The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... hissing. “Will you not do this for me?” A moment of silence passed between them, and the incensed look in Devyn’s eyes finally subsided into a quaint smile. “There is still fire in you, dear Genevieve.” He made his way towards a cupboard and began rummaging through its contents, searching for something. “And, I must say, the years have done nothing to dampen your beauty.” Devyn turned for a second too long and his eyes traced Genevieve’s body from head to toe before he turned back to his search. Genevieve felt a shiver and drew the shawl around her arms over her shoulders. Finally, Devyn produced a twisted root which he placed on the table along with a vial of clear liquid. He picked up one of the strewn books and began flipping through its pages briskly. “The plague is unrelenting,” Devyn stopped at a page and eyed some lines, “but with certain help from a certain purveyor, it can be stopped before it is too late.” Genevieve allowed herself to draw a deep breath. She picked up the vial of liquid to study it but Devyn intercepted her hand before she could bring it to her nose to smell it. “You don’t want to do that, darling.” She lowered her hand and he returned to his book. “Will it save him?” The lady asked. “If used right, it just might.” Devyn rushed past her and looked out into the night sky, studying the moon, and called his pet over with the snap of two fingers. The bird spread its wings and flew over to Devyn’s arm without a sound. Devyn whispered something to the ...

... bird, low, hushed words Genevieve could not discern and the bird squawked one final time and then flew up, through the doorway, into the night sky. Genevieve leaned back on the table, certain the exhaustion would bury her there. “Tell me something, Gen, do you still bleed?” Genevieve stood straight once more and felt her cheeks blush with indignation. “Ah, there’s that temper of yours again,” He moved closer to her, placing both the root and sealed vial within a leather satchel. “Forgive my impropriety but the matter is pertinent, I assure you.” Genevieve clenched her fists. “Now tell me, age has not eloped with your beauty, but has it stolen….” “No,” she adjusted her shawl, “I still bleed. What does it have to do with any of this?” “Everything.” Devyn handed her the leather satchel and bid her step through the door. “The boy will live, Genevieve.” He said as she took a step towards him. There was gentleness in Devyn, in spite of everything that had happened, and Genevieve remembered a time when he had been like a brother to her. “There is a full moon tonight, but the proper conditions will not last for long. Make haste down the Northeast path that leads from here to the Lake of the Deep Forest. When you are there, you must drop the root in the vial and toss them both into the water.” He spoke quickly, walking beside her and waiting as she mounted her horse. Genevieve struggled to note everything he said. “Once you have done that, you must seek out Eogann, he is an old friend of ...