“See something you like?” He queried. A smile of male arrogance appeared at the corners of his mouth.
“This is for you, once you wash yourself, use the oil to anoint every part of your body, do you understand? Rub it into all of you, head to toe!” She handed him the pocket-sized bottle. "The words you will need to say will be given to you when you come out of the bathing chamber. I have to get your ceremonial cloth, and I will be back if you need anything else." Moira turned and left the room silently. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned her back against it, and finally allowed her feet to touch the floor.
When Declan opened the bottle, a musky aroma floated out. It reminded him of the smell of a sex on a hot night.
Weakly, Moira walked to her own chamber shutting the door. The feeling of heaviness pulsated throughout her body. The consequence of using ...
... middle of paper ...
...ong and hooded red robes. The council was there as well. They surrounded it to the back and sides. The blackness of their cloaks absorbed whatever light fell their way. Kneeling, as if in supplication before the alter, was Moira. Her blonde hair draped down covering her face, keeping Declan from seeing her expression. He stood to the back of the alcove, staring at her. He knew he had the leverage he needed to either escape from this bonding or to force her into helping him. He realized though, if it wasn’t her it would be another magick wielding female. He could bend her into submission, force her if need be. A fiery flash of lust shot through him at the thought of her bowing in submission before him. He could make this situation work for him. Declan looked at the rumpled parchment in his hand, he thought he might just make it out of this ritual with the upper hand.
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