Page 102 of Their Blood Rite

‘Do my masters know that you are talking totheirwitch?’ she teases, her voice childlike and bratty. ‘Do they know you touched her?’

‘I’m being friendly. Not seducing her.’

‘Be friendly with me.’

He groans.

‘You won’t leave me be until I’ve danced with you, will you?’

With a giggle, she shakes her head.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Excuse me, Ashe. I’ll return shortly.’

He takes her wrist and joins the revellers.

I watch him take her waist and pull her close. Their bodies move as one, their hips swaying and grinding to the heavy beat. Everyone moves with grace.

With seduction. The dancing is almost erotic, but no one cares. Hands grab at arses. They kiss and moan. The banshee slides her hands through Kieran’s hair, and their foreheads meet.

Fuck. It looks intense.

Realising I’m staring, I glance at the guys. Shaw and Dorian have sat on a fallen tree. They each have a bottle of drink in their hands and carry on talking to one another. Archie is speaking to a man I don’t recognise.

Not a man. Male, certainly, but not human nor witch. He has horns. Great, big curved things that shimmer gold in the firelight. I’m about to head over to see why they summoned me here when all three look to the far left, where the trees have a path leading into the woods.

When I see four human men in the king's colours step through, I expect screaming and panic.

But no one pays any attention.

Shaw spots them. I prepare, sinking into fight or flight, but he simply nods and draws Dorian’s attention to them. Surprisingly, Dorian stands and heads to meet the men, taking one of their hands in greeting.

When they come to our village, it’s to arrest, punish or question.

It almost always ends in pain, blood and screams.

The soldiers part, creating a pathway.

Five young women walk through. Their hands are cupped behind them. Their heads are slightly bowed. All have long hair perfectly falling down their backs, and their bodies are draped in sheer black dresses that trail to the floor.

The dresses remind me of what I wore the night of the Rite. I can see everything beneath the thin material. Their curves. Their nakedness. Their pristine skin. I pull my sleeves down and feel disgusted at the marks on my flesh. At the scars none of them have. At the Rite markings I have to hide.

I may wear my glamour bracelet, but I know they’re there.

I’ll always know.

They stand in a group, waiting.

With a few words from Dorian, all the girls head towards Shaw. He sits with his elbows on his knees, watching them with a dark smile. They stop before him and courtesy low. One by one, Shaw lifts their chin and inspects their face. He takes the middle one, pulls her into his lap, sweeps her hair over his shoulder, and sniffs her neck.

‘Payment,’ Kieran says, suddenly at my side. He watches the soldiers joining the party and glances at the girls surrounding Shaw and Archie. Dorian continues talking to one of the guards.

‘Payment?’ I repeat, watching Archie peer down at a blonde.

‘In exchange for their services, enforcing the laws with the covens and keeping the peace between us lot and them, they get blood every few nights. Blood wrapped in the prettiest of flesh.’

‘They force the girls?’

‘Oh no. They have an endless supply of volunteers. The girls are most eager to spend time here and get paid generously for the stimulation they provide and receive.’

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