Page 90 of Deadly Rival

My chest lurches. Will she give me the chance to show her I care?

Quinn reins in her bratty side long enough to complete the ceremony perfectly. She even keeps silent, Jacob’s hand clutching hers, as the tattoo artist inks theProperty of Jacob Weststamp onto her inner forearm. Her body trembles from the pain, but she’s brave. How will Ophelia cope with it?

Don’t be stupid. It won’t get that far.

The main ceremony is over, but this time, no one relaxes. At Gabriel’s ceremony the sudden curveball of the extra task threw us all, but this year, both Jacob and I are ready for it. I touch the item in my suit pocket. Funny how I remembered that and not the damn tattoo.

Kendrick steps forward again. “As before, Quinn must complete one final act to prove her loyalty. You are her Patron and her master. Command her, a true test. Prove to your Brothers how devoted your Ward is. Fail to test her, and I’ll instruct her myself.”

Jacob bends down, and I swear he’s enjoying himself as he says, “Just one simple thing, love. Repeat after me. ‘To show my devotion to the sacred order of the Brotherhood, I swear to deny myself all pleasure for the next thirty days.’”

I can picture Quinn’s outraged expression as he lowers his voice and adds, “That means no orgasms. In case it wasn’t clear.”

Gabriel mutters, “That’s rough. I reckon she’d have rather kissed everyone in the building’s feet.”

I suppress a laugh. Solemn occasion. Impending doom. All that.

Quinn repeats the words, sounding so pissed it almost sets me off again, and then it’s over. Jacob dresses her in the traditional Ward’s robe, which brushes the floor on her, and they sign the book together. It’s done. Jacob’s head is off the chopping block, and I’m about to stretch out my neck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My whole body shakes as I get to my feet. It’s one thing to talk about going bravely to your death, but what kind of psycho can really do it? My heart thunders against my ribs, and my skin is clammy, covered in sticky sweat.

Fuck.

My breathing grows erratic, and I hope everyone puts my slow pace down to my recent injuries as I force myself to take step after impossible step. This must be what it feels like walking to the electric chair. Sealing your doom one step at a time.

I collapse into the chair. Kendrick’s introduction is quick this time, without his usual flow. Keen to get down to business, one way or the other. Will Ophelia even appear on stage? Or just refuse to walk out? I stare at the door she should enter through. If we’d had more time, maybe I could have made it work. Maybe—

The door swings open. All the quiet background chatter from the crowd cuts out, and the whole room seems to draw in a collective breath. It’s dark, and there’s a flicker of movement in the shadowed entrance. Someone is there. Who—

Ophelia steps out, and she’s all I can see.

The stage lights turn her hair into a shiny midnight river and highlight the soft, beautiful curves of her body. Pink stains her cheeks, and she keeps her eyes down as she carefully walks across the stage, hands clasped in front of her. She doesn’t look at me until she sinks to her knees at my feet.

Her gray eyes meet mine, shiny with emotion, and I’m dying to ask her what the hell she’s doing. I never thought it would get this far. If she’s going to fail the ceremony, why walk across a stage naked? A tiny, unwelcome flutter of hope breaks out of the iron grip I’m trying to maintain, and I can’t put it back.

Maybe. Maybe.

“Brothers and Wards, we welcome Sebastian Grange and his Ward, Ophelia Calder. This is a sacred tradition…”

She’s staying quiet, just like she’s supposed to. Why? Why the fuck is she doing this? Kendrick finishes his spiel and addresses Ophelia. “Ophelia, give thanks to your Patron and swear yourself to him.”

Now. Now is where she’s going to fuck it up. Right now, is the moment she’ll—

“Thank you, Sebastian, for choosing me as your Ward. I am yours, and yours alone, forevermore.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ophelia

I seal my fatewith a sentence. It should feel like a cell door slamming behind me, but it doesn’t. I watch Sebastian’s face, committing the moment to memory forever. His good eye widens, a blue pool of pure astonishment, and his mouth opens.

He thought he was going to die.

He’s not supposed to touch me, but he strokes my cheek anyway, fingers trembling. “Pet. Are you—”

“Sebastian.” Sebastian snatches his hand back at Kendrick’s sharp word. “Make your promise to your Ward.”

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