Page 156 of First Ritual

Huxley jerked his head in the direction of the bed. I half crawled over to find a pale version of Wild sprawled there on his back. Typical, none of them had thought to cover him with a blanket though tiny bumps covered his skin.

I tossed the blanket over him, then clambered onto the bed.

He growled, and I froze.

“He does that,” Sven told me. “And mumbles.”

Forging on, I rested a hand on Wild’s chest between his pendants and stilled when his dark eyes popped open and fixed on me.

“There’s no purpose,” he slurred. His eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

I stared. There’s no purpose. “What does that mean?”

The other three magus were standing in a line at the bottom of the bed.

Huxley blew out a breath. “We were hoping you’d know. We have no idea how to help him.”

I felt super nauseous right now, and when it came to the mating ritual, Wild always felt the effects more. They were right, our symptoms had something to do with me denying the next stage of the process. Wild had tried to taste me, and I’d said no. I’d said no to the entire ritual and him.

This was the consequence of that.

The question now was whether our symptoms would break like a fever, after which the ritual would end. Or whether maintaining this would seriously hurt Wild. I already had another theory for ending this mating ritual—by expelling the demon. I had the option to end this ritual later, yet continuing with these uncharted symptoms and hoping for them to break felt too risky, especially with Wild not looking so good.

I wiggled under the blanket and rested against his body. “Okay, I’m going to see if skin contact does anything. I’ll call you guys if he gets worse.”

Corentin folded his arms. “We’re not leaving.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “You are. You guys aren’t standing there as I cuddle Wild in bed.”

Sven winced. “That is weird, man.”

“We watched her orgasm in the library. Aren’t we past weird?” Huxley asked.

Good point. “If there’s any change, I’ll let you know.”

Corentin held my gaze. “Any change, Bronte. Don’t fuck with us.”

“I’ll try,” I said sweetly.

The three magus filed out, and I breathed deeper. Those asshats took up too much space sometimes.

Wild’s breathing was regular, but he wasn’t home. A strange yearning came over me. This felt kind of mundane and nice. This could be a normal relationship where we were cuddling in bed. In his room.

I’d been here once before but hadn’t had a chance to take anything in.

I rubbed Wild’s chest. “This place is a lot like you.” Functional. Uncluttered. Not cold, but each piece in here was chosen for a purpose and with purpose. “You have a comfortable bed though. Part of you realizes function doesn’t always mean hardness. Still, you could do with a few homey touches here and there.”

He grunted and turned his face toward me.

“That’s right,” I told him, drawing circles on his stomach. “I’ll get you a nice cushion or something. Brighten up the place. You’ll love it.”

Wild mumbled something unintelligible.

I sighed, my “normal relationship” illusion dispelling. “We’re in a right pickle, aren’t we? I’m figuring things out. There’s a way for us to be okay in the end. Because—” I peeked at him to make sure he was still out. “—don’t tell anyone, even yourself, but I do think we could have something to explore. One day. When the ritual craziness ends. In the moss forest when I said I wasn’t in the same place—I should have said I wasn’t in the same place right now in this situation.”

He rolled on his side and threw a leg over me.

Guess I wasn’t going anywhere.