’d packed it yesterday, not because she had any intentions of seducing anyone with the low cut, thigh length garment, but because it packed down to nearly nothing. Still, as she worked her fingers in a circular motion inside herself, she had to admit wearing red made her feel sexy, something her fellow professors would never know. Sexy. Sexy and still frustrated, just as Lady Mina had been. Brought to attention by the admission, she turned her full attention to some no-nonsense masturbation. Whenever she resorted to self-satisfaction, she made the process as mechanical as possible, no doubt influenced by her mother’s admonitions that nice girls didn’t. Maybe her mother had never played with herself, but her daughter did. Usually all it took to shut off her brain and focus on self-satisfaction was to imagine a naked mystery man walking into the room, pulling back the covers, and sliding in next to her. Familiar with the scenario, she spread her legs as far as she could and eased her fingers further into herself. She repeatedly flexed and unflexed her fingers, teeth clenched because her vibrator did a much better job of stimulating her. But even as sweat broke out between her breasts and she dragged in deep, hungry breaths, she knew she’d have to do without her trusty tool tonight. No way was she going to risk Ritter hearing. Ritter. Eyes either closed or open—it didn’t matter—she mentally and emotionally went where his name took her. No longer were her fingers engaged in stimulating her clit to the point where sexuality took over. Instead, Ritter Reinhard had positioned himself between her legs. He hadn ’t said a word. Neither had she because it was better this way—bodies coming together, brains left behind. He’d slide a pillow under her buttocks and spread her legs so wide she’d feel the strain in her thighs. She’d try to sit up so she wouldn’t feel so much like an object, but he’d push her back down. “You belong to me, Derika,” he’d say. “You have from the moment you entered the castle. Everything about you is mine, most of all this.” This, of course, being her genitals. In her mind, he crouched with his mouth a whisper from her—her cunt. He touched the tip of his wet tongue to her throbbing clit, then withdrew, leaving her to weep in frustration. “Be quiet, Derika,” he said. “I need—please, you’re driving me crazy.” “I intend to.” He pressed his tongue against her clit,flicked it, before leaving her again. “Stop it! Don’t torture—” “This isn’t torture, Derika. It’s magic. My magic.” Before she could ask what he meant, he ran his saliva-wet tongue over, not just her clit, but her labia lips as well. Bucking half off the bed, she used her body to beg him to fuck her. Instead of taking her out of misery and into ecstasy, he flattened his hands over her hipbones and held her in place. “Not yet, Derika. When I say; not before.” She felt something vibrate at the entrance to her weeping core and realized he’d gotten hold of her vibrator and was using it both for and against her. Again she struggled to free herself, but he simply increased the pressure on her hipbones.

“On your belly,” he ordered. “What?” “Belly. Now.” Either too frightened or stimulated to argue, she did as he commanded. Her ass, held high by the pillow now under her pelvis, stuck up in the air. Her arms curled over her head. She felt his thumb rub against her anus. “I’ve never… Please, I don’t want…” “You’ll love it, Derika. Whatever I do to you there, you’ll love it.” “I’m afraid.” She desperately needed reassurance she had nothing to fear from him, but he remained silent. Shaking all over, she tried to look over her shoulder at him, but it was dark. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? He again rubbed the small, puckered opening. Although she trembled at the thought of what he had in mind, she couldn’t deny her wet response. “Excites you, does it?” he asked. “No. Of course not. I want—let me up.” “If you wanted—” He swept his thumb down and around to her pussy and eased into the wet, hot hole. “You could leave.” Get up, Derika ordered. Instead, in her mind at least, she dug into the sheets and wiggled her hips in an attempt to increase his access to her. Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t remember how to get air into her lungs. I do that sometimes, Lady Mina told her. Gift myself because my lord no longer can. Driven by experience and need, Derika plunged her fingers into herself over and over again. Impossible as it was, she swore Lady Mina was beside her, maybe part of her, doing the same thing. Her arm ached from the effort, but she was beyond being able to stop masturbating. Soon, soon, she’d hit the wall and find release. Eyes squeezed shut, she’d just splayed her right leg as far as it would go when she heard the knock. Coming back to earth felt like slamming on the brakes. But instead of having just avoided a collision, she’d been stopped at the brink of climax. Her wet fingers stilled but remained inside her. Her thigh muscles shook, and her nipples felt like hard, sensitive rocks. Beside her, Lady Mina continued on her journey to release. A second knock, this one more insistent than the first, left Derika feeling as if she’d just plunged into icy water. Suddenly guilty, she removed her fingers from her vagina and swiped them against the sheet. Her entire body still burned. Lady Mina’s presence faded. “What is it?” she managed. “We need to talk,” Ritter said from the other side of the door. “It’s the middle of the night.” She struggled to sit up. “You just went to bed. You can’t be asleep yet.” Not hardly. I was busy tending to some needs that are none of your business. “Can’t it wait until morning?” “No, it can’t. You’d better be decent because I’m coming in.” Not sure whether to take his comment as a threat or a promise, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She tugged on the hem of her nightgown, not that it did much good. On the verge of telling him she had to get dressed first, she changed her mind. Let him deal with this gift from another man.

Smiling at the prospect, she padded over to the door and opened it. Not only was he still shirtless, but his pajama bottoms barely clung to his lean hips. He carried a lantern, which gave him an otherworldly appearance. His gaze slid from her eyes to her barely covered breasts and naked thighs. He blinked. “That outfit’s hardly what I’d expect a math professor to wear. I take it your lover gave it to you.” She shrugged, and a spaghetti strap slid off her shoulder. She started to put it back in place, then shrugged again. “Not that it’s any of your business but yes, it’s a gift from a man.” “Obviously a man who believes he’ll have the opportunity to strip it off you. Did he?” Was Lady Mina here? Could she sense the sexual energy, feed off it and find some measure of peace? Or would seeing two people together remind her of how much she’d lost? “None of your business,” she retorted. What there was of the nightgown was cut so low that if she leaned over, her breasts might fall out. “But since you asked—you did ask, didn’t you?—yes, he has taken it off, more than once.” Instead of another probing question, Ritter’s expression changed from challenge to contemplation—or was that regret? “Lucky man,” he muttered. He placed the lantern on the floor and ran his hand over his chest, not, she believed, because his intention was to draw her attention to that part of his anatomy, but because he needed to do something. The thought of him being anything other than in command of the situation unnerved her. Was she being given a glimpse of the real man, or was his gesture part of a larger plan to keep her off balance? Confused by the questions, she focused on their conversation. “Buddy probably does consider himself lucky.” She glanced down at her cleavage for emphasis. “But then so am I. He is a hunk.” “Buddy?” “It’s his nickname, something common in his line of work,” she shot at him in a less-than-successful effort to remember everything she liked about her causal lover and get her mind off the hunk in the room with her. “I don’t give a damn.” “You’re the one who brought it up. For your information, Buddy is an assistant football coach at the university where I teach. He’s good at what he does, ambitious. His goal is to become head coach either there or with whatever college is lucky enough to get him.” “I played college football. I’ve seen coaches like your Buddy. All I can say is, I hope you don’t plan on living in that white picket fenced cottage with him. His career is always going to come before the little woman.” “I knew that going into our relationship,” she shot back, determined not to touch his crack about the little woman. “In fact,” she smiled deliberately, “his focus on his career is exactly why I chose him, that and, shall we say, his physical prowess.” “You were looking for a stud, someone to scratch your itches?” “Call it what you want.” “Too bad Buddy isn’t here. If he was, you wouldn’t have to play with yourself.” How did he know! Feeling decidedly off-balance, she could only hope the faint light didn’t give away her flushed cheeks. “What did bring you in here?” She made a show of slipping the strap back on her shoulder and was aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been even when she was using fantasy to fuel

a climax. She felt like a woman, the word spelled all in capital letters. “If it was to see what I wear to bed, you now know and can leave.” “I couldn’t care less.” Right. There’s a certain bulge that’s making a liar out of you. “I could have left this discussion until morning, but I decided not to,” he went on. “Your aunt—” “Great-aunt.” “All right, your great-aunt is a gold digger.” “A what?” Her fingers became fists. “I don’t know how she did it because Uncle Theodoric is low key about his financial situation, but obviously she knows a potential sugar daddy when she sees one. What frosts me is how she intends to get her hooks in him. Banking on their—and our—shared Germanic roots? Part-owner of this castle? Give me a break!” “Sugar daddy?” Fury drove all sexual awareness out of her as she stalked toward Ritter. “My aunt has more than enough money. The last thing she needs is—” Ritter’s fingers settled around her wrists. He pressed her fists against his chest and imprisoned them there. Angry as she was, she’d give a great deal to be able to explore his warm flesh and the strength underneath. “Listen to me, Derika. I’m driven by a lot of things in life. I take my career seriously. I have pride in what I do. But nothing matters more than that old man. Do you understand? If he wants me to spend years here fulfilling his dream, I’ll do it.” “Let me go.” Despite her order, she didn’t try to pull free. Lids lowered, he began rubbing her still-clenched fists over his breasts. His flesh slid against her fingers, heating them and a lot more. If he was trying to prove a point, she didn’t care what it was. After all, hadn’t she been fanaticizing about touching him, exploring him? “I’d like to be able to,” he muttered. “Then why don’t you?” “Because it isn’t what either of us wants.” He was right, so right. “What—what about you?” she managed. She relaxed her fingers so she could touch his nipples with her so-sensitive tips. A direct link seared from there to her belly and down to her—pussy. She wasn’t sure whether she was hearing the distant drums or both their heartbeats. “What about me?” She had spoken, hadn’t she? Fighting through a hot fog, she found the remnants of her brain. “You know about the man in my life. Are you…married?” “No.” The emphasis behind the single word pulled her up short. “You’re against the institution?” “Let’s just say I’m like your jock. My career comes first.” “Then we have a lot in common,” she told him. “I feel the same way.” “That isn’t all you’re feeling.” He nodded at her outstretched fingers. Despite herself, she laughed. The sound both delighted and surprised her. “I’m trying, but with the death grip you have on my wrists—” “Does it hurt?”

“No.” “Then by definition—although I’m just a dumb blue-collar worker and not locked away in academia—my holding your wrists so you won’t try to punch me doesn’t constitute a death grip.” The idea of her being able to pummel him into submission struck her as funny, and she laughed again. “You haven’t seen my left,” she countered. “In addition to using computation to simulate the processes used to fabricate semiconductor devices and simulating and verifying the logic of a microprocessor system, I pick up extra money as a professional wrestler.” His mouth twitched. “Wrestlers don’t punch; boxers do.” “Whatever.” She shrugged. The next-to-worthless strap slipped off her shoulder again. Ritter drew her hands together and closed his right over both her wrists. With his left hand now free, he slid the strap up and down her upper arm, never putting it back in place. She was so distracted by what he was doing she forgot how little effort it would take to touch his nipple again. “Uncle Theo told me you do something with mathematics,” he said. “He didn’t mention you’re brilliant.” He leaned in and blew warm air on her breasts. “You have no right…” she managed. Brilliant? What was that? “No right to what, Derika?” When he spoke her name, she felt the impact in her groin. It wasn’t fair! A man’s voice shouldn’t have so much power. But did she really mind? Leave. Get out of here. We just met, and we’re on opposite sides of whatever this issue with the castle is, and you have no business trying to take advantage of me. She thought those things. She just didn’t say them. Although her libido had occasionally taken her into bars for a night of flirting, and even more infrequent one-night-stands, tonight felt different. More alive. Riskier. He pulled a strap as low as it would go, then did the same to the other. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked. Yes. Say yes! “No.” He stared at her, then nodded. “You mean it?” “I…” Take him to your bed, Lady Mina whispered. Let me be part— He ran his thumbnail from her collarbone down to her elbow, leaving an electrical current in its wake and shutting off whatever the ghostly creature might have said. “Do you want me to stay? This is your last chance because in a minute—” He looked down at himself and then thrust his pelvis at her. His aroused cock prodded her belly. “Because in a minute I’m not going to be able to walk out of here.” “I-I want you to stay. I need you.”

Chapter Four I need you. Ritter struggled not to tell Derika the truth, which was that tonight he needed her in a way he had never needed another woman. Only a few minutes ago he’d been in his room and determined to get some sleep before confronting her tomorrow about her aunt’s agenda. He’d

fought to fill his mind with suspicion, but the moment he’d pulled off his briefs, logic had flown out the window. Hell, maybe the castle’s ghosts and what was taking place beyond the window was responsible. All he knew was, the early spring breeze coupled with the faint music had sent him to her room. Standing here with Derika all but pressed against him had turned him vulnerable in a way that both terrified and brought him to life. He ached to bury, not just his cock in her, but his soul, too. Soul? Did he have one? Teeth clenched against thoughts of how little self-control he had left, he concentrated on seduction. He’d bring her to her knees—or more to his liking, onto her back. She’d beg him to fuck her. And when he was done with her, she’d know who held the upper hand. “First things first, Derika. Are you on the pill?” “Of course. Are you clean? I know I am.” Touché. “Yes, I’m clean.” “Good.” Damn but her body was ripe. He was usually drawn to tall women who looked as if they could go the distance. No hot-house flowers for him. Derika was nearly a foot shorter than him, and the packaging was nothing short of lush, topped by magnificent breasts a man could lose himself in. More than that, she had to be brilliant, a brain—although she wasn’t acting like it. No longer content to play with her nightgown strap—or maybe the truth was, he had no choice in the matter—he ran his hand over the top of both mounds. She sucked in a breath and pulled back a little. He told himself the touch had turned her on, and she had no control over what she was doing. Certainly she wasn’t having second thoughts. And if she’d resisted, would he let her go? Yes, of course! Maybe. I don’t know what’s happening here, to me. When she relaxed and leaned into his touch, he slid his fingers into her cleavage. He continued to hold her hands against his chest and was so intent on her breasts’ soft warmth he didn’t realize she’d caught his right nipple between her thumb and forefinger until his cock alerted him to the sensation. He tried to draw away, but she didn’t relinquish her hold. “Hard,” she whispered. “Everything about you is hard.” You ain’t seen nothing yet. “And everything about you feels soft.” “You don’t know—yet.” Thoughts of her hot, swollen pussy walls sliding over his cock took away his breath and caused his cock to throb. He again shoved his pelvis at her. She shoved back. “What—what do you want?” He easily worked his fingers under the flimsy fabric and captured a breast. “Slow and easy? I can do that.” I think. “No. I—I need hard and hot.”

*****

Hard and hot. The words drummed inside Derika’s head. She wasn’t sure how she’d gone from standing in Ritter’s embrace to kneeling on the cot while he stood a foot away, his hands on his waistband. When she reached for him indicating she wanted to help, he shook his head. “I don’t know how much foreplay you want or need,” he said and drew his pajama bottoms down over his hips. He stepped out of them, then lifted his swollen cock, giving her a clear view of it. “Obviously, I’m good to go.” Instead of trying to formulate an answer, she cupped her breasts and kneaded them in an attempt to ease the pressure there. Naked. He was naked. She, on the other hand, still wore what there was of the nightgown another man had given her. Instead of feeling disloyal, she patted the bed. “You don’t waste time, do you?” she said because the silence was making her uncomfortable. If they talked about other things, maybe they wouldn’t have to address the fundamental and insane question of why nothing was going to stand in the way of two near strangers having sex. He grimaced, the expression barely registering in the near dark broken only by the lantern. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but I don’t have much choice in what’s coming out of my mouth. I know what we’re doing is as wrong as something can get.” He paused. “I also know having sex with you is the only thing I want to do tonight.” “I need it too, Ritter,” she, and maybe Lady Mina as well, said. “You know that.” “Yeah, I do,” he muttered and climbed onto the cot. For a moment they stared at each other, knees touching, arms at their sides. She hadn’t shaken like this since the night she’d lost her virginity. Despite his life-hardened body, he looked as untested as she felt. Then she glanced at his cock. Hard, hot, bracketed by his balls, it existed for only one purpose. How long could a man sustain an erection without feeling as if the top of his head was going to blow off? Probably as long as a woman could handle being as turned on as she felt at this moment. I’m here, Lady Mina said. Let me be part of this, please. Ritter reached out, but instead of touching her thighs as she expected, he took hold of the gown’s hem and quickly, efficiently drew it upward. She raised her arms over her head and leaned toward him so he could ease it over her head. He tossed it aside. “Better.” He closed his hands over her breasts and began small circular movements, which immediately introduced her nipples to the calluses on his palms. Sandpaper couldn’t have ignited her more. “Rough,” she muttered. She started to reach for his shoulders so she could better brace herself against the electric onslaught. Instead, her hands wound up around his cock. She settled herself down onto her ass so the reach wasn’t quite so far. His features were now completely in shadow, but she thought he kept glancing down, making sure she knew what she was doing with his most precious possession. She did. Oh, she did. So do I, Lady Mina told her.I’ll—I’m going to help. When Derika called on her fingertips to flick endless trails up and down his cock, he backed off so she barely felt his hands on her breasts. And when she increased her grip and stroked the now jerking organ, he again grabbed her nipples and worked them the same way. She felt disjointed, torn between her own pleasure and what she imagined he was feeling.

