My face twists in horror as I watch Stewart, Carter, and Salinger drink my blood before passing it to my uncle. Their lips are coated with little droplets of blood before the chalice is passed over to the rest of the crowd.
My uncle hands me the other goblet—the one that was sent around the room and now contains blood from every person present. “Drink.”
My nose scrunches up as I peer into the chalice. There is a decent amount of blood in here. Surely, I’m not expected to drink all of it?
Raising it to my lips, I swallow my fears and tip it back. The metallic coppery taste hits my tongue as the thick liquid drips down my throat. I zone out, thinking of sexy times with Jase and Chad as I drink because it’s the only way I can do it without gagging or puking.
James removes the cup from my lips unexpectedly, and blood spills from my mouth, dripping over my lips and down past my chin. The chalice with my blood is returned with only a small amount of liquid remaining. I watch in horrified fascination as Rhett Carter dumps the remaining blood into one chalice and swirls his finger around to mix it.
My uncle pushes me back down on top of the table. “Hold still,” he warns, dipping his fingers in the blood and swirling it across my stomach.
What fresh hell is this?
I look up at the ceiling as all four luminaries touch me, painting my body in bloody brushstrokes, covering my breasts, my stomach, legs, arms, and face, careful not to touch my brandings.
I look over at Mom, and her eyes plead with me for understanding. Chills creep over my body as I realize there is something else to this ritual. Something she waited until the last second to tell me because she was afraid of how I would react. Something she never got to tell me because she left it too late.
My eyes harden as I glare at her. No matter how horrifying this is, I would rather have known and had the time to psych myself up for it.
“No!” Jase’s panicked shout claims my focus. I turn my head as Salinger and Carter tie my wrists to chains at the side of the table so I can’t get free. I watch Jase shouting and fighting as his mom, sisters, and the Carter and Salinger heirs restrain him.
In front of me, Eric Stewart, removes his cloak and begins undressing. Jase roars, screaming obscenities at his father.
A cold sweat coats my skin as realization dawns. This cannot be happening. I’m shaking all over as he sheds his shirt and his fingers move to the button on his pants.
“No, Dad!” Jase roars. “Touch her, and I’ll kill you!”
ChapterThirty-Five
Ashley
“Cuff him,” Walter Salinger commands, eyeballing Toby.
“No!” I plead as all the men in the circle around us advance on Jase. “Leave him alone!”
“He needs to be taught a lesson,” Rhett Carter adds. “This insubordination is the utmost disrespect during a ceremonial initiation. Tie him to a chair, and bring him forward.”
Julia grins as she watches Jase being restrained to a chair. He’s bucking and thrashing, but six men have him pinned and he has no fighting chance. In record time, they have his arms, legs, and waist bound to the chair. Lifting him up, they carry him over, depositing him at the side of the table.
“This is what I was trying to avoid. I wanted to protect you. We should have ran away,” he says. Pain radiates from his body in waves, and it’s etched upon every line on his face.
He is dangerously close to undoing all the work my parents did last night to protect him and Bree. I can’t let him do this, no matter how badly I’m shaking at the thought of Jase’s father forcing his way inside me with an audience. “Shut your mouth, Jason,” I snap, glaring at him. “I made an oath, and this needs to happen. Deal with it.”
The barest hint of respect curves the corner of Carter’s mouth though it’s gone so fast I may have imagined it.
Walter Salinger steps forward. “This is why I suggested I be the one to fuck her.” He licks his lips as his eyes fixate on my pussy.
I squeeze my legs together and narrow my eyes at him, uncaring if he sees exactly what I think about him.
“Stewart is the next on the list,” my uncle says. “There can be no deviation from the plan.”
“I invoke the heir’s right,” Balthazar Stewart says, stepping forward.
A hushed silence descends, broken a couple of seconds later by Jase. “The same applies to you, brother,” he hisses, angling his head back to look at Baz as he walks toward us. “Touch my girl, and you die.” He pins pleading eyes on the four luminaries. “If a Stewart has to do it, let it be me. Please, I will do anything you ask. I’ll marry Julia without protest, just let me be the one to do this.”
“It can’t be you, son.” Eric Stewart has that same impassionate expression on his face as he eyeballs his son, his fingers temporarily stalled on the waistband of his pants. “You are not a Luminary or an heir.”
“Heirs don’t fuck the initiates,” Salinger pipes up.
