Then I add the hibiscus-steeped water, which I kept in a small flask, hidden under a bush growing up against the back of the slender tree trunk.
I’m conscious of the others watching me in silence. I appreciate that they’re taking this as seriously as I am. Expectation and energy charge the air around us, and I know we’re already existing on a higher level than anyone else at Verona Falls.
I had steeped the water long enough for it to turn a deep red and, as I pour it into the bowl and mix it with the herbs, a zing of anticipation jolts through me.
Taking out the long matches from inside my robe, I strike one and light the fire. It’s far enough from the base of the tree not to harm it, and I will put it out as soon as the ceremony is finished and clear everything away.
The flames take a while to get going, but soon they’re illuminating the air around us with a warm glow. It’s a full moon tonight, but there are some clouds, so every now and again the white light it provides is vanquished, plunging us into true darkness. The fire will light our way even when that happens.
Taking the pot, I place it on the fire and walk to the ash tree. I snap off a twig, thanking the tree for its help, and use it to stir the iron pot. As I stir, I say the words needed. The plea to the gods of the forest, the gods new and old, Greek, Viking, Egyptian, and Celt. I invoke whatever positive and helpful deity is listening to help us grow our love together, heal our pasts, and tie our souls together.
It's time for the blood to be taken. I turn to the other Preachers, and Ophelia. She’s still wearing the coat around her shoulders, and I need her in only her dress for this part.
I slip the coat from her shoulders and look at the two Preachers. “Take your robes off but keep the masks on.”
We’re all naked beneath our robes. They do as I say—kicking off boots at the same time, and Cain removes his gun holster—and I also put my cloak to one side. They’re both hard, and so am I. We all know what is coming.
“Hold out your hands,” I tell them.
Each one does as I say, and I pause, their trust in me giving me a moment to consider what we’re about to do.
I clear my throat. “Listen, you must be sure you all want this. As I’ve said before, this is not baneful magic, and it’s not dark, but… it is powerful. This will help us all become ever more closely tied, and if that’s something that gives you pause, then you don’t have to give your blood. No one will judge you.”
I don’t want them doing this lightly, and I don’t want them to do it if it’s not how they truly feel.
“I want to marry her,” Cain growls, “and I want you both to marry her, too. What part of that isn’t about a lifelong commitment? I know what I want.”
“I want to have your babies,” Ophelia adds, making my heart lurch. “All three of you. So, yes, I want the deepest commitment.”
“I love all of you, even if you are fucked up.” Mal grins.
Trust Mal to lighten the mood, but he’s right, I love them all, too, and wearefucked up.
“Okay. Cain, you first. I’ll prick the end of your finger and then hold it over the pot, okay?”
He nods. I reach for the items I brought with me and take out a small pack of alcohol wipes. First, I wipe the blade, and with a second wipe, Cain’s finger. I made sure to bring enough. We don’t want to get bacteria in the cuts, even though they’re small.
When he’s ready, I hold his finger over the pot and make a tiny cut in the end. I squeeze it until a bloom of blood forms. Then I let several drops hit the mixture in the pot before nodding.
“You’re done, thank you. Clean it with one of the alcohol wipes.”
He does as I say, and I repeat the process with Mal, then do myself.
Finally, I turn to Ophelia. “Your turn.”
She steps forward, and as she does, the latest heavy cloud clears from the moon and silvery light hits the clearing. It guides her path to me, and lights her so she looks ethereal and almost unreal.
I can see the outline of her lithe body under the diaphanous dress, and my cock jerks, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.
I can’t wait for the next part of the ritual to begin.
CHAPTER 32
Ophelia
Nervously,I hold my finger out to Roman. He takes an alcohol wipe and swipes the tip of my finger, then cleans the knife with another, and presses the blade against my skin.
Sharp pain hits, but it’s momentary, fleeting, though I still can’t help sucking air in over my teeth and automatically pulling away. But he keeps hold of my finger, positions it over the iron bowl, and squeezes until a drop of blood breaks free from my skin, falling into the pot. I watch in fascination as several more drops join it.
