Page 28 of Stroke of Shadows

“And give us sanctuary from the darkness.” Angel washed the blood, pressing his fingers into the cuts to clean beneath her skin. Her body trembled, more tears escaping from her eyes that had squeezed shut. And still she remained silent, even after it was complete and she was left shaking on the floor.

“You’ve done the family proud,” Angel murmured, gently tucking her hair behind her ear. “The Gods will be happy with our gift, I can feel it.”

His footsteps faded, and still she didn’t utter a sound.

This was where she was supposed to pray, her head bowed in submission as she thanked the Gods for her life. Except she couldn’t pray, not a single word forming in her mind in honour of the five Gods. They were recognised as separate spirits, each a different spectrum of light that combined into one singular voice that whispered to the Leader, whomever that be at the time.

The Gods were the meaning of life. The strength of the humans that were pure, undiluted by the Breed that had stained the earth.

An hour. That was how long she was supposed to remain there, between the fires that continued to burn, chasing away the shadows and bathing her in light. An hour to control the tremors in her muscles before she had to stand on her own and walk out unassisted. Naked. Vulnerable.

She’d only had to suffer the ceremony once or twice a year since she was fifteen, but recently it had been increasing. The scars had barely healed last time, and now her back was sliced open once more. She had to endure the ceremony, as well as the healing phase, with no pain relief.

The room should be empty, but there were footsteps. Quiet in their pattern, but they made her tense at their approach nonetheless. She knew it would be Wyatt who knelt beside her, not bothering to turn her head to confirm. He was the only one who’d risk the wrath of Lorraine, Angel likely already gone back to celebrate.

“Looks like you’re on your knees again,” he whispered, so low she barely heard it over her own breathing. “Do you think the Gods appreciate this?” He moved close enough she felt him pressed against her naked side.

Harper trembled, arms barely able to hold her weight as she tried to move away.

“It’s always an honour,” she whispered in return, knowing it was the right thing to say. “For our family.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” He threw a blanket over her back, the fabric rough as it scraped against her cuts. “I’m sure the Gods appreciate someone with tainted blood sacrificing themselves for ‘our’ family.”

It was an insult he’d thrown at her since they were kids. That she wasn’t as good as him. Wasn’t as pure.

Harper let out a strangled cry, Wyatt pressing his palm against her back.

“The Gods don’t give a shit about all this fanfare, all they care about is honesty.”

He pressed a little harder, and her arms finally collapsed. She barely caught herself as she crashed to the floor, her shoulder taking most of the impact.

Wyatt laughed, the callous sound rattling down her spine. “And you’re always honest, aren’t you, Harper?”

“The Leader’s coming,” she said, proud her voice didn’t shake. “You can’t be caught here.”

Wyatt’s grin set her on edge. “Can’t I?” Wrapping his fist in her hair, he yanked her head up, arching her back. “Since when do you tell me where I can and can’t be?”

Harper swallowed her scream, knowing it only made him more reactive.

“Remember, you are nothing but a pet, Harper,” he whispered against the side of her face. “So be a good girl and do what I say and find that cup. Otherwise, I’ll invite a few of the guys over again, since you enjoyed it so much last time.”

Harper froze at his threat, vomit burning the back of her throat.

“Trust me, I can make your already depressing life so much fucking worse.”

Chapter 10

Sythe

Not so mysterious girl was dangerous.

She was a Beauchamp, a member of the corrupt family he was trying to destroy. Yet he couldn’t shift the image of her pressed against the wall at the pompous party, desire burning her skin while her eyes darkened with defiance.

His beast had never been so infatuated with a woman, and honestly, neither had the man. He had to stay away, because she was a temptation that could finally push past his carefully constructed facade. He needed to remember he was Sythe Black, a character created specifically for the situation. He wasn’t real, despite how close to the truth he kept it.

She was poison.

Pushing thoughts of a certain white and brunette haired woman from his mind, he waited, knowing it wouldn’t be long until his target was intoxicated and the next step of his initiation would come into play.

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