Sin Incarnate Read online

  Sin Incarnate

  T. C. Archer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  © Copyright 2012

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Melissa Alvarez at Book Covers Galore for another perfect cover.

  SIN INCARNATE

  Something malevolent grows in Lorna’s soul. When she calls forth a lord of the underworld and begs for irresistible beauty, he asks one simple thing in return; she must serve him as one of the underworld females who tests mortal men…then torture them with her beauty when they fail.

  Now, a thousand years later, this is her last night in the mortal realm and her final chance to find a man who can free her. But Lorna must discover her own capacity to love if she’s to save herself. Yet, even that won’t save the two men who shared her body. One of them must be sacrificed to the dark lord.

  Chapter One

  Lorna roused from the contented glow of pleasure when her lover threw aside the bedcovers and rose. He scooped up the clothes so hastily discarded less than an hour ago, and cold dread uncoiled in her stomach when he pulled his tunic over his head. Firelight skimmed across his sweat-coated skin in the instant before the fabric covered his chest. Lorna forced back panic and pushed to her knees, allowing the blanket to fall from her breasts. Still, he didn’t pause in picking up his belt, and began wrapping it around his waist.

  “You are leaving?” she asked.

  A corner of his mouth lifted in disdain. Shock reverberated through her. This wasn’t possible. She had been so careful this time. He was magnificent; tall, broad shouldered, and muscled to perfection from countless hours training as one of the soldiers who fought in the arena. But despite his beauty, she hadn’t spread her legs for him as she had so foolishly done with other men. Instead, she let him court her with flowers, sweet honey, and soft promises that made her ache to feel his strong hands on her flesh. Then, when his whispered words of desire grew frenzied, she took him into her bed. And he had touched her as no other man had, had given her pleasure, and he had promised more…so much more.

  “You said you loved me,” she said.

  “You are no maiden, you understand the ways of men.”

  Tears burned the corners of her eyes. “I understand honor.

  “Honor?” He fastened his belt. “When a man’s cock hungers for a woman what does he care for honor?”

  “A man need not tell falsehoods to bed a woman.”

  “You speak of need? I remember the need in your eyes.” He laughed. “Even now you would let me take you again if I told you I loved you.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks at that truth, but she gripped his arm in sudden desperation. His gaze snapped onto her fingers, and her face flushed hotter. Her chapped and work-reddened fingers were a stark contrast to his smooth dark flesh. The grime under her fingernails and cuticles spoke of the hours she spent digging in the earth for healing herbs she used in her spells as one of the cunning folk. She was well aware she lacked the beauty of those ladies who graced the market on fine days, or the favors of women for whom men like him fought for in the arena. But he hadn’t thought her so unpleasant to gaze upon when he sucked her breasts moments ago.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He shook her off. “I have had my fill.”

  “So my body isn’t fit enough to rut between my legs a second time?” She hated the tremble in her voice.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps tomorrow I will want you again.”

  Lorna leapt from the bed and drove him back against the wall. “Perhaps tomorrow your cock will fall off and you will have no need for any woman.”

  His gaze dropped to her breasts. Desire darkened his eyes. Hope surged. Did he regret his words? Did he want her after all? He lifted his eyes, and her heart squeezed when she read lust, not love, in his expression.

  He pushed her aside, grabbed his pouch from the floor, and pulled a small glass vial from inside. “Dragon’s blood.”

  Lorna snatched the vial and hurled it against the wall. The bottle shattered

  and the contents dribbled down the sand-colored stone.

  “Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “I ingested a drop before coming to you. Your spells are useless against me.”

  “Eat a whole body of one of the giant lizards raw,” she snapped. “Superstition offers no protection against the high magic of a wise woman.”

  His eyes dilated in fear. “Witch.” He shoved her so hard she fell across the bed, then spun and stalked to the door.

  Lorna rushed after him, but at the open doorway she halted and watched his walk down the path that led back to the village. Cold moonlight sliced through the night sky, illuminating the play of muscle across his shoulders. Her pulse raced at memory of his warmth, his power when he hugged her tight and thrust inside her. He entered the shadows of the trees and was gone.

  She clicked the door shut and collapsed against the wood with a rending sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks. What had she done wrong? She had prayed faithfully, offered sacrifices, and had given her magic to heal. Yet not one man had loved her. How many had promised love, a tomorrow that would never end?

  A knock on the door brought her upright. Blood roared through her ears. He realized his mistake and had returned. Lorna threw open the door and gave a small cry at seeing the miller’s son. She glanced past him. A shadow shifted within the trees. Was he there? Why hide? Confusion blurred her vision. Had the shadow moved again?

  “He is gone.”

  The young man’s words snapped her attention onto him. He stared at the apex between her legs. Lorna flushed, then whirled and hurried to the bed. She grabbed the blanket from off the mattress and swung it over her shoulders as he strode to where she stood. He drew a coin from the pouch that hung from his shoulder.

