Page 29 of His to Keep

“I’m more like him than you think I am.” His eyes moving slowly down my body, and everywhere he looks, Ifeel.Like he’s touching me when he isn’t. The fever comes back, and I’m shivering by the time he’s finished. Wrapping his fingers around my throat, his thumb is feather soft as he brushes it down my neck. “We both want what isn’t ours to have.”

Before I can say anything, he removes his hand and walks away, and we continue dancing the silent dance in hell.

Chapter Seventeen

Dinnertime is filled with tension. I sense it the moment I step into the dining room that something’s different tonight. Stabbing his finger into the curve of my spine when I stop in the doorway, John impatiently snaps, “Moveit.”

Wariness runs through me as I look around the room, immediately seeing the candles are black instead of white. Their glow gives enough light to illuminate the long table set out as it always is, but the light does nothing to banish the rest of the darkness away. Even the red walls are drained from their vibrant color.

As John shoves me into the chair, my eyebrows draw together. The white roses on the table are now dead. The once pearly petals are now brown and crispy, surrounded by black leaves that used to be green. He let them die. He didn’t replace them with new ones. As I worry about what it means, Callum sits beside me and John opposite. Neither seems to notice the changes, or maybe they do, and it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Callum stares blankly at the wall, and John leans back in his chair, mouth widening into a tired yawn. Soon, Penny rushes into the room without food and sits. Seeing her makes my insides clench. With the new information Callum gave me, I can’t help seeing her differently—the victim I now know her to be. Unable to imagine how that must’ve been for her. Her own brother wanting her in that way.

Father Aaron’s presence stifles the room. As he strides inside, Callum’s back straightens, John perks up in his seat, and Penny’s head lowers even further into her lap. Only when he stops at the head of the table, do I look at him.

Even wearing all black and with his hair slicked back as it always is, there’s something different about him. The harsh coldness in his stare doesn’t make him seem human. The few times he’s been like this are usually followed with something terrible, and I don’t think I can take anymore.

He places a cup onto the table. I immediately recognize it from church—a silver chalice with a cross embossing. It’s the one he uses in mass for wine that symbolizes the Blood of Christ.

“The Blood of Christ,” he echoes my thoughts. Reaching into his back pocket, he takes out his pocketknife. “Blood that cleanses.” He spreads out his other hand, and my eyes expand when he puts the sharp side of the blade against his palm. “Blood that purifies.”

His fingers curl around the metal, and my stomach rolls when he crushes his fist around it. I’m stunned when blood seeps from his hand and splashes into the cup, staining the metal sides red. “Blood of Christ, victor of demons, save us from sin.”

Breathing out, I’m horrified by the emotionless expression on his face. As if cutting his hand open didn’t hurt him at all. I quickly glance around the table. Penny watches behind her hair, and John’s mesmerized by the sickening display.

Father Aaron throws the knife down onto the table, splattering blood onto the wood, and wraps a white cloth around his hand. My eyes drop to the cup. It’s a quarter filled with his blood, and the instant his eyes land on me, I know—I know what he wants.

“You first, my angel.”

My head shakes, my tongue drying in my mouth. “N...No.”

His eyebrows pull together at me. “Get up, Ava.”

“No,” I choke out. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.”

“John!” he barks out angrily. John rounds the table until he’s next to me. Viciously grabbing my arm, he pulls me from the chair and forces me forward until I’m in front of Father Aaron.

“No, no, no!” I’m frantic, blood pounding in my ears.

“The Blood of Christ?” He lifts the chalice from the table like how he does in mass from the altar. But this isn’t wine. This is hisblood.

“No. Please!”

I cry out when John suddenly hisses down my ear, “How dare you disrespect our Lord—”

“Enough,” Father Aaron interjects, stepping closer to me. “You must purify your soul to be ready for the ceremony.”

Whimpering, I try to take a step back, but John prevents me from getting away. Lifting the cup to my mouth, I try to turn my head to the side. John grabs my chin and forces my head back to face Father Aaron. Fingers push into my cheeks, and I scream when his nails sink into my skin, prying my lips apart.

The cup is thrust against my lips, and blood pours into my mouth. It’s sickeningly warm and tastes bitter. Metallic. Spluttering, I spit the blood out. It sprays down my chin and stains the front of my dress.

“You don’t know what’s good for you.” John’s fingers pinch my nose. The moment I gulp for air Father Aaron uses it to his advantage and tips the cup again. Blood pours down my throat, and I gag from the disgusting invasion. Then the cup is gone, and the back of Father Aaron’s hand slams against my face, hard enough to knock me off balance. Crashing to the floor, I land on my hip and scream out with pain when a plank of uneven wood scrapes my skin. Sobbing, I cradle my smarting face, eyes darting up to Father Aaron with fear.

“Your disobedience is grating on my last nerve,” he growls. I’m unable to breathe as he lifts the chalice to John, who steps forward and drinks out of it willingly. My chest rises and falls harshly when Penny moves forward next, drinking out of the cup in a way that makes me want to throw up. This is sick. Wrong. The insanity of it breaks me. After gulping down the last remnants of blood like she can’t get enough, Penny rushes out of the room holding the cup, disappearing into the kitchen.

John pats Callum on the back, who is still seated. “Sorry, cousin. There’s nothing in the world that can purify you.”

“The same blood runs through my own veins, idiot,” Callum snarls at him.

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