The Collector 3: Cauldron Read online

  Colm was pressing hard against her back; she could feel the heat of his skin and the springy tension in his hard muscled body as he drove his cock up and down. His lips touched her neck, and she shivered and trembled with the approach of orgasm. Matt lay bent back on the great stone and clutched her to him, his lips seeking out and catching a nipple, biting and nibbling it and pulling on her tit until the skin stretched, and she gasped.

  And came.

  A fire exploded in her pussy and surged up and through her body, sending her muscles into a long drawn out spasm. The chamber echoed and re-echoed with her scream of release, the sound raising strange harmonics that even penetrated the raging torrent her mind floated on. Clinging to Matt, Colm pressed hard against her, the two men pinned her firmly between them and held her safe as she shuddered in the throes of climax.

  Light and reason began to return, and she had time to take a deep breath. Then the men took their turn.

  Matt thrust, Colm withdrew. Colm thrust, Matt withdrew. Like some mighty engine, the two men pounded and pushed into her, their cocks sliding up and down each other, and all the while, her pussy was being stoked to a height of feeling she’d never imagined.

  It ached; oh God! How it ached to be so used! She could feel the slickness of her juices coating the men, slicking Matt’s belly where she lay against him. The firmness of their muscular bodies, the knowledge and the sheer feeling of being the sole focus of their pleasure sent her whirling up and up until the fire in her belly exploded again and something resembling a nuclear bomb went off in her head.

  The men came together. As she rode the sparkling rapids of orgasm, she could feel their cum jetting up inside her, filling her until it mingled with her juice and flowed like a river from her sex. The intensity of the feeling it roused was too much for her mind, and she passed out.

  When she came to, she was lying on top of Matt, atop the altar, with her thighs straddling him, and her knees pressed hard onto the unyielding, rocky surface. They were naked, and she felt cold and cramped and so fucking sore inside and totally bewildered.

  Matt’s eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with the even rhythm of a sleeper. His skin was slick with drying sweat ‑‑ as was her own, she realized, looking down at herself.

  Carefully she got onto all-fours, wincing as the movement stretched muscles that instantly raised protests about the way they’d been treated. Matt slumbered on as she gingerly climbed off the altar and stood beside it. The earthen floor felt cold beneath the soles of her feet, and she looked around, sensing that something was missing.

  The eldritch light cast by the spiral symbols had faded to a quieter glow. They gave enough light for her to examine the confines of the chamber, and her heart gave a lurch.

  Something about the stones looked different. The surface was more even, regular. The air felt cooler, but she wasn’t sure if it was cooler or if it was just the effect of her sweat drying on her skin.

  And Colm was missing. She sank back against the reassuring bulk of the altar and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I must be going fuckin’ nuts!” she muttered. “What just happened here?”

  “Wha‑‑?”

  The grunt came from behind her, and she turned quickly to see Matt had woken ‑‑ or regained consciousness. She couldn’t help but glance at his cock. It lay flaccid and glistening on his stomach, post-cum trickling a silver trail over his skin.

  Hurriedly she searched for and found her clothes, and was just struggling into her sweatshirt when he sat up. “What the fuck happened?” he asked his voice thick and heavy.

  “Fuck is the operative word!” Kate snapped. She glanced at him quickly and then away. “Your clothes are here,” she said, stooping and picking them up. She held them out and walked toward the altar, averting her gaze. “I suggest you put them on.”

  “Fuck!” he gasped. The clothes were snatched from her hand with a muttered “thanks,” and she kept her back turned to him until the scuffling and rustling sounds stopped.

  “Are you decent?” she asked.

  “I’m always decent,” he replied with an air of dignity under pressure, “but on this occasion I’m also dressed.”

  This time she turned around and looked at him. “What happened there?” she demanded. “Those symbols began spinning, and all sense and reason fled from my mind.”

