The Afflicted Zodiac Complete Series Read online

  THE AFFLICTED ZODIAC

  Virgo Rising

  f

  Retrograde

  R

  TOTAL LUNAR ECLIPSE

  B

  By M.J. Marstens

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2020 M.J. Marstens

  VIRGO RISING

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  ZAHRA’S BA CHEAT SHEET

  THANK YOU

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  RETROGRADE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHARACTER CHART

  GLOSSARY

  THANK YOU

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  TOTAL LUNAR ECLIPSE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  EPILOGUE

  CHARACTER CHART

  THANK YOU

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER WORKS BY M.J. MARSTENS

  Copyright © 2020 M.J. Marstens

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  M.J. Marstens asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  M.J. Marstens has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any productor vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  Cover design by G.C. Les

  Edited by Whimsicalworks4u (After July 2019)

  Virgo rising

  f

  THE AFFLICTED ZODIAC

  BOOK 1

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  WARNING: This novel is intended for readers 18+. There is explicit language, sexual scenes with multiple partners, dominant/submissive themes, and threats made by men who think they are gods. . . I hope you enjoy!

  NOTE: This is the first novel in the series and will end with unanswered questions and events.

  DEDICATION

  To Elizabeth, who apparently wanted to be called ‘Beth’ in the 4th grade. Thanks for your never-ending support.

  You’re my B.F.F.F.

  A Sucker Mother Fucker Bleep.

  I dedicate this work to you: our years of code names (remember Scorpio?) inspired me. I’ll egg you and give you a soothing massage with ambient ocean sounds.

  The only thing left to say is: A llama? He’s supposed to be DEAD! Yeah, weird.

  I love you.

  By the black of the moon, you too shall all become dark. Cursed to roam your creation, reincarnating until you finally destroy it. Only the maiden rising from light can save you from becoming your shadow selves

  PROLOGUE

  SATURN

  My breath hisses as it escapes through my mouth and I toss my head back, awash in the physical pleasure of pounding in and out of the woman sprawled underneath me. I pull her hips closer to the edge of the bed and continue my punishing pace. I like to enjoy myself a little before I feast. She’s making mewling noises, urging me to get on with both our completions.

  I’m about to grant her unspoken, but insistent, request when I feel a tickling sensation sweep across my neck. The hairs there instantly stand on end and my head whips up, sniffing the air and scanning the room. My gaze narrows in on the corner to my left, up near the ceiling; there is most certainly a presence there. I can sense it, if not make out its shape. The entity freezes and then starts dashing around the room. I try to follow it, without disengaging my dick from its current home.

  After a second, I lose sight of it. The woman beneath me lets out a startled squeak, and I realize I have stopped fucking her completely. She looks up at me expectantly, and I immediately begin again. This time I do not mess around, and I start eating while I drive my cock deeper into her welcoming folds. I gently tug at the essence of her soul while I bring her to the brink of pleasure. I can feel my eyes bleed to red and my fangs punch through my gums, but the woman is oblivious in her bliss. I continue to consume her when I again feel a presence.

  Disconcerted, I stop my evening repast to look around, but when I lift my head, I lock eyes on those o
f the woman, or rather, the entity- who is inside the woman. I had stopped eating, but my dick has a mind of its own and slides in and out of my dinner. My eyes never leave the entity’s, and we are locked in a battle of wills. That is, until the woman reaches up to grab my elbows. I’m so astonished by the action, I actually lean forward, as the entity intended.

  The movement causes me to drive my cock deeper into her wet warmth, and I see the entity’s eyes roll back in the woman’s head. A groan of pure ecstasy rushes from the woman’s mouth, but I know it’s the entity’s. I let out a fierce growl when the legs wraped around my waist lock tighter, urging me on. I feel my anger rise, but also my lust. Fuck if the two have not always gone hand in hand for me. I literally snarl as I fuck her in earnest. Breathy, almost silent, moans escape the thing below me and I can feel the body coil tighter, a sure sign of an impending orgasm.

  Those eyes are again gazing into mine, but there is no fear, only a helpless pleading for me to not stop. I bring her higher and higher and I hear a husky yes seep from her lips, seconds before she shatters around my cock. Unblinking eyes stare at me in awe, and I lose the battle between my rage and my desire, and as her body milks me, I come deep inside her. Even now I’m on edge, realizing that something has taken over my meal’s body. Even the voice does not belong to the woman.

  Spent, I feel my irritation spike again, and I wrap my hands around the woman’s throat. The once passion-glazed eyes now fill with apprehension. About damn time. Obviously this thing does not know who it has fucked with- figuratively and literally. I squeeze, demanding an answer without speaking, but instead of giving me one, those eyes narrow to furious little slits and a hand reaches up to slap mine away.

  I’m shocked at this reaction and actually release the possessed woman, who slowly raises herself up onto her elbows to peer more closely at my face. No one sees me without invitation. Or dying. I let that message roll over my facial expression and a sinister grin hikes up one side of my mouth, but my intentions are premature. I can feel the entity fading away. I grab the woman by the shoulders and shake her rapidly to keep the other from retreating, but it’s a lost cause. Staring intently into its eyes, I growl:

  “I’ll find you.” The thing just lets out a throaty laugh.

  “You can try,” it whispers before blinking out of existence. Fuck, my worst nightmare has come back to haunt me again.

  CHAPTER 1

  ZAHRA

  “I’ll find you.”

  The deep, almost decadent voice stirs me from my sleep. The recurring dream, or maybe nightmare, has been on a constant loop in my head since that night. Even now, weeks later, I still feel the flutter of fear in my chest at that sentence. And no small amount of desire. How can something so utterly terrifying be such a turn-on? Clearly, I need my head checked.

  Again.

  Laughing at my mental antics, I spring from the bed and pad over to the mirror. My brownish-blond hair (it’s confused as to which color it wants to be) is in complete disarray and my cheeks are flushed from slumber. I chance a look out my window.

  Yep, still winter.

  Outside, the world is white, glittering, and shiver inducing. The thermometer on my window reads ‘butt-ass cold’. Okay, it doesn’t actually say that. . . It doesn’t say anything because it’s not even digital. Out here in the boondocks, good ol’ mercury thermometers still tell farmers and country folk how miserably cold it is. But in a few weeks, the snow might melt and the earth might thaw enough for a few early spring plants to poke out of the ground. Or the snow might linger until past Easter, making egg hunting a joke in the bleached outdoors.

  Welcome to the Himalayas! (a.k.a. northern Minnesota, eh.)

  Realizing that another six to eight inches of snow fell overnight (atop the already existing fourteen) makes me glad I’m currently jobless. My gran always told me to find the silver lining in every situation and that’s mine for this one- because surely if I had a job, I wouldn’t be going to it today anyway. Speaking of no current income flow, I boot up my ancient laptop (still sporting Windows XP, woot-woot!) to check the most recent job demands filling my inbox.

  If they are similar to yesterday’s and the day before that’s and the day before that’s. . . well, I’ll be breezing onto breakfast and book binging soon enough. Just as soon as the internet gets going-yay, Ethernet! (I was promised high-speed wireless last fall from the county, but either they haven’t made it out to my neck of the woods yet, or. . . I’m not getting it. But some pipe dreams never die.)

  While I wait, I inhale deeply from my steaming cup of detox tea and then exhale a disgusted breath. It smells as bad as it tastes- but anything with the word ‘detox’ is bound to offend all taste buds, right? Dutifully drinking (why I’m making myself imbibe this stuff- oh yes, it was recommended on Dr. Oz last month. Thank you, Doc.), I scan my email, visually assessing my inbox. Three quarters of it’s junk. . .

  Why do I even have a spam box?

  Only three are from prospective employers. Two are from China, begging me to join the amazing teaching opportunities for English speakers. Is China warmer? Something to seriously consider at this point. But it’s the third one that has me giving a small shriek of joy, seeing the beautifully scripted ‘M’ next to the envelope icon that is begging to be opened.

  See, earlier in the week, I was applying to teach at various retreat centers and came across a job post at Indeed.com for a metaphysical specialist- specifically someone who has skills in astrology, tarot, numerology, and energy healing. It’s like the position was made for me. Add to that the job was at one of the swankiest resorts in Tucson, AZ and started at $73,000 a year- well, I’d take that without blinking and never think of this snow-forsaken state again.

