Page 56 of His to Worship
Standing in the circle, I train my eyes on my ultimate prize. As if feeling the weight of my gaze, Sedona finally looks up. I nearly abandon the entire pretense when I see the tears in her eyes. She is terrified, I can see it and I want nothing more than to take that fear from her. I take one step, but she shakes her head at me and I remember where we are, what I must do to be able to care for her as I am meant to.
She mouths a word to me and my heart swells with renewed commitment. Yours.
THIRTY-THREE
- sedona -
I have never felt such intense hatred in my life. As I sit on this stone, my eyes on Kuvier, every bit of me wishes I had the power to stop Junq in his tracks. I wish I could put him in his place and save Kuvier from this insanity.
Instead, I watch as my man gets painted like a fucking offering ready to die on an alter. All of the men who are competing in this barbaric tradition stand in the middle of the arena they’ve turned the firepit into. Older women stand in front of them, their hands holding the same paste-like paint they’d used to paint my face.
Where I have dainty dots and lines, Kuvier and the others get broad strokes and large circles across their chest and stomach. His eyes never leave mine and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. I’d tried to keep my eyes down earlier because I didn’t want him to see me cry. But when I felt his gaze burning into me, I couldn’t help but look.
As the last man receives his ceremonial marks, the drumming picks up again, pounding lowly, but intensifying my terror with every beat. This is it. Everything rests on Kuvier, and I don’t know what will happen if he doesn’t win. There’s no world where I will willingly be going with any man but him. Something tells me my consent doesn’t matter in Junq’s eyes.
“With the blessing of the Great Mother,” Junq bellows over the low drums, “begin!”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the men in the circle are in motion. Kuvier and Enikk put their backs to each other as the other eight men circle them. Kuvier’s stance is low and his chest vibrates with an unending growl. His teeth are bared and his pupils are blown as he looks at his challengers with savagery.
He’s powerful and terrifying and wild. And I need him to use every bit of ferocity and make these assholes pay.
When the first challenger lunges for Kuvier, it’s like the spell is broken and all hell breaks loose. In a blur of motion, the eight challengers surge forward, roars reverberating through the clearing. Kuvier and Enikk meet their attackers head-on and the movements become so fast they’re hard to keep track of.
Kuvier moves with uncontained brutality, his movements fluid and vicious. Someone throws out their fist and he ducks under the swing that was aimed at his head. As he comes back up, he grabs the attacker by his wrist and snaps it back. A howl sounds from the man’s mouth, but Kuvier shows no mercy, throwing the man’s body forward and slamming him into another guy who had been running full force towards Kuvier. The momentum sends them both to the ground and I can’t help but fist pump. Two down.
Beside him, Enikk is a whirlwind of motion, his form darting in and out of reach. Where Kuvier fights with sheer force, Enikk is all about speed. He ducks under a wild swing, delivering a series of rapid strikes to the challenger's ribs and then spinning away, avoiding a kick from a different attacker.
The melee is a maelstrom of grunts and clashes as bodies collide and blood flies. All of the males in the ring use their teeth, claws, fists, whatever it takes to get the upper hand on their opponent. Bodies break and drop, and soon, Kuvier and Enikk are down to their final competitor.
The asshole who started this whole thing, Jepiil.
He outweighs both of them; Kuvier is taller and Enikk has more defined musculature, but Jepiil is broader, stout, and thick. He’s a boar in the face of leopards.
Enikk and Kuvier face Jepiil down, the three of them covered in scratches and blood. At first, the fight almost pauses, no one making the step to break the line between them. But then, Jepiil opens his mouth and speaks.
“I look forward to the end of this,” he taunts with a salacious grin, blood dripping down his face. “I think that pretty female will look wonderful pinned by my—”
With a roar that actually scares me, Kuvier leaps forward. He throws vicious blow after vicious blow, some landing while others don’t, but his efforts put Jepiil on the defensive. Jepiil shoots an arm out, aiming straight for Kuvier’s face, but Kuvier grabs it in the air and with a twist of his body, he breaks it over his shoulder with savage strength that makes me wince.
Jepiil bellows and pushes forward, swiping his claws viciously over Kuvier’s back. I gasp and clasp my hand over my mouth to choke the sound as Kuvier staggers forward, momentarily off balance. He works to right himself, but Jepiil, his broken arm dangling at his side, raises the other hand to deliver a devastating blow. Fortunately, he’s made a key mistake. He turned his back on Enikk.
I don’t even see the actual kick, but suddenly Jepiil’s legs buckle underneath him, and when his knees hit the ground, Enikk is behind him, standing in triumph. Kuvier rights himself and turns to face Enikk.
With a bloodied grin of victory, Enikk drops to his knees before Kuvier and it’s over.
It’s over.
I’m off the stone and running for Kuvier before the crowd can even register that the Rite has ended
“Kuvier,” I call out, darting across the wide circle. He turns to me, his chest heaving and his fur matted with blood and sweat. A breath-taking smile spreads over his face and he holds his arms out to me. I lunge into them and the moment I make contact, my feet are off the ground, my legs wrapped around his waist. My dress rides up to my thighs and it’s freezing, but I don’t care. I’m with him and that’s all that matters.
“You did it,” I say, all of the stress that had been bundled in me coming out in heaving, quaking sobs. He rubs my back with one hand, soothing and shushing my cries.
“You are mine, ti khesi, failure was never an option.”
There’s a hush in the air and, as we pull away, Kuvier turns us to face Junq. The chief sits, statue-still, his face contorted with rage and disbelief.
“I have defeated your challengers, atan,” Kuvier calls out, his voice booming in the silence. “I now claim what is mine. ”