She became more than herself somehow—Lady Mina probably. Her former sex partners had shown her by their actions that for a man, sexual pleasure and response was pretty much limited to what hung between their legs. She’d felt sorry for them because their breasts, bellies, buttocks, and even the backs of their necks didn’t seem to be as sensitive as a woman’s. Tonight, she wanted to give Ritter everything he could possibly want by playing his cock as a master musician played his instrument, but the more he ignited her breasts, the harder it was to think beyond the sensation. Had Lady Mina’s breasts come to life? “I feel…” she muttered. “What?” He slid his hands around to the outside of her breasts and then drew them together. She felt the strain in her breast tissue and wondered if he could make them touch— wondered most of all if she was going to climax without him not so much as touching her pussy. “Everything.” She managed a laugh. “I feel—everywhere.” “Hot?” “Hot.” “Ready for the next installment?” “What—what did you have in mind?” By way of answer, he flattened his hands against her breasts and pushed. Before she could put her mind to resisting, he’d knocked her onto her back, her legs caught under her. He took hold of her ankles and positioned her so her knees were bent outward, her heels near her bottom. “What is this?” she demanded. “A gynecological exam? Except for there not being any stirrups, it feels like it.” He separated her feet and scooted closer. Although her pussy was exposed and accessible to him, he didn’t touch it—yet. “Having never been on hand for one,” he said. “I’ll have to take your word for it. Tell me something. When you’re having the exam, does it turn you on?” “No! Of course not.” Well, maybe a little. “Hm. What if the doctor did…?” “Did what?” Her voice shook. “This.” Something touched her labia. She thought it was his fingernail, but she couldn’t be sure. What she did know, without so much as a molecule of doubt, was she’d just about levitated off the bed. “What are—?” “Experimenting.” The touch deepened and spread. She felt something hard—had to be his fingernails—here, there, everywhere. There was no rhythm, no consistency, only heat and energy, light and heavy, bold followed by tentative, sometimes a pinpoint of sensation, occasionally encompassing her entire genial areas. It hurt to breathe. She couldn’t remember how to make her lungs work. Her breasts and belly flamed. “Hot?” he asked. “Yes!” “Heavy?” A shiver ran through her and centered in her cunt. “What?”

Everything about her seemed to stop as she waited for his answer, but she heard nothing, felt nothing—except the cream spilling from her. Scared, although she told herself she had no reason to be, she tried to roll into a sitting position. “Ritter, what—” “No.” He pushed her down again. “No, Derika.” Ordering, he’s trying to order me to— Her buttocks twitched. Believing he’d taken control of her sexual organs again, she tried to locate him in the dark but couldn’t. He slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted them off the bed. He held her like that for a moment, and she knew, absolutely knew as she’d never known anything before, that he could do whatever he wanted with her—and she’d let him. She’d even beg him if need be. I love this, Lady Mina told her. It scares me but— A man has never done this to me, she explained for Lady Mina’s benefit. I’d never allow— The pressure on her buttocks let up, and she felt herself being lowered. She might have tried to close her legs if his hips weren’t keeping them apart. He’d positioned her so her ass rested on his thighs. She’d become a giant pussy, nothing else. “Ready?” he asked. “For?” As if you didn’t know. “Don’t.” His voice held a warning note. “I’m long past games-playing.” So am I. “Yes,” she and Lady Mina managed. “I’m ready.” The words had barely left her mouth when she felt pressure at her vagina’s entrance. She knew that organ, knew its size and heat and texture as if she’d been born to swallow this man’ s cock. Acting on instinct, she fully opened herself to him. She tried to grab his wrist but wound up raking her nails over his forearm. Maybe the sudden and unplanned pain drove him and maybe he’d been ready for a full assault. Whichever it was, his cock plunged deep. She had him! Or maybe he had her. It didn’t matter. Locked onto the sensations inside her, she blocked off where she was and where she’d come from and where she was going next in life, even Lady Mina. She had no existence beyond her sex and the cock pushing in and out, in and out in a rhythm both ancient and new. Several times she tried to lift her upper body, but he’d positioned her in such a way it was impossible. Giving up, she held onto his forearms. . He drove at her, retreated, drove in again. She managed to meet him lunge for lunge. Sweat beaded everywhere. She heard their shared hard, quick breaths. His explosion surprised her. She hadn’t known he’d been so close to climaxing. Cursing both of them because she was behind him, she nevertheless closed her vaginal muscles around him and provided his cock with a hot, wet home. He gasped once, twice, three times. Cum flooded her passage. Hovering on the brink of release, she half- expected a ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ from him. Instead, as his cock began to deflate, he shifted position so it slid deliciously against the front of her pussy. “Keep going!” she sobbed. “Keep after me!” Me too! Please, me too!

“I’m here. I won’t leave you.” He slid all the way out. Then, demonstrating a wisdom of her body she hadn’t known possible, he rubbed his softening cock against her hard, hot clit. She bucked at him. He pressed again, and his breath felt hard and hot on her breasts. She sobbed. Came. Shoved closer to his cock. Arched her back and screamed. Thank you!

Chapter Five Derika’s legs felt like rubber. Although her memory of last night remained fuzzy, she knew she’d gotten some sleep—and had been alone on the cot. When she stumbled into what passed for a bathroom cut into the thick, cool wall, she’d been pleasantly surprised to find it equipped with a simple toilet and sink. There was no hot water, prompting her to opt for a quick shower. Although the towels weren’t new, they smelled fresh. What had Lady Mina done in her day to clean herself? Lady Mina? Had the royal woman’s ghost participated in last night’s frenzied sex or had she only imagined the communication through the ages? Communication? Impossible. Shivering, she pulled on a blouse and jeans and made an important step into the present. What she wouldn’t give for central heating—or any heat source beyond the fireplace Ritter had been tending when she first saw him. “You’ve been fucked, girl,” she muttered as she dabbed on makeup. “Royally fucked.” He so turned you on, you spread your legs for a man you’re in opposition with, what she figured was her conscience argued. That’ll work wonders for your position. It’s not like he won’t believe he has the advantage now. Not at all. “Oh, just shut up,” she snapped and stalked out of the room, maybe leaving Lady Mina behind. Guided by the smell of coffee, she made her way into the largest kitchen she’d ever seen. There was no sign of Ritter and a quick study of the space reinforced her suspicions. It might be huge, but that didn’t mean it was either modern or well-equipped. Her wooden bedroom floor had been covered with a few bits and pieces of carpet, but in here there was only timber underfoot. A soot-caked fireplace took up one wall, and next to it was what she took to be a primitive oven. She wondered how old the three large iron pots on the floor near the fireplace were and whether they’d been used for cooking or holding water. A large, deeply stained and scarred wood table took up much of the room. Shelving filled another wall, but there was nothing on it. Belatedly, she realized the coffee smell came from a pot sitting on a camp stove on the table. She wondered whether Ritter had brought the camp stove with him or it was another luxury provided by the hopeful sellers. Daylight meant she could begin a thorough study of home-sweet-home, but after pouring herself a mug of coffee, she decided to start her search outside since the castle had cooled off during the night. She took a couple of wrong turns but finally found the main room and, as a consequence, the door she’d come through before. Stepping into sunlight at the bottom of the stairs, she immediately felt wide-awake and clear-headed, almost giddy with anticipation. Give it a rest, girl. You’re not getting mounted again, all right. No repeat performances. Why not? It’s never been more primitive or elemental. You’ve never been less in control.

And you demand equal rights, always have, and always will. No subservient role for you. On the brink of telling her conscience that the woman libber in her didn’t need the obvious pointed out, she spotted something on the ground nearby. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she squatted to get a closer look. “What the…?” Still holding her mug, she picked up the small, handmade basket and stared at the half-dozen bright red eggs inside. “Were you talking to me?” Ritter’s voice touched the back of her neck and the space between her breasts, but mostly she felt him in her cunt. It took all her strength not to launch herself at him. She had to work at turning slowly, work at keeping her hands off him. “You snuck up on me,” she accused. “Why would I want to do that?” He nodded at what she held. “What’s that? Breakfast?” “Didn’t you put it there?” At least he had on a T-shirt and jeans. Thank goodness for cool mornings. He glanced at the basket. “No.” He drew out the word. “It’s been a long time since I believed in the Easter Bunny. I wonder…” “What?” “I don’t know.” He frowned. “I haven’t told any of the locals why I’m here, but my great-uncle has been in contact with the sellers, people he met while doing some genealogy. Obviously they brought out the red carpet in anticipation—if you call getting a plumber in here the ultimate in luxury accommodations. News spreads fast in a small community. Maybe that’s a gift from the welcoming committee.” “Maybe,” she muttered. She nearly told him the basket felt overly warm, but decided to keep it to herself. After the way they’d gone at each other like rabbits, she needed her own space back. Or did she? If the man touched her, if he came a step closer, she couldn’t be responsible for her reaction. Was there an aphrodisiac in the water, some sex trigger in his aftershave? Was Lady Mina somehow responsible? “I wish there was a note,” she belatedly thought to say. “I’d like to be able to thank whoever’s responsible.” She indicated the eggs. “It has to be kids, don’t you think?” “Hm. You slept okay?” Keep your eyes off my body, all right? I don’t want to be ogled. I don’t! The hell I don’t. “Fine. And thanks for the coffee.” “No problem. Because there’s no electricity here, this is about as domestic as it’s going to get. Look, I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Then it’s a good thing you knew what to do. “That makes two of us.” Collecting every bit of strength at her command, she stepped around him and walked away. “And it’s a one-time thing. Once was more than enough.” She felt his gaze burn along her spinal column, grow hotter when it reached her ass, then lower, igniting her sex. Oh, wonderful!

***** After a simple breakfast of bagels and cream cheese from the cooler he’d brought with him, Ritter announced he intended to focus on the stone walls around the main structure which he told her was called a keep. According to him, although the curtain wall wasn’t his primary concern, a castle wasn’t considered complete without what had once provided protection for all castle inhabitants. Much as she wanted to be out-of-doors herself, Derika opted for the keep ’s relative protection from his erotic assault on her senses. Besides, the castle seemed to be whispering to her, entreating her to explore it. Taking one of the flashlights the sellers had provided, she headed up the wooden stairs built into one of the keep’s corner walls. She couldn’t say why she felt compelled to go there instead of taking a more complete inventory of the kitchen and great hall, and although she questioned her decision, she didn’t stop. Maybe Lady Mina was in charge. As she left the main floor behind, she again felt as if she was stepping back in time. There must be records of the people who’d had lived here over the ages including Lady Mina and her dead husband. What had their lives been like? Had children seen the castle as a great playground or were their lives constrained? Was sex only for married couples or had there been much extramarital activity? Talk about having sex on the brain! Can’t you think of anything else? Although the answer lay in the ache between her legs, she refused to acknowledge it. Instead she reached deep inside herself and listened to the whispered voice telling her to spend some time in what Ritter had told her was where the nobleman and his family slept, relaxed, held mass, and tended to business. The solar consisted of a single large room broken into separate areas via blankets and tapestries. She’d expected the fabric to have disintegrated years ago, but some ragged remnants still hung from the ceiling, making her wonder how long ago someone had called this home. Do some research. Learn about the lives of those who lived and died here over the years. Not just the suggestion, but her enthusiasm for it took her by surprise. A few days ago, she’ d been up to her eyeballs in mathematical models and computational techniques as well as the exciting potential for process control despite its greater complexity. Now her thinking didn’t extend beyond the surrounding cold stone. He brought me here as a bride, a now familiar voice said. The first nights, we were here alone. He hung up his sword and took off his clothes. I came to him as a virgin, gave him my body, my heart. And later when his soldiers carried him to our bed to die… “Go on, Lady Mina, please,” Derika begged. “Tell me everything.” Not yet. Not until I can trust you. “Trust? What do I have to do to earn that?” Open yourself. Embrace the past. Pull it to your heart and carry it into the present. Unnerved both because she didn’t know what Lady Mina was talking about and because she sensed the journey—if she took it—would change her forever, she suddenly felt the need for sunlight and warmth. Barely able to keep from running, she returned to the stairs and hurried up them to what she hoped would be the rooftop. She expected to encounter yet another door, but although the metal hinges remained, nothing stood in the doorway. She stepped onto a flat stone roof with a chest high wall around the edge.

Who had last been up here? Had the roof been a place of peace providing a view of miles and miles of the Rhine and land around it? Or had soldiers been stationed to protect the lord and his family, his lady? “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “It all happened centuries ago.” For you, maybe. But it is my present. She’d become, if not accustomed to, at least resigned, to the voice inside her head, so she simply agreed with Lady Mina that past and present had flowed together and now existed in the same space. She hadn’t so much decided to experience the phenomenon as had been drawn into it. She had no choice in this exploration. It had become her destiny. Her throat dried. She needed Ritter here beside her. More than that, she needed him inside her. But she was alone—with Lady Mina. A shiver ran through her. She wasn’t afraid. Instead, what she felt conjured up memories of the first time she’d gotten quantum mechanics coupled with the hot electric march leading to climax. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Other than a royal woman who lost her lord and found a way to be part of what happened between Ritter and me last night, who are you?” Your link to your destiny. Something hard and tight closed around her throat. “My destiny?” she managed. You feel it. We know you do. “We? There’s more than just you?” Our names do not matter. We are timeless, threads going back to the beginning of time and existing far into the future. We exist in the minds and hearts of a few women—you among them. Derika’s trembling increased. Her throat remained closed down. She’d give anything to have Ritter beside her. Do not be afraid, Derika, the voice continued. No harm will come to you. You have been chosen. Accept the gift and embrace your destiny. “Chosen? For what?” It is not for me to hand you the truth. You must find it yourself. Open your mind, your soul—and your body. Her body—as it had been last night? At the memory, her cheeks flamed, and she felt an equal flame between her legs. “I—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she heard herself say as her still-heating sex commanded more and more of her attention. When the time comes, you will. For now turn your back on everything you have ever believed about life, Derika. Accept the new. Walk into tomorrow. Step into the past. Insanely, she could hardly wait to begin whatever was being handed her. At the same time, she clamped her legs together in a vain attempt to still her need. Do not deny your body’s demands. This is part of what will happen to you—the gift. Your reward. “Reward?” She struggled not to bend forward and drive her hands between her legs. “What are you doing to me?” Showing you. “Showing me—what?” she bit out. Damn, damn, damn, someone fuck me, now! The journey’s promise. Your destiny. Half-crazy with lust, she raked in a deep breath. Beyond anything except satisfying her

raging sexual hunger, she leaned against the nearest wall and pressed both thumbs hard against her pussy. Her jeans stopped her from reaching her hard-as-stone clit, but giving it something to drive against helped. She closed her eyes and dragged in more cool morning air. Her breasts had caught fire, causing them to swell and strain against her now too-small bra. She felt as if she was swimming in a sea of lust, half mad and wildly delighted with the waves of heat coursing throughout her. This was beyond climax, beyond wrapping herself around and over a man’s cock and riding it until she screamed out her release. Instead, the hot waves flowed and flowed and flowed. She rode them joyfully, mindlessly. It felt as if—it felt as if she’d straddled the world’s largest cock and might never finish swallowing it. She’d come over and over again, never reach exhaustion, never have enough. A sob turned into a whimper that had nothing to do with pain. Impaled on the cock of her imagination, she sank deep inside herself to where nothing but nerve endings existed. She became a vast cunt—a cunt she could taste, smell, even hear. Something took hold of her shoulders and drove her to her knees. Collapsing, she bent her knees until her heels scraped her buttocks. She rammed her fingers even tighter against her cunt and rubbed back and forth, back and forth. Her clit strained against nylon and denim. She gave the starving organ everything she had to give, became a loving, indulgent lover to herself, massaging, grinding, adding to the flames. Release, waves of heat exploding everywhere, rendered her senseless.

