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The Ritual(91)

Author:Shantel Tessier

Kiss? The thought just hit me like a brick to the face. The blow almost knocking me out of my heels. We haven’t kissed on the lips once yet. I honestly didn’t even think of it. That this had to happen.

He steps into me, his right hand cups my cheek, his eyes drop to my parted lips and I suck in a deep breath when his chest presses up against mine.

I tilt my head up to look at him. My heart hammers and beads of sweat form on the back of my neck. Why am I so nervous? I’ve kissed a boy before. Hell, I’ve even kissed Sarah before. But Ryat? Kiss my now husband sounds too intimate—forbidden.

But I can’t stop it. It has to be done—it’s a tradition to bless the marriage. Pressing his lips to mine, my eyes fall closed just as my lips part. His touch is tender, his lips almost needy. I open up for him, giving the last thing that I have to offer him and my body molds into his when his free arm wraps around my waist, holding me tightly.

His tongue enters my mouth, gently meeting mine and I moan into his mouth, wanting more. Needing that aggression that he always has. My hands slide up his back, gripping a hold of his button-up and I cling to him. Needing him closer.

But he pulls away, and I open my heavy eyes, disappointment coursing through me that I hadn’t done that before now.

His eyes are already on mine and he licks his lips as if he needed one more taste of me. His hand cupping my face moves to run his knuckles down over my cheek when he whispers, “Now you’re mine forever, Mrs. Archer.”

“Miss?”

“What?” I blink, trying to get that memory of our wedding day out of my mind. It’s been on replay ever since I left him.

“Can I get a Bud Light?” the man calls out, raising his hand to me from his table.

I nod. “Of course. Anything else?” Get your shit together, Blakely! There was a reason you left him.

He gives me a soft smile, his amber-colored eyes dropping to my tight booty shorts. “A shot of you.”

Cute! After giving him a fake laugh like his joke was funny, I turn and head to the bar to grab his order.

“You just got a new table,” Janett, the bartender and owner, nods behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I see three men sit down. “I need a Bud Light,” I tell her, and she pops one open for me. Placing it on my tray, I give it to the man and then go over to my new table. “What can I get for you guys?” I ask, holding my round tray up against my right hip.

This is my life now. A server at a dive bar in the middle of fucking nowhere. I’ve been gone for three weeks. No phone, no car, no access to the outside world other than who I see in here, which is exactly how I want it. I don’t know just how much the Lords reach goes when it comes to the police or the feds.

But Ryat still lives in my head, and I hate it.

I left everything when I ran out of the house of Lords. I knew I wouldn’t be returning. In order to escape, I need a new life. I had some cash saved, but I wasn’t able to run back to my apartment and grab it, so until I could get some saved up again, I needed a job that was going to fly under the radar.

I applied, and Janett hired me on the spot. I think she knew by my white satin dress and smeared makeup that I was running from someone. And, of course, the fact I had no contact number or ID. She helped me out. I owe her for that.

“I’ll have a Corona,” one of the guys calls out over the music. The second one nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. Make it two.” The third guy puts the menu down and looks up at me. His dark blue eyes drop to my white crop top. It fits extra tight, pulling across the black bra I wear underneath—classy, I know.

I’ve dyed my hair black with a cheap box from the dollar store just down the road. I was trying to think of a million things I could do to change my appearance in case my picture or name was plastered all over the news. But to my surprise, that hasn’t happened.

Every day I’m gone, I feel more on edge. Like my time is running out. I don’t plan on staying here much longer. I know I need to keep moving in order to avoid my past. I already feel like I’m being watched. But I keep telling myself that’s crazy. If Ryat was here and knew where I was, he’d make himself known. He doesn’t have enough patience to hide in the shadows and watch me.

“What’s your name?” he asks, placing his forearms on the table, leaning in.

“Rae,” I give him my middle name. Still wanting to be careful. That’s what everyone calls me here anyway.

“Rae.” He runs his tongue across his white teeth. “Well, what do you suggest, Rae?”

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