“Good. Give me your fingers—both of you,” he said to Jake and me.
I held out my wounded finger and Jake did as well. Marcus positioned them both over the candle. Then, as our blood dripped into the flame, sizzling and burning, he had chanted this weird, crazy-sounding verse that went something like this:
“Blood of Were and eyes of gold,
Now at last, the truth is told
Blood you share—now family are
Under moon and under star
Sister/brother you are true
Blood is shared between you two
Secrets kept are secrets shared
Now at last our truth is bared.
Blood of Were and eyes of gold,
Always must our truth be told”
After that, Marcus had looked into my eyes very seriously—in a way that made me want to squirm and shift from foot-to-foot.
“I hope you know this is a solemn occasion, Anastasia,” he’d said, frowning a little. “It isn’t every day that a new member is inducted into the Royal Line. Besides your mother and myself, you and Jacob are the only ones left. The Line will die with my son.” He looked briefly at Jake. “For there is no other Royal Omega for him to mate with. And since your mother and I married and I have adopted you and given you my name and Jake has mingled his blood with yours, you are legally my daughter as much as Jacob is my son.”
Oh my God, is he serious? This was the second time that he had emphasized that we were now family—by blood as well as by name. This Were-cult thing was getting out of control! I swallowed the nervous, incredulous giggle that tried to bubble up in my throat. It seemed better to say nothing at all.
“From now on, no human must know what you are—what we are,” Marcus had continued, his pure-gold eyes boring into mine. “Our secret must not pass your lips. If it does, I will know. The blood you shed will tell me. Do you understand?”
Still tongue-tied, I had nodded. But the giggle had died in my throat—Marcus was deadly serious and the way he was looking at me was scary. Inside I was thinking, “What the hell is wrong with these people? This is a cult—an absolute, freaking cult. And I’m caught in the middle of it!”
“Good.” Marcus blew out the candle flame, nodded once, and turned to leave the basement—which had stone walls like a freaking dungeon, I swear.
Jake, who hadn’t said a word through the entire ceremony, came up to me. I was standing there, staring at his father’s back as Marcus ascended the stairs that led up to the more normal parts of the house—the parts that didn’t look like they belonged in a movie about Medieval torture techniques.
“What’s wrong, little Ani—are you scared? Don’t worry—you’ll get used to the way we do things soon enough.” Jake’s deep voice rumbled through me and his mocking words stung.
“Scared?” I snapped. “Why would I be scared? Your father only brought me down in the dark basement, drew my blood, and recited some kind of freaky spell over me to compel my silence and adopt me into the family. What’s scary about that?”
“Poor little Ani.” His sensuous mouth curled into a sarcastic grin. “All freaked out by the Were Rituals. I promise you, this is nothing to what I went through when I was a kid.”
“I’m not a ‘kid’.” I lifted my chin, glaring up at him. If only he wasn’t so damn tall. His broad shoulders and dark hair were highlighted by the light shining from behind him at the top of the stairs, making him look like some kind fallen angel.
Or maybe a monster seeking its prey, whispered a dark little voice in my head.
“Maybe you’re not a kid biologically,” Jake said. “But you are innocent and very likely to remain that way.” He took a step towards me, looking down into my eyes. “Innocent little Ani,” he murmured in that deep, dark voice of his that seemed to vibrate through me.
He was so close I could smell his cologne—a wild, strong, completely masculine scent that made me think of bonfires and fur and the woods at midnight. I had never smelled anything like it and for some reason, it seemed to call to me.
Without knowing what I was doing, I took a step towards him, closing the distance between us. The tips of my breasts were nearly brushing against his broad chest as I looked up into his pure-gold eyes.
I knew that if I took a deep breath in, they would brush against him. I also knew that was wrong and that I ought to keep my distance—he was my stepbrother, for God’s sake! And everybody—especially my mom and my stepfather—had made sure to let me know that in my new family, ties of adoption were considered to be the same as ties of blood.