***** Derika tentatively shook her head. What she felt wasn’t what she’d call a headache but then she didn’t know what the hell it was. Masturbating to climax had never turned out like this, and although Lady Mina had told her not to be afraid, she didn’t feel in control. Not yet willing to admit she’d writhed around on the top of the castle the way she had, she ’d brushed herself off and tried to talk herself into getting out of here. Instead, she’d found herself wandering on shaky legs to the wall. Looking out, she found an awesome view of the countryside and in the distance, the Rhine. Once she’d taken in the rolling hills with groves of mature trees and vineyards and small, well-tended farms, she turned her attention to the adjacent wall which should afford her the best view of the Rhine. Some strength had returned to her legs. Although she should feel satiated sexually—she always had after masturbating— her sex already began to hum, to promise. The Rhine! She’d look down at the broad, meandering river and not think about herself. Yeah, right. She’d started to lean forward when she spotted something on top of the stone wall. For a moment what it was simply didn’t register. Then she blinked and focused. A dagger. At least she assumed it was a dagger because until she pulled it out of the simple leather sheath, she couldn’t be sure. Just the same, there was no mistaking the polished gold hilt. The longer she stared at what should have reminded her of how much she hated weapons and anything resembling them, the less aware she was of her sexuality. Bit by bit, she became less the woman she’d always been and more connected with this long, slender object. Finally, unable to stop herself, she picked it up. Although she’d intended to bring it close so

she could study it, she gripped the hilt and held it aloft as if ready to defend herself with it. With a flourish, she slipped off the sheath and stared down her imaginary foe. “Think you can overwhelm me, do you, you dastardly villain. Ha! Little do you know, but I ’m the finest swordswoman in the kingdom.” Hearing herself brought back a measure of sanity, and she laughed at her foolishness. The hilt fit as if it had been designed for her hand alone. She could grip it forever and never grow tired. She’d never been particularly interested in jewelry, but she was certain it was crafted from gold and not some lesser metal. The blade was long and slender, gently curved and sharp. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the deadly- looking tip, in part because she’d been distracted by the deep, brilliant red stone imbedded where the hilt ended and the blade began. It was larger than any ruby she’d ever seen. Although highly polished, its shape was irregular. It belatedly dawned on her that the dagger was handmade. “It’s magnificent,” she whispered, half expecting Lady Mina to respond. When the ghost didn’t, Derika turned the dagger so sunlight highlighted it. She struggled to ignore the niggling question of why she hadn’t seen it when she first came up here. If it had been placed there while she was masturbating— “What have you found?” Whirling, Derika instinctively aimed the dagger at the intruder. Her heart hammered, then slowed. Ritter.

Chapter Six Derika made Ritter think of a wild creature. He was sorry he’d startled her, but he hadn’t made any attempt to keep his approach secret. In his mind at least, his shoes had thudded on the stairs. If she’d been paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings, she would have heard. But was she aware of where she was? Even as relief took the place of fear, he saw, not the modern professional woman with the mathematical mind he couldn’t begin to comprehend, but an almost misty female, someone pulled up from the past, an exciting, challenging sexual being. Something shifted inside him, awakened. Do you know what makes you such a great fuck, a lover had told him once. Your mind doesn’t get in the way. With you, it’s all physical. He’d considered telling the woman about a parentless boy who’d learned to close himself off emotionally, but hadn’t. This morning his emotions were along for the ride. Derika held whatever she was holding as if it was the most valuable thing she’d ever seen. Instead of repeating his question, he continued to study the creature he’d fucked last night, the creature he’d dreamed about and had wanted to hold during the long, dark hours. He’d come looking for Derika because a few minutes ago he’d seen something beyond his comprehension and had hoped she’d know why the countryside was full of rabbits running here, there, and everywhere as if their brains had short-circuited—at least that’s what they did when they weren’t engaged in sex. “What is it?” she asked. “You’re staring at me.” “Am I? “

“Yes. Did…you want something?” What I want is to throw you to the ground, rip off your clothes and demonstrate what I saw those rabbits doing. And when I’m done, you can keep my cock in you because there’s only one place I want it to be. “I’m…not sure,” he said instead. He had to clench his hands to keep them off her. Instead of telling him he sounded like a fool, she nodded. Her gaze slid from his face to his cock. Once again, so much for trying to keep his erection from her. Still studying that part of his anatomy, she clutched what she held to her breasts. “A dagger,” he said. “Where did you find it?” She pointed behind her. “On the wall.” “No,” he said and took an unwise step closer. Could he really smell her or was he imagining it? “No it isn’t called a wall?” He shook his head. “I was here yesterday and saw nothing.” He supposed she could have called him a liar. Instead, she began sliding the blade up and down between her breasts, the contact so gentle she couldn’t possibly hurt herself. He stared, not at the slender dagger, but her breasts and her exposed, inviting throat. For a second he swore she no longer wore her practical shirt and jeans but stood naked in front of him. Her nipples were hard. Sex cream glistened on her inner thighs. She sucked in her stomach, thrust her pelvis toward him. He blinked, and the image died. “What is it?” she asked. The dagger continued to glide over her throat. “You’re still staring.” What do you want me to do? Pretend you aren’t turning me on? “I saw something a few minutes ago,” he came up with. “I’m still trying to make sense of it.” “Like I am of this.” She indicated the dagger. “Yes. Like that. In my case it was rabbits.” “Rabbits?” Her lips remained parted. “Running amuck. Breeding like… rabbits.” He forced himself to laugh. “Wild as March hares?” “What do you know about March hares?” “Nothing.” She frowned. “I don’t know where that came from. The words just popped out. Ritter, you’re sure this wasn’t in here yesterday?” She drew the dagger closer to her throat. Much more and the tip would nick a vein. Because he needed to do anything except stare at her and wait for her clothes to do another disappearing act, he held out his hand. Reluctantly, she handed the dagger to him. It felt heavier than he’d expected. “She told me—” Derika started, then stopped. “She?” “Nothing.” Derika shook her head. “Do you have any idea how old it might be?” Instead of pointing out he was no weapons expert, he tried to distract himself from whatever the hell sexual message insisted on emanating from her by studying the dagger. It put him in mind of something a woman of royalty might carry for personal protection. It appeared more decorative than deadly, although the blade could inflict damage. He was pretty sure the metal was gold and had been hammered into this shape by hand. He imagined

some ancient master craftsman painstakingly working it into the configuration he or his superior wanted. How someone could create a work of art without benefit of machinery left him in awe. He didn’t know how the craftsman had managed to embed the two stones or jewels into the hilt. “Old,” he belatedly thought to tell her. “For all I know, it’s as old as the castle.” She sucked in a breath. “Then maybe it’s been in existence for the better part of a thousand years.” And somehow you found it. More than that, it retains your body’s heat, and when I look at you, I see you naked. Waiting to be fucked. “I can’t explain it.” He started to hand it back to her, then stopped when sunlight—at least he guessed it was sunlight—struck the red stone. Derika stepped closer. Her shoulder pressed against his, heating him. Together they studied the rich, ruby depth. Wavy lines, shadows really, shimmered. The shadow-lines took on more and more definition, and despite the small size, he couldn’t begin to delude himself into believing this wasn’t happening. “You see…it?” she whispered. “Yes,” he admitted and slid his free arm around her waist. He felt her energy—and his. The diminutive images continued to sharpen and actually grew larger as if escaping from the stone, but even before everything came into focus, he knew. It was two naked people standing, looking at each other. The man had an erection, and the woman’s breasts were swollen, the nubs hard and dusky. A twin of the energy arching between him and Derika flowed between the naked couple. “It’s us,” Derika whispered. He wanted to tell her she couldn’t possibly know, but it wasn’t just hair-styles or height or even body types. Instead, his knowledge came from a sense of familiarity, of acceptance. The man held out his hands, and the woman glided closer. He felt her confidence, her joy, her pure giving of her body. Wondering if Derika sensed the same thing, he tightened his hold on her. Her sigh sounded ragged. Despite the distraction she represented, he kept his attention on the image. The woman— Derika—tried to put her hands on the man’s cock, but he grabbed her wrists and forced her arms down by her side. Ritter couldn’t see the couple’s expression, but he didn’t need to; Derika wasn’t intimidated. Once Ritter had her positioned the way he wanted her, he began running his hands all over her body. Each touch was bold, demanding, confident. Even when Ritter forced her to lean over and spread her legs wide, he did so with the air of a man who knew his every demand would be obeyed—either that or he had nothing on his mind except fucking and being fucked. Ritter now stood behind Derika with his cock planted between her legs. She tried to look over her shoulder at him, but he wouldn’t let her. A moment later she dropped to her knees. He did the same, thrusting at her at almost the same moment. She supported her upper body on her elbows, her ass shoved toward him. The flesh and blood Ritter’s cock suddenly felt both constrained and housed, and he knew the Ritter in the red stone had penetrated Derika. “They…they’re getting it on,” Derika whispered. “Enjoying the hell out of themselves.” He waited, hoping Derika would voice the only thing on his mind—that they needed to duplicate what the tiny figures of themselves were doing. Instead, she rubbed her hip against

his. He understood her language, understood every nuance of what she wanted—hell, what he needed. Alive and overwhelmed at the same time, he left her long enough to return the dagger to where she’d found it. When he turned toward her, she was staring at him, her mouth open, her tongue touching her wet upper lip. His head roared. His cock felt twice as large as it ever had. He could barely walk but somehow he made his way back to her. He must have come up here with some civilized purpose in mind, but whatever the hell it had been, it no longer mattered. Flame raged in his belly, his groin, even his fingertips. He couldn’t take his eyes off hers. At the same time, he saw everything she had to offer from the well-rounded buttocks to her dark, aroused labia and the entrance to her sex. Her eyes became like midnight. One hand pressed against the space between her breasts; the other covered her throat. Her nostrils flared. She stepped toward him. When she reached for his cock, he remembered what Ritter in the jewel had done and pressed her arms against her side. But something was wrong. Different. As if reading his mind, she kicked off her shoes, then unzipped her jeans and shoved them down over her hips, taking her panties with them. Driven by the same impulse, he bent and unlaced his boots. The moment they were off, he did the same to his jeans. Not giving her time to dispose of her blouse and not giving a damn about the T-shirt still hugging his chest, he caught her around the waist and turned her from him. Breathing in fits and starts, she leaned forward until her upper body was as low as it could go without her losing her balance and braced herself by placing her hands on her knees. Her top briefly hung up on her breasts, then slipped forward and bunched around her shoulders. “Now!” she sobbed. “Please. Hard!” He couldn’t believe what he was doing, couldn’t admit he was about to fuck without so much as a stroke of foreplay. But not only did her plea drive him forward and into her, but he felt as desperate as she sounded. His cock parted her slick opening, held barely submerged for a moment. Then her cunt muscles swallowed him, raked him in. He sealed them together and provided her with a measure of support by gripping her under her breasts. When she opened her stance, he bent his knees and increased his hold on her. Fuck! Be an animal! Need raged through him. Even as a teenager buffeted by newly awakened sex urges, he hadn’t been this desperate to fuck. Beyond any kind of restraint, he bucked into her. The first hard thrust knocked her forward. She would have fallen if she hadn’t planted her outstretched hands on the ground. Through a haze, he saw the outline of her spinal column but nothing else. Had she become nothing except a sexual object to him? Unwilling—or maybe beyond rational thought—he threw off the question and stroked her pussy with long, smooth, quick thrusts. Although he tried to help ease her awkward position by increasing his hold on her and, lifting her slightly, he felt her begin to tremble. “I can’t—I can’t do this,” she hissed. “I’m going to break.” He hated pulling out of her but managed to summon the self-control to do so. When she straightened, he was startled by how red-faced she looked. Before he could think of an apology, she dropped to her hands and knees. She lowered her upper body until her breasts nearly dragged on the floor and again opened her stance, giving him a spectacular view of her

cunt. Droplets of liquid heat dribbled out of her and onto the ground. His balls felt in danger of exploding. “Now. Take me now!” she begged. Settling himself on his knees behind her, he spread her ass cheeks and positioned his wet cock between her labia. Somehow he found enough self-restraint to hold off penetrating her. He reached around her hips and pressed the sides of his thumbs against her mons. Now his balls felt as if they were trying to crawl up to his throat. “Oh God,” she moaned and pushed her ass toward him. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” Still he held back. True, he couldn’t close his mouth or keep anything in focus, but although he felt like a stud who’d just been presented with an in-heat mare to mount, he focused on her pleasure—and the thin line between pleasure and pain. When he increased the pressure on her mons and massaged her there, her pussy juice became a flood. Her legs trembled. Using awkward, disjointed movements, he managed to stroke her outer pussy with the tip of his cock and rub her lower belly at the same time. Her head fell forward, and she rested her forehead on the floor. Her cunt spasmed. Her body began to jerk. Excited by the prospect being enough in control to witness her climax, he eased her along by stroking what he could reach of the joint between her legs and hips. She broke out in sweat and sobbed out his name. Extending his reach, he found her engorged clit and stroked it—once. Her climax came, came, and came. Her loud and honest sobs flowed together. Being part voyeur and participant nearly caused him to come himself but damn it, he needed more. Deserved to be inside her. When she relaxed and lifted her head so she could look back at him, he patted her flushed cheek. Thinking she needed a few moments to recover, he slid his hands under her blouse and played with her nipples beneath the damnable bra they’d been in too much of a hurry to remove. Her breathing slowed. Instead of trying to change positions although she must be tired of presenting herself doggy fashion, she wiggled her hips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed—I’ve never needed to be fucked so much.” “I kind of got that impression,” he said, not caring whether he sounded in control, because he sure as hell wasn’t. When she’d wiggled her hips, she’d sucked the tip of his cock into her pussy. Now she clamped her cunt muscles down around him and held him in place. “Your turn.” She gave his cock a squeeze, then again pushed her ass toward him. My turn. In a dim, disjointed way he realized his brain—hell, his heart—was trying to argue against fucking her, but his cock and balls overrode everything. He felt strong. In truth, he felt powerful enough to ride her until the tops of both their heads blew off. Relying on pelvis, hip, and thigh muscles, he let go and experienced, simply experienced. He pushed in as far and deep as his cock would go. In his mind he saw the organ expand, filling her pussy, and becoming part of it. No! He wanted nothing to do with having her absorb him. Her cunt belonged to him! He was in charge! Filled with righteous determination and full-out lust, he drove into her. He used so much force he nearly knocked her to the ground. Beyond apologizing, he again locked his hands around her hips and held her in place. He backed off a little, then pushed in again, grunting as he did. She grunted in response, and he felt her shift slightly, improving the angle between cunt and cock. He loved the feel of his cock sliding effortlessly along her pussy walls, loved the long withdrawal followed by yet another assault. Somewhere in the midst of looking for a pace guaranteed to give him the most satisfaction, he hit upon pulling her against him whenever he

thrust. He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must have because now he saw only black and red. Red. Flames. His cock, hot and hard and urgent, housed itself over and over again in this unbelievably sexy woman’s pussy. He felt himself begin to fill. Pressure built. Drenched in sweat, he worked automatically, the pace growing harder, stronger, more desperate. Now! Hard! Cum pushing out of him to flood her. Grunting. Hearing her grunt, and feeling her cunt muscles spasm. Shoving into her with all his strength, having her shove back, holding there, holding while he drained himself.

Chapter Seven “We’re not going to do that again.” “No, we’re not.” Derika wished she could believe she meant what she’d just said, but although she felt as if she’d been ridden hard and put away wet, she didn’t have to look at Ritter to want him all over again. There was no way she could pretend her cunt wasn’t already demanding a repeat performance. It made no sense. She was a civilized woman, not some animal in heat. Aren’t you? Surely you haven’t forgotten how he took you—how you begged to be taken. “Shut up,” she muttered. “What?” Ritter said. “Nothing.” She perched on the wall and concentrated on lacing her tennis shoes. They both needed showers, but Ritter was expecting an electrician in a few minutes, and she didn’t want the man guessing what his potential clients had been up to. When Ritter finished getting dressed and headed down the stairs, she didn’t know whether to be sorry or glad. She certainly needed some time to herself—and a stiff, cold wind. Unfortunately, the breeze coming had too much warmth to it to be much good. She had to get out of there, go somewhere, anywhere. Unfortunately, she couldn’t until she’d convinced her great-aunt not to throw her money away on this—this what? Looking around, she realized her feelings about the castle had changed. No longer did she view it as a target for a wrecking ball but something with history, a past. A ghost. Her gaze settled on the dagger. Feeling she had no choice, she picked it up, but several seconds passed before she gathered the courage to study the red stone. If it still held images of a man and woman having sex, she’d probably wind up tearing back off her jeans and engaging in some serious self-stimulation—not that it was a bad idea. Instead, fortunately, the figures no longer existed. In their place, she saw flames. More than a little unnerved, she forced herself to turn the dagger so the sunlight fully illuminated it. The flames became sharper and more intense. From what she could tell, there was no source. Instead, the only thing visible was the fire-fingers themselves. She saw no smoke and fortunately felt no heat. “What is this about, Lady Mina?” she asked. You will know, soon. “Are you responsible for the dagger?” No. A greater force is.

“A what? Why me? I don’t understand?” She shivered. You will, soon. “And until then?” Live. Experience. “What? Sex?” And more. “More?” she questioned, but she’d already sensed that Lady Mina had left. When would she return, and when she did, what would she say and do? Awed by the gift she didn’t understand, she slipped the slender weapon into the sheath and tucked it in her back pocket. She risked wounding herself if she kept it there but didn’t she have a belt she could use to fasten it to her waist? And then what? “Then I go looking for explanations. Pieces to the puzzle, windows to history.” And, maybe, some answers about what’s happening to me.

