“What does it mean?”
“You’re one of us.” He nods to the ranks of masked men. “Joined to them through me.”
I close my eyes and let the words roll over me. You are not alone. But it’s a lot to take in, so I just let myself lean into Kaiser’s warmth and his scent.
Father Francis says in English, “Above all, you commit your life to the one you have chosen. You will be bound together by water, by fire, by death, and by blood. So shall you vow.”
“Yes, I so vow,” Kaiser says.
“Yes, I so vow,” I say and shiver, because this feels huge. Like a graduation, a wedding, and a funeral all rolled into one.
Focus, Bella!
Together we dip the dagger into the Giant’s blood, then into a goblet that Lucy holds.
Kaiser helps me up, and we join hands over a silver bowl set on the altar above the Giant’s head.
“Together in life. Bound by death,” Father Francis murmurs, making the sign of the cross over our hands.
The Devil pours the bloody water from the goblet over our hands. I expect it to feel cold, but it’s not. It’s warm, and somehow that’s worse.
I’m a killer. I’ve always been, but now, taking part in a ceremony of death and communion, I get how fucked up I am. But this is natural, right? Life and death flowing in one endless circle. Everyone dies. Sometimes, I just help things along. Trim the diseased limbs and prune the vine of humanity so it bears good fruit.
Someone has to do it. It might as well be me.
Father Francis steps back. So do Lucy and the Devil. Several robed Fraternitas figures approach the altar, where they lift the Giant’s body and cart him away.
I stare up at Kaiser, every nerve ending sizzling with excitement.
“Is that it?” I ask.
“That’s it.”
He lifts me off the chair and sets me right on the altar. Feels a little sacrilegious. I like it.
He grips my hair, pulling my head back. I gasp, and he tugs my hair harder, baring my neck to him. Dom Kaiser is back, and he’s all business.
I lick my lips. “What now?”
“Now I claim you properly.” And he pushes me to lie back on the altar. The silver bowl crashes to the floor, and pink water spatters everywhere. He forces me down on the stone slab, releasing my hair so he can hold me down by my throat.
I love it.
I feel alive.
My hair is soaking up the bloody liquid, and I don’t care. Wash me clean. Wash me bloody.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, and he does. He leans over and tastes my lips like he can’t get enough of the flavor. I try to lean in, wanting more, and he pulls my hair, controlling the kiss. It feels so good to be held down, controlled. He’s trapped me, and there’s no escape. He will never leave. He wants me too much.
His hips grind into me, and I could cum just like this. But when he rears up and tears open my bra top, I shudder with happiness.
“Yes!” I shout. I look around. There’s no one here. No more Devil or Lucy. No more Father Francis or St. James.
We’re alone.
“They’re gone,” I say. Even the men in masks have disappeared. They left silently, and now it’s as if they’d never been. I wonder if they were here at all.
“No one gets to see you like this,” He skates a hand down my bare chest. “No one touches you. No one but me.”
