Page 24 of Bloodmoon Ritual

It was the rainy season and our settlement had flooded as it often did, because we were small and often forced into the shittiest land. This time it was worse than usual. We had lost several people in the heavy rains and floods, but of course I was on Rhyder’s back as he waded through the high waters.

One of the Elders screamed as he was taken by the floodwaters downstream, the deluge so powerful that he was almost instantly pulled under.

My head jerked around at the Elder’s cries for help, the rains battering my headscarf and plastering it to my head. The older man’s eyes looked maddened with fear and I felt strangely wracked with shame, like it was a sin for me to survive and him to die.

Rhyder didn’t even look sideways, his eyes fixed on the higher ground and safety across the huge swell of waters.

I felt a shiver down my body. It was the first time I truly realized how dangerous my brother was.

If it was a choice between protecting me or the rest of the world

The rest of the world could burn and Rhyder would light the match

Other Congregants were using boards from destroyed homes as unsteady makeshift boats to paddle over, but my brother was so strong he was digging a huge stick for purchase into the ground, making his way slowly but deliberately across.

Big branches and even whole logs had broken from trees in the storm, and Rhyder had to dodge them while fording the river.

I could recreate the scene in my mind now, the chill of the early spring water on my thighs, my jaw chattering, my arms tight around Rhyder’s neck, thick bands of muscle beneath my arms and squashed against my breasts, my nose buried in his thick ponytail, the comforting leather and lye soap smell of him the only thing keeping me from melting into shrieking hysteria.

He’d had to use both hands to push a particularly big log away from us, and it was flowing so quickly that if he hadn’t moved so fast it would probably have knocked even Rhyder over.

He shoved the log clear, but on the way by the rough jagged edge scraped too close to me, the brutal edge of the broken log making a deep cut in my arm.

I cried out, instantly ashamed of myself for doing so because Rhyder twisted around mid-flood to see what was wrong.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” I gasped, ashamed of myself as always for being so weak and helpless.

For weeks, months, afterwards he had blamed himself, been an absolute psychotic freak about my injury, checking it constantly, re-applying salves and ointments.

And then tattooed over it with the Serpent.

Now his fingers traced the lines almost reverently, the air between us crackling with tension, and Rhyder suddenly pulled my arm forward and kissed down my scar, his lips lingering on each ridged imperfection.

I gasped, unwilling heat and confusion filling me, and I tried to pull my arm away.

But unlike when we were kids, Rhyder didn’t let go.

My frightened eyes met his, and his big hand wrapped firmly around my forearm.

I knew what the look in his eyes meant.

I don’t have to let you go now

Rhyder had been bound by our Congregation laws to wait until I was 20 to claim me. And he had waited. Loved me, desired me, and hadn’t taken me.

But he wasn’t going to wait anymore.

And now he could take what he wanted.

“I don’t want to go back,” I said, feeling breathless. “I want to stay in the city.”

There was a squirmy wrong sensation deep in my gut as Rhyder’s lips moved down my scar, his fingers slowly stroking the tattoo he had done to cover it up, make sure I didn’t feel self-conscious.

I strained against his hold, but his power over me was as easy for him as breathing as his teeth gently bit my skin, then followed the sting with a kiss.

“Don’t try to get away from me again,” Rhyder said. “And thecitywon’t be safe,” he added. “Not once Ronan’s Congregation falls.”

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