***** Despite her determination to talk to someone knowledgeable about daggers, especially daggers with what appeared to be magical powers, by the time the sun was setting, she was still at the castle. The day had been taken up with several futile attempts to contact her aunt followed by a less-than-satisfying cell phone conversation with the head of her department who curtly reminded her that her grant impacted the university’s reputation and when did she intend to return and resume her research? He hadn’t been interested in her explanation that her trip to Germany had resulted in unexpected complications. Feeling disconnected from the world of academia, she’d joined Ritter and the electrician for a lengthy, technical discussion of what it would take to supply the castle with electricity— deep pockets. Soon after the electrician left, a plumber had shown up, and she’d wound up feeding both him and Ritter lunch. Fortunately, the plumber’s assessment was less expensive than the electrician’s because improvements made during the Middle Ages had included placing central water drawing points on each floor and a cistern on the top level with pipes that carried water to the floors below. In and outflow was controlled by valves with bronze taps and spouts. The pipes needed to be replaced, but at least the basic system was in place. The plumber, who’d worked on other castles, reassured them that modernization wouldn’t compromise the castle’s historic integrity. When he finally left, it was just her and Ritter again. And the way he looked at her… “I’m going to town,” she forced herself to say. She patted the dagger. “Hopefully there’s a library or historical society I can go to for answers about this.” “This is important to you, isn’t it?” “Don’t you want to know?” “Are you going to say anything about what we saw in it?” he asked instead of answering her. “No. Even if it hadn’t been so…so personal, people would think I’m crazy.” “Maybe.” He scanned their surroundings. “There’s something about this area… about the way you and I are acting, as if we’re out of control. What we said about not fucking again— do we really have any say in the matter?”

Ritter’s words now echoed inside her as she drove toward Siebenborn. She could no longer see the castle in the rear view mirror as she approached the first small farm but that didn’t stop her from wondering whether she could or would stay out of Ritter’s bed tonight. Spotting farm machinery, she asked herself whether this and other lots had been designed hundreds of years ago so the peasants—was that what they had been called?—could be protected by Lady Mina’s husband. She had no interest in being responsible for the safety of other people, but having the dagger around her waist made her feel stronger somehow—stronger and connected to a past she’d never been interested in before. From what she could tell, no one was around. The same appeared true of the next farm, but when she wound her way to the third one, she saw at least thirty people gathered in an open space near the road. They were all dressed in bright costumes, the men’s complete with swords, bows and arrows, lances, and spears. The women’s appearance had a romantic look —long, flowing dresses, hair done up in elaborate styles. Similarly dressed children chased each other or sat in tight, laughing circles. Most of the women were busy putting food on a long picnic table. The smell of meat roasting made her mouth water. Still, when she pulled onto the graveled area where others had parked their vehicles, hunger wasn’t why. In truth, she had no explanation for her decision to crash the locals’ celebration. Maybe she should have removed the dagger before getting out of her car, but she couldn’t make herself do so. Feeling both out of her element and compelled to learn more, she walked toward the group. Someone was playing a handmade string instrument she didn’t recognize, the notes reminding her of swirling wind. The sun had set, and there wasn’t much of a sunset, giving the area a quiet, gray appearance. Just the same, she sensed the people’s excitement for whatever they were doing. Ritter, I wish you were here. “Hello,” an elderly woman said, her somewhat quivery voice pulling Derika into the here and now. “Welcome.” “Welcome?” She faced the woman whose brilliant brocade dress seemed to include every shade of red and whose eyes held hers. “Oh, no, I-I’m a party crasher,” she admitted. “I was on my way to town when I saw—when I smelled—” “The pig’s nearly done.” The woman pointed to a mound of earth from which a little steam and smoke escaped. “They’ve been roasting it since yesterday.” For the first time, Derika noted the woman’s strong German accent. “A roasted pig? That is ambitious.” “It’s tradition. So is my outfit.” She held out the full skirt. “I worked on it for weeks putting in all those narrow panels, trying to get as many shades as possible. It’s pretty bold for an old broad, but I think Eostara would have liked it.” “Eostara?” Saying the word sent a shiver through her. The dagger heated. “Don’t you know? Well, maybe not. When I saw your outfit and rental car, I figured you were an American tourist which gave me the opportunity to use my English.” The woman glanced at the dagger. “But that’s authentic?” “Yes, it is,” she said instead of trying to explain further. The woman’s two older female companions stood nearby, but from their puzzled expressions, Derika concluded they didn’t speak English. If she was an artist or photographer, she would have captured the trio since they served as perfect examples of traditional German women. “Please tell me about Eostara.” She shivered again. The dagger grew even warmer.

“The Goddess of Spring.” The elderly woman’s voice carried a note of respect. “Her origins are unknown, even to me. Please, let me introduce myself. I’m Elfreida Flindt, retired librarian and seriously addicted amateur historian.” An historian! Perfect. Derika shook the woman’s soft, dry hand. Then although she wasn’t sure of the wisdom of what she was doing, she touched on what had brought her to Germany. Instead of calling Aunt Helga insane, Elfreida’s expression sobered. She nodded and said something in German to her companions. The other women nodded too and looked serious. “I, ah, I’m delighted to have met you,” Derika said. “I have questions, a lot of them.” “Do you, my dear? What kind?” Why do I feel you know what they are? “Well, for one, when I was driving up to the castle last night, I saw a number of bonfires. Were they part of the same celebration?” “Indeed. Everyone’s tired of winter. For most of these people,” she indicated the various groups, “all they care about is being able to indulge in a little wine, beer, and sex.” Derika was still trying to decide how to respond to the comment about sex when she felt something press into the small of her back. Recognizing it as a man’s hand, she started to look behind her. Just then, the pressure registered in her groin. Ritter. Elfreida’s eyes lit up, and she smiled at Ritter. “Ah, good timing young man. Derika is much too sensual a woman to spend the spring equinox alone. Is that why you’re here, for the wine, beer, food, and sex?” At the word sex, Derika felt her cunt flood. She could only hope Elfreida didn’t notice the heat in her cheeks. “What kind of food?” Ritter asked. He continued to press at the base of her spine. “And where do we sign up for the sex?” “Ah, a man with a sense of humor.” Elfreida winked at Derika. “Don’t let this one get away, not that there’s any danger of that happening.” “Oh, we’re not—I mean, we just met yesterday.” “Ah.” Elfreida’s face lit up. “But you’ve already fucked.” “What?” she spluttered. “How did you know?” Ritter asked. Elfreida said something to her companions, and they all laughed. “Outsiders don’t understand, at least not until they’ve participated in their first Vernal Equinox. Once they have, they can hardly wait for next spring. As for my so-called intuition, my dear young people, I’d have to be dead not to sense the energy between you. Mix a little body heat with the equinox and—can’t get enough of each other, can you?” Ritter pulled Derika to his side and fastened an arm around her waist. She didn’t know whether to be offended because he obviously felt he had all rights to her body or give in to the desire to jump his bones and to hell with the consequences. Her legs were losing strength, undoubtedly because so much energy was now concentrated between her legs. Her mind flooded with memories of the way they’d gone at each other last night and earlier today. Is it going to happen again? Right here and right now? “Now, now,” Elfreida chided. “Don’t let an old lady’s bold and nosy nature make you speechless. Be honest. All either of you want is to rip off each other’s clothes, and go at it like rabbits.” Ritter made a sound somewhere between a laugh and choking. “What-what about

rabbits?” “Oh, you’ve seen them, haven’t you? Get the sap going in the trees and plants pushing through the ground in March and the rabbits, or hares as we call them, start acting crazy. They don’t eat or sleep, but mate indiscriminately and as frequently as possible.” Elfreida winked. “As for us so-called civilized human beings, most of us pair up and fuck under the guise of Ostara. It’s a great excuse for acting like animals, only in some cases, people have no control over what happens.” “Ostara?” Derika managed. So much for her impression of Elfreida as a sweet little old lady. “Is that the same as Eostara?” “No, although they’re connected. Do you want the short course or the complete history lesson?” Before she could respond, Ritter—damn him—slid his hand low on her hip and began massaging it. She felt the touch from the top of her head all the way to her ankles but mostly in her pussy. “Ah, the short course.” Elfreida all but cackled. “Good choice. Young man, you aren’t playing fair.” She nodded, indicating Ritter’s bold hand. “You’re cutting into her concentration.” “Like you said, the sap’s in the trees,” he responded, as if Derika needed an explanation of what was happening to his cock. “You’re delightful.” Elfreida chuckled. “Unfortunately, I’m an old woman, and my knees only have so much standing in them. I have my lawn chair staked out near the fire. Why don’t the two of you join me?”

***** Enough wood for a great bonfire had been placed on a rise, and a number of folding chairs were set in a circle at a distance from the pile. Elfreida plopped into her chair and indicated she wanted Derika and Ritter to sit on the grass in front of her. Night was fast approaching, and, as Elfreida explained, the celebration would begin with the lighting of the fire. Ritter sat down first, then reached up and drew Derika into the space between his spread legs. When he pulled her against him, she felt his heartbeat and rhythmic breathing along the length of her spinal column. Despite the danger, she placed his hands on her thighs and held them there. “Sometimes Ostara’s celebration only brings a couple together for a single night, but sometimes the union lasts forever,” Elfreida said as she studied them. “It is too soon to know what will happen with the two of you unless you’ve been chosen.” “Chosen?” Derika asked. “There’s a legend—if you’ve become part of it, you will understand. In the meantime, just enjoy as much sex as you can handle.” “Ostara?” Derika asked, hoping to take the older woman’s mind off match making. “Ostara is the event,” Elfreida explained. “Eostara was a goddess first mentioned in De Temporum Rationale in the seventh century.” “You are a historian,” Derika muttered. “Guilty. Anyway, spring is celebrated in different ways by different cultures,” Elfreida said, her eyes now at half-mast. “In Europe, because people traditionally made their living from the earth, they made a strong connection with nature. Late March was chosen because

light and darkness are in balance, yet light grows stronger with each day. The forces of masculine and feminine energy—I call it yin and yang—are in balance, and we think of renewing ourselves.” Elfreida went on to explain that although she’d never consider herself a witch, she’d done considerable research into the Pagan Wheel of the Year. For pagans, spring was when the great Mother Goddess welcomed the young Sun God into her and conceived a child who was born nine months later during Yule or the Winter Solstice. “Wiccans and witches see Ostara as a fertility ritual,” Elfreida continued. Her mouth twitched. “Because we have entire families participating in what we do here, we tend to tone down the fertility element, but you’ll see couples slipping off. I envy them—and when the two of you take off, I’ll indulge my imagination about what you’re doing.” By now, Derika had become accustomed to Elfreida’s direct approach to sexuality. She also wasn’t going to try to tell her that she was wrong to assume she and Ritter were going to have sex tonight. Given the hot energy pouring wavelike through her, it couldn’t come soon enough. In truth, if she could think of a way to get his cock in her with their clothes on, she just might give Elfreida a show. Belatedly, she realized Elfreida was still talking. Now she explained that the upcoming bonfire, or Osterfeuer, was a custom designed for curing illness and injury, celebrating renewed life, and most important, protection of crops. “You Americans aren’t the only ones who celebrate with colored eggs,” Elfreida said. “For you, it’s part of Easter. For us, it’s tied into our ancient Goddess of Fertility. That’s who Eostara was.” “Colored eggs?” Ritter asked. “No wonder—” “What can you tell me about…her?” Derika interrupted. “Not much, unfortunately. Ancient people relied on oral history and much of that has been lost. Now if we could find someone who’d been around back then.” Elfreida sighed. “According to legend, her patron animal was the hare, but to answer your young man, in ancient times, eggs were gathered and used to create talismans for fruitfulness. They were also ritually eaten as a fertility gesture.” “Someone left red eggs outside the castle door,” Derika explained. Although she was far from immune to Ritter’s presence, she was able to temper her reaction just enough so she could concentrate. “Do you have any idea who?” For a moment Derika could swear Elfreida looked uncertain. Then she laughed. “Maybe it’ s a local’s idea of an invitation to this celebration. As for the red—it symbolizes morning, dawn, sunrise. In mythology, Eostara carried eggs which are symbols of new and continuing life.” “Interesting,” Ritter muttered. His voice seemed to rumble through her. “So we might never know who decided we needed something symbolizing life, and I’m not sure how I feel about the sentiment.” “It depends.” Elfreida winked. “If you want to plant your seed in your young lady, I’d say it’s self-explanatory. Otherwise, I’d take it as a precaution.” Ritter laughed, making her body echo with the sound. “Point taken. According to Derika,” he told Elfreida, “she’s on the pill. There won’t be any seed planting.” Suddenly angry, Derika tried to extricate herself from him, but he locked his arms around her waist and held her tight. When he trailed his fingers toward her groin, just like that, her awareness of anything else faded. She barely heard him ask Elfreida what else she knew about

the fire’s symbolism. Elfreida boldly studied Ritter’s hand. “Right you are,” she said. “Osterfeuer symbolizes the sun and its life-giving, life-affirming warmth. After all, without the sun, there would be no life. In ancient times, people took some of the burning branches back to their homes to light their personal fires which in turn blessed their homes and fields.” “Fascinating.” Ritter pressed his middle finger against Derika’s mons. She jumped and struggled not to squirm. Just the same, trying to get away was the last thing she wanted to do. “Fascinating, perhaps,” Elfreida said. “But not as much as what’s taking place between the two of you. Go on, young lady. Give him what he wants. After all, this is what tonight is about.” This is what tonight is about. As if I have any say in the matter. Ritter slid away from her in preparation for standing. She started to do the same. Then her fingers brushed her dagger. She took it out of the sheath and gave it to Elfreida. The older woman’s amused expression faded, and her gaze intensified. She handled it as if it was precious, first running her aged hands over the weapon, then turning it from side to side. Her mouth trembled. “What’s wrong?” Derika asked. Instead of answering, Elfreida blinked back tears. “What is it?” Derika insisted. “Is this some ancient artifact? Maybe it’s been missing and— ” “Where did you find it?” “At the castle. Why?” “Has…has anything else been happening?” Instead of pointing out that she needed Elfreida to be more specific, she nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but the castle has a ghost, a woman named Lady Mina. She—I know this is going to sound crazy, but she told me her husband was killed. She’s lonely, so lonely.” “Lady Mina?” Elfreida’s eyes widened. “The name’s familiar to you?” “There was…” Elfreida paused, making Derika wonder if she didn’t want to go on. “Lord Abelard built the castle after his father, King Henry II, granted the land to him. Little is known about Abelard except he was said to have a remarkable understanding of what it took to get the most from the land. Apparently he worked closely with the farmers under his protection, and they respected him. Unfortunately, he never got to enjoy the castle because he was killed during the early crusades, leaving behind his bride who continued the work he’d begun with the farmers.” “By herself? She never remarried?” “No,” Elfreida said softly, “she didn’t. But she had five children.” At that moment, a sturdy young man stepped toward the pile of wood, holding aloft a burning branch. People started clapping, and a drum began a sound like a heartbeat. Only Elfreida didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she angled the dagger so the firelight reached the red stone. “You,” she whispered. “It was given to you. You have been chosen.”

Chapter Eight Ritter held tight to Derika’s hand as they watched the bonfire burst into flames. He was marginally aware of the excitement of those around them. Damn it, he lived a life bound by reality. From childhood, he’d believed in what he could hold in his hands and see with his eyes. His imagination went no further than what could be created from steel and wood, and he’d never wanted anything different. Until now. “What did she mean, it was given to me?” Derika whispered. She hugged his side, making him wonder what had happened to Ms. Mathematical Professor. “And to say I’ve been chosen. For what?” “I don’t know.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. Although she stared at the leaping flames, he doubted she saw them. Dancing red reflected in her eyes. She clutched the dagger to her middle. “Everything she told us—it didn’t feel like some silly ritual, an excuse for people to party. I—Ritter, what if there’s something to Ostara, the part about what spring symbolizes anyway. If there are forces greater than us…” He didn’t try to answer, and as much as his cock demanded relief, he wished Elfreida’s friends hadn’t demanded she join them. The old woman knew more about the dagger’s origin than she was letting on. Damn it, the dagger hadn’t been on top of the keep when he’d been there earlier. “She could have filled in the blanks,” he muttered, angry at Elfreida. “She sure as hell was eager to tell us everything else. She understands that damn dagger.” “You can’t be sure,” Derika whispered. “Maybe she just came across references to it in her research, something that’s been intriguing her. Like she said, the history of this festival, particularly Goddess Eostara, is shrouded in myth.” Although he wasn’t ready to buy her explanation, concentrating was becoming harder and harder. Some of it had to do with the flames’ mesmerizing quality. They were standing at a safe distance, but heat still reached him. And the music—percussion and wind and other instruments he didn’t recognize flowed together like water, like the wind. Night had come fast. The moon hadn’t made an appearance yet, and once it did, some of the mystery would fade from their surroundings but now—now he saw only couples intertwined. Felt only Derika’s presence and his powerful need for her. He sensed her in his bloodstream, his groin, his cock. She was in the flames, the music, his soul. Frightened of what he couldn’t or wouldn’t say, he pushed her away and held her at arms’ length. “What is it?” she asked. “I don’t know. That’s the hell of it, I don’t know. What did you do, Derika? Something you put in my food, the perfume you’re wearing?” “I don’t wear perfume.” “It’s something,” he insisted although a small, sane voice told him he was wrong, at least about any deception on her part. “I can’t think past wanting to rip off your clothes and ordering you to take my cock into your mouth.” He thrust his groin at her for emphasis. “I

