Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“The dinner thing was—” I stop myself. I don’t know if she’ll run off and tell Josh all the details. “Not as big a deal as everyone is making it out to be.”
I wonder if I should tell her what is partially the truth: Nathan wanted to meet me because we both invoked the Right of Accord. But that’s not why she’s here, so I hold onto it as an excuse for later.
“Mother said you went to Frobisher’s today, so I assume the mating pact is still…” she trails off, waiting for my confirmation.
“Unfortunately. So, I need you and everyone else to stop being cryptic about the ceremony. Because I’m starting to think I’m going to have to bite the head off a lizard or something.” I force a little laugh.
Tara groans and sits up. “You know, they should tell us about it in school when we have the whole ‘your changing body’ talk.”
That makes it sound a lot worse than lizard heads. “Did Mother tell you?”
“She did. She’ll probably tell you, too, the night before the ceremony. But I would have appreciated some lead time, so I’ll tell you now.” As if we’re still kids, she double checks to make sure the door is closed. “You know the part where all the couples go to the ceremonial chambers, right?”
“At the mound,” I confirm with a nod. “Yeah.”
She sits cross-legged, wriggling her toes in her painfully corny printed snowflake socks. “After the acolytes lead you and Ashton and the other—”
“No!” I wave my hands. “Depersonalize this, please.”
“Okay, okay.” She rolls her eyes. “After the acolytes lead all the couples into the mound, everybody gathers in this open part in the middle. I swear, the full moon lines up directly with the hole in the top. I don’t know how they managed to engineer that so long ago, without telescopes or—”
“The ceremony.”
“Excuse me, it’s just really cool.” She scowls at me before continuing. “There’s another monolith to Lycaon in the center circle, and all the couples are anointed with blood from a basin at its feet. Then the brides are separated from the grooms and taken to the ceremonial chambers.”
“There’s more than one?” I imagined the inside of the ancient, earth-topped mound to be one big, open space.
“There’s a bunch. They’re not big. They’re like…cells in a medieval monastery or something.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time in medieval monasteries,” I remind her. “But do go on.”
“Fine. They’re like…” She pauses to think, then brightens. “They’re about the size of the guest bathroom downstairs. There aren’t any windows, but there’s this iron grate thing overhead that lets the moonlight through. And there’s a smaller grate in the door but it’s so dark in there it’s not like you can see out very well.”
I’m claustrophobic just imagining it.
“Anyway, inside there’s a post with manacles, and the acolytes lock you in those—”
What?
“Hold on. Manacles?” I clamp my hand over my wrist then repeat the motion with the opposite ones.
“Do you see why I’m telling you now, and not the night before? Imagined how freaked out I was,” Tara says with a shudder. “But seriously, it sounds worse than it is. It’s actually kind of…sexy.”
“Our definitions of sexy differ,” I say, trying not to betray how fully disgusted I am at the thought of it. “Or maybe getting chained up in a dirt hole is hotter when you’re actually attracted to your mate.”
She shakes her head firmly. “Trust me, I was not into Josh at the time, and it was still pretty hot. I don’t know how to explain it, but once you’re anointed and the moon is out, it’s like the werewolf part takes over. You want to mate.”
I can’t imagine a primal urge strong enough to make me want to mate with Ashton.
“I have no idea what the guys are doing while this is going on,” Tara confesses. “Nobody’s ever mentioned it and Josh said it was private. If I was supposed to know, then I would know.”
“Where have I heard that before?” I ask wryly.
She nods in commiseration. As kids, all of our questions about ceremonies or religion were answered with some variation on that theme.
“He’s right, though,” she says, as if it’s completely natural for one’s mate to give such a patronizing answer. “Anyway, whatever they do, the brides just wait in their cells until the grooms get back. They come into the cell and—don’t freak out—they strip you and administer ceremonial lashes.”
“Like at the festival?” That seems extremely silly. I will definitely not be able to keep from laughing if Ashton bursts into the chamber and starts hitting me with a rawhide strip, the way the thrall acolytes chase women around at the party. It’s always so goofy, and it doesn’t hurt. It’s just a jokey tradition for good luck.