Letting go on one, I slide it into her long, dark hair and pull on the soft strands, forcing her to lift her chin, so she has to look up at me. “We have the house to ourselves, and I have a few hours before I have to leave.” My wife has been gone for two days and I plan on making up for that lost time.
She swallows, her pretty blue eyes searching mine. “What should we do?”
I smile, lowering my lips to her neck. “I know several things that I can do.” The first thing is to rip these fucking clothes off of her.
After she killed Valerie and Matt was taken care of, everything settled down. Our life turned somewhat normal—as much as it can being a Lord and a Lady. I offered to give her a big wedding—a proper one—with friends and family. I wanted my wife to have the chance for the world to see me profess my undying love to her. After all, being a Lord has taught me if there’s not an audience to witness, it didn’t exist.
She declined. My wife understands how much I love her and didn’t need an audience. Instead, she took pictures. All the time. Of me and her. Of our twin boys and our daughter. I wanted us to have a big family but complications during her pregnancy with Ryann resulted in an emergency c-section and a hysterectomy. And although I imaged us having more, I couldn’t be happier with the family that she gave me.
I bought this cabin out in the middle of nowhere to be alone. To get away from everything. My wife made it a home. The once empty house is now filled with photos over the years we have spent together on vacations, date nights, our kids succeeding in school and sports. It tells our life story.
Of course, it hasn’t always been pretty. I didn’t expect it to be. Blake can be just as stubborn as me. We fought over the Lord’s, my career, the kids. She once asked me if I believed in life after death. If there was anything better than this. Almost twenty years later and my answer hasn’t changed.
I was forced to pick her as my chosen, but she continues to choose me every day. And that is what I call heaven. Because life without her would be hell.
THE END
Thank you for taking the time to read The Ritual. I hope that you enjoyed it. Want to discuss TR with other readers? Be sure to join the spoiler room on Facebook. Shantel Tessier’s Spoiler Room. Please note that I have one spoiler room for all books, and you may come across spoilers from book（s） you have not had the chance to read yet. You must answer both questions in order to be approved.
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Do you enjoy reading dark high school bully romance? If you haven’t had the chance to read my Dare Series. Continue to read the prologue of I Dare You: Dare Series Book #1
PROLOGUE
COLE
HAVE YOU EVER been to a funeral where the preacher stands before the friends and loved ones of the deceased and talks about how shitty the person was? How he fucked around on his wife? Or spent his family’s life savings to feed his gambling addiction? How about during his bachelor party when he snorted coke off a hooker’s ass?
Me neither.
Why is it that we’re fucking saints the moment we die?
You hear the preacher say things like, “Oh, John Smith was a lovely man who loved his wife and kids,” when he should really be saying, “John Smith was a worthless piece of shit who fucked the underage babysitter every chance he fucking got while his wife was busy working two jobs and raising his ungrateful children.”
And let’s not forget that the deceased in that casket before you never even went to church. Let alone knew the preacher who speaks so highly of him. All he knows are the stories the blinded loved ones wrote down on a little card for him to share.
He’s a fucking puppet.
Now, I haven’t read the Bible word for word, but I know the Lord says if we confess our sins and ask for forgiveness, he will cleanse our souls, and we will be forgiven.
Poof. It’s like magic.
That begs the question … what if you’re not sorry? What if you don’t care to be forgiven?
No amount of holy water could cleanse my soul, and I’m okay with that because when I sinned, I understood that I would one day have to pay. We’re all going to die eventually. You can be one of those people who bury your head in the sand to avoid talking about it all you want, but it’s life!
Live or die.
Heaven or hell.
Angel or devil.
It’s black and white. There are no gray areas.
So tell me … when you’re lying in that casket in front of your friends and family, what are they going to think of you? Are they going to believe that preacher who talks bullshit, or are they going to know you didn’t care if you were going to burn for eternity?