want to spread your legs and suck on your clit until you scream. I don’t give a damn about anything else. Just fucking and being fucked, over and over again.” She was shaking so badly he thought she might drop the dagger. Still, he realized it wasn’t fear he sensed in her but lust. “You feel it too, don’t you,” he said unnecessarily. She nodded and licked her lips. “I want to bathe your balls with my tongue. I need you to —help me, I need you to fuck my ass, my cunt.” She shook her head as if not believing what she’d just said. “Both at the same time.” Despite the raging waves of desire, he laughed. “Can’t be done.” “I don’t care. I need it.” So do I. I need you spread-eagled on the ground, tied and gagged, mine to do what I need to with. When I’m done fucking you that way, I’ll turn you over and hoist your ass in the air and ram what’s left of my cock up you again. Then, when I regain consciousness, I’ll do it again until my cock falls off. “Let me go, Ritter.” “Can’t.” Before he knew what she had in mind, she’d wrenched free. She stood before him looking like a frightened deer—all except for the hard desire in her eyes. “I’m afraid to be around you,” she whispered. He wasn’t sure how he heard her with all the noise. “Afraid of myself.” “It’s Equinox, Ostara, whatever they call her, the Goddess of Spring.” She shook her head as he’d guessed she’d do. She started to say something, then suddenly dropped the dagger and blew on her hand. “What is it?” he demanded. “It burned me.” Even more off balance than he’d felt a moment ago, he crouched near the dagger and held his palm near it. Heat radiated from the small weapon. Derika joined him, her thighs so close he could have easily run his hands over them. Together they stared at the red stone. “Flames,” Derika whispered. “It’s as if the stone is burning up.” “But it isn’t.” After wetting his fingertips with his tongue, he picked the dagger up by the thin tip. The heat there wasn’t enough to burn him, just keep his attention, but when he tried to grasp it by the base near the stone, he was unable to. “I don’t get it.” Until this moment he’d been intrigued and puzzled by the weapon. Now, for the first time, he felt fear. Still, he held onto it as if daring it to injure him. Derika slipped the sheath off her waist, indicating she wanted him to slip the dagger into its holder. Glad for the excuse to relinquish it to its rightful owner—where had that thought come from?—he did so. One moment he’d been looking at the dagger. The next he’d lifted his head and found himself staring into Derika’s eyes. It had to be the bonfire, of course, but he swore her eyes had changed, become old and deep with wisdom. The longer he looked into them, the larger they became until they dominated her. He felt himself slipping into them, losing himself, being swallowed by this near stranger he’d fucked as he’d never fucked before. She took a backward step, holding the dagger with trembling fingers. Her returning stare was just as intense. “You’re changing,” she told him. “So are you.” “I know.” Her free hand stole to her belly, and she pressed. A sigh escaped. Her hand

inched lower, now pushing against her mons. His cock growled and roared. Heat flamed the sides of his neck. His head felt about to explode. He’d take off his clothes, her clothes, throw her to the ground and mount her. Take her here, now, over and over again until she screamed for mercy. But even her cries wouldn’t be enough. No, his cock, hell, his whole body demanded release from sexual tension powerful enough to blow him apart. Even in his randy adolescent years, he’d loathed everything about the act called rape, but if someone didn’t stop him now, quick, violently, he’d take her the way a stallion takes a trapped mare. No!

***** When Ritter spun on his heels and stalked away, Derika stared at his retreating back. Good! Her body hummed. In truth, it was doing a hell of a lot more than that. If truth be known, it took all her willpower not to charge after him, jump onto his back, and ride him to the ground. Although he had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds, she’d get him turned around. Then she’d spear herself on his cock and hold on until he bellowed for mercy. Her pussy clenched. Her muscles remained clamped and hard, forcing a gasp from her. She rocked back and forth, fighting her starving body’s pain until finally, thankfully, her cunt muscles let go. Sex juices flooded out of her, and she simply accepted it. She felt weak, strong, balanced on the tip of a climax that might go on until it killed her. What was happening? Damn it, how and why had she become a nympho? Although her vision remained red-rimmed, she fought to bring her surroundings into focus because she needed to put her mind to something, anything except her pussy’s demands. She smelled her own randy sweat. Her clit felt as if an electric probe had been clamped to it. But somehow—because the alternative was insanity—she freed herself. Although her heart beat so erratically she wondered whether she was risking a heart attack, she forced herself to make sense of the people closest to her. She couldn’t spot Elfreida and her friends, but the antics of a group of boys chasing each other around the bonfire made her chuckle. She was trying to determine whether any of their parents were keeping an eye on them when she spotted a teenage couple with their arms locked around each other. The girl was fresh-faced, the boy tall and handsome with new and untested muscles. Their hands roamed easily over buttocks, backs, breasts. Their mouths seemed to be permanently locked together. If someone didn’t stop them soon, they’d be fucking in seconds. I could be doing that. Ritter and me. Continuing to watch them would only test what little self-control she had left, so after placing the sheathed and still too-warm dagger back around her waist, she walked away from the oblivious-to-the-world young couple. Another couple, maybe in their thirties, were a little more restrained, but his hand sliding down to her ass crack made a lie out of the barrier her slacks provided, and the way she pushed her butt toward his hand left no doubt about her response. After a long, hard kiss, they stepped into the shadows. Earlier she’d thought there’d only been one percussion instrument; now the hard, strong beats echoed through the air and into her. She swayed from side to side, then rocked forward

and back, her pelvis driving her movement. She didn’t so much hear the drums, flutes, and string instruments as feel them. She became part of the night, flowing, breathing in tune with her surroundings. The strong, hungry flames reached for the night sky, and she reached with them. At the same time, she felt grounded in her body and more attuned to it than she’d ever been. The ground offered up its warmth, its promise of life for growing things. Her cunt and clit absorbed the heat, the promise. Now she knew what hunger felt like—hunger for sex, for fucking, for swallowing a man’s cock and making it part of her. Beyond caring what anyone saw or thought, she ran her hand between her legs and pushed up, determined to reach that starving core. The pressure helped but only enough to take away the hardest edge. She still needed. Still had to be fucked. Someone was watching her. Caught in her body’s power, she turned toward the intruder. The man was dressed entirely in black, his thin nylon shirt hugging his muscled body. He wore his hair long and untamed, and he stood with his legs apart, drawing her attention to the bulge that screamed erection. She couldn’t tell whether his eyes were darker than Ritter’s, just that the message was the same. I offer sex. I am sex. The stranger nodded in acknowledgement of her stare and started toward her, a wine glass in each hand. Coming close enough so she could feel his heat, he handed her one of the slender, red wine filled glasses. “Drink,” he said—either that or she imagined the invitation, the order. Beyond anything except being, doing, she took the offering and brought it to her lips. The wine tasted clean, cool, smooth, alive. “It’s from the vineyards here,” he continued. “Fruit of the land given on the night of Ostara. A drink for lovers.” A drink for lovers. A gift from the land. She started to take another swallow, then stopped. Whoever this man was—if he was indeed flesh and blood—he embodied every bit of sexuality the adolescent girl she’d once been had fantasized about. He was the dark stranger, a powerful and primitive man born of imagination and lust. He’d take her. He’d be the consummate lover, more knowledgeable about her body’s desires than she’d ever be. His hands and mouth and cock would paint her body and leave it branded. He offered sex.

***** Ritter stood in the shadows watching Derika and the black-clad man. He didn’t know if a word had passed between them, not that it was necessary because the man’s body language said everything. Do it, Derika. Milk another man’s cock and forget you and I— A hot and insistent smell distracted him. Turning, he found himself looking at a young woman, her body ripe and full and barely covered by the thin, flowing dress which skimmed her magnificent breasts and made-for-a-man’s-hands hips. A faint smile painted her sensual lips as she stroked the base of her throat. Her hand glided lower, burning a furrow between her breasts as her gaze locked on him. Women had come onto him before, women who praised his work-hard body and dark eyes and offered their cunts, their breasts and bellies. He

’d taken their offerings and spent the night fucking. Then they’d left, leaving his cock spent and his mind empty. Empty. Not having to think, to care. “I came alone,” the beautiful young woman said, “so I could choose the man I’ll spend the night with. I want you.”

***** “What did she say to you?” Derika asked Ritter as wispy, whispering music coated the air and more couples slipped into the dark. A moment ago she’d turned her back on wine-man; at the same time, Ritter had walked away from sex-woman. Now they stood, not touching, her body crying with the need to feel Ritter on her, in her. “She wanted to fuck me,” he said. “You should have taken her up on it. It would have been uncomplicated.” “So would you and what’s his name.” “Yes, it would,” she agreed, “if I’d been interested.” “You weren’t?” “No.” She didn’t know how to tell Ritter that she’d felt nothing when wine-man entered her space. Oh, her mind had heard his offer, but her body hadn’t responded. “He told me the grapes for the wine were locally grown.” “Did he tell you it’s a wine for lovers, and how this festival is for fertility?” “Yes. What’s-her-name told you the same thing?” “Basically—along with other things that don’t need words.” “I saw.” She wondered if she’d ever tell Ritter how scared she’d been he’d take what the woman offered. Her fingers burned. She felt as if she was flowing into him, losing herself in him. “It’s going to happen, isn’t it?” he said softly. “It?” “You and me.” Feeling helpless and alive, she nodded. When he took her hand and led her away from the bonfire and into shadow, she tried to picture herself pulling free and turning back into the modern and independent woman she’d always been. Instead, in her mind, her nerve endings reached out for his, and her cunt opened itself to him. Despite her shoes, she felt the land’s heat and wondered, in a distracted way, why, since the days hadn’t been hot. Maybe she’d ask Elfreida. Now, however, was for one thing. Ritter stopped and guided her around until she stood in front of him. Enough firelight reached them so she knew he was looking down at her, but told her nothing with his expression. It didn’t matter; it was better this way. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Without knowing she was going to do so, she placed her hands around his neck, lifted herself onto her toes, and kissed him. Oh yes, she was aware of her body’s reaction, especially the insistent cry between her legs. But overriding everything was her desire for another kind of connection. Eyes closed, she kept her lips against his as she absorbed everything she could. What did she know about him beyond his cock’s capacity to blow the lid off her mind? He

took his career seriously. He knew little about his German heritage. He was loyal to his great-uncle and his love for the older man might keep him at the castle for years. More, she told herself as his mouth parted, and she caught the taste of his tongue. What more do you know about him? No answer came. It seemed both incredible and impossible that she’d handed her pussy and more over to a man who was in essence a stranger. Why? What have you done to me? For a moment, she honestly thought she’d be able to pull free and hold on to what remained of her sanity, but then he settled his hands over her buttocks and pulled her into his erection. He’s ready for me. He’s offering what I need to go on living. Sighing, she opened her mouth and let him in. Slow, asking permission, he moved his tongue into her. He ran it over her tongue, then increased his exploration, touching here, there, everywhere. She managed to stroke the underside of his, but listening to her body’s response took too much of her attention for more. His rhythm fascinated and excited her. She was in awe of the way he telegraphed a change in tempo, thus allowing her to prepare, to participate. Bit by bit the rest of her flowed off to a place filled with heated vibrations. She imagined herself floating on the ocean’s waves, a warm and welcoming sea intimately knowledgeable about what she needed. She might have floated like this for the rest of the night if her calf muscles had been up to it. Finally though, she had to settle back onto her heels. She tried to take his incredible tongue with her but lost the contact. She then bathed his throat with her tongue, careful to give full attention to every bit of flesh not covered by fabric. When she’d done her best, she grabbed the hem of his collared pullover and drew it off him. He reached for her, but she stopped him. “Please, let me…” she managed. She didn’t know how to finish, but fortunately he didn’t push her. Instead, he stood with his arms at his side. Her pussy contracted and released, contracted and released. Ignoring it as best she could, she unfastened his slacks and slowly, relishing every inch of the journey, unzipped him. Next she dropped to her knees and undid his shoe-laces. He stepped out of them, then went back to waiting. She wanted to tell him something, anything, but her throat had closed up. Giving up on speech, she pulled the jeans off his hips and down over his thighs, dragging her nails over his flesh as she went. He sucked in a breath; his pelvis contracted. So did her cunt. When she had his jeans around his ankles, he freed himself the rest of the way, then waited passively while she took his briefs on the same journey. “Naked,” she whispered, her mouth close to his cock so he’d feel her breath. “Now it’s your turn.” “No, not yet.” “Why not?” She couldn’t tell him that the thought of being naked before him while the need to fuck and be fucked bombarded her terrified her, so she simply smiled into the dark. “Sometimes a woman wants to be the one in control.” Giving weight to her words, she took hold of his cock and sucked the tip into her mouth. His breath caught. He laced his fingers into her hair.

She cupped her lips around the head just as her cunt would soon house his cock. A long, slow shudder ran the length of his cock, but she didn’t slacken her hold. She sucked him deeper, her mouth filling. Her panties felt drenched, and she pressed her ass cheeks together in a futile attempt to keep some of her sex juice inside her. When that didn’t work, she tried to pull her pussy up into her pelvis. “Getting to you?” he asked. “Thinking about having me somewhere else in you?” She couldn’t speak with his cock in her, but he already knew the truth. Casting off any thoughts of keeping her hot reaction from him, she closed her fingers around his shaft, and supported that part of his cock she wasn’t tasting. She bathed him everywhere, lingering at the slit so she could sample his pre-cum. His grip on her hair tightened. Responding instinctively, she increased her hold on him. Her jaw ached, but she held on, feeling her control from breasts to belly. He could easily free himself, but unless he did, she’d concentrate on mastering this man—showing him she was no plaything. Instead, for the first time in their relationship, he was. I’m here, Lady Mina said. Let me be part of this, please. Of course. At the thought of a threesome Ritter didn’t know about, an unexpected chuckle rolled up, forcing her to push him out of her mouth. Fighting the impulse to cough, she turned her attention to his balls. She cupped them in her fingers, jiggling them, learning them. The impulse to laugh subsided, and she concentrated on his glans. Controlling him with her finger-grip again, she flicked her tongue lightly along the ridge on the underside of his penis. His breathing rate kicked up, and he pressed his fingertips against her scalp. Not quite sure what she had in mind, she took hold of his glans and drew his cock away from his body. He tried to lean toward her, but she flattened her hand over his belly and held him in place. Although his cock had become a blur, she tilted her head so she could approach it from the side. She lightly nibbled and kissed its length by turn. “Shit! Derika!” Thinking to silence him, she worked saliva into her mouth before cupping her lips over the glans again. She was aware of an ache in her scalp caused by his strong grip on her hair. Instead of distracting her from what she was doing, she fed off the sensation. After pulling a little more of him into her, she began running her hands over his hips, sometimes reaching clear around to grip his ass cheeks, other times running her nails as close to his groin as she could, given how close her head was. He released her hair and fastened a hand over her forearm. The other pressed at the back of her head, encouraging her to swallow even more of him. I feel him, Lady Mina said. He’s in my throat. And in mine. “I’m going—to come,” Ritter muttered. Come then. Flood my throat with your cum. Let me feel the flood all the way to my pussy. Feed Lady Mina too. Despite her silent command, Derika mouth-cradled him only a little longer before releasing him. He half sobbed in frustration. With her teeth grazing his cock tip, she contemplated what she wanted to do next—at least she tried to. In truth, her cunt was on fire, hungry and demanding. “What…what are you thinking?” he whispered.

She kissed his cock repeatedly, then pushed herself to her feet, sliding up against his body as she came. “I’m not.” Now! Lady Mina begged. He has to fuck us now!

Chapter Nine The moon had arrived and touched the hillside with a pale light, which contrasted with the fire’s red hues. Derika felt herself being pulled into the differences, embracing them, bathing her in color. Although she sensed Lady Mina’s presence, she didn’t try to acknowledge or understand. Lacking the strength to move any more than she already had, she stood with her hands at her sides as Ritter unbuttoned her blouse and drew it off her shoulders. Her breasts puckered, the nubs poking into her bra. He leaned toward her and kissed the base of her throat, the gesture sending fingers of heat through her. The heat settled in her cunt and played with her clit until she thought she’d scream. Once he’d removed her blouse, he reached behind her for the bra fastening. That done, he slowly inched the straps off her shoulders. He seemed in no hurry to reveal her breasts. Strangely, she feared being naked before him. He’d seen her nude before. He’d handled her body as if it belonged to him. Maybe that was it—without the protection of clothing, she became his, no longer herself. You’re already his. It’s too late to go back. Her head started to sag forward, and she forced herself to straighten and look him in the eye. She couldn’t read his expression, and because, despite her fear, she needed to be handled, she didn’t resist as he finally exposed her breasts. He dropped the bra, then ran his hands under her breasts and lifted them. Unnerved by his intense stare, she started to lean back, but he grabbed her arms and spun her away from him before snagging her around the waist and pulling her off balance against his chest. She reached behind her, her fingers grazing over his buttocks. While she was thus occupied, he tightened his arm around her shoulders and held her in place. He again took control of her breasts, massaging, pinching lightly, stroking closing his fingers around one nub and then the other. She felt lost within the sensations, her mind as off-balance as her body. She lifted her arms over her head and reached back so she now gripped his neck. The shift left him free to use both hands on her breasts, which he did freely, joyfully. She melted into herself, and when he covered her nubs with his palms and began a circular motion, her cunt juices flooded. Dizzy with desire, she clung to his neck. “Fuck me!” she sobbed. “Ritter, damn it, fuck me.” Me too, please. “I can’t—not yet,” he said. After deftly removing the belt holding the dagger, he tried to run his fingers under her slacks’ waistband, but the fit was too tight. Expert that he was, it didn’t take him long to unhook the snap and slide the zipper down. She continued to lean against him, arms still awkwardly around his neck. Her slacks clung to her hips as he slid his hand under her panties. She felt his fingertips touch her pubic hair, then press against her mons and dip lower. Gasping, she widened her stance. He moved even lower with outstretched fingers. “You’re wet,” he said.

