This was so unlike any kiss that her father or her godfather or anyone else had bestowed upon her. And yet it was his words, "Honour, Sister, your ancestor." that made her shiver . It was an invocation that wrapped itself around her, it penetrated her heart and shook her. In that long, drawn out moment before his lips met hers, Jocelyn de Rochefort knew something that had been planned for a very long time locked at last into place.
The rain no longer touched either of them, her wet garments clung to every curve of her body and as his lips finally did touch her own, everything seemed immediately to warm. The kiss tantalized and teased her, and with the slight pulling away of his lips, she followed. He tasted sweet, like honey wine and how she knew she must have imagined for ages, yet never allowed herself to give full focus to the thought or voice to it. The kiss was clumsy, awkward and yet, Azazeal was patient. He smiled against her lips and kissed her more firmly, his hands calming her, though everything seemed to be rushing through her at a thousand miles per second.
Jocelyn was conscious now of his hands upon her waist and the close proximity of their bodies. Oh, they had been this close countless times, but until this moment, before they stood in the rain among the flowers, before the altar and the statue of Danu she had not wrapped her mind around it.
Her mind was wrapping around the thought and through it and she liked how it felt, in spite of the heady confusion that this now caused within her. The corded pull within her stomach, the ache with in her heart buffeted her like the winds that were blowing through the trees around them, but not affecting them. She curled into him and felt his body against her own. When at last she pulled back a little she rested her forehead against his.
'On the Fortunate Island, when the time came to give up her Maiden's blood, she would remember this moment, focus on Azazeal...', she thought. It would help her make it through that night - even when she had to....
She forced her mind away from the Rite of Becoming and back where she was. She gasped, steadying herself and looked up. Yes, Azazeal was still there, still holding her. "I...." she began, "what do I...what do we do now?"
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The rain no longer touched either of them, her wet garments clung to every curve of her body and as his lips finally did touch her own, everything seemed immediately to warm. The kiss tantalized and teased her, and with the slight pulling away of his lips, she followed. He tasted sweet, like honey wine and how she knew she must have imagined for ages, yet never allowed herself to give full focus to the thought or voice to it. The kiss was clumsy, awkward and yet, Azazeal was patient. He smiled against her lips and kissed her more firmly, his hands calming her, though everything seemed to be rushing through her at a thousand miles per second.
Jocelyn was conscious now of his hands upon her waist and the close proximity of their bodies. Oh, they had been this close countless times, but until this moment, before they stood in the rain among the flowers, before the altar and the statue of Danu she had not wrapped her mind around it.
Her mind was wrapping around the thought and through it and she liked how it felt, in spite of the heady confusion that this now caused within her. The corded pull within her stomach, the ache with in her heart buffeted her like the winds that were blowing through the trees around them, but not affecting them. She curled into him and felt his body against her own. When at last she pulled back a little she rested her forehead against his.
'On the Fortunate Island, when the time came to give up her Maiden's blood, she would remember this moment, focus on Azazeal...', she thought. It would help her make it through that night - even when she had to....
She forced her mind away from the Rite of Becoming and back where she was. She gasped, steadying herself and looked up. Yes, Azazeal was still there, still holding her. "I...." she began, "what do I...what do we do now?"