The Order Of The Rose Episode Four: Legends and Rituals
The Order of the Rose: Episode Four
Legends and Rituals
"I have a message for you, Sir, from Camille Marsters," Kramer said in his usual matter-of-fact tone.
"Well, out with it," Azreal said with a side grin, because Kramer liked the formal, professional tone while on duty.
Kramer wasn't just Azreal's butler; he was a lifelong and extremely loyal friend. They had grown up together. Different stations, same household, but to children, that upstairs-downstairs distinction didn't matter. Kramer's father had been Azreal's father's Gentleman's Gentleman.
As an adult, that professional demeanor ingrained at an early age mattered to Kramer, so Azreal indulged him, when he was on duty.
"Ms. Marsters has fallen ill and won't be able to attend tonight's Order of the Rose meeting."
"Shame." Azreal frowned. "She has the most exquisite O+ and the firmest bu..."
Azreal stopped short, remembering Kramer's professional demeanor.
"I think I'll move the meeting to the back garden tonight. The new moon and complete overcast set the table nicely."
"Excellent, Sir. I'll prepare the garden. If I may, why is the new moon so important for your meetings?"
"Simple, Kramer. On a new moon, werewolves won't crash the party, and vampires are at their stealthiest for lack of moonlight."
"Logical, I suppose, if either were more than mere legend."
Azreal held back a smirk. Kramer may have liked his professional stance, but he also liked to get his digs in.
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Darren Van Klumph was the first to arrive, as he always was. But tonight, Darria was not at his side. Kramer escorted him to the back garden.
Azreal greeted Darren with a big hug instead of formalities.
"Darria not with you?"
"I'm afraid she won't be attending tonight. She's come down with a flu bug and doesn't want to spread it to the group."
"That's two down now, and on such a perfect night."
"Who's the other?" Darren asked.
"Camille Marsters. She's fallen ill too. Maybe we should just cancel tonight. The balance is right off."
"Balance? What we lack in gender balance, we, you and I, can make up for in pure enthusiasm."
Darren lifted his right hand toward the ring on his left middle finger.
It was the official ring of the Order, gold with ruby and emerald settings forming a rose complete with leaves, and a spring-loaded thorn designed to cut skin with minimal damage.
Darren toggled the thorn and pricked his right wrist.
A slow flow of blood trickled down his arm. He held it up in offering to Azreal.
Azreal indulged.
The remaining guests arrived promptly at midnight, and Kramer escorted them to the back garden.
Azreal and Darren were already in full embrace, imbibing each other's life source. The others ignored the usual meeting ceremony, disrobed, sprung thorns, and joined them, forming what became a mass of blood and bodies writhing in ecstasy.
A car approached the main gate and waited for the security system to acknowledge it. Kramer answered the alert at the main panel.
The chauffeur announced that Valentina would like an audience with Azreal.
Kramer informed him that Azreal was indisposed and wouldn't be able to receive her tonight.
Valentina rolled down her window.
"I know the Order of the Rose is meeting tonight, and I don't want to disturb them. I don't even need to come in. I have something for Azreal. I brought it tonight because I knew he would be home."
"Very well. Drive up to the main door and I'll meet you there."
Kramer, ever the keen guardian of the gate, met Valentina at her limousine.
She stepped out and handed him a bouquet of roses with a note, and a rare bottle of Brora whisky. She nodded to Kramer, then returned to her car.
Kramer carefully placed the roses into a crystal vase. He set the whisky on the side table beside Azreal's chair in the drawing room, along with the card.
Then Kramer decided to take the roses out to the garden.
The group was still mid-tangle, moaning and gently slurping on one another. The flow was carefully controlled and paced.
So were the men.
That was the point.
The ritual.
The edging.
Avoiding release to prolong the experience as long as possible.
The first man to release became the sacrificial lamb for the next meeting, the man they would all sip from first.
Azreal noticed Kramer placing the roses on a table near the gathering.
"Where did those come from?" he managed, more moan than speech.
"Valentina Romancewicz," Kramer replied, looking pointedly away from the dog-pile.
Azreal tensed.
The vision of Valentina returned, stronger than ever.
He lost feeling. Lost sense. Lost the moment.
With Lady Dommer's soft caress of his member while she straddled Darren, Azreal spilled his seed across Darren's chest.
Darren laughed.
"We have our lamb."
In short order, all the men spilled, which was usually the case once the lamb had been identified.
The meeting wrapped up with the usual hugs and kisses.
Azreal asked Darren to stay for a drink, which Darren would never refuse.
After dressing, they went into the drawing room.
Azreal noticed the bottle of Brora and the note.
"Brora. That's a collector's item," Darren said.
"Rare is meant to share."
Azreal opened the bottle and poured two measures.
They sat and savored the aroma of the whiskey.
"Aren't you going to read the card?"
Azreal picked it up and read aloud.
"Dear Azreal,
Sorry for embarrassing you at the gala. Please accept this as my sincere apology. Honestly, I found your erectile malfunction quite flattering.
Valentina."
Azreal blushed.
But so did Darren.
Maybe it was the whiskey.
Maybe it was Azreal's faint aroma still lingering on his chest.
No.
It was the challenge.
Azreal's interest in Valentina had brought it out in him.
He wouldn't lose him to her.
It was in that moment Darren realized he loved Azreal.
Frank aka Foxxfyrre
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