“No shit. Guess who’s responsible?” “My woman’s trash-talking. Guess I’d better give her a reason.” My woman? She, the independent, logical math professor? By the time she realized he’d issued a challenge, it was too late. Somehow he’d worked his fingers all the way between her legs. When he pressed against her straining clit, she jerked and would have collapsed if he hadn’t been there. “You like,” he said. “I…like.” I love! I need! He tried to take her clit between thumb and forefinger, but his reach wasn’t long enough. She sobbed in frustration, then found a measure of release in the kiss of his finger on the insides of her labial lips. Her half-on slacks held her legs together so she began moving from side to side in an attempt to increase the stimulation. “It ain’t going to work, lady. Not like this.” She somehow found the presence of mind to pull her arms down from around his neck and yank down on her slacks. As she slid them off her legs, she glimpsed the dagger on the ground. Although it was inside the sheath, she knew what she’d find if she looked at the red stone—her and Ritter fucking. Her becoming part of him. It’s all right, Lady Mina told her.We need it, both of us. After stepping out of her shoes, it took only another step to rid herself of the slacks. Thinking Ritter would want to finish the disrobing, she positioned herself in front of him, her thumbs hooked over her panties’ waistband. “You didn’t leave me much to do.” His tone was breathless. “Guess you’ll have to make do.” When he merely studied her as firelight danced on his features and music seeped into her, she ran her hand between her legs and pressed against her cunt, trying to quiet the rage. “No, no.” He gripped her wrist and pulled her hand off herself. “Whatever goes on down there, I’m part of it.” With that, he yanked down on her panties, and she stepped out of them, stumbling a little as she did. Naked! Yes, oh, yes! As he’d done before, he backed her against him before sliding his hand in place. This time she lacked the strength to raise her arms above her head so she left them hanging at her side. He pressed a hand against her belly to secure her against him, then spread her legs. He brought both hands over and around her, ending at her cunt. She felt him everywhere; no part of her seemed untouched. The sensation increased as he took hold of her lips and drew down on them. Sobbing deep in her throat, she tried to bend her knees so she could go with him, but he pressed his arms against her and firmly held her. His hold on her lips remained strong and possessive but not painful. When she became accustomed, or maybe resigned to his control of her, she relaxed a little but remained alert to what he might try next—at least she tried to. He shifted her to the side a little and worked first one and then another finger up inside her. No longer thinking resistance —nothing even close to it—she stood on tiptoe to help improve his access. She was grateful for the supporting arms around her waist, even more grateful for this pussy exploration. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Hot.” He breathed into her ear. “Wet.” “Please, Ritter. Now!” Before she knew it was going to happen, he dropped to his knees, taking her with him. Holding her in place with a firm grip on her forearm, he shifted to a sitting position with his ass on their tumbled clothing. Once he’d created a haven for her between his legs, he patted the ground beneath his erect cock and guided her into a sitting position facing him, her legs straddling his hips, her ass on his slacks. Although she couldn’t see it, she knew his cock all but touched her pussy. Wanting only one thing, she planted her arms behind her and leaned back. She waited with her hot vagina in line with his cock. He scooted closer and kissed his cock to her hard and hungry sex. Then, the movement simple and smooth and practiced, he slid between her cunt lips and…in! Oh God, oh God! Thank you. Thank you. Although she couldn’t press her thighs together, Derika tightened her muscles and trapped him inside her. If Lady Mina was doing the same thing, she was beyond caring. His cock became life and warmth, the pulsing promise of spilled cum. Lost in anticipation, she belatedly realized he’d leaned forward and grasped her upper arms. His grip tightened. Trusting him to support her, she stopped bracing herself and reached forward. Her fingers closed around his shoulders. They sat like that for a moment, moonlight touching but not taking away the night. She heard drums and a flute making a sound like a lonely bird’s cry. His features were shadow, night, a part of this unreality. She again clenched her pussy muscles, the contraction lasting until the strain became too much. He was hers! He began rocking both of them, the movement long and slow. She drew comparisons with a child’s seesaw, back and forth, the rhythm in sync with flute, drum, and lonely night bird. The longer they rocked, the more alive her body felt. They’d both bent their knees, which made it possible for her to continue the pace indefinitely. His pace became hers; hers became his. She felt his fullness, her pussy softening, flooding, warm and alive. Her breasts swayed. She drew her legs as close together as possible, and his inner thighs pressed against her outer ones, holding her as securely as she held him. Her head fell back and to the side. She no longer tried to keep her eyes open. Everything centered on her sex, the heated joy between her legs. Sensation slid over her legs, across her belly, around her breasts. Heat lapped at her throat, and even the tip of her chin felt hot. She felt cool night air enter her open mouth and flared nostrils and then heat on its way to her lungs. She rocked with Ritter, hung onto his cock and let it ride hard and full inside her. His ride became stronger and more demanding, their rhythm picking up. His cock felt as if it was expanding, and although it continued to fill her pussy, she thought ahead to when she might not be able to accommodate him any more. It didn’t matter! If she exploded because of him— Exploding! He was climaxing, spilling his cum in quick, hard bursts. She hadn’t known she was near climax herself. Maybe his explosions pushed her over the edge, and maybe she needed them to have the same journey. Whichever it was, she cried out as he arched his back and drove himself deep inside her. At the same moment, another woman screamed and then cried.

Chapter Ten Ritter woke to the sound of rapid-fire knocking. He frowned and sat up. A little more awake now, he wondered if he was hearing a woodpecker. Instead of checking out his theory, he padded into the wardrobe or latrine. Only once he’d pulled briefs over his naked ass did he allow his mind to go back to last night—or more specifically, how it had ended. He still had no idea how he’d come up with that particular position for fucking, but he sure as hell wanted to give it another try—this time on a mattress. After their nearly mutual climax, they’d collapsed with their legs still intertwined, their respective sex touching. She’d been the first to push herself into a sitting position but hadn’t seemed to be in a hurry to get away. Neither had he. In fact, there’d been a large chunk of him that would have been content to spend the night dreaming up sexual positions appropriate for terra firma. At least he had until she’d picked up the dagger again. She might have only done so out of idle curiosity about whether she could see anything in the stone despite the dark, but he rather suspected touching the damn spooky thing had brought her back to reality. It sure had him. They’d put back on their clothes and gotten into their separate cars without saying a word. Instead of going to the castle, he’d headed into town and the first pub he’d come across. It had been empty except for the bartender and a couple of middle-aged British women who kept asking where everyone had gone. He’d nursed two beers before giving up on getting drunk, and gone home. He’d had to drive past the bonfire but had been careful to keep his eyes on the road. He didn’t want to know how many people might be fucking off in the bushes. Fucking like the damn rabbits he’d seen earlier. After getting dressed, he made his way into the kitchen. There was no sign of Derika—just the basket of eggs on the old table—and although he could have fired up the camp stove and made coffee, he walked outside. He tried to tell himself he was leaving the castle because it was warmer outside but couldn’t quite swallow the lie. The truth was, from the moment he’d first spotted the basket, he’d sworn someone was watching him. If anything, the sensation had gotten stronger. Derika was sitting in a lawn chair in the inner bailey or yard. He made no attempt to sneak up on her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she continued to lean back with her arms on the armrests, her hair tangled around her face. She had on a lightweight jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes. Like last night, she held the dagger. “Have you been up long?” he asked from a relatively safe distance. “No. I’ve been listening to the birds.” And thinking about us, I’ll bet. “It’s spring,” he said instead. It would take so little to touch her, so little to get her to respond. But did he dare make the move? “Yes, it is. Ritter, we need to talk.” Talk? Yeah, I can do that, I think. “All right.” Although there was another chair near hers, he positioned himself in front of her and leaned against the curtain wall. “What about?” “You must know.” She idly caressed the dagger’s hilt but didn’t look at the stone imbedded in it. “Ritter, my whole life has been about logic. I like it. I understand it. Then I come here and —” “And it all goes to hell except you get some great fucking.” And if you so much as spread your legs, I’m going to dive into you again.

“Don’t be crude.” “You were pretty crude last night. We both were.” Instead of biting his head off, she nodded. She had shadows under her eyes. Well, so did he. “After a while last night, I stopped trying to make sense of—of anything,” she said. “You went with the flow? Unplugged your brain?” “Same with you. Don’t try to deny it.” I have no intention he started to say, then stopped. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could carry out any kind of a conversation. How would she respond if he threw her over his shoulder, marched her inside, and dumped her flat out on his bed? “Ritter, I’ve never been interested in marriage.” “I don’t recall proposing.” “All right!” she exclaimed and leaned forward. “I didn’t put that very well. I’m not sure I have any control over what comes out of my mouth these days.” He could have added that words weren’t all she’d lost control over but didn’t. “Maybe it’s in the water,” he offered. “Or Ostara.” “Or Ostara. Is the celebration what you want to talk about?” “No.” She fingered the dagger again. “I’ve never wanted anything to do with weapons. I can’t comprehend why people believe they need them in their lives, and don’t let me get started on how I feel about war or hunting.” She held up the dagger so the morning sun glinted off the stone. A soft red light spread out from it, making him think of summer’s heat touching all living things. “And yet, here I am,” she continued, “mesmerized by something capable of killing.” The dagger was more cosmetic than utilitarian. He imagined an ancient craftsperson forging the blade over white-hot coals. “It bothers you? Your fascination with a symbol of power?” “Yes.” She cupped both hands around the blade, reminding him of how she’d held his cock last night. “But I don’t see it as power. Instead—I don’t know—I sense there’s a human force connected to it, a female presence. Ritter, what if it’s Eostara and she’s trying to reach me somehow.” She stared up at him. “It’s insane to be thinking this and yet…” “And yet what?” If he drew the dagger out of her grasp and replaced it with his cock, would they fuck the day away? “I, ah, I said I wasn’t interested in marriage because—I’ve been thinking about the women who lived here, especially Lady Mina.” “You asked Elfreida about her last night. How did you know about her?” “I—I just do. Women back then, even royalty, weren’t afforded a real education, and yet apparently she had a tremendous impact on this area. Was being true to her husband’s vision for the land her idea, or did he somehow continue to influence her after he died? And the children? She must have taken a lover, but whom? Were those children considered bastards with no claim to the castle and land? Maybe her husband’s family, even the king, disowned her.” “Why does she interest you so much?” “She just does! I’m trying to understand her. Ritter, from the time I knew what it was to be a woman, I’ve been determined to concentrate on my brain, to use it to its fullest. I can’t do

that if I have to give a chunk of myself to a man. Did Lady Mina—?” “What about sex?” Her lips parted, and she shifted position, briefly pressing her legs together. “I’m not an idiot.” Her attempt at humor didn’t make it to her eyes. “Buddy understands my priorities. He has his own, and they don’t include a wife and a house with a white picket fence, or children.” Had her voice faltered at the mention of children? Did he dare tell her of his dreams of holding his son or daughter in his arms and why connecting with a child meant so much to someone who’d never, really, had a family? “Do you love him?” he asked. She jerked as if he’d slapped her. “It’s none of your business!” “No, it probably isn’t.” Anger and vulnerability warred in her eyes. He longed to push both those buttons, not because he wanted to fight with her, but adding emotional components to fucking had a way of taking things to the next level. He wanted to fuck her, right? Just fuck. Right? “Why did you ask?” she pressed. “How I feel about a man isn’t your concern. After all—” “God, Derika, give it a rest!” He pushed away from the wall and took a step toward her. “I ’m sorry I said anything.” “Then why did you?” The way her knuckles had turned white, he figured she was as close to grabbing hold of him as he was to ripping off her clothes. He forced himself to concentrate on the question. “Maybe because I’ve never been in love,” he heard himself say. “You haven’t?” She stood up. Do you know what you’re doing, lady? Getting so close I can smell you, feel you? “No.” “Why not?” Instead of telling her to mind her own damn business, he clenched his fists and again sagged against the wall. “I don’t think I really felt part of another person until Uncle Theo took me in,” he said softly. “My parents divorced when I was five. I don’t remember them being together. From then until my mother’s death when I was ten, I bounced between them.” “I’m so sorry.” She returned the dagger to the belt, freeing her hands. “She wasn’t what anyone could call stable—a lot of emotional problems. And she couldn’t hold onto a job. Often when I was with her, we literally didn’t know where our next meal was coming from, but she didn’t seem to care—about anything.” “Ritter, I’m so sorry.” She grasped his fists and drew them to her breasts. Despite the heat and promise her breasts gave off, he remained deep inside himself, caught in the past. “Several years ago, I researched her particular mental illness and learned she was incapable of connecting in a meaningful manner with another human being, but she was my mother. I needed more than she was capable of giving.” “What about your father?” She slid his fists to the sides of her neck where her life-force pulsed. His fingers relaxed a little. “Didn’t he know what was going on? Didn’t he care?” “He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. When I was with him, she was a forbidden subject. Besides, he was so busy running his company, he was gone more often than not.” As Ritter’s words flowed over her, it was all Derika could do to keep from crying. In her

mind, she heard Lady Mina’s sobs. She all too easily imagined a lonely and confused boy searching for something his parents were incapable of giving. Under her relentless questions, he detailed his mother’s death in an automobile accident while he waited in a decrepit apartment. He’d gone to live with his father—or rather with a succession of babysitters—until his father died from cancer two years later. After that he’d become the resentful responsibility of various relatives until he turned sixteen and moved in with his great-uncle, Theodoric. “That’s when it turned around,” Ritter said simply. “Uncle Theo made me feel as if I mattered. I belonged with him.” “Thank God,” she whispered. She’d moved his hands to the base of her throat while he was talking but had been careful not to distract him. “I owe him—everything.” She could have told him he was right to feel the way he did, but if she mentioned his uncle, the conversation would turn to his commitment to make the old man’s dream of restoring this disaster of a castle come true using, in part, her aunt’s money. She didn’t want to go there this morning. In truth, last night’s spell remained strong in her, blunting her need to absorb some hard facts about Ritter. No wonder this handsome, sexy man hadn’t married. He’d been a teenager before he’d truly connected with another human being. He didn’t know how to commit, to care, maybe how to love. What do you care? It’s not as if you want to spend the rest of your life with him—just have him fuck your brains out. “That’s heavy,” she said and gave his hands what she hoped was a companionable squeeze. Although she told herself to let go, she continued to hold on. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I’ve never told anyone those things. I don’t know why I did now.” “It’s Ostara. And the dagger. Eostara.” And because we need to understand our lover, Lady Mina told her. “Maybe.” He turned his attention to where his hands rested. “You’re distracting me.” “From what?” He began stroking the hollow at the base of her throat. “The reason I’m here.” “You—I could say the same thing about you distracting me.” “Then we have a decision to make.” His fingers felt like butterfly wings, wings capable of burning a path to her heart and from there throughout her body. “Either we tend to business —and try to resolve our separate agendas—or…” I like or. I need or. “Don’t,” she said weakly as his thumbs began inching lower, her breasts his intended destination. “Do? Did I hear you say do?” He drew off her jacket, then grasped the top blouse button and undid it. He freed the second. “Do-n’t.” “Why not, Derika? We both have German blood running in our veins. This is Germany. We ’re in a castle with roots going back hundreds of years. It’s Ostara, a time when past and present become blurred, when ancient ways impact today. And, somehow, you’ve been given a dagger with a stone, which shows us fucking. This is our present, our reality.” The button between her breasts followed the first two.

