Dark Tower

I felt him calling to me across the miles of green forest, past the border of the still, deep lake that lay between us, and realized I had no choice–I must go to him. Snow, like white lace, embroidered the boughs of the evergreens as I passed; and the deep, intoxicating scent of pine rose up to meet me, enflaming my senses with desire. At the castle door, I paused, but even as my hand reached out to grasp the ornate knocker, the heavy, wooden portal swung open to greet me.

He stood in the doorway, tall and proud as always, but it was something other than arrogance that colored his words–some strange, new emotion that held him in its grasp. “Celene,” he said, in a voice twisted by need, yet restrained by…what? Fear perhaps? “I prayed that you would come, but I thought….”

The kiss of a hundred candle flames licked across the floor and walls of the stone corridor, and reflected in his warm, blue eyes. Suddenly, though I had no sense of movement, I found myself locked in the precious embrace of his steely arms. Hungrily, my mouth sought his. His need, his love, were etched across the features of his handsome face. I could deny him nothing.

We fell upon one another with the hunger of winter-starved wolves. His tongue and teeth blazed paths of exquisite abandon across the flesh of my neck and breasts, now exposed, which were offered up to the ravenous attentions of his mouth. Our bodies seemed to fairly burn with an irresistible heat, and neither of us could beat the touch of clothing against our skin any longer. Piece by piece, our garments dropped to the floor, marking the progress of our passion.

Like a great hawk, he swept me up and carried me through the night-dark hallway to his chamber. A host of scented candles blazed in the fireplace, trailing rivers of motlen wax onto the stone hearth below and mirroring the warm flow of honeyed liquid that courses between my quivering legs.

Our ever never sang with pleasure as we rediscovered the thrill of skin against skin. His hands, as if beset by magic, wove spells of ecstasy, dancing along my startled flesh, even as I sought out the sweet wand of his own sensual sorcery and claimed it between my worshipful hands. We stroked each other to the peak of torrid frenzy, until I thought we might go mad, then lunged together; jousting knights riding out to meet an irrevocable fate.

The celebration of our ceremony, attended by our clarion cries of rapture, hurtled on toward a shattering crescendo. Deep inside my seething core, I felt the coming implosion. The mystical force spoke between us like a drumbeat, at first far off, moving closer and closer still, until at last, we were drowned by a thundering torrent of the most divine spleasure we had ever known….

Copy Right, Desolation – 2003

No portions of Dark Tower may be used without expressed, written permission.