Page 65 of Bloodmoon Ritual

His release dripped down my thighs, soaked into my skin.

But at least he didn’t have my love.

Chapter 13

Isaid nothing laterin the morning, as I awoke creaky and stiff, my mouth tasting bitter and acrid, the ground cold and wet under the bedraggled trails of Rhyder’s shirt.

His leather jacket was around me and he was only wearing his very dirty tight gray T-shirt, the fabric stretched tight across his powerful chest and biceps.

My brother was seated on a tree stump and he watched me with anxious eyes.

“Come here,” he said.

Resisting was futile and running would only trigger his desire to dominate me, so I obeyed and didn’t struggle as he drew me between his powerful thighs, his hands on mine, thumbs gently rubbing circles on my palms.

“Are you OK?” he asked, passing me a tin cup full of what I assumed was the usual strong mountain tea.

“I didn’t mean to take you like that. I thought you’d want it, too. It felt fucking incredible earlier.”

I didn’t respond, knowing my cheeks were pinking with the shame and rage of remembering.

How I had opened for my brother, my tongue tangling around his, my arms around him, how many times I had come on his cock.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment, Temperance,” he said. “You know I hate that.”

I sipped the drink and focused on a point in the jagged peaks of the mountains far ahead.

Just then I heard a low whistle, and two other members of the Congregation emerged from the low brushes.

His eyes still on me, Rhyder went over to consult with them.

I could only hear a few words, but it seemed like we were going to be making a detour to find out if any of the remaining members of the Congregation who had attacked the Reaping had fled nearby.

So I stood patiently waiting as Rhyder packed up the bike they had brought him.

Not running. Not screaming at him. Not talking to him.

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