My vision gets narrow, and the smell of incense thickens. The chanting grows louder as my pulse hammers in my ears.
I grab onto Callum's sleeve for a moment and squeeze, feeling like I might fall.
His arm tenses beneath my grip.
Brother Tracy lifts the cloth forward more and tilts his head slightly, suspicions already growing.
Move, Zaria. Do it.
I force my left hand to reach out, my fingers trembling as I hold the back of the wet cloth.
I lean forward, shifting my head slightly so my hood covers me, and fake the kiss, pressing my chin against the cloth instead of my lips.
Sisters in the Order know this trick. The shadows hide it.
"Blessed be the Morrígan," I whisper, pulling my face away and turning to look up at Callum.
I'm terrified.
This part is supposed to be nothing, an automatic ceremonial formality, but with him, it's not, and in this moment, I can't even begin to try to convince myself otherwise.
And the look in his eyes isn't helping. It's dark, and it makes my stomach drop. His mouth opens just slightly but I notice.
I breathe hard as I lean forward, coming up on my tippy-toes.
Callum doesn't hesitate.
His hand comes up, rough and possessive at the back of my neck, and he pulls me in.
He leans down, and his mouth crashes into mine.
It's not gentle. It's not careful. His lips part mine like he owns them, his tongue sweeping in with a hunger that steals my breath and wipes every thought from my head.
I gasp, and he takes advantage of it.
My hands clutch his robes, my body betraying me as heat floods everywhere all at once. The cult, the chanting, the blood, it all disappears.
There is only him and the heat of his mouth on mine.
Only the way his hand tightens on my neck, holding me exactly where he wants me.
This kiss is meant to be a lie, but nothing about the way he holds me feels false.
And the way my body tingles all over, I know it's anything but that.
His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer, crushing me against his chest. I feel every hard line of him through the fabric of our robes. My fingers curl into the material, holding on like he's the only solid thing in a world that's spinning out of control.
I've never been kissed like this.
Not by the Brothers who took what they wanted in the dark.
Not by anyone.
This isn't taking. This is claiming.
And my God, do I want to be claimed.
Suddenly, the chanting comes back into my thoughts, like someone turning up the volume on a radio I'd forgotten was playing.