  “Mine too,” he said and sighed as he rubbed the back of his head and looked around. “Was I imagining things, or was Colm Whatsisname here too?”

  “He was,” she said in a taut voice.

  “Did we really..?”

  “Yes! Him as well!” She rounded on him and pressed a fingernail hard into his chest, and he blinked down at her. “You both fucked me at the same time! In the same hole! I felt like a fucking twig being split for kindling!”

  “I don’t know what happened!” he protested. “I didn’t want to do it. It was like some force was compelling‑‑”

  “So what did make us do it?”

  He looked around again and lowered his voice. “It’s this place; those symbols. It has to be!” Matt stopped for a moment. His voice dropped. “God, Kate, I’m sorry about ...”

  “Then let’s get out of here and go see Byrne,” she snapped, not wanting to hear anymore excuses, and made for the low passageway. “I’ve had enough of this!”

  “Me too!” he shouted. It seemed in a moment his remorse was gone. Kate glared at him over her shoulder.

  “Fine!” she shouted back. “Dear gods, I’ve never felt so fucking embarrassed in my whole life,” she added in an undertone.

  The light grew brighter as they neared the entrance, and Kate saw the smiling face of the sea way beyond the grass sward. The air felt fresh and crisp, as if a breeze had got up while they were inside, and she sucked it down, filling her lungs and forcing her mind to be quiet.

  She emerged onto the grass and looked around. There was no sign of Colm Houlahan. Matt emerged into the light, and she glanced at him. “Let’s get back to the car.”

  “Suits me.”

  They began to walk, retracing their steps. “We can figure out what to do next when we’re back at the hotel. By the way, no one ever need to know what happened here, right? Promise me that.”

  “You got it.” Matt seemed all too eager to consent.

  They rounded the curve of the barrow outer wall and stopped in confusion.

  The thicket had gone. Instead a broad lea of spring grass dotted with wildflowers spread out before them to the hills surrounding the bay. The track had gone. There was no sign of Maria Byrne or the waiting car. In her place stood a group of men, who turned and stared at them in a very unfriendly manner.

  Chapter Four

  There were four of them, clothed in rough leather, scraps of cloth and sacking, with bits and pieces of bronze here and there. Three carried long spears, and each spearhead was a wicked-looking foliate barb of polished bronze.

  “What the fuck is this?” Kate asked. “Some kind of live action role-playing game? Hello?” she called to them.

  “Stay back, Kate!” Matt said, putting out an arm. “Those guys really look like trouble.”

  “What do you mean stay back?” She gripped his elbow. “Do you think for one minute they won’t get past you?” She glared at the men, who began to move into a line. “If there’s going to be a fight, we need to stand together!”

  “A fight? Against spears?” he hissed out the side of his mouth, his attention never wavering from the advancing crew.

  “Would you rather just give in?” She released her grip on his arm. “I for one don’t want to be raped!”

  “It won’t come to that!”

  “Are you sure?”

  Matt opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head.

  “No? Then let’s make sure!” Kate stepped forward and held up her hand. The men came to a stop, and stared from her to each other. “That’s far enough! We mean you no harm, but if you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the right
place!”

  “Oh, that’s just great!” Matt muttered.

  “Shut up!” she said. “I’m an actress; I can spin a line of bullshit and make these pukes believe whatever I tell ‘em. Let me face ‘em down ‑‑ unless you really wanna fight?”

  One of the men shouted. His accent was thick and earthy, and he spoke in a tongue she didn’t recognize. His gestures, though, were clear; he wanted them to surrender.

  “Fuck you!” Kate roared.

  Matt plucked at her arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Truthfully, she didn’t quite know. The odd feeling she’d had when entering the barrow had returned ‑‑ or at least a form of it had. She felt as if her blood were fizzing in her arteries, carrying a kind of power throughout her body until she felt she could punch a hole through a brick wall. The men facing her now didn’t scare her; in fact, she just wished they’d make a stupid move so she could pulverize them and get it over with. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, until seconds became minutes.

