Taken: The Wrath of Mabon: Episode 1

By Keegan Kennedy

The circle is broken. The elders are dead. The portal has vanished. And the incubus with two souls plans his revenge...

In the continuation of the ‘Taken’ series, Mabon, the lusty male succubus, finds himself on the run. After the elders of the Circle were murdered by Ford, Mabon returns to Forsaken Cove to find a way to reactivate the portal home. Desperate to get word of Ford’s coup to his father, Rogan – The Erect God, Mabon must find others of hexian blood to create a coven so that he can make his stand against the ‘two-souled ghoul’ who murdered his friends, lovers, and kin.

Jeb and Ryan have spent several blissful months as a bonded pair. Along with Wilson, Jeb, the dominant incubus, and Ryan, his submissive former captive, have been hiding out in a remote area of Iceland. Jeb begins to contemplate their future as a bonded pair with one being immortal and the other not. They have no idea what storm is heading their way.

And in Forsaken Cove, Gram Montgomery is a closeted football jock struggling to keep his sexuality a secret. But there are secrets that Gram doesn’t even know about himself. This is a series... This works features sex and the supernatural. This episode is approximately 23,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keegan Kennedy
• Release date: Nov 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370987801

Keegan Kennedy

Originally hailing from Mississippi, Keegan Kennedy is a writer based out of Memphis, TN. He's a self-described, ‘aging, former sex symbol’ with a kinky imagination. Keegan is fascinated with the natural power exchanges between dominant and submissive males, and his stories reflect that fascination. The fantasies that he shares are full of adventure, peril, bondage, and a dry wit. And he has a knack for uncovering love and romance in the darkest of places. With a tendency toward the melodramatic, he does more than arouse or excite the reader - he engages them.Author of Homecoming: International Number One in four countries: The United States, The United Kingdom, Germany and Canada. Author of Homecoming: International Number One in four countries: The United States, The United Kingdom, Germany and Canada. Author of eBook Number Ones: The Substitute Wife, Magnificent Pretense, Captivated, Ganymede 4, West Texas Rivalry, Taken, The Christmas Bottom, The Party Favor, Stupid Jocks Make the Best Submissives, College Endowment, Who Wears the Pants in the Family?, Saving Drake McKenzie, Heisting Hogan, Half Past Midnight, Crossroads, and Man of the House.

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Taken – The Wrath of Mabon

Episode 1

By Keegan Kennedy

Published by Kennedy-Empire Media

Copyright 2016

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher or author.

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, aside from a few politicians, is coincidental.

The opinions and comments made by the characters are not necessarily indicative of those of the author, Keegan Kennedy, the publisher, Kennedy-Empire Media or the e-Book platform from which this work was published.

Table of Contents

Prologue – The Child of the Stones

Mabon

Gram

Ryan

Mabon

Gram

Mabon

Gram

Ryan

Gram

Mabon

Gram

Ryan

Mabon

Gram

Ford

Other Titles from Keegan Kennedy

About the Author

Series Prologue - The Child of the Stones

The north wind was cold, and the woods were gray with winter.

The child emerged from his hiding place inside the hollow log. In tattered rags, the boy shivered. His bright green eyes were wide with horror and disbelief from what he saw. On the hill above, the stone circle was toppled.

His mother once told him that the great stones, standing at four times his height, and the gods that dwelled within them protected their village, but the gods had failed.

The child was in his first decade, only four-years-old. With a dirty face streaked with tears and his unkempt brown hair atop his head, he turned away from the pile of stones and surveyed what remained. No structure in the village was left standing, and smoke still rose from the smoldering piles of wood. The bodies of the women, the children, and the elderly, over two hundred of them, were strewn throughout what remained of the village of Jorunholm on the lower steppes of the Dark Mountains. The able-bodied men had been gone for weeks, fighting with the rest of their tribe, the Kron, against the invaders from the South Islands. But they’d never returned. His mother had seen their slaughter in a vision—the men from Jorunholm and hundreds of others from neighboring villages were killed in the hills above the gray beach known as the Distant Coast.

So, when the Draven of the South Islands attacked Jorunholm, there’d been no one to protect them.

Regarding the ruins of his village with sorrowful eyes, the child had lost no father in the battle. In fact, he’d never even gazed upon his father. His mother had told him that his father came from within the stone circle. She told him that his father was Rogan – The Erect God—one of the deities who watched over their village.

But why did my father not come?

When the approaching drums were first heard in the distance, his mother, Alastriona, had hidden him inside the log, telling her only child to remain there until she came for him. And that was what he’d done, despite the screams of the villagers and the bellows of victory from the evil Draven. Even after all was quiet, the boy waited for hours in the silence, sleeping through the night to emerge to this dawn of dark revelation.

Slowly, the small child, with only sewn leather scraps for shoes, made his way down the hill through the broken, burnt wood, the slain bodies, and the blood-soaked ground. There, he searched until he found her. The Draven’s swords had slashed her apart, even taking her face from her skull. The only way he had been able to identify his mother was from her long, curly red hair and the black cloak she wore.

Now, he was alone—not even an animal had been spared. The child fell to his knees at his mother’s side, taking her cold hand into his. His tears fell to the ground, mixing with the dark purple stains of her blood. He curled next to her body and then cried himself to sleep.

He woke to the sounds of his rumbling stomach. He looked to the cold sky above to see that Zir, the bright yellow sun, was at its zenith and that Zaga, the fainter sun that was icy blue in color, was rising in the east. The light snow now falling had extinguished the slivers of smoke rising from the charred wood. There was already a wet dusting collecting on the broken homes, dead animals, and the eradicated people.

His mother said that the Draven were the worst kind of enemy… With no provocation to kill the Kron tribe, the Draven were not avengers or noble in their anger. These men brought death, sparing no one. This was an invasion—a genocide. The South Islands were a land of wastes and tundra, so the Draven lived in villages along the coasts, exploiting the abundance of seafood. With their numbers increasing, these men meant to claim the tree-covered North Islands and completely annihilate the Kron.

The child spent hours searching for food, but the Draven left nothing when they looted. Then, from the road that ran along the northern side of the village at the base of the slope, came the frustrated sigh of a voor beast and the creak of wooden tires on the bumpy trail. Afraid that the Draven had returned, the child concealed himself in a thicket beside the road, spying on the voor-drawn wagon as it came to a stop at the edge of Jorunholm.

Two men were seated behind the bridled voor. In the bed of the wagon, there were several others, mostly the old and young.

The old man sitting beside the driver climbed down from the wagon and observed the ruins of the village. This one has been burned to the ground, too, he said, his gravelly, tired voice.

What village was this? an old woman asked, scrambling out of the wagon bed.

This was Jorunholm, he replied, but there’s no shelter from the elements here. And the Draven never leave as much as a scrap of food behind.

The Draven from the South Islands had blue-tinged skin and extra ridges of muscle connecting their necks to their shoulders. These onlookers didn’t have blue skin, there were no triangles carved into their wagon, and they also spoke the common tongue. The child knew they were of his tribe. Boldly, the boy stepped out of the bushes and showed himself.

The old man with the white hair narrowed his magenta-colored eyes at the tiny lad. After a long silence, he spoke. Are ya what’s left, boy?

Yes, the child squeaked in his tiny voice.

The older woman who’d been speaking to the man approached the child. We don’t have much food, but we have scraps and stew.

What are ya doing, Magdul? the standing man scolded. "We don’t have enough to feed this lot already, and now ya want to bring along this urchin? He’s only another mouth to