The Ritual

He sighs, letting me know he’s got something on his mind. “You know I’ll back you a hundred percent. I just want to make sure this is what you want.”

“The contract has been signed. The deal is done.” She will be my wife.

“But the Lords …” He pauses. “She has to be initiated in as your wife. You sure you want to put her through that?”

“She would have done it when she married Matt.” I shrug, not seeing the problem. Or the difference in the matter. Other than her last name will be Archer.

“Matt won’t have the title that you will be awarded, Ryat,” he growls.

A Lords wife is much different than a chosen one. As my wife, she will be untouchable. Invincible. Because I will give her as much power as she fucking wants. Matt was going to make her his whore. Probably let anyone who wants a piece of her, have her. He planned on using her to get him whatever his title wouldn’t. Not one person will fucking touch her but me. “She can handle it,” I tell him.

“We both know that if Matt doesn’t marry Blakely, then he won’t get anywhere. His father needs the Anderson name to stay alive.”

“Your point?” I snap, getting irritated. He’s speaking like I haven’t already asked her father and gotten his permission. Like I’m going to just wake up and toss her to the side. That was the original plan, but not now. Not after what Matt did to me while we were in jail working for Gregory.

“My point is that giving her your last name isn’t the same as taking Matt’s.”

“Did you call for any another reason, or just to piss me off?” I growl.

He lets out a huff. “I just … I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. A Lord getting married isn’t like taking on a chosen one. You can’t toss Blakely to the side when you’re done playing with her.”

“You didn’t mind me offering money for her when I was at the house in New York.” I remind him. He asked me twice what I’d pay for her while I was there.

“That had to do with Matt. Not you,” he argues.

I bend down, pick up my hoodie, and walk over to the doorway, leaning against it. My eyes fall to her sleeping in the bed. A sense of overwhelming jealousy runs over me at the thought of anyone else’s lips kissing her body. Their hands running over her soft skin and wet pussy. Fucking her like I have. Her moaning their name. Or her begging them for their cock.

She’s mine! It’s just that simple.

I’m addicted to her smile, the way she touches me. The sound of her voice. How she says my name. The way her scent lingers on my clothes when I’m not with her. Everything about her feeds a hunger that can never be satisfied. I know it, and she knows it. It’s not a matter of if I love her. The question is, can I hand her over to Matt after graduation? Fuck no! Call me selfish, but I’m not handing her over to anyone.

“I understand the difference, Father. Thanks for your concern, but Blakely Anderson will be my wife.” I hang up before he can say anything else about my decision to marry her.

Walking back over to the bed, I run my knuckles down her cheek.

“Ryat?” she whispers, moving onto her back.

“Yeah, little one?” I ask, my fingers running down her neck, stopping to feel the strong rhythm of her pulse.

Her heavy lashes lift for the briefest second, soft blue eyes meet mine before falling shut once again. “Take a nap with me.”

“Whatever my girl wants,” I say, removing my clothes and climbing into bed next to her. She rolls, giving me her back, and I cuddle up to her warm body, pulling her into me. Within seconds, she’s back to sleep.

BLAKELY

I EXPECTED BEING married to feel different. I always had this dark cloud hanging over my head that I was expecting to open up and drown me once I married Matt. That’s not even close to what it feels like being married to Ryat.

It’s a freeing feeling that I can’t even begin to explain. The only thing I can compare it to is when you’re swimming and come up for air. That burning sensation in your lungs, that tightness in your chest. When you break the surface and get that first breath and feeling the sun on your face. That’s what Ryat is to me.

My sun. My air.

We spent two days away together doing nothing but having sex when we played the cat and mouse game. We could have literally done that at my apartment or at his cabin in the woods. Instead, he had my father’s pilot take us to one of his parents’ vacation houses in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, wet, and started to snow. We spent every second indoors screwing all over the house. Even joined the mile-high club on the way back. It was by far the best vacation I’ve ever had. And not one tan line to show for it. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years, sitting on beaches with Sarah.