Page 55 of Of Shadows and Blood

He grabs my arms and pulls me forward into the denser crowd. His eyes are intent and he starts swaying again, practically forcing me to join.

“This