His Mark 1

The moon was round and bright through the trees, the sky a deep blue velvet drape speckled with stars. The gentle wind kissed her bare skin, and the earth was soft beneath her. Her hair, a glorious bounty the colour of wheat, spread around her head like a halo of sunlight. She waited patiently on the ground where she lay, waited for the rite to begin, for the coven to gather, and considered the stars above her.

They crept from the shadows of the woods, hunched over, covered in black robes, their eyes shining red from beneath their heavy hoods. But she was unafraid. Part of her knew what was to happen, part of her knew, and yet she lay, calm and docile on her bed of earth. She didn't turn to look at the coven as they formed a semi-circle around her, wasn't interested in who they were behind their masks of shadows. She waited for Him.

The coven began to chant, filling the air with their words, gesturing widely with their arms. Their robes flapped in the breeze, their voices rose as they felt their power grow. She lay on the floor, eyes as ancient as the earth staring up at the sky from which He was born, silently laughing at the people gathered around her. They were sheep, she thought, no better than the sacrifices that He demanded. They were unworthy of His power, of His attention. She was the youngest there and she could already feel the steady pulse of her power as it thrummed through her blood, and it was legions ahead of theirs. She was unmoved, unaffected, by the pitiful calling of her coven. If they knew, they would beat her; and the innocent part of her cringed at the thought. But He would forbid it, she knew; when He arrived and saw her, sensed what she was capable of, He would carry her from this place, from this coven, and place her in His council. She had only to wait.

She knew the moment He arrived. The coven carried on their chanting, circling and winding around each other, voices raised and breathless. She felt Him, her skin tightening as she sensed His presence. Knowing that it was not her place to look for Him, she kept her gaze on the skies, searching for the brightest star. When He stood above her, she trembled at the power she felt rolling from Him. The coven stopped suddenly; turned to face Him and, kneeling, bowed their heads. Stepping around her, He went to receive his homage, kissed by each of the coven in turn. She waited, still staring at the skies, but her eyes were blind. Her hands, small and pale against the ground, clenched into delicate fists and her toes curled into the dirt. He stood above her now, staring down at her, but she didn't dare to return the gaze. He was a God, she knew, and as such she would have to wait to be given permission. She would receive it, she swore to herself, and started to count the stars.

He stepped around her again, turning to face the coven with her laid out between them. Her mother stepped forward from the semi-circle that they had formed, and gave her speech, in which she presented her daughter to Him. He knelt and the coven held its breath. With His left hand He lifted her head, turning her to look at Him. Her breath caught, held, as she stared into the eyes behind his mask. She felt His smile when she was asked for her name. She gave it, voice unsteady when lust leapt into her. Sharp like teeth and claws, she thought mindlessly, and He bent to kiss her. His right hand roamed down her body; plundered the slick virgin folds of her femininity. Her skin quivered and went damp beneath the night sky. The coven stood; watchful, waiting, but she didn't see them. Couldn't, as He blinded her with passion. His kiss was fire; ravenous, consuming. When He shifted, spread her thighs, her breath sobbed out, her eyes rolled back, and her hands lifted to His shoulders. Surrender and possession. The emotions twined around them bound them together, tightened when He plunged into her. She almost babbled, would be pleased later that she didn't, and while He took her, she took Him.

He felt the power coiled within her, waiting for the right hand to lead it. She was willing to learn all He could teach her, ready to. And He found there was much she could teach Him. Through millennia of rituals like this, He had never seen a sorcerer such as she, and was both impressed and intrigued. She would bear watching. She moved beneath Him with an ease and rhythm that surprised. An ancient knowledge, He thought, when He saw her eyes and felt His own power stir in response to hers. There would be a sacrifice later, He decided. She would choose who and He would judge her selection. If she was all He sensed she was, He would teach her, guide her to all she could be. When her body tightened, trembled beneath His, He allowed His own release. She lay panting, limbs growing weak with pleasure, slipping from around His waist and shoulders. He watched her, saw the smile that tilted her lips, the light that came to her eyes, and knew.

When asked for her age she blinked in surprise, but told Him, and received a smile in response. When He stood, she began to push herself to her elbows, was shocked when He offered her His hand. With a reverent stare, she took it, was pulled gently to her feet, and tucked beneath His arm, pulled to His left side and held snugly. Her skin thrummed with excitement, body tensed as she tried to ascertain the meaning of His gesture. Her coven was surprised as well, the members glancing at each other beneath their hoods. When He tilted His head to whisper in her ear, her pulse stumbled and then raced. Without a word, she looked at the coven, considered the people beneath the hoods. She knew who they were, but wanted only one dead. Unsure of how she was to announce her choice, she turned her head and whispered it to Him. The smile she received was in praise, and she smiled in return. She stood with His arm wrapped around her while He gave the order. They stood together while they watched the coven scramble to hold and kill the sacrifice. While she watched the robed figure of the town Elder slit her mother's throat, He affectionately kissed the crown of her head.

