“Okay,” Bern said. Without even stopping to take a breath, he turned around and hit the man in the jaw.
Lanc went down, but was up again almost instantly.
Bern took a step back and smiled, glad that the opposition had some fight in him. It was strange, almost as strange as being in another place and time than the one he’d been born to, but he was glad to have some competition. He wanted Ginger, wanted to properly claim the woman as his. Fighting for her hand felt, in some atavistic way, right. Deep in his gut, deep in his heart, he knew Ginger was a woman worth fighting for.
The druid was a big, fit guy with some hand-to-hand skills. They circled, then sparred against each other, flesh and muscle straining, moving through firelight and shadow while the crowd cheered and shouted. Sweat stung Bern’s eyes, and he tasted blood when Lanc got past his guard once to strike him in the face. Excitement built deep in Bern’s gut and the clarity that only came with combat focused his whole attention on the struggle.
For a while he almost forgot the purpose of the challenge while he concentrated on the fight. Then he caught sight of Ginger. She was flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement that sent a zing of lust straight to Bern’s groin. But her arms were tensely crossed, and she also looked annoyed.
“Enjoying yourself?” she called sarcastically when she had his attention.
The momentary distraction almost cost him, but he caught Lanc’s sudden kick out of the corner of his eye and quickly countered. He ended up with a hard foot grazing his thigh as he turned. He returned the favor with a hard kick to Lanc’s solar plexus that brought the man down.
Enough of this toying with his prey.
When Lanc tried to struggle up again, Bern knocked him unconscious.
Ginger rushed up to him “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned, and kissed her, pulling her tightly against him. “Never better.” The loincloth left nothing to her imagination about how he was feeling. The cheering crowd faded away from his attention as he concentrated only on the woman in his arms.
Her hand brushed against the erection straining against the soft leather. Then she pried herself out of his tight embrace. “Not yet.”
“Oh, come on!” he complained. But he understood when she pointed toward the sword buried in the ground. He laughed. “Right. Well, at least I don’t have to pull it out of a stone.”
“Uh…”
“What?”
She looked at him strangely, and asked, “Doesn’t Bern mean ‘bear’?”
“Yeah…” He crossed to the sword. Bits of earth clung to the blade as he pulled it out and held it up for all to see. He waited for the cheering to die down, then shouted, “For Britain and the White Lady!”
The roar this time was deafening.
“Must have sounded good,” he murmured.
Ched came up to him, taking both him and Ginger by the hand. A trio of young women accompanied him. One of the girls held a stag-horn headdress. The other girls made quick work of stripping off his and Ginger’s clothes.
After fastening the headdress on Bern, Ched turned to the crowd and proclaimed, “Behold the queen and king of summer. This mating will bring fertility to the land! Let the festival begin!”
“You know, I’m beginning to think—” Ginger started.
“Don’t.” Bern grabbed her and kissed her.
He swung his naked lover up into his arms and covered her mouth with his. While his tongue probed inside that sweet, responsive warmth he carried her to the cloth-covered mound of grass and flowers that was to serve as both bed and altar for them to mate upon.
“Put me down!” she demanded.
“Don’t chicken out on me now,” he pleaded.
Ginger laughed wickedly. “Not a chance.” She remembered his directions to just look at him, but the crowd was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She wanted to taste him, and that was what she did.
The crowd cheered. A wave of raw sexual energy washed over her. The lust channeled by the masses shot through her, and she projected it back to the people around them. In that moment the goddess filled her, and she worshipped the god of summer and king of the land with all the fervor and passion due him.
Bern pushed her gently onto her back on the soft, fragrant altar. He knelt over her, poised at the moist opening of her vagina. He waited while her hips rose pleadingly.
“Now!” she demanded.
But he didn’t move until her gaze finally met his. “The night is just beginning,” he told her.
Then he entered her, and his worship of the goddess began in earnest.