  She reached for the money, “What magic does your father need this time?” He tossed the money onto the bed. Lorna frowned. “What—”

  He seized her shoulders and dragged her close. Lorna gasped at feel of his cock, hard and demanding beneath his tunic. She released the blanket and jammed her hands between their bodies. He ground his erection against her bare stomach.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “I waited,” he said.

  Her head swam. “Waited?”

  “I saw him enter your cottage.” The young man’s hungry gaze dropped to her breasts. “I knew he wouldn’t stay long.”

  Firelight glinted off the silver coin and the truth turned like rotting flesh in her stomach. “I do not sell my body,” she choked out the words.

  “The coin is payment from my father.” His voice was rough with desire. “Our horses are sick. We must know why.” The young man groped for a breast. “But that can wait.” He grasped a nipple and pinched.

  Lorna gasped. “Stop.” She twisted in his grasp.

  “No worries. He won’t return.”

  She froze. He was right. Her lover wouldn’t return—had never intended to return. The young man’s head dipped, and her body numbed as he bit down on the other nipple. What had she become, not worth even the coin the village prostitutes demanded for their services? Men took her charms with less feeling than a bull took a cow. Tears burned her eyes. Charms? What she gave held no charm.

  Lorna shoved him—hard. He fell back a step and his teeth closed painfully around her nipple before he released her.

  She gritted her teeth against the pain. “Get out.”

  Confusion washed over his features. “But I waited.”

  “Get out,” she ordered. “Now.”

  His face c
ontorted in rage and he yanked her to him again. His cock banged against her pussy. He groaned.

  “It’s my turn.” He shoved her on the bed and came down on top of her.

  She stared up at him, impassive. “You can force me, but it would be the last time you use your cock to fuck a woman.”

  He blinked. “You—”

  “I have the power.”

  His face reddened and he jerked in a brutal thrust that crushed her sex beneath the steel of his shaft. She bit her lip stop the cry of pain that rose, and kept her gaze locked with his. A pulse jumped in his jaw. She braced for his invasion into her body, but he abruptly shoved off her and hurried from the cottage. Lorna forced herself up and onto shaky legs, and crossed to the door. With a hand against the wood in the doorway, she steadied herself as he disappeared into the trees. He hadn’t even pretended love. And why should he? None had loved her. She, an orphan child, had lacked even a mother’s love.

  Leaves fluttered on the trees. Her heart thumped out her fear. She raised her eyes heavenward. Do You love me?

  Would He answer? Would the answer save her?

  Tiny points of light flickered against the void in silence.

  Lorna turned away. God be damned. She would save herself.

  Chapter Two

  Beyond the open door, a harvest moon inched toward its zenith. A black candle guttered, releasing a single thick strand of smoke that curled upward from the brass plate before which Lorna knelt, the wooden floor cold against her bare legs and feet. She shivered when a breeze skimmed atop the sheen of perspiration that coated her naked body. Incense washed over her face and she breathed deep of the pungent spices.

  At last, she focused on the grimoire lying beside the brass plate. A solitary Mesopotamian incantation engraved on the silver cover marked the ancient spell book as shadow magic. She opened the book and turned pages so yellowed with age that she feared they would crumble. Carefully, she lifted each page until finding the spell that called forth the dark lord.

  Lorna straightened and her heart beat fast as she extended her hands, palms marked with reversed five-pointed stars, facing downward in supplication, instead of upward toward God. She mouthed the words written in the long-dead language on the pages. Eyes like black beads gleamed from a dark corner beyond the smoke. A sound like leather on skin whispered behind her, too faint to be real, too loud to be imagined.

  A wolf howled in the night, then the soft pad of feet followed as the creature landed on the moist ground outside the open door. Lorna looked up as its great raven wings folded, until hidden within the silver mane of wolf hair. His amber eyes softened…pleaded, but she returned her gaze to the brass plate.

  The room darkened, while the beam of moonlight shone brighter on a shape that formed upon the smoldering apparition. The need to turn away rammed through her on a rising tide of panic, but she remained pinned by unseen glares and unintelligible whispers that drew closer within the thinning smoke. Her familiar padded in through the doorway, his warning now a bright glow in his amber eyes.

  With a shaky hand, Lorna sprinkled rose petals into the smoldering incense. Three peacock tail feathers followed, then one pig's ear dredged in sulfur. Sparks jumped off the plate, noxious fumes of hell-fire roiled up, and then quietly died.

  A tall, dark-haired man stood within the thinning smoke. A low growl emanated from the wolf. Lorna quieted him with a scowl, then looked up into the man’s crystal blue eyes. His broad shoulders and dark hair were more splendid than her lover’s. And why not? His beauty was born of muted shadow. The beauty that would save her.

  “You summoned Aeden?” His voice slid like velvet over her.

  “Prince of Desire, I wish to be beautiful. I want men to desire me beyond reason…to love me.”

  He raised a palm gesturing for her to stand.

  She rose, aware of her nakedness, at once ashamed and afraid. Would he find her breasts too large? Her waist too thick? Her eyes too close together? His gaze raked her length. Something flickered across his face, but disappeared before she could define it. “I will grant your wish for a price.”

