The Ritual

She doesn’t say anything as we enter the house. I pull her down the hall to the master suite because we both need a shower.

Entering the bathroom, I turn on the shower and then step in front of her. “Lift your arms,” I order. She does as I say and places them above her head. I remove the shirt I dressed her in and then shove my sweatpants and underwear down her legs. “Get in. I’ll grab some towels.”

Walking over to the linen closet, I grab what we need and set them next to the shower, then I quickly undress and join her. She stands with her back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and head down. Her now wet hair sticks to her neck and breasts. She sniffs as the blood runs down over her body and disappears into the drain. I didn’t clean her up after we returned to the house of Lords. I ripped her uniform off, burned it, and put her in my bed, where I dressed her in some of my clothes and then waited for her to wake up.

“Blake,” I say softly, and she looks up at me, tears running down her face.

“You killed him,” she whispers, her lips trembling.

I was wondering when this would hit her. When she’d have a second to stop and think about what I did in the alleyway behind the bar. At the time, she feared me and was too concerned with saving herself. Now that we’ve slowed down and the drugs no longer linger, what I did is coming back full force. “I did.”

She sniffs again. “You slit his throat.” Her shoulders shake, and her eyes go wide as her hands start frantically wiping the blood off her bruised neck and chest. “It’s his blood …”

“Shh.” I grab her face and make her look up at me, taking her attention off what remains of the man. “I had to.” She shakes her head, but I steady it with my hands on either side. “Yes.” Pressing my body fully into hers, I add, “He put his hands on you. And that is unacceptable.” I’ll kill any motherfucker who touches my wife. It’s just that simple.

At the time, I was pissed at her but also relieved we had arrived just in time. What if I hadn’t found her when I did? She’d be dead right now. A second later and I would have found her body in that alley. It made me even angrier with her. The fact that she ran put her life in danger.

She lets out a sob, and I pull her from the wall, hugging her. With one arm holding her to my body, my free hand runs down over her wet hair while she cries into my chest. “You’re safe, Blake,” I tell her. “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries.

I sigh, feeling every ounce of anger I had toward her fade. It’s just as much my fault as it is Matt’s. I used her and then threw it in his face, so he attacked me the only way he knew how—by going to her. It’s a game that we’ve been playing ever since she became my assignment. But our marriage upped the ante.

I have too much to lose now, and he knows it. Like my father told her, she’s important to the Lords now. Matt can’t touch her, but he can have someone else go after her. That’s the part that scares me the most. I’ve made too many enemies over the years. Too many Lord members didn’t make it through initiation since I started four years ago. How many of them were denied because I beat them out?

“Ryat?” she whispers, pulling her head from my chest, looking up at me.

“Yeah?” I ask, my hand tangling in her hair.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispers, her eyes giving me that same look of admiration she gave me the night of the house of Lords party. Before everything went to shit.

“Don’t thank me, Blake,” I tell her, my eyes falling to the marks on her neck. I’d go to war for my wife. One man was nothing. “I’ll always show up for you.”

Fresh tears spill over her bottom lashes, and I almost lean down and kiss her but stop myself. Instead, I pull back and grab the soap off the ledge to help clean her up.

She stays quiet while we both finish in the shower. I make sure to scrub every inch of her. I even wash her hair before tending to myself. Once done, I turn off the water and help her dry off. It’s like she’s on autopilot—here but not really.

“I’m tired,” she says softly and then yawns.

And for once, I am too. I’m exhausted from lack of sleep, stress, and just the feeling of the unknown. I walk out of the bathroom and pull the covers back on my bed. She crawls in, naked with wet hair. I lie down next to her on my back. Snuggling up next to me, she wraps her arms around me, and I let out a sigh, closing my eyes.