Love, Lust and St. Valentine’s Day

Tomorrow, today actually, is Valentine’s Day.

With it come the whole gamut of feelings. Most important should be those of love, or at least lust.

When I had the prison ministry, I always wrote special messages for Valentine’s Day. It was a sad time for those separated from their loved ones, and sadder for those who had no one who cared about them. I always started off with the legend of St. Valentine, who sent notes of encouragement to other prisoners. It seemed particularly appropriate, as if St. Valentine might be the patron saint for prisoners.

I will try to write something a little more inspiring after I get some sleep, but for now, let me leave you with a message of love and lust from PALADIN.


His hand trembled as he poured a small glass of wine and opened the letter he had read so often he knew each word, each pen stroke, each tear stain by heart. Tonight he vowed once more he would add no more stains to the letter, but he knew he would. He always did.

He peered at the page and smiled. “The autumn harvest. One of my favorite letters.” He wondered briefly if there were any that weren’t his favorites.

My Dearest Husband

The cave with the crystals sounds delightful. Perhaps you can take us to see it one day.

The leaves are turning brilliant hues which make the hills look as if they are ablaze. Oranges, golds and fiery reds splash the small valley. The crops are in thanks to our neighbors. I’ve traded for supplies to tide me through the winter should I not be able to make it to town later. The root cellar is full of winter vegetables and dried fruits and meat.

Though I have need for nothing, I dread the coming winter. Last year, our first winter together, we spent in repairs and building. Preparing for the spring. Had I known war would call you away I would have spent every moment at your side. I would have stored memories instead of roots. I would have made more love instead of quilts. I would have touched you enough to last a lifetime. I would have, but I didn’t.

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before it could fall to the page yellowed with time. She had always feared for his safety and yet it was she and their tiny son who perished in the war.

And lust.

Erokath motioned to the followers who promptly encircled him and sat on the floor. Lucine sank into the chair near the bed and smoothed out her skirt, then poured herself a glass of wine. While each of the enraptured students gazed up in awe, she appeared as bored as if she had been in the middle of a knitting circle.

Does anything excite her?

He pointed to one young woman who stumbled when she rose. “Kneel before me, follower. ” His hand reached out to cover the fireworm in her forehead. Brilliant purple smoke billowed around them while bright golden light knifed between his fingers. The smoke drifted to the floor like a fog on the marshes and when the light faded, there remained only a husk dry as a desert mummy with glossy, deep brown, leathery skin contrasting with the bright scarlet robe. Her mouth gaped, contorted by the ripping of magic and life from her. The followers stared with wonder at the shell, seeing only a luminous being of light.

One by one he fed upon them, filling the room with shafts of golden light and mounds of purple smoke each time until only the black-haired woman with eyes the color of a dove remained. He reached down for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You have been chosen,” he said and nodded to the bed. She smiled and pulled the knot in her robe loose.

“Tell me your name. ”

She blushed as if embarrassed by the question even though she stood naked before him “Roslynd, Master. ”

Lucine snorted. “Finish it and let ’s be done.”

Erokath reached out to take Roslynd’s hand. His body responded eagerly to her touch and the scent of her magic. He had to control himself. She was an exquisite example of the human female. Under different circumstances he would have made her a pet, but he needed this last bit of magic to strengthen his hold. He had no intentions of letting Lucine see him so weak again.

“It ’s one of the few things I enjoy about this form. It’s a pity you don’t appreciate it.”

She remained disinterested and bored while he disrobed.

“I’ll savor her once I’m done. There’s no hurry.”

“There is for me. The church auditor is going to Tildie ’s and I have to return.”

Erokath heard the wizard gate forming, but remained focused on the perfect breast.

Roslynd was even more enjoyable than he had hoped. Her stamina nearly matched his, but he had to return before daylight if he was going to travel the spirit road without notice.

He rolled on his back and glanced at the drape-covered wall to his left. He could feed on the man hiding behind them, but the woman ’s magic was much stronger and more pure. He needed the concentrated elixir now.

“Come, my dear. ” He turned to her and nuzzled her neck, stirring again to the magic throbbing in her veins. He continued down her perfect chest to her stomach and buried his face in her soft flesh. His tongue traced her navel. He could taste her magic now. He rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled her with him. She sank willingly to her knees in front of him when he stood. His fingers laced through her thick hair when she opened her mouth.

Her fingers dug into his thighs when he groaned. She squirmed in front of him and spread her legs farther apart, like a mare waiting for a stallion.


She shuddered, matching his climax. Purple smoke rose about them and from the wall of drapes came the pungent odor of urine.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *