As she reached the Staking Grounds, Karan heard the swelling roar of the crowd. She heard the growling chant of the mob and let herself relax as it washed over her: "Witch, witch, witch." The roar grew louder and more frenzied with each beat, feeding her gloating sense of accomplishment. The thunderous tumult pulsed around her, enveloping her, sending rushes of tingling warmth to her groin. This was going to be a good one.

A hush fell over the crowd as Bryan was led to the Stake. Somehow, even naked and shackled, he was insufferably beautiful. His summer-blue eyes were clear and innocent, showing no trace of fear or anger as he looked out over the crowd. He merely smiled beatifically, and his blonde hair gleamed in the sun, framing his angelic face like a halo. Karan smirked in smug satisfaction as they staked him out and lit the pyre. Her only regret was that she had arrived too late to get a place in front. She would have loved for him to see her as he burned. That was always the icing on the cake, watching realization dawn in their eyes as the flames licked hungrily at their feet.

As the last embers of the fire died away, Karan complacently turned to leave. Almost immediately, she bumped into a broad, well-muscled chest. She stared open-mouthed into the same brilliant green eyes that had laughed at her earlier as he spoke. "So this is where you went in such a hurry. I wanted to apologize for knocking you down earlier. I'm not usually such a klutz." His voice was deep, and his words softly spoken, but Karan wasn't fooled. She knew he was a liar, like all the rest of them. Nice of him to present himself for the slaughter, though. It would save her a lot of legwork. After all, she wouldn't have to search for him. Keeping a firm control on her contempt, Karan smiled winningly.

"That's all right," she purred softly. "I'll forgive you, if you'll let me buy you a cup of coffee to make up for my rudeness earlier."

He hesitated only briefly before agreeing, and they turned back toward the market. Even satiated as she was, Karan felt the first stirrings of the anticipation that built to a fever pitch while she was working on someone. For some reason, she knew this one was going to be special. If she took her time, drawing him out and setting him up well enough, the release when he burned would border on orgasmic. Although Bryan had come close, none of them had felt that good in years--not since she had had her parents condemned. That had been just after the crackpots in the popular ZeroPop Church groups had pushed through the legislation to allow the Staking of witches. Regardless of the fact that there were no such things as witches, they claimed to have done it for the moral good of the country. Of course they had, she though snidely. What difference did it make that the first people staked were their opposition?

A few minutes later, they were firmly ensconced in a sheltered booth of an outdoor coffee bar. Looking at him covertly through her thick dark eyelashes, Karan was disturbed to find that he reminded her of someone. It was someone she had known well, but she just couldn't put a name to him. Too weird. Shaking off a vague feeling of unease, Karan held out her hand to him.

"Karan Wesley." Her smile was a masterpiece of deception. It lit her face, suffusing it with a glow of youth and innocence.

"Aaron."

"No last name?"

"Just Aaron." His voice was firm, brooking no further discussion.

His eyes traveled appraisingly over her slim form, lingering for the merest fraction of a second at her breasts before returning to lock gazes with hers. Green eyes sparked a hint of reciprocal fire in gray, and Karan's breath caught in her throat. Oh, yeah, she was going to enjoy this one. The promise of fire and passion were stimulating nerves she had forgotten she had. The longer she drew it out, the greater the payoff would be in the end.

Setting herself to charm him out of his taciturn manner, Karan was lightly flirtatious and animated. Slowly but surely, he began to talk and smile ,and soon, they were chatting like old friends. They passed most of the day this way, and on into the evening. She appeared not to notice how he watched her every movement, and she pretended to hang on every word he said. It was a timeless mating ritual, parry and thrust; a time for titillation. Innuendo ,letting the sexual tension build, never quite allowing it to be sated. It set the tone nicely for the days that would follow.

On their six-week anniversary, they went dancing. Aaron looked so male and so virile in his dark suit that Karan knew she'd have to get him to take the next step soon. One slow, close dance told her it wouldn't be a problem tonight. She could feel the hardness and the length of him as the writhed together to the thrumming of the music. A fire of anticipation raced through her, setting her mood. She didn't see the slow, sweet smile that spread across his face as she allowed herself to relax against him.

Caught in her own thoughts, she swayed aimlessly to the music. While the sex would probably be good, it was not in itself her main purpose. It would, however, allow her to bind him closer to her, deepening the bond he felt for her. It was nearly time. A few more days, and she would be able to plant all the evidence she needed in his rooms. Then, at long last, she could call the Watchers. She would pay him in spades for laughing at her. All she had to do was get him to take her home with him; then he would burn like all the rest, finally easing the sting of his laughter.

After the dance club closed, they took a stroll in the park. Casually walking along hand in hand, they were the very picture of two lovers taking in the view. They stopped by the lake, gazing silently across still water. The moonlight glittered like diamonds on the water's surface, giving the night a faerie glow. Taking her hand, he dropped to one knee in front of her. Green eyes nearly glowing in the moonlight, he said softly, almost humbly, "Will you marry me?"