***

The very next night, with her father tucked down into his bed, the coven member came. It was the town Elder, and he kindly led her through the forest. She already knew the way, but she was fond of the bumbling old man, so laughed at his anecdotes. When they neared the circle, her pulse began to jump. The rest of the coven was already gathered, and hailed greetings across to them. She nodded her head instead of speaking, surprised and amused to find that she was shy around them. She tilted her face to the sky, slightly disappointed that clouds hid the moon and stars. Now she understood the torchlights. She saw the altar was already set up, and her blood set to boil. It was one of the whores, she saw, tied down and blindfolded, but aware. She wanted to scream her fury, He was better than this. Deserved better than a woman who offered herself for a few shiny pennies. With a careful breath, she pulled back her fury, it wasn't her place to decide who would make the altar. And it wasn't necessarily true that He would use the altar. Mouth pulled into a pout, she assured herself that He would not, she'd see to it, see to Him.

The chanting began, and He came almost immediately. They knelt, bowed their heads and waited. She was among them, having taken her mothers' place in the centre of the semi-circle. He came forwards, stepping around the whore, to receive kisses from the coven. When she reached up to kiss Him, He held her in place, and then drew her upright. Her heart sighed in relief. He saw her eyes were pleased and smiled.

"My lovely Susannah," He murmured, kissing her brow. Turning, He considered the woman spread out expectantly on the floor, and chose one of the coven to take her. He watched with the coven while the rope around her ankles were loosened. He was disappointed that it wasn't another innocent, but found the disappointment short lived when Susannah turned her face into His shoulder seeking comfort. Susannah sneered when she saw another member of the coven caress himself through his robes, and wondered if they had down so when He had taken her. She hoped not, the thought made her skin crawl.

He looked from the altar to His Susannah, and knew that He would rather have her than a whoring wench, He shocked her by hauling her into His arms. She stifled a laugh as he carried her away from the clearing, found them a secluded spot, and set her onto her feet. She lifted her mouth to His, arms clamping around His shoulders, body turning in offering. He returned the kiss, lowering onto His knees, and then lowering her to her back. With the coven occupied, barely even noticing His absence, for which He would later punish them, He lingered over her. Kissing the slim column of her throat, her tender breasts, and a path down her stomach.

Tasting her, He slipped into the abyss, and let His desires run rampant. She cried out as His hands tightened on her hips, lifting her lower half from the ground. Her fingers curled into the soft earth, her knees hooked over His shoulders, and her head thrashed from side to side. Listening to the sounds she made, He judged her ready, and pushed her over the edge. He watched the dreamy look cross her face as He lowered her hips, and then, using His fingers, shoved her over again. The shock of it snapped into her; had her reaching for Him, curling her hands into His hair as she drew Him down for a drugging kiss. She gasped as He slid into her, head falling back. She wrapped her legs around His hips, rubbed her breasts against His chest and let His mouth catch her cries.

He couldn't stop touching her, taking and giving pleasure in equal amounts. She was wild beneath Him, and He marvelled over it. Her eyes, as green as summer, went wide and primal as she shattered again, and He joined her. She was His. Damn the rest of the coven, He thought and smiled. He would take her away, teach her everything that He knew. She had far surpassed any other sorcerer in any of his covens across the world, across time. And she was a child. She lay pliant beneath Him, fingers stroking His hair absently. She was what He had waited for.

Kissing her once more, He lifted a hand and pressed a finger to the base of her throat. She opened her eyes to look into His, questioning. They widened when the pain sliced through her, went blind as she bowed back, gasping. When she wrenched herself away, rolled from beneath Him and crawled a few feet away, one hand covering her throat, He experienced a moment of anger. Damned if she would shun Him. He stood, followed her, and yanked her up by her hair.

Susannah gasped in surprise. She lifted her hands to remove His, turning and trying to explain. But her voice wouldn't come. He had lifted a hand to strike her, she saw, but was unafraid. He paused at the lack of fear. She used His body to drag herself up, and, taking His lifted hand into hers pressed it to her throat. She opened her mouth to see if she could speak, and croaked. He laughed, and she swatted His arm playfully, but amusement lighted her face. It took several tries before she sounded herself again, and could explain that when He had given her His mark, she had been unable to breathe. Once finished with her clarification, she went to her toes and pressed a kiss to His throat, the same place that He had marked her. Careful, He set her away from Him, and ran a thumb over the mark. A curled dragon nestled in the hollow of her throat.

His symbol.