The Newborn Ch. 03

When he hung up, he smiled over at her and then grabbed for his seatbelt. "I can't wait to get you in my bed," he growled giving her a lecherous look. "All that teasing you've done to me for the past six months? Well tonight's my turn."

She laughed reaching over and letting her fingers play in the small amount of chest hair that was visible under his shirt. "Promises, promises," she purred.

He waited at the end of the driveway for one of the neighbors to drive by before leaning over and capturing her lips in a quick, heated kiss that spoke volumes of his feelings. "That one you can take to the bank, sweetheart."

* * * *

The trip to the Temple seemed to pass by quickly, Sabra and Ben talking like they had always done, a hint of sexual connotation beneath a lot of what they were saying. Ben pulled up the private gate that protected the Council of Twelve, the long driveway behind it leading to the Temple as well as the housing units.

When Ben had left home, he'd become an initiate, dedicating himself to the beliefs of his people and the craft that was so important to their way of life. He'd been given an apartment in the housing unit and had learned so much more of what was important to their coven. He'd been tattooed with the mark of the triple crescent, the same as the pendant that Sabra wore.

He punched in a code, waiting for the gates to begin to part, checking in his mirror before driving through. His father pulled in behind and Ben reached out of the window at another keypad, shutting the gates behind him. The drive was long and curved, a dense forest and swamp circling the temple and protecting the secrets of their coven. It wasn't surprising to see deer jump across the drive or watch a family of raccoon meander past. The wild life was tended as was the gardens and the yards around the temple.

All life was important to the Coven, something that was taught when a member was very young. It was to be respected and cherished. New life was rejoiced over, celebrated. The ending of a life was mourned though often, when a member passed from old age, their lives were more celebrated then mourned.

The Temple was where they worshiped. It housed the Coven, gave them succor and respite when needed. No one was turned away as long as the purity of their intentions was clear. Now the Council of Twelve came out of the Temple, filing slowly toward Ben's car as he parked close to the door.

Sabra was helped out of the car and she lifted her face, gracefully accepting the kiss of welcome from each of the Twelve.

"You are welcomed back here Sabra. Tonight is a night to celebrate."

"Thank you," she said, reaching for Ben's hand when he came around the car. "It is."

"Then come," one said, waving her forward.

She went toward the Temple, only stopping when Ben tugged on her hand. "I did remember this," he said softly, handing her a bouquet of beautiful white roses and pale purple lilacs, their scent perfuming the air. He kissed her gently then, nodded at the Council, leaving her in their care while he went to ready himself for their wedding.

There was a purification to be done and then a sacrifice of his blood, signifying the same sacrifice of blood that she would give when he took her veil. He turned only once as he headed into a side entrance to the Temple, smiling as she was safely escorted inside. He was suddenly grateful that his mother had interrupted them earlier. Tonight would be even more special and sacred because they were both pure for the other.

His heart was racing as he reached the small antechamber, noting that the Council had readied it for him. Going to the small altar, he knelt before the fabric covered table, taking the triple crescent and bowing over it before bringing it to his lips. Sacred words, private ones were spoken and he thanked the spirits for the blessing they'd given him, of Sabra and the gift of their love.

He begged forgiveness for the unpure and unholy thoughts he'd had of Sabra before he'd been told of the miracle of her birth. Then he rose and pulled his clothes off, smiling at the small stain in his briefs before tossing them in the bag provided for them. They would be taken, washed and returned to his apartment, clean and folded.

Stepping to the basin, he bowed his head, knowing that the water he was about to washed with had been purified by the First of the Twelve, a man who was called Deckor. He was the man who'd personally chosen Ben to become an initiate and had spoken for him in the service, an honor that befell few of the Coven.

Splashing the water upon himself, he spoke the words of purification, letting his mind grow blank as he performed the ancient rites. Only when he reached for the holy athemae, did his eyes grow sharp. Lifting the sharp blade, he passed it over the white pillar candle and then pressed the dagger tip to his hand.

It was a sign of his faith that he neither flinched nor winced as the blood flowed from his hand and he pressed it against the white cloth, leaving a bright scarlet stain. When he left the antechamber, the blood stained material would be taken into his bedchamber and laid across the mattress. Another dagger, a twin to the one he'd just used would be left there if the bride and groom hadn't waited for their wedding night, but it wouldn't be used tonight.

He would pierce that veil himself and he smiled wryly as his cock grew hard just at the thought. He'd been in a constant state of arousal since he'd spoken to the Council and they given their blessing upon the match.

He finished the ritual, quickly cleaning the small wound but leaving it unbound. That small wound was a thing to be proud of, for it spoke of his intentions and the feelings in his heart for his bride-to-be.

Glancing at the clock upon the small mantle, Ben smiled. It was time.