  One of the men narrowed his eyes and glared at her. Obviously she’d upset the situation by not following their script. Sooner or later, they would move. For now, she had to get the big lunk standing beside her up to speed.

  Putting out her hand she laid it upon his shoulder. Solid muscle rested under her fingers. “Matt, you’ve been a pain in the ass to me since we first met,” she said. Her touch tightened to a grip which she intended would be painful, and he gasped. “Now, why don’t you just get with the program and work out your issues on these fuckers?”

  As one the men glanced at each other. As one they gave a yell and charged, spears outthrust.

  Kate screamed back. Whatever power filled her mind and body augmented the cry until it resonated throughout the surrounding hills. The two men charging her staggered. One dropped his spear and clapped his hands to his ears. “Bad move, fuckwit!” she thought. A role in a martial arts movie had given her three month’s worth of intense training; they didn’t go to waste. She leapt forward, yelled “No!” and drove her stiffened fingers deep into her attacker’s throat.

  Such was her speed the other assailant had barely begun to move before she reached out and snatched the spear from his grasp. The first man was reeling back now, retching, clutching at his crushed larynx. Twirling the cumbersome spear like a cheerleader’s baton, she rammed the butt into his stomach, then thrust the spear forward at its previous owner.

  The point caught him under the breastbone. Twelve inches of sharpened bronze slid into his flesh and passed through his heart. Kate released the shaft and let him fall away, clutching it in his hands, his eyes wide. She felt the fierce exultation of successful combat and turned to look for more targets.

  Matt felt odd. The situation was so bizarre; so far from his ordered world of campus and seminar rooms his mind couldn’t quite encompass it. Yet after Kate had gripped his shoulder, some part of him did comprehend the danger. A bolt of energy shot through him. Primeval instinct awoke. It gauged the situation and went through a checklist of combat options in the blink of an eye. All the boxing lessons imparted by Father Mulroney of the Athletics League came on-line. Reactions honed on football fields and in a salle des armes patronized by Harvard students waited to be used. When the two men charged him, they stood no chance.

  He made a rolling tackle, swept the legs out from the leader, and as the man tumbled Matt leapt up and snatched away his spear. Bringing the hefty shaft round in a smooth sweep, he smashed it into the face of the second man and knocked him backwards. The first bandit was lying on the ground, shaking his head. “Amateur!” Matt snapped and thrust the spear point through his throat and into the peaty soil below.

  Leaving the spear sticking up, he turned to see what the second fellow intended to do. The man’s face was a bloody red ruin, but his eyes blazed with fury. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he stalked toward Matt in a half-crouch.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d faced a knife. Some of his youthful forays in the seedier parts of Boston had been as educational as his later lessons in the fine art of fencing.

  “Need help over there?” Kate called.

  He looked across and saw her two assailants were down. With a grin he looked back at his attacker. “Well? Do I need help?” He leaned forward. “The question is ‑‑ do you feel lucky, punk?”

  The attacker looked at his fallen comrades and evidently decided he didn’t. With an oath, he turned on his heel and ran away across the grass, heedless of pursuit.

  The combat high soon wore off. Whatever magical effect had enabled them to beat their attackers didn’t stay around to offer trauma counseling. Kate looked at the bodies sprawled on the grass and felt bile rise in her throat. She walked away on unsteady legs and breathed deep, letting the cool sea air fill her lungs until the nausea passed. Matt came up alongside her, and together they looked out at the calm sea.

  She reached out and took his hand. “Matt? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t feel good.” He pressed his hand to his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Fuck! We’re civilized people! We have just killed three men!” He gave her a look that mingled agony with bemusement. “We should feel awful about this!”

  “I know; I do.” She felt close to weeping.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He looked around at the skirmish. “Christ on a crutch, you killed two to my one!”

