“Ha-Lah,” he called.

I kept walking.

“Ha-Lah,” he repeated.

I did not miss a step.

“My queen, come back to me,” he issued his command, albeit gently.

At that, I stopped, turned only my head to him and looked him in the eye.

Mine were brimming.

At the sight, he flinched.

“Never,” I whispered.

And with that vow, I walked away from my king.

The Priest

Cell of a Go’En, Go’Doan Temple, Fire City

FIRENZE

Sitting cross-legged upon a pentagram surrounded by sacred symbols drawn on the floorboards in chalk, black candles lit all around him, the priest closed his eyes, felt the whoosh in his stomach, and in astral form, his spirit left his body and he soared the astral plane.

Gleeful.

Joyous.

Victorious.

The Beast was almost there.

And he was angered that a ritual had taken place without his master in attendance.

As it should be.

All of it was just as it should be.

Thus, the priest was smiling when he took astral form in the chambers of his lover, Rupert.

His smile died instantly.

For what he saw was Rupert abed.

Inside a woman.

He was grunting and sweating, his cock thrusting in her cunt, his tongue in her mouth.

And when they broke the connection of their lips, his Rupert, his lover, his chosen one, his favorite, smiled with lust and bliss and love at the female.

In his body in Firenze, the priest felt fire blaze in his stomach, as his eyes in his astral form narrowed.

And as his lover bent his head back to the woman to take her mouth, the creatures the priest brought forth through magic slithered across the floor.

At his command they waited.

He’d give his lover one last thing.

And after the priest endured the revulsion of watching her cry out her ecstasy, he endured the heartbreak of watching Rupert throw back his head and shout his climax, thrusting deeply inside her through it as he would do the same when he took his priest.

That was when the asps struck.

His thigh.

Her ankle.

There were gasps.

Then Rupert pulled free and rolled, his eyes growing large as he stared at the snake slithering over his lover.

He brushed it off as she bolted up and screamed.

Many bites of the asps brought near-instant death.

One bite, it took a bit longer.

And Rupert was far from stupid.

He did not take a blade to himself or his female to slice it across the punctures and try to draw out the poison.

It was far too late for that.

As she started to pitch in agony when the venom reached her veins, Rupert’s eyes searched his chamber.

And he found his priest.

“Why?” he asked.

It was then, the priest grew perplexed.

“Why?” he queried in return.

Rupert had no answer for he was curling into himself as the pain struck his system.

She was already writhing.