Page 2 of Sacrifice
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything. Just noting that you've been watching Rati's daughter all night like she's either going to disappear or combust."
"I'm watching everyone," I lie. "Always do, remember?"
Mom snorts. "It's called being an idiot. That girl's good for you."
"That girl wants nothing to do with me."
"Could've fooled me." She stands, patting my shoulder. "Your father was just as stubborn, but fate really brought us together."
She walks away before I can respond, leaving me with thoughts I don't want to think.
The bouquet toss is a disaster waiting to happen.
I watch Saga try to hide behind Tindra, clearly wanting no part of this tradition.
But Meghan's drunk enough to be determined, dragging her front and center.
When Dasha tosses the bouquet, I swear it has a homing device.
It smacks Saga right in the face, and she catches it on instinct.
"I triednotto catch it!" she protests, looking at the flowers like they're a live grenade.
The universe has a shit sense of humor.
Then comes the garter toss.
I position myself at the very back, arms crossed, only here because Tor literally dragged me over.
I'm not playing these games.
Not participating in stupid traditions that mean nothing.
Rio winds up and lets it fly.
The fucking thing hits me square in the chest.
I catch it because my reflexes don't give me a choice, the lace and elastic foreign in my calloused hands.
The crowd erupts in cheers and catcalls.
"Put it on her!" someone shouts.
"That's tradition!" another voice adds.
I'm going to kill Rio. Slowly. Painfully.
Saga looks like she wants to run, but she's surrounded by drunk bikers and their old ladies who live for this shit.
I walk toward her like I'm approaching an IED—careful, controlled, ready for explosion.
"Just get it over with," she mutters when I kneel in front of her.
Her skin is soft under my fingers as I slide the garter up her calf.
I've touched this leg before. Kissed it. Bitten it.