  “I’m not going to keep score, Matt.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and moved behind him to massage his shoulders. She could feel the tension there. It felt good to touch him this way. It gave reassurance in this mad world. He may’ve acted like a jerk, but right now, in this time and place ‑‑ wherever they were ‑‑ he was a familiar face. “I’m not getting into a pissing contest over how many we killed either.”

  “How did we come to fight them so well?” He turned to face her, and she let her arms drop to her sides. “I know you touched me and something happened. There was a kind of jolt, and suddenly I was acting like Indiana Jones and you were kicking butt like Lara Croft!”

  “I don’t know any more than you.” She really didn’t want to think about what they’d done any more. “Just tell me one thing; where the fuck are we?”

  Matt stood upright and looked around. Their erstwhile attacker had disappeared over the crest of a nearby hill, and the landscape seemed deserted. He shaded his eyes and scanned the area.

  “Where are we?” Kate asked.

  “The landscape could be any corner of Ireland,” Matt replied. “But there is nothing resembling roads, no telegraph poles or power lines.”

  Kate stooped and plucked a stalk of grass, stripping off the leaves and popping one end in her mouth to chew on. She watched him with her big hazel eyes. Her expression was serious, but those eyes held a mocking light.

  Matt looked at the cooling bodies, and took in their rough-and-ready appearance. “We’re in the same place, but not the same time,” he concluded finally.

  Kate withdrew the grass stem and spat out a piece of stalk. “You know, I knew you’d say that.”

  “Like it or not, we’ve got to search these bodies, see if there’s any kind of clue on them.”

  She knelt beside the nearest body, the one with the spear sticking out of his throat. “Okay, let’s get to it.”

  It was messy work, but after some time, they’d amassed a small pile of booty, which they placed on the spread cloak taken off one of the men. Matt picked over each object in turn. Kate squatted opposite, watching intently, the stalk much shorter now but still twirling between her even white teeth and dusky lips.

  Why am I noticing her looks now? Matt thought. He was trying, for all intents and purposes to avoid noticing anything about her. Although he’d had no control over himself, he still felt guilty for what had happened at the altar.

  You mean you didn’t notice how attractive she was before? a mocking little voice responded, cutting through his thoughts. You saw that right away, but were too busy acting the jerk to get i
t into your over-educated brain!

  He wiped his eyes and shook his head to clear it. A still, small voice was supposed to stay still and small, not engage in snide remarks.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “No, nothing I can’t take care of,” he said tersely.

  “Okay. You’re the Celtic expert; what do we have?”

  “These artifacts are typical of the late Bronze Age,” he said, indicating the pile. Now he’d dropped out of jock-mode, the geek reappeared, and he could assess their haul. Looking up and around, he frowned. “We’re still in the same area we traveled through en-route to the barrow,” he said thinking aloud, “although the thicket has gone. That’s not surprising if we’ve traveled in time. Also, something seemed to possess you ‑‑ us ‑‑ when we were faced with danger; a kind of magic, almost.” He gave her a direct look. “That’s the most crucial point, Kate.”

  “So where are we?”

  “I think we’re in the ancient kingdom of Connacht,” he said.

  “Connacht?” She cocked her head. “You say that as if it’s significant.”

  “It is. I think we’re in Erin, the Ireland of legend; this is a time when gods and giants walk the earth.”

  “So we’ve gone back in time?”

  Matt shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s not really our world.”

  “You believe that?” Her voice was level, and she didn’t look skeptical.

  “You’re not mocking me?”

  She shrugged and threw away the stalk. “Why should I? We’ve been through some pretty weird shit since we walked into that barrow.” She fixed him with a stern gaze. “Don’t think I’m going to forget what happened in there. My pussy’s going to ache for a month after coping with you and Colm together!”

  He felt his face grow hot, but the memories that sprang to his mind made him grin. He couldn’t decide if it was more out of embarrassment or satisfaction. “Yeah, well.”