Did he believe what he’d just said or like everything else between them, were his words driven by an incomprehensible force? The thought of so much power frightened her—but not enough to stop her blood from racing. “I don’t like this,” she muttered. He lightly trailed a finger between her breasts creating a fevered path. “I don’t believe you.” “No.” She started to shake her head but stopped. “Of course I like messing around with you. I’d be a fool to try to deny—” “Then what?” he asked as his finger made another heated pass. She had to lock her knees to keep from throwing herself at him. “This.” She touched the dagger’s hilt. “I believe in an orderly world, at least I always have. If I couldn’t see and touch and compute something, I wanted nothing to do with it. Until now. Elfreida said the festival’s history is shrouded in myth, that not much is known about the Goddess Eostara—but what if the dagger somehow holds the key? What if I’ve—or we have been chosen to unlock the mystery?” Instead of laughing at her, he glanced up at the castle. Doubt flickered in his eyes. Before she could ask whether he’d become aware of Lady Mina’s presence and thus was learning more about the otherworldly experience she’d been drawn into, he leaned forward and kissed the top of first one breast and then the other. “Derika, when I got up this morning, I told myself to stay away from you, but I can’t.” “Can’t?” she repeated. “What is it?” He grabbed her arms and held her in front of him. Something akin to rage powered his glare. “You’ve been putting something in my drinks? Maybe you’ve cast a spell over me. Is that it? You cooked up some scheme to sexually overpower me so—” “Cooked up a scheme?” She struggled but couldn’t free herself. In truth, the effort only increased her need to feel his cock buried in her and made it difficult to hold onto any other thought. “Darn it! I didn’t want to come here in the first place. If it wasn’t for my aunt—” “Your aunt! It’s her then? The two of you conspired to get me to fuck you until I didn’t know which end was up? But why?” “You’re insane! Insane!” She hated being his prisoner; she loved it. Even if she could free herself, would she? “Damn it, let me go!” “Why? So you can get in my pants again?” “You wish!” she shot at him so, maybe, he wouldn’t know how desperately she needed to do just that. Twisting and turning in his grip, comparing her pitiful strength to his, only served to turn her on more. The dagger grew warmer. “I don’t want you, Ritter Reinhard! Don’t you get it?” “Why? Because I’m messing up your ordered life?” Yes. Yes! You and everything else that’s been happening. “If you think you have that much influence over me, you’re deluding yourself.” She leaned away, not that it brought her any closer to freedom. “Just because your cock rules you doesn’t mean my cunt has the same hold on me.” Liar! “Something has hold of us, Derika.” His words wrapped themselves around her, scaring and igniting her at the same time. It wasn’t just she and Ritter. Unseen forces were at work. Maybe the Goddess Eostara ruled everything—she and the timeless threads Lady Mina had spoken of. What was it the Lady had

said—that those threads existed in the minds and hearts of a few women, she among them. She longed to throw the dagger as far as she could so why had she brought it out with her this morning? Why had she fucked Ritter last night—and before? Why hadn’t those frenzied times been enough? “A hold?” she whispered. Before he could respond, if he’d been going to, her cell phone rang, startling her and freeing her from questions maybe without answer. Ritter released one arm so she could pull her phone out of her pocket but held onto the other. She glanced at the readout. “My aunt,” she said. “Answer it.” “It’s private.” She tugged. “Answer it.” Defeated and still angry despite the throbbing heat between her legs, she pressed Send. “What do you think?” her aunt asked as soon as she said hello. “Honey, I have to know. Do you believe I’m insane to want to do this? Of course I am, but I keep coming back to one thing. Life’s short. If we don’t do what we want, what’s the point?” Do what we want? Like spread my legs for Ritter and keeping him there until we both pass out? Like learning everything I can about Lady Mina and the Goddess Eostara and this celebration called Ostara and why I’ve been made part of it? Although she’d warned herself not to, she looked up at Ritter. Damn those dark eyes of his! Damn his beautiful body and powerful cock! “Honey?” her aunt said. “Did you hear me? Maybe our connection—” “I heard,” she interrupted, her gaze still locked with Ritter’s and her body aching, crying, demanding. “I, ah, the truth is, I haven’t given the castle’s restoration possibilities much thought.” “What—?” “So much has been happening,” she interrupted. Was it only her imagination or had the dagger begun to vibrate? Unnerved, she held it up so she could see it. “Strange things.” “Such as?” “It’s…it’s hard to explain,” she managed as Ritter too studied the dagger. “It—the locals are having a celebration, something connected with spring equinox. There’s quite a history to it.” Her aunt chuckled, but when she spoke, her tone was sober. “Ostara.” “Then you know—” “Not much,” Aunt Helga said too quickly. “So, have you and Theo’s nephew gone to the celebration?” “Last night,” she admitted before judging the wisdom of her revelation. “It’s—interesting.” “So much so that it’s taken all your time?” “No, of course not.” Ritter placed a hand on her waist, holding her in place as he took the dagger from her. “There’s also been… I found…” “What did you find, honey?” Ritter held the dagger between them. The stone glowed. “A—an ancient weapon.”

“How exciting. Do you know anything about its origin?” “Not yet, but I will. I will.” Somehow. “Why does it matter so much to you?” Of all the questions her aunt could have asked, this seemed the most impossible to answer. Against all reason, she wrapped her free hand over Ritter’s so they both now gripped the hilt. The world seemed to shift, time sliding into the past. In her mind—surely only in her mind— she saw farmers working the land, knights on horseback, lords and ladies gathering outside the castle. She smelled roasting meat and smoke, heard instruments that mirrored those she’d listened to last night. A tall, slender woman emerged from shadow. Her well-made clothing and bearing was that of a high-born person. She was pregnant and carried a child on her hip. Two other children clustered around her. Lady Mina! “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Derika, are you all right?” Her gaze shifted to Ritter. “I, ah, why are you asking?” “Because I’ve never heard that tone from you. You’re matter-of-fact and practical, living in the here and now.” You have been chosen,” Lady Mina had told her. She’d spoken of the journey’s promise, destiny and gift, a great force. She took a deep breath. “Blame the castle. Two nights here, and I’m already stuck in the past.” “There!” Satisfaction coated her aunt’s words. “Honey, you understand, finally.” She didn’t understand anything, and when Ritter repositioned her hand over his bulging cock, she comprehended even less. Dealing with Lady Mina’s words exhausted her. She couldn’t think about them, not with Ritter controlling her. The morning air had felt cool, but now heat surged through her, burning her cheeks and setting her breasts and cunt on fire. Moaning, she closed her eyes, not to fight the sensation, but because it demanded total concentration. “Derika?” her aunt said. “Why do you try to deny it?” “It?” Her hand twitched. “The hold the incomprehensible has over you. Honey, the same thing happened to me. My life changed the first day I saw the castle.” She chuckled. “Of course Theo has a lot to do with the way I feel these days, but he isn’t everything.” I understand. “Stay as long as you need to,” her aunt went on in a seductive tone. “Don’t let the life you’ ve created pull you away from this adventure.” The only thing I care about is what’s between my legs. Afraid she might give voice to her thoughts, she opened her eyes. Instead of finding freedom from her pussy’s demands, she lost her sanity in Ritter’s now ancient eyes. As if reading her mind—how could he not—he turned her away, then pulled her back against him. He slid a hand around her hips, and closed his fingers over her mons. Her head fall back until it rested on his shoulder. He pressed one finger after another into her achingly sensitive flesh. “Aunt—Aunt Helga, I have to go.” “I know you do.”

Chapter Eleven The cell phone slid out of her fingers and onto the ground,. Time seemed to melt. Eyes closed, Derika lost herself in sensation. It didn’t matter how Ritter had learned so much about her needs. Neither could she put her mind to the meaning behind her aunt’s words for the drums, string instruments, and flutes playing in her head, the now hot wind. In her mind’s eye she saw last night’s bonfire and smelled, not cooking meat, but her sexual excitement. Longing oozed from her pores to blend with Ritter’s maleness. His grip on her mons increased, his fingers seeming to probe beyond flesh and bone to her aching clit. She pushed into him, wild to make the contact as complete, as total as possible. Her arms felt weighted; she couldn’t lift them. Neither could she stand erect or think. Ritter touched. She responded. Ritter controlled. She surrendered. Surrender. A flicker of fear chased through her, then faded but didn’t die. As he began stroking her crotch, she widened her stance and reached back so she could do the same to his outer thighs. His breathing sounded ragged; so did hers. Her blouse fell open; she didn’t remember the last buttons coming undone. She imagined how her breasts looked under the hated bra, the nipples straining against the too-tight fabric. They felt swollen, hungry, vulnerable and demanding. Surrender. Unnerved, she felt torn between needing to explore the word and denying its existence. The struggle might have continued endlessly if her hand hadn’t somehow found the one Ritter had left dangling at his side. She followed it down his forearm, to his wrists, his fingers—and the dagger. She forced herself to stand on her own two feet again. Ritter tried to keep his hand on her sex, but she twisted out of his grip. Her heart hammering, she faced him and held out her hand. “It’s mine,” she said. “Give it to me.” He did so. The instant she took hold of the blade, she swore she was being transported out of herself, leaving earth, drifting somewhere filled with sensation—with the promise of endless coupling. Hand shaking, she held the dagger up to the sun. Light seemed to soak into the stone, giving it increased depth and strength. Surrender. No! I can’t. Surrender. If I do, I’ll never find myself again. Yes you will. A new you. We promise. We? The threads—the sisters Goddess Eostara brought to life. Join us. You and your man. “Derika,” Ritter said. “What are you doing?” “Looking. Learning.” Fearing. “Not alone you aren’t,” he said as if he’d heard the voice welcoming him into the journey. He took hold of her wrist and turned it slightly so he too could see the stone.

Fire danced in it. She felt the heat throughout the dagger’s length and brought it closer and focused. Beyond all reason, the image in the stone became larger until it was as if she were standing near real people. Clear as life, she saw two naked forms, one tall and powerful, the other smaller, softer, rounded. They stood looking at each other, hands extended, mouths open, legs spread. The man had an erection—huge and demanding. Power lived in his cock. It demanded, compelled. Unnerved, she ignored Ritter and turned her attention to the woman whose hard, dark nipples seemed to be held aloft by unseen rope. The woman panted. Her body hummed. Pussy juice slid down her inner thighs. The man reached between her legs, scooped up some of the fluid and brought it to his mouth. He made a sucking sound, and the woman took his cock between thumb and forefinger. The man collected more liquid heat and offered it to the woman. She licked his fingers, then gently squeezed his cock’s head. A drop of pre-cum shimmered in the slit, and she crouched low and licked it off him. They both laughed as she settled herself onto her knees and spread her lips over his cock. Then she placed her hands behind her as if she were tied and looked up at him, his cock secure between her bulging cheeks. Feed me, Derika heard the woman—her—beg. Instead of thrusting at her, the man—Ritter—stroked her head as if she was a dog. Crouched before him, she looked small and helpless, a slave to her body’s hunger. Please, the Derika woman begged. I’m starving, insatiable. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Master, please. Although every word of the desperate plea resonated in Derika, only insatiable remained after the others had faded. “It’s us, isn’t it?” Ritter asked. “Yes.” “Acting like animals.” “Yes,” she said and fled. No! Lady Mina sobbed. Please, no! “I need. I must…” We all need, other women said.

***** Ritter stood on the walkway, but although the cloudless sky looked virginal, he paid little attention to the land spreading out in all directions. Derika had taken the dagger with her, not that not looking at it made any difference. He suspected her reaction came from the submissive way the female figure had acted. As a strong and independent woman, Derika would hardly approve of someone who surrendered herself to a man for sex. His thoughts snagged on the man in the stone—him. What had turned him into the damn lord of the manner? He didn’t believe in a man using his greater size and strength to get his way with a woman. And yet seeing the woman on her knees, submissive, had been a turn-on. “Like anything involving fucking Derika doesn’t turn you on,” he chided himself. “Hell, given half-a-chance, you’d boink her until you could no longer stand.” Driven by his confession, he wrapped his hand around his swollen and aching organ. “Why?” he asked his cock. “Why can’t you get enough of fucking—her?”

Her. It all boiled down to this one woman, didn’t it? He’d become addicted to her. He’d do anything and everything in order to have sex with her. More than a little afraid of the power she held over him, he ordered himself to release his cock. Instead, his gaze turned to the gravel road she’d run down. He could no longer see her, but that didn’t stop him from wondering if she was still running, and what she’d do once she stopped. Eventually she’d have to return to the castle. Maybe she’d stay just long enough to throw her belongings into her car and then get the hell out of here. Good. Then he could think again. Then he’d begin the effort of finding himself again. “Don’t hurry back,” he muttered. “And don’t think I’m going to touch you again because I ’m not.” Wishing he could believe himself, he’d started to run his hand over the closest stone when he spotted someone walking toward the outer gatehouse. His heart hammered, and his cock clenched. A moment later he realized it wasn’t Derika, but instead of being relieved, he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He needed Derika, wanted Derika. By the time he’d descended the stairs, his company was already in the outer bailey. “Elfreida,” he said, recognizing the woman from last night. “Did you see Derika? She, ah, she’ s gone for a walk.” “Of course she has,” Elfreida said and handed him the small object she’d been carrying. “A chosen woman has to have time to think. But she’ll be back.” I’m not sure—or if, I want her to. “What’s this?” he asked, hoping to distract both of them. “More of Ostara. You’ll need it for tonight.” “Tonight?” “The moon will be full. It’s the equinox’s climax.” She winked. “It all comes together on this one night, this time when past and present and future unite.” Unnerved, he turned his attention to Elfreida’s offering. Made of twigs and dried grass, the nest looked as if it had been built by birds, but instead of broken egg shells or bird droppings, the bottom held a collection of small objects, some so tiny they were almost microscopic. “What are they?” he asked. “Seeds.” “Seeds?” “For planting, of course.” Elfreida shook her head. “I have to keep reminding myself of how little you and your lady understand of our traditions and beliefs. But you’ll learn; you’ll learn.” She patted his shoulder. “The dagger is proof she has been chosen. And because you’re her mate, you are part of everything.” “Chosen? For what?” All hint of amusement faded. “To bring the past into the present and feel the great force that is Goddess Eostara.” He could only stare at her. “Tell your woman this, Ritter. Tonight the fire Osterfeuer which symbolizes the sun and its life-giving, life-affirming warmth will lead you two to the truth—she because the Goddess Eostara has selected her to carry ancient threads into today and the future, you because you planted your seed in her.” “Planted my seed?” Elfreida chuckled. “Fucked her. As for whether you knocked her up, that remains to be seen.”

The older woman’s crude comments should have brought him back to the here and now. Instead, he continued to stare at the collection of seeds. His career called for designing buildings, not planting trees. As for a baby— “Ritter, tonight the Vernal Equinox climaxes. It’s one of two times in the calendar year when the sun’s path crosses the Celestial Equator, which is the line which divides the celestial sphere into northern and southern hemispheres. The sun moves northward to the First Point of Aries, calling the earth to begin to emerge from her winter’s sleep. Life hastens its reawakening. The process of renewal has begun. It is the dance of being.” “You’ve lost me.” “Only because you have not yet opened your soul to what is happening here. Ritter, you can’t deny the power you feel around Derika, can you?” “Power?” The woman spooked him. Hell, today, everything spooked him. “The hares you saw the other morning aren’t the only creatures compelled to have sex. From the moment you first saw Derika, you had to have her, didn’t you?” Yes. “You felt out-of-control, nothing more than a throbbing cock desperate to bury itself in this one woman’s cunt, right?” Yes. “You don’t have to say anything, my boy. That,” she pointed a finger at the hard bulge between his legs, “tells the tale. Even when she’s not here, she’s all you can think about and fucking her is all you want to do.” Yeah, just like some damn stud. “The Goddess Eostara chose well. The land has cast its spell. It will keep you here. And with your need for Eostara’s handmaiden ruling you, your life has been set.” “The hell it has!” He wanted to drop the nest but couldn’t let go. “I’m not a damn slave.” “Do not fight. Accept your destiny.”

***** He wasn’t going to come. When Derika returned to the castle late in the day, she’d told Ritter she only wanted to take a bath and change her clothes before leaving again. He’d stood at a distance, his body stiff and hard, his eyes wary. She’d said nothing about where she intended to go in the dark, and he hadn’t asked. The way he’d looked at her—as if he was afraid of her—hell, he wasn’t the only one. What was she doing here? she asked herself as her tired legs brought her back to where last night’s celebration had been held. She’d wandered near the spot earlier and had been relieved to find the area deserted. She’d wondered about the new pile of firewood, and the banquet tables had still been set up. If Ostara wasn’t over, she didn’t want anything to do with it. Then why did you return? And why are you still carrying the dagger? Afraid of the answers—if there was any logic to this—she took in the now food-filled tables, the gathering musicians, laughter and children running. Most of all she sensed the energy between couples.

The sun was setting, the moon already visible. She’d thought it full last night, but now it seemed even more swollen and promising. Not interested talking to anyone, she held to the shadows and breathed in the sweet scent of sun-warmed earth. The breeze felt chilly, proof winter hadn’t completely given up its hold on the land, but its strength was weakening. Soon the days would feel endless, and these people would spend all their time tending their crops. Not tonight. Tonight was for—what? He isn’t here. He isn’t coming. Then why are you? Because Lady Mina and others, even Eostara have brought me into their circle. Because I come alive here. Alive hardly told the whole story, she admitted as the hot humming between her legs grew in intensity. Her skin felt so sensitive she could barely stand to have clothes on. It felt as if someone was pushing their fingertips against her temples. Her eyes burned. Most of all she felt her cunt, her clit. Feeling half-crazed, she wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged herself. Soon, please, it would be dark. If she had no choice but to play with herself to keep from going insane, surely she could go somewhere where she wouldn’t be seen but could still hear the celebration. Masturbate? After the body-blowing sex she and Ritter had shared last night, would her own fingers be enough? You don’t want him. I—don’t? Remember his power over you. Around him you become a mare in heat. A slave. A sob welled up in her throat, forcing her to grit her teeth to keep it from spilling out. Although the dagger had begun to heat and vibrate, she didn’t reach for it because she knew what she’d find in the stone—her and Ritter fucking, her giving up her body and mind to him. Becoming whatever, whoever he wanted. But I need something, someone! Crazed, she staggered back and caught her balance but not her sanity. Beyond all modesty, she clamped a hand between her legs and pressed up, desperate to find and satisfy her screaming g-spot. Night had arrived. Just like that, it had gone from day to dark. She became aware of increased activity around the bonfire. Her skin vibrated; her grip on her sex tightened. A whooshing sound was immediately followed by enthusiastic clapping. The fire had been lit, flames shooting skyward. Because she knew fighting Ostara’s power would end in defeat, she began rocking in time with the ancient music. Her vision blurred, and she heard nothing except drums and her heart beating. Her mouth sagged open. She flattened her arm over both breasts and cupped one, kneading through the fabric. Her pelvis thrust and retreated. Although violent movement helped, only Ritter buried in her would fully satisfy. Cheeks and belly flaming, she struggled through precious memories of when they’d fucked—or rutted if truth be known. Images of them pounding at each other drove her closer to the edge—an edge she might never reach on her own. On fire, she reached for her zipper, but before she could free herself, she felt arms wrap around her from behind. A man pulled her against his hot body. No, not just a man.

“What are you doing here?” she managed. It didn’t matter if he’d seen her desperate attempts at self-satisfaction. Only his touch, his smell, his heartbeat did. “I don’t know. Damn it, I wasn’t going to come. I told myself—” A shadowed couple materialized in front of them. When the man said something to the woman, Derika recognized him as the black-clad man who’d wanted to have sex with her last night. The woman was the one who’d come onto Ritter. The man slid close and dragged a finger from Derika’s throat down to her pelvis. Then he turned back to his companion. “Just saying good-bye,” he told her, “to what I can’t have.” They were gone. Only the woman’s perfume and laughter lingered. “They’re going to mate,” Ritter told her. Turning her toward him, he rubbed away the man’s imprint on her flesh. “Because that’s what Ostara is about. Mating, sexual union, fertility.” Fertility. She embraced the words. She sensed movement in the dark and felt energy, heard more quick and eager laughter. “I didn’t want you here,” she said. “I believed I could get through Ostara if I was alone.” Ritter took hold of her wrists and forced her hands behind her as they’d appeared in the stone. Leaning over her, he said, “You didn’t have to come.” Submit. Let him have you, take you. “Yes, I did. So did you.” “It’s bigger than us. Whatever is behind Ostara lives in the air, in the ground.” He pinned her arms against her sides and forced her off-balance. Made her his prisoner. “How do you know?” she asked. “Elfreida came by today. She gave me some seeds for us to plant, and told me more about the Vernal Equinox, and what’s been happening to you. You, and through you, I have become part of something beyond the here and now.” Part of it. “I know,” she whispered. Dragging her gaze off his features, which the fire had painted in endless hues of red, she stared at the cool distant moon. Ritter was no longer just a man. He’d become, what? More? Derika vaguely comprehended that she’d lost the brief stretch of time between dusk and night. As for what she’d gained— “What is it?” he asked. “Lady Mina is here. She told me…” Yes, Lady Mina whispered. My lord comes back to life each year because of men like yours. During the mystery of Ostara, with Eostara’s help, Lord Abelard becomes my man again—father of my children. Ritter leaned into her even more and shifted position so his legs bracketed her. She’d fall if he released her, but she didn’t care. For the first time in her life she wanted a man—this man —to control her. “I’m taking you into the night,” he said. “It doesn’t matter whether either of us wants this, it’s going to happen. Derika, I’m not alone in my body. There’s another force, a—a man who will never die.” “I—know.” “We’re going to fuck. All of us.” “I know.” “Again and again.”

Her blood heated. “Yes. Yes!”

***** They stood in a grassy area between two rows of grape vines. In the dark, it was impossible to see if spring’s growth had begun, but Derika’s heart told her it had. She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten here. Now that Ritter no longer held her immobile, she’d regained some of her self-control, but it would take very little to lose it again. Although he only held her hand, she still felt surrounded by him. And by Lady Mina and her lord and the others Goddess Eostara had chosen. Driven by the instinct for self-preservation, she struggled against memories of Ritter’s masterful command of her body, but they returned nevertheless. Some women might play the submissive card in order to get their way with a man, but never her. Others gave in to a man’s greater strength. She hated having to rely on it for any reason. She was any man’s intellectual equal and made a salary commensurate with her brain. She insisted on mounting any man she wanted to have sex with. Until tonight. Tonight, Ritter and the force called Ostara had made her their prisoner, just as the stone had foretold. “What is it?” he asked. His question was simple enough, and the sound of his voice shouldn’t feel like fine sandpaper on her breasts and belly. Already losing herself again, she clung to words as a way of retaining at least a bit of her sanity. “I don’t like what you did back there, controlling me.” “Yes, you did.” Anger surged through her, but when she looked up at his shadowed features, she nearly lost the emotion. “How can you say that?” she weakly asked. “Derika, in a few days I’ve learned more about you than I have any other woman. More about myself. Besides, the stone—” “Damn the stone! Damn the dagger!” She reached for the weapon once again secured to her waist, but he stopped her by capturing both wrists. “You don’t mean it,” he said. “Yes, I do.” Fight him. Don’t give in. She stood motionless, heart hammering, thighs hot. “You don’t understand what’s happening, and it makes you feel overwhelmed. What you hate is the assault on everything you’ve ever believed about a logical world.” Damn him for being so right! “What about you?” she challenged. She’d intended her words to be a challenge, but he’d flattened her hands against his chest, and she could feel his heart beating. “You’re just accepting everything that’s happened?” “Hardly. Derika. I work with nails and boards, and cement.” He sighed. “Maybe because I didn’t have a family, I gravitated toward a three-dimensional world based on substance and structure, not—not what touches the heart and exists in more than the here and now.” Don’t make me care so much! I swear, I can’t stand it. “I understand,” she managed. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, briefly, sweetly. Then he licked where his lips had touched. A chill chased down her spine, curled around her ass and settled in her cunt. “There have been a lot of women in my life; I’m not going to deny it. But I’ve always assigned certain hours to them, and when I’m on the job, every bit of me is there.” He ran his

tongue between her fingers, driving her crazy. “I never wanted or needed it to be different.” “We make a great couple, don’t we? Two people who don’t need each other—or anyone.” “Do you believe that?” Of course was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t lie to him or the ageless couples waiting to join them in sex—the goddess who ruled them all. Instead, she rotated her wrist until he released her. She drew the dagger out of the sheath and held it up to the moonlight. Before, the stone had seemed hot and vibrant, but now it looked cool and distant, like the moon. She wouldn’t have it much longer. Eostara had other needs for it. “I tried to tell myself I hated seeing myself in it being submissive but…” He ran his knuckles down the side of her neck and crazy reached a new level. “But what, Derika?” Say my name again. Let me feel your voice on my skin. “I think—I’m ready to give up control.” “Turn yourself over to what we’ve become part of?” She didn’t know anything, and didn’t care. “Maybe…maybe I need to embrace more, become more.” She indicated the dagger. “This shouldn’t exist; it shouldn’t be. And yet I know the Goddess Eostara is responsible. I need to honor her gift and learn. The way I’ve reacted to Ostara…” “The way we both reacted. Derika, there’s something bigger than us out there. And here.” He indicated the ground. “But mostly here.” He drew the dagger out of her grip. Although she ’d wanted nothing to do with it a little while ago, she now felt lost without it. Moonlight kissed the stone’s surface and made it shimmer and shift. Something began forming in its depths. She watched. As before, flames caressed the edges, and two figures again materialized. This time they were on the ground, naked and sweating. The man lay on his back with his arms and legs outstretched, seemingly held in place. The woman, her hair wild, straddled him, rode him. Over and over again the man bucked upward and drove his cock deep into her. In perfect rhythm, she matched her movements to his, her body straining with the effort. Her thigh muscles trembled, but she seemed oblivious to any discomfort. Her hands roamed over the man’s chest, pinching his nipples, pushing her fingers into his flesh, stroking his upper arms. He started to reach for her, but she pushed him down, and he again submitted to her. “Who’s being controlled now?” Ritter whispered. The stone man surged upward, his balls slapping against the woman, the veins at the side of his neck standing out. She slammed herself down, pinning him, trapping his cock within her. “He is,” she managed. “Oh God, what is she doing?” Living, Lady Mina told her. Being. “What they both want.” “He’s giving up control,” she whispered. “Because it’s a gift to her. A gift for both of them—honoring Goddess Eostara and the equinox.” “That’s what I want.” She took back the dagger and dropped it to the ground. “Sex as equals.” Sex, yes, sex! Lady Mina laughed. “Not what the stone showed?” He pressed his palms against her nipples and began

rubbing them. “Derika, you’re the ultimate modern woman. I thought you’d want—” She pulled his shirt out of his waistband and, not bothering with the buttons, drew it over his head. “Someday I’d like to fuck you into submission, but not tonight.” Nodding, he quickly and efficiently unbuttoned her blouse and dropped it on top of his shirt. Pulling her close, he unhooked her bra. “I’m not interested in foreplay,” he said. “It’ s…the ancient male force I feel in me demands—” “I know.” The moon would rule the heavens for hours; no one would come to tend these grapes until morning. This was their place, their land, their world. Only the distant music and faint fire glow and Lady Mina and her lord and the others who’d become part of this force shared it with them. Her fingers were hard to command, but she managed to remove the rest of her clothing. Ritter matched her pace until they both stood naked, not touching. A warm breeze caressed her back and pressed against her buttocks. Under its spell, she stepped toward Ritter, but his erect cock stopped her. Fascinated by the barrier and encouraged by the possibilities, she stood on tiptoe and widened her stance. His cock slipped between her legs. “A fit.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her hard against him. “Now I have you.” She clamped her legs around his cock. “And I have you.” “Not yet but…” He slid one hand over her hip, then down her thigh. Comprehending what he had in mind, she lifted her leg and hooked it behind him. His cock pressed against her labia. “Is it too soon?” he asked. “Maybe you aren’t wet enough.” If being wet accompanied on-fire breasts and a pulsing clit, then yes, her pussy was more than lubricated enough to accommodate him. She answered by rocking her hips from side to side, working her cunt, feeling his cock. Then she thrust her pelvis at him in silent invitation. He slid in, his hard, hot cock filling her. Although they stood face to face, she felt impaled by him, off-balance because all her weight was on one leg. He leaned into her, his cock crawling deeper and commanding more of her. She was being engulfed! Becoming him! The rest of her body ceased to exist as all sensation concentrated in her pussy. She felt heated pinpricks of sensation. Desperate to climb higher, to experience even more, she clamped her pussy muscles around his shaft. He drove into her wet cave, his thrusts full and deep. Without his hand pressing against the small of her back, she would have been knocked off balance. No foreplay. No whispered sweet nothings. Just fucking. Being fucked. Derika’s neck, shoulders, and breasts felt as if a river of heat was being poured over them. She couldn’t separate one body part from another. Everything flowed into her clit, hardening it and making it scream. Beside or within her, Lady Mina felt the same sensations; her own clit sobbed and laughed. “Pound me!” Derika hollered. “Pound me.” “Like this!” He bent his knees, then drove up and into her. Derika lost touch with the ground, with Lady Mina and her lord. Ritter impaled her, took command of her cunt and made it his. She stood on the toes of one foot. Her leg muscles felt hot, but she’d crossed from one plane of existence to another and didn’t care. She was wrong to think she’d become nothing except a throbbing clit because she’d turned into his cock and now shared it with him. He gifted her over and over again, endlessly branding her cunt. Sweat ran off both of them. Their sex-slickened bodies glided against each

other and increased the union. He jerked, pushed into her, held her on his cock. He paused like that for a moment, but instead of retreating, he pushed again, seeming to lift them both off the ground. She pressed back, cunt muscles screaming. Her climax gathered strength, and she threw herself into it. “I’m coming!” she cried. “Help me! Help me get there!” We’re with you, with you! countless voices shouted. “Hold on. Hold on.” His voice rasped. Her fingers ached from digging into his shoulders. She claimed the ache and directed it to her clit. There! Close. So close. Oh shit, he was huge, maybe large enough for two men. Before the thought had finished itself, she felt Ritter’s cock gather itself and tighten. He released in a series of quick, hard bursts. She imagined his cum, his seed, flowing throughout her, filling her, becoming her. It happened, she thought as she climaxed. We’ve become part of the festival of Ostara, of fertility. Her consciousness faded but not before Lady Mina kissed her cheek. Thank you, the woman whispered. Thank you for life. Welcome to Ostara, Goddess Eostara said. Become part of life’s threads.

Epilogue Ritter punched End on his cell phone and returned it to his belt clip. Although she’d heard most of the conversation with his great-uncle, she waited for his explanation. She hoped it wouldn’t take too long because it was the morning after the last night of Ostara but hopefully not too late to plant the seeds they’d brought to the inner bailey. “He’s so excited,” Ritter admitted, as he again picked up the shovel he’d been using on the rich looking ground beneath the weeds. “You heard me try to tell him how extensive the work is going to be and how long it’ll take, but he and your great-aunt don’t care. They’re like kids at Christmas.” “What about you?” she asked. The question was far from casual. “Can you really put aside everything you’ve been doing and move your operation here, live here?” Instead of immediately answering, he pushed down on the shovel with his boot. “I’ve been thinking about the logistics since he told me about the castle, mentally planning for it.” He lifted the dirt-filled shovel, exposing a couple of earthworms. “I figured if he decided to go through with the process, I’d finish up a couple of projects I have going in the States and get started here in about six months.” He leaned on the handle and looked at her. “Back then I only had myself to consider.” Even after last night’s marathon fuck session during which they’d mated no less than three times, his eyes still had the power to turn her on. She accepted her warming cunt as proof that Ostara wasn’t completely responsible. In fact, maybe the equinox’s influence had faded, leaving just the two of them. No, it hasn’t, she admitted. Ostara might be over but her fascination with the festival remained just as strong. She looked forward to starting her research on the celebration and writing a book about it—helping as many people as possible learn how special it was. “I’m no longer thinking just about me,” she admitted. “I thought I’d come here and quickly gather all the proof I needed to convince my great-aunt to abandon her hair-brained idea, but

I was wrong. She’s right to be doing this.” “Bringing the castle back to life? Bridging the gap between past and present?” “And moving it into the future.” She waited while Ritter worked up some more dirt and then knelt and pressed a few seeds into the earth. Joining her, he planted the rest. Then, still kneeling, he stared at her. She knew he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted to be touched, but he was waiting for her. “I’m going to call the university,” she said. “Tell them I’ll finish teaching this session but no more.” “Because?” She drew in a deep breath of cool morning air. “Because—” She chuckled. “You can’t eat all those eggs alone.” She sobered. “Ritter, I don’t want you living here alone. I want to be here too.” “Just want?” “No,” she amended as she ran her hand over his thigh. “I need…you. This place.” He covered her hand. His eyes were again becoming old; she knew hers were doing the same. “Has it cast a spell over you?” he asked. “Maybe at first but no longer. Ritter, the dagger is gone. I think—I know Eostara needed it back.” “What about Lady Mina and her lord and the others?” Closing her eyes, she concentrated. “I can’t feel them. Can you?” “Not the way we did before. Right now it’s just us.” Just us. She waited while he stood and let him help her to her feet. Then, although his arms were around her and she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and the heat between her legs was growing, she told him that as soon as they’d gotten electricity to the castle, she’d be able to get back to her grant work. “You’ll have everything you need?” he asked. You’re all I need. “Thanks to networking and telecommuting, where I live doesn’t matter.” He drew her closer and let her feel his erection. “We’re going to be apart for awhile. Maybe you’ll change your mind once—” “I won’t.” What about him? He’d admitted he’d never known what it meant to belong to someone. If his rootless childhood had left him— “I needed to hear that,” he whispered. Leaving her standing, he lowered himself onto his knees. Then he placed his hands on her ass and pulled her toward him. He began kissing her belly. “I think we’ve going to have a boy.” Blood rushed to her head. “How—how did you know?” “As I was waking up, Lord Abelard told me Lady Mina was pregnant again. I knew it would be the same for you.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she could barely make out his upturned face. “When…when I woke up, Lady Mina touched my stomach. She didn’t have to do anything else.” The sense of wonder and joy she’d felt at that moment returned. New life was growing inside her. “A boy? You…I, Ritter, I told you I was on the pill. I am! I swear I didn’t try to trick—” “I know.” He rested his cheek against her belly. “Derika, I’m not sure we’ll ever understand what’s happening here. We’ll learn and we’ll let other people know about…about

the paths between today and yesterday. What we won’t do is question our role in Ostara.” He again touched his lips to her stomach. “And we’ll raise our son together. Create other children. Love them. Cherish them.” Too weak to stand, she joined her baby’s father on the ground. “I love you,” she whispered. “You are my life,” he said before taking them both beyond words. Neither noticed the Goddess Eostara smiling down on them or Lady Mina and her lord locked in each other’s arms. I have chosen well, the goddess thought.