  Sorry mom and dad.

  But honestly, my skills are wasted in this icy hellhole. Snowmen don’t pay to have their natal chart read (even if you make them one). That hint of mental instability has me cracking another grin. Boredom can make you do funny things. Add being stuck in this house for the past nine days and I thank god that I haven’t started looking into Snowmen transits. (It’s not going to be good- the sun’s going into Aries and I’m not sure their cold personalities can take that much fire. I foresee some definite squares in their futures.)

  I refocus on the task at hand.

  Email.

  Reading.

  Potential celebrating of job invitation.

  Yes!

  Before I can get ahead of myself, again, I digest the words in front of me. Better to have actual confirmation than to think I do, right? Greetings are offered to me from sunny Arizona (are they rubbing it in?!) and thanks for submitting my job application and resume to Miraval Resort. It sounds so mechanical and distancing that I almost stop reading. I know these emails, generic send-outs thanking you for your interest but declining it otherwise. Yet I force myself to continue to the second paragraph and I’m rewarded with the words ‘passed our initial assessment’. Heart beating, I scan the words ‘phone interview’ and ‘in-person interview’.

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

  Baring nothing goes awry with the phone interview, they want me to come in for a one-on-one interview at the resort- all expenses paid!

  I think I must have blacked out, because when I finally focus on what’s in front of me, my tea is cold, my computer screen is black, and my legs are numb from having sat on them for too long. Maybe I’m just in shock. This seems like a dream come true. . . I mean, even if I don’t get the job, I get a mini vacation out of it, right? Silver linings. It’s time to make this a go. I groan, realizing that my computer has run out of juice and electricity is really hit and miss these days.

  Due to weather, not lack of paying the electric bill, thank you very much.

  Okay- it might be the latter, but the former is definitely giving a running for its money.

  I decide I’m going to need to go into town. The library has free Wi-Fi and I can mooch off their electricity and charge my computer up at the s
ame time. Also, my phone, tablet, and iPod.

  Don’t judge me.

  But getting to town is going to be a battle. I’m pretty sure my car won’t run even if I do manage to unbury it. Good thing I have friends! I text Edgar to see if he’ll come pick me up when he passes my house. Edgar works for the county as a snow plower. He gets paid a butt-ton of money, has three months off a year, and dental. . .

  He also has to be on call at all times during snow storms (a.k.a. every other day for four months) and works in freezing conditions, having to get out of the plow from time to time. So, I passed on that job, but bully for him, it seems to be working out in his favor.

  I turn on my phone, send him a text, and then quickly turn it off again. I wonder if all this on/off action runs my cell battery down even more. . . something to Google later. After about ten minutes, I turn my phone back on and smile at the envelope dancing in the upper left-hand corner of my phone screen. It says that he’s clearing out back roads about five miles from me, but might have to help dig out Old Man Pearson’s tractor before continuing his route.

  Estimated arrival time: two hours.

  Yep, two hours for five miles.

  Well, that would give me plenty of time to shower, redress in my pajamas and pack my stuff up. I make a grocery list while I’m at it- two birds and all that. I do have some money, but it’s dwindling fast. My parents were in a car accident two winters ago coming home from Chicago. Icy roads and no close hospitals. A lump rises up in my throat. I had been in Mississippi, finishing my master’s degree. I rushed home immediately, but not soon enough. My mom and dad both died en route. Having never had that closure, it feels as if a constant hole is yawning inside my chest, my heart completely missing.

  My parents left me everything, including my childhood house. No siblings meant no battling an attorney about the will. More silver linings, right? Both my mom and dad were tenured professors and had money in their savings. I finished my degree up here (thank you University of Southern Mississippi!), which was a miracle of god, considering I could barely focus on anything beyond my loss.

  Honestly, I think the school just threw me a pity bone and being the class-act my parents raised me to be, I took it slobbering everywhere. I think the cold winter helped freeze the worst of my despair and grief, but come spring, nothing unthawed. I remained numb. I shut out everyone, even my closest friend (she lives in Chicago and the connection is too much to bear). I was simply a robot working on autopilot.