She jerks her head up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Mom pulls the hood of her gold cloak over her head and steps down. “Then you will have to spend the night in this room to bond with the spirits of ancestors past and prepare your soul to make your vows tomorrow.”
ChapterThirty-Two
Ashley
The air distorts, and candles flicker as the men enter the ancestors’ room. Mom told me not to look at them, so I stare straight ahead, my gaze tunneling up the towered view overhead as I will my naked body not to tremble.
Won’t lie. Being laid out in a demeaning pose, like the proverbial sacrifice, as creepy old dudes inspect every inch of me, wasn’t in my plans for tonight. I thought I’d come back from dinner, mess around with my new camera until Chad returned from visiting his mom and sister, and then we could pick up where we left off this morning and fuck like demented bunnies.
Remembering how I caught Jules blowing Ares and how pissed off it made me, seems like a distant memory now. How was that only last night?
I’m doing a good job of distracting myself while the men move around the table. The soft thud of their shoes and gentle swish of fabric is the only sound as they examine me. Out of the corners of my eyes, I catch glimpses of heads covered with gold cloaks, and bile swims up my throat.
This is so wrong.
Every single part of what I have learned today.
I’m trying not to think about the fact my uncle and Jase’s dad are two of the men currently circling my body ’cause that’s all kinds of wrong.
And now I can’t stop visualizing their faces, and I’m creeped out on a whole new level.
I concentrate on my breathing, feeling my chest inflate and deflate and reminding myself I am alive.
This doesn’t matter. It’s only naked flesh. As long as they don’t touch me, I can get through this.
I bite on the inside of my cheek and let my thoughts turn to Jase when they start chanting low under their breaths. Someone moves behind my head, and I almost choke as that spicy, earthy, citrusy smell assaults my nostrils. The frankincense wafts over my head and down my body like a barely discernible fog.
“Who presents this girl for inspection?” an unfamiliar man asks. His deep commanding tone rings out around the eerie room, and I flinch.
“I do and her father,” my mother says, her voice unruffled and emotionless. That’s more like the Pamela I know.
A hand lands on my thigh, and I barely manage to trap my scream in time. “Don’t move,” a different unfamiliar man says.
I’m afraid to even breathe until he removes his hand.
A face looms over me, half-hidden by the cloak and I’m actually glad for it. It’s somehow not quite as bad when I can’t see their eyes. Even if it is still creepy as fuck. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, as I wonder if I should avert my gaze sideways or keep looking up.
“She’s not pure,” another man says.
“She is eighteen, not ten. Of course, she isn’t pure,” the man staring at me says.
“Don’t act surprised,” someone else says. “It’s your son she’s fucking after all.”
“It’s our most sacred initiation rule. I think this is wrong,” the man I have identified as Eric Stewart says.
“As do I.” My uncle finally speaks. “She’s too old and too far behind to be of any real use.”
“This has been discussed and agreed. There is no going back now.”
“She’s a prime breeding specimen, and the stats don’t lie. The Manford line needs more females, and we need to ensure the checks and balances are righted.”
Anger swims in my veins at their words. Prime breeding specimen? What the actual fuck? Mom said nothing about this. Is that all women are to this society? Baby-making machines to continue their fucked-up bloodline and sentence more innocent children to a world where they have minimal control?
No thank you.
I do not volunteer.
Still, I say nothing. Playing my part. For now.