Karan nearly lost it all then, so volcanic was the rush that followed. An inferno raged inside her. This was beyond all her expectations. Not one of them had ever proposed to her before. The sweetness of the irony was absolutely delicious. It would definitely have been worth the wait. Fighting to keep the exultation from her voice, she whispered, "Yes, Aaron. Oh, yes." As his eyes glistened with moisture, her exultation crested. Caught up in the sensation, not wanting it to end, she broke her own cardinal rule. "We should celebrate. Will you come home with me tonight?"

Wordlessly, he took her hand, and rose to kiss her. The tremor as their lips met for the first time was electric, and they stopped often in the shadows on the way back to her apartment. Kissing, grinding slowly against one another, each stoked the other's fire until Karan thought she would burst into flame. No one, man or woman, had ever been able to draw this great a response from her. There would never be another one like him, she knew. She had to wring every ounce of enjoyment she could from him before that last, irrevocable release.

Reaching her small, half-finished house after what seemed an interminable amount of time, she paused only briefly to get the key from her pocket. No sooner had she unlocked the door than she felt Aaron lift her in his arms. Locking his lips to hers, he kicked the door shut behind them with his heel. He found his way unerringly to the sofa, sinking slowly to a sitting position with her still in his arms. It was all Karan could do to break free of his lips for even a second. "Let me get comfortable." She trailed a kiss down into the hollow of his throat as she rose from his lap. "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, if you'd like to get us a glass."

When Karan came back into the living room, Aaron was just pouring the wine into the second glass on the coffee table. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, clad only in an open robe of slick black satin. Without speaking, she walked slowly toward him. As she moved, she let her slim white limbs flash enticingly in and out of the robe. He stood slack-jawed as she reached him, rousing only as she ground her bare pelvis against him.

Wrapping one arm tightly around her, holding her in position, Aaron picked up one glass of wine and handed it to her. She held it lazily in one hand as he picked up the other one and proposed an odd toast. "To what the future holds in store. May we reap what we have sown." After clinking her glass with his, he tossed off the whole glassful. Uneasily, Karan did the same. The vague sense of disquiet stilled immediately when he lowered his lips to hers once more. Feverishly, almost desperately, she tore at his clothes until he stood as bare as she.

His hands roamed freely over her body; stroking, lightly pinching, probing her. The wine and his exploration had her senses reeling by the time he silently lifted her to the back of the sofa, bringing her groin level with his. Slowly, he teased her, stroking just along her thighs circling closer but never touching her core. She closed her eyes as she felt his hips move gently between her legs as he poised himself to enter her. His hands traveled upward, pushing her arms over her head until they touched the bare pipe above her. Her eyes flew open in shock as she felt cold steel close like a trap around her wrists.

His voice as he stepped away from her was a slap of cold water. "Bryan said you were a whore. Looks like he was right, as usual."

"Bryan?" Karan's voice cracked as she felt real fear for the first time in her life.

"Yeah. You remember Bryan, don't you?" His voice was pure bitter poison. "The last innocent that you sent to the Stake? My little brother?"

Oh, no. Brother? Bryan had never once mentioned a brother. Frantically, Karan struggled against the cuffs, trying to break the pipe, anything. Bizarrely, her struggles seemed to make her head spin and her vision blur. Almost as if she'd been--damn it--the wine--the son of a bitch had drugged her--the room reeled, and she passed out, hanging limply from the cuffs.

The next thing she knew, someone was slapping her roughly. "Wake up, damn you." Aaron's voice was sharp and unforgiving.

Karan opened her eyes and looked at him blearily. Her head was still spinning dangerously, and her upraised arms felt as if they had been wrenched from their sockets. Behind him, the room looked different. Focusing carefully, she gasped at what she saw. Her spartan living room had been turned into a den of witchcraft. Twisted graven images adorned the walls, and the room was lit by sullen black candles. An altar, complete with smoking brazier and tarnished silver goblet, stood her where her couch had been, and her ankles were chained to the ends of it, holding her with her legs spread wide around the center. The air was redolent of herbs and incense, and a pentagram had been deeply graven on the floor. Lifting the goblet from the altar, Aaron brought it to her lips and forced her to drink. It was blood. She tried to spit, but he covered her mouth and pinched her nose. She had no choice but to swallow.

Gagging violently, she could only watch in horror as he began to cast some sort of spell, leaving the smoking brazier dangerously between her wide-spread thighs. She could feel the heat radiating from it, and as he began to mark her with blood, trailing one finger across her nipples and drawing wet lines down her taut stomach. She began to feel faint stirrings of arousal. He stopped momentarily, dipping his whole hand into the wide mouth of the goblet. She couldn't help but scream as he drove all four fingers deep inside her, still dripping with blood.

"Look at me." His voice was commanding, and she could only do as he bid. "The only thing left to do is give you a witch's mark and then call the Watchers." She cringed as he lowered his head to her breast. He looked up at her one last time, then calmly bit off her left nipple.

When they burned her at the next Staking, he stood in the front row, smiling.

(c) 1999, M.C. Sak