With each step I took along the dark and winding path through the trees towards The Temple, I felt strangely drawn back to it. I’d taken the longer route around the west side of the lake to buy myself more time alone, but I kind of wished I hadn’t now. There was a thick atmosphere in the air tonight, the clouds eerily still in the sky and the moon gazing down at me like it was waiting for something to happen.
A drumming started up somewhere far behind me on campus and my heart jolted at the noise. It sounded like a war beat, the heavy thumping raising the hairs on the back of my neck. A cheer called up in the distance far away and I guessed there was a party breaking out on campus somewhere. One which I doubted followed any social distancing rules…
I made it back to The Temple as a breeze picked up, chilling me through and I wished I’d brought a jacket. I pushed the door open and gasped as hands seized me, pulling me inside, my heart lurching in fear. Kyan had hold of me, his chest bare and marked with red and white handprints and symbols, a long, black cloak hanging around his shoulders. His hair was loose and hung in messy tresses down to his shoulders, giving him a wild look that made my legs feel unsteady.
I tried to pull away, my heart thrashing at the memory of him wearing this very same thing the night they’d carried me down to the beach and bound me to them.
“Let go,” I demanded, my voice thankfully not betraying my unease as one of Saint’s dramatic orchestral songs hit a crescendo around us.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” Kyan purred, reeling me closer rather than obeying my command. “Tonight’s a special night.”
“What do you-” I started, but my words fell dead on my tongue as he stepped aside and I found Saint and Blake standing either side of Monroe in their Night Keeper regalia, the two of them painted up just like Kyan was. Monroe’s eyes were dark and his mouth was fixed into a harsh line. His chest was bare above his jeans and my heart pounded as my gaze raked over the beautiful tattoos on his chest, pausing on the hunting tigress.
Kyan pressed a hand to my back, pushing me toward him and I spotted two trays of red and white paint at his feet. “Mark him as ours, baby,” he murmured in my ear. “Seems only right that our queen should make a new king.”
My throat thickened as Monroe met my gaze, his eyes searing into me as he silently asked me to go along with this. It was what I wanted anyway. Having him amongst us was the best way possible to target the Night Keepers. He’d be a sheep in wolf’s clothing. But why did it suddenly feel like doing this was akin to offering up a piece of his soul?
The Night Keeper legend that the three of them embodied was just a story. And yet…I could feel the weight of it in the air, sense a prickling in my skin that had nothing to do with old legends. It was real and tangible and I could practically see Monroe’s decision to join them hanging over him like the sword of Damocles.
As I reached him and the Night Keepers circled around us, I questioned Monroe with my eyes and he inclined his head just enough to let me know that this was happening. There was no backing out. He was going to become a Night Keeper. And I would be bound to him as I was to the others.
Breathe, Tatum, just freaking breathe.
Kyan took my bag from me and tossed it on the couch before directing me forward. “Wet your hands in the paint.”
I released a ragged breath, relief winding around my heart as my body caught up with the knowledge that they weren’t about to do something terrible to me. I was on high alert around them at all times since the coffin incident; it was like living with a shot of adrenaline forever circling in my veins.
I knelt down and rolled up my sleeves, pressing my hands into the paint and gazing up at Monroe as Saint’s music built in my ears to an ever quickening beat.
I reached up, pressing my right hand to the warmth of Monroe’s stomach and his muscles flexed beneath my palm as my hand print was branded on him in white. Then I stood, pressing my left hand in red to the tigress over his chest. The heat of his flesh sent a rampant energy crashing through me and I tasted my lips as I glanced up at him, finding him watching me like he couldn’t look away. I couldn’t either.
“Good girl. Here…” Saint moved forward, taking hold of my wrist in a surprisingly gentle grip and guiding my finger to paint strange symbols onto Monroe’s body. When he was done, I painted Monroe’s cheeks, half in red, half in white and my gaze hooked on his mouth, an ache of temptation capturing me whole. He didn’t seem like a teacher in that moment, he felt far more powerful. Like an ascending deity.
“Your turn, Cinders,” Blake caught my waist, tugging me away from Monroe who still hadn’t voiced a word about all of this.
“Go shower,” Saint commanded, pointing me towards his
