Anca nodded, and then turned to Sorin,
asking, “Do you accept a union with this man and woman? Will you embrace them
with your body and soul? Will you share your mind and heart with Starr and
Lucian until death parts you?”
Sorin’s voice was husky when he said, “I
will.”
She turned to Lucian, asking, “Do you
accept a union with this man and woman? Will you embrace them with your body
and soul? Will you share your mind and heart with Starr and Sorin until death
parts you?”
There wasn’t any hesitation in Lucian’s
answer. “I will.”
Anca stepped off the dais after lifting a
knife with an ornately carved ivory handle from the altar beside her. She knelt
in front of the three of them, and her blood-red robes spread out around her.
She touched their joined hands, and each released their hold, allowing their
palms to show.
She began with Starr, making a deep gash
with the sharp blade across Starr’s heart line on her palm. Starr’s breath
hissed through her teeth, but she held her hand steady as blood flowed down her
palm and into the sleeve of her robe. She watched as Sorin stoically endured
the same cut, followed by Lucian, who didn’t flinch.
She didn’t resist when Anca lifted her hand
and Sorin’s, pressing the palms together so that the blood mingled. She then joined
Starr and Lucian the same way, before pressing Sorin and Lucian’s palms
together, sealing their union.
“Three lives made one. Bless the union of
Starr, Lucian, and Sorin.” As she spoke, Anca got to her feet and returned the
knife to the altar.
As soon as the Protector stood, the
reverent silence in the tower room dissipated. Starr accepted the cloth Helena
handed her as she turned to greet the guests in attendance. She pressed it
against the wound that was already coagulating and curtseyed to their guests.
Still between Sorin and Lucian, Starr
walked with them to the silver bowl resting beside another knife on a crisp
white tablecloth. The low table holding the items required each guest to bend
slightly at the waist as they approached.
The end of the ceremony commenced as the
newlyweds watched with solemn expressions. Each guest approached the bowl,
lifted the knife, and nicked the vein on the side of their wrist. They stood
with their hands over the bowl until a few drops of blood dripped inside. Then,
with a formal bow from Sorin and Lucian, and a curtsey from Starr, each guest
moved aside to allow the next in line to repeat the process.
Once everyone attending the small wedding
had made an offering, Anca brought forth a silver chalice, which she dipped
into the bowl of blood. She then held the chalice for Starr, who took the first
drink. Lucian sipped next, and Sorin took the last drink before the chalice
made its way to each of the guests, who sipped in turn.
When the chalice had been refilled twice, to
allow everyone a drink, Anca poured the remaining blood back into the bowl and
rested the chalice rim down on the previously pristine cloth. A pool of crimson
formed under it in seconds. “By the blood of the people and the Protector, this
union is sealed. Bound in blood, live by the life source.”
With those final words, the air of
formality seemed to melt away. Sorin and Lucian’s arms came around her waist,
and they turned toward her. She kissed first Sorin, and then Lucian, tasting
the tang of blood on their lips.
For a moment, she had the sensation it was
all a dream. She would awaken and find her lonely brain, drunk on longing, had
conjured the ceremony and preceding events. Discreetly, she pinched herself and
winced at the flash of pain. It was real, just as her union with Sorin and
Lucian must be.
A heady sense of freedom filled her. She
hadn’t been the first spiritual leader to be led astray, and she definitely
wouldn’t be the last, but she wondered if any had been so well loved as she.
Looking into the eyes of her mates, she knew she had received a treasure
greater than even the life source of Corsova.
Their love was priceless, but even more
precious was the ability to openly acknowledge their union, to show their love
for each other to the world. No longer would they have to hide from their
emotions or deny their desires. No one would ever ask them to deny their love
for each other again.
About the author:
Kit Tunstall lives in
Idaho with her husband, near family and friends. In addition to books available
through Ellora's Cave, she is the author of 365 Days of Lara Branson (available
late October, 2002), and Undercover Mother (available by September, 2003). Her
shorter works have appeared in more than a dozen markets, including Sex on the
Edge, Boise Weekly, Epiphany Magazine, BloodLust-UK, and Bridges Magazine.
Kit welcomes mail from readers. You can
write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio
44236-0787.
Also by Kit Tunstall:
A
Matter of Honor
Blood
Lines 1: Blood Oath
Blood
Lines 2: Blood Challenge
By
Invitation Only
Heart
of Midnight
Phantasie
Playing
His Game
Discover for yourself why readers can't get
enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you
prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at
www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you
breathless.