Page 14 of Bloodmoon Ritual

In the Congregation, there was no concept of “breaking up.” The idea of ever being apart from Rhyder had never occurred to me growing up.

And I was fucking sure it had never occurred tohim.

I hopped in the shower, my hands trembling as I washed the skin of my throat, sore from where Eli had choked me.

I tried to shake the feeling of my brother’s fingers from my pussy. It was just that he was so big that it felt like his fingers had set every square inch of my cunt on fire, that they seemed to stroke and press spots I hadn’t even known about myself.

My asshole stung from where Rhyder had shoved his fingers inside, and my nipples tightened with the memory.

I hated that bastard

When I was out, I brushed my long hair slowly in front of the mirror. Did black really suit me? Maybe not, I thought as I looked at my pale little face and blue eyes, the jet-black of my hair standing out starkly against my skin.

But I looked different than I had when I left the cult. That was the important thing.

I wasn’t going to try to be fancy, but I changed my mind and put on a velvety scarlet red dress, worn off the shoulder with long sleeves and a tight skirt.

There. Now no one could possibly mistake me for a Congregant woman.

My shoulders looked thin, my skin pale. It was a big contrast to my brother’s strong, robust body and tanned healthy skin.

In the city food scarcity was common, and there was no one to ensure that I got the most flavorful cuts of meat or bring me a plump bird when I wanted something strengthening for soup.

I got dressed and decided to take an Uber over, since I didn’t want to risk being seen on the streets.

For the last six years, I had wondered if Rhyder still felt the same way, and now I had my answer.

If he caught me, I didn’t think I’d get another chance to escape.

Craig’s parents were well-off, his father working for the city government, and they lived in a gated community with high hedges that were supposed to shield them from less-comfortable city dwellers and the frequent Congregation raids. Hopefully I’d be inconspicuous there. Craig would probably want me to spend the night since he’d be too drunk to drive me home.

By the time I arrived, the party was about to begin. Craig met me in his parent’s driveway. He was 26, the same age as me, a tall man with black hair in perfect gelled curls and wire-rimmed glasses. He worked in finance and it looked like he had just come here from work since he was still wearing a suit and tie.

“What took you so long?” he complained. “My grandma’s already here. No time even for a handy. God, you’re so slow sometimes, Thérèse. At least you’re wearing a dress. It would be nice to see a little more of your tits, though.”

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull up the top of my red dress, so I looked presentable despite what he said.

“I don’t want my breasts falling out in front of your grandma,” I said. I felt irritable and on edge, scanning the crowd of visitors as if for some reason Rhyder would be here.

“Falling out?” Craig asked, laughing heartily at his own joke. “Fat chance of that.”

I had put on a little mascara and eyeliner even though my hands were shaking badly, so I felt even more annoyed by his lack of appreciation, but I followed him onto the long expanse of jeweled green grass and into his parents’ beautiful glass greenhouse. Craig grabbed a couple glasses of wine from the servers.

“God, I hope this catering company is good,” he said. “My father paid a lot for them. . .”

He began to break down the party expenses for his aunt and I and my attention wandered.

Had he always been this motherfucking boring?

Or was I just so desperate for any attention that I had grasped at even the tiniest sliver of connection? My mandatory deprogramming sessions had been effective in convincing me that I would be seen as a freak by everyone who knew I had grown up in the Congregation.

Sometimes even the strict deprogramming would flicker in and out, and I’d feel curiously naked in a sundress and have a sudden wild urge to wear my head covering again.

But they were absolutely forbidden in the cities and you could get harassed or physically harmed by wearing one.

I tightened my hand on my wine glass.

Just another boring party at his parents’ house.

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