  Her pulse accelerated. Everything came with a price. What would he demand? Her first-born? Her body? That she kill? She had heard such stories.

  “What would you ask, lord?”

  He spread his arms and a vial lifted from the smoke, then rose above her and poured its vaporous contents onto her. Familiar scents surrounded her; almond, olive oil, comfrey, lavender, and cinnamon. Her hair grew heavy and covered her shoulders in luxurious waves. Her chapped lips were soothed. A tingle began in her breasts and traveled down her waist and legs until the wood felt hard and cold beneath her now soft soles.

  “Are you pleased?” he asked.

  She lifted her smooth and manicured hands, soft, white and feminine, like a queen’s. Her throat tightened with emotion. Tentatively, she traced a finger along a cheek and down the chiseled flesh to her smooth neck. She ran her hands along the voluptuous curves of her breasts, her flat belly, and firm buttocks.

  “Yes, lord.”

  “Beauty such as yours can torment a man.” Aeden stepped closer. “Is that your desire?”

  Memory rose of her lover’s touch, then sharp pain stabbed through her as it had when he walked away. Her heart hardened.

  “Yes.”

  Aeden gave a small nod. “Your beauty could torture the lustful souls Down Below for centuries.” He traced a finger along her cheek. “That is my wish.”

  “Will I lay with these men?”

  “No man will dare touch you while under my protection.”

  Her heart fluttered. Protection? No man had ever protected her. “And what of love?”

  “You shall have your chance to find love with a mortal man. Should you find what you seek in the allotted time, your bond with me will end.”

  “What of my beauty?”

  He gave a low laugh. “I cannot take what is rightfully yours.”

  A weight lifted from her. She wouldn’t have to service men or the daemons and beasts from the underworld. “When do I begin my search for love?”

  “A century is all I ask.”

  “A century?” she repeated.

  “If you do not find love, then you shall return Down Below for another century.”

  A mere century for the chance to be loved? This was more than she had hoped for. The ancient magic was indeed powerful.

  Lorna dropped to her knees, head bowed. “I pledge my service to you.”

  Chapter Three

  Lorna kept her gaze locked on Aeden’s handsome face. His smile could—and had—disarmed angels. A feat no other Mubbirum had accomplished and proof that even the holy were corruptible.

  “Do not fault me because mortal men find your beauty irresistible,” he said. “That was, after all, your wish. But why do you fret? Once the Sa Belet is complete, you will have no need for mortal men.”

  Sa Belet, the ritual that would confirm her as his queen, an immortal to rule with him in Shade, the land beyond the bridge that separated mortals from the underworld. Anger tightened her insides. Too late, she understood the unnamed emotion she’d glimpsed on his face before he transformed her into a seductress who mesmerized men as only the sirens could: desire. In the nine centuries that had passed since she’d pledged her service to him she hadn’t understood why he wanted her, but the fact was, he did.

  Aeden traced a finger down her arm. “My pleasure will be complete.” His eyes lifted to hers. “As will yours.”

  “Do not touch me.” Lorna shoved him—hard. Despite his formidable strength, he was forced back a step. “Another century remains before you own me,” she said.

  His gaze sharpened. “A century? Telal has kept you too long Down Below. You have lost count. This is your tenth and final journey into the mortal world.”

  “What?” she blurted before catching herself.

  Too late. Triumph flickered in his eyes. Lorna cursed. It had been centuries since she’d given him a glimpse
of her terror. She learned to hide the fear and the anger—especially the anger, for that best revealed her desperation. Disdain was what infuriated him.

  “You won’t have me a moment before my time,” she said.

  “No, you have seen to that,” he replied with startling honesty. “If I had my way, you would have remained in Down Below until I called you forth for the final rites. But you have Telal to thank for that.”

  Lorna stared. “Telal? Even he, the lord of The Land of No Return, cannot keep me here on the day I am destined to return to the mortal realm.”

  The words were bitter in her mouth. Her search for a man of honor was a double edged sword. When she spread her perfect thighs, what man could possibly resist? Memory stung hard and fast. Wasn’t that what her lover had said the day she summoned Aeden from the underworld? “When a man’s cock hungers for a woman what does he care for honor?”

  “Do not forget, you conjured me and begged for irresistible beauty,” Aeden said.

  Lorna narrowed her eyes. “How was I to know you would enslave my lovers?”

  He lifted a brow. “Everything comes with a price.”

  His expression softened. She had once believed he loved her. Then she’d seen that gentle expression twist into rage without warning…without reason, and all too often.

  “Why have you stayed Down Below?” he asked. “Surely you prefer the muted shadows of Shade to the near total darkness of Down Below?”

  Lorna snorted. “I prefer blindness to your touch.

  Fury flashed in his eyes. “The century since you walked among humans has romanticized your memory. Remember the last man you led across the bridge? A taste of the honey between your legs was all it took for him to betray everything he held dear.”

  “How fitting that he has served you so well these years,” she said. “You and he are well suited.”

  “No. It is you and I who are well suited, sweet.” Aeden grasped her wrist and pulled her against him. “Tomorrow, your fire will manifest in a more pleasurable manner.”