Page 50 of The Onyx Covenant

Something in his tone makes me feel like an intruder. “I should get back,” I state, though neither seems to notice as I slip away.

I turn toward our table and freeze. Selene has taken my vacant seat, her body pressed against Theron’s side, one hand on his chest as she whispers in his ear. Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me, drowning out all rational thought.

I’m already striding across the room, fingers tracing the hilt of my blade. The only coherent thought in my head is…Mine. He is mine.

Just as I reach the table, a deafening horn blast cuts through the chaos. Many freeze, though others continue their revelry, too far gone to care. At the entrance, two figures in midnight-black robes stand silhouetted against the doorway.

Tarek and Melian.

“Return to your seats!” Tarek commands, his voice echoing with power. When only half the room complies, he slams his staff against the stone floor. The sound resonates like thunder, and a pulse of energy sweeps through the hall, forcing even the most wild-eyed among us to momentarily still.

I shove Selene out of my seat, reclaiming my place beside Theron.

“Touch him again, and you’ll lose that hand,” I whisper as she retreats, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “My, my. The priestess isn’t a kitten after all.”

Theron watches the exchange, his hand on my thigh again, possessive and warm.

“I like seeing you jealous.”

“Sit down, all of you!” Tarek’s voice booms again. Most comply, though Nero must be physically hauled from the tabletop by Erebus, and Zephyr continues cursing at Tavian from across the room.

Tarek paces before us. The lines of his face seem carved from stone. Melian stands eerily still beside him, her ageless face revealing nothing.

“Tonight was your final truth test,” Tarek announces, his voice cutting through the strained silence. “And you have all failed spectacularly.”

“I knew this was a test!” Orion bellows a bit too loudly. He’s returned to the table, though his hair is mussed and his lips swollen.

“The feast was laced with veritroot,” Melian explains. “A substance that strips away pretense and reveals one’s true desires and nature.”

Veritroot. The name crashes through my foggy mind. A rare herb that grows only in the deepest caves of the mountain. Priest-healers use it in sacred ceremonies to induce visions and union with the divine. But in larger doses…

“You drugged us?” Aria’s voice rises in outrage. “Without our consent?”

“You consented when you accepted your place in the Harvest Ritual,” Tarek replies coldly.

“This is bullshit!” someone calls out. “You can’t just?—”

“We can, and we did,” Melian interrupts. “Your actions tonight reveal how you truly feel toward your partners and your competitors. Consider carefully what your behavior says about you.”

My cheeks burn as I recall Theron’s whispered words, my own possessive rage. Even now, I feel it deep in my veins, pulsing, escalating.

“Some of you gravitated toward your assigned partners, strengthening bonds that will serve you well in the trials to come,” Tarek continues. “Others showed fractures that will need to be addressed. And still others”—his gaze lands on Orion—“demonstrated a complete lack of commitment to your team.”

Orion looks away, jaw tight.

Tarek steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the wolves. “You’ve feasted. You’ve been tested. And now, the Harvest Ritual trials will commence.”

Everyone starts talking at once, groaning, and protesting.

I freeze. Beside me, Theron’s hand tightens on my thigh. When I glance at him, his brow furrows.

“Tonight?” Zephyr shouts, still bleeding from his fight with Tavian. “You can’t be serious!”

“Not in this state,” Nero protests. “You’ve drugged us!”

Aria grabs my wrist. “This isn’t happening,” she whispers. “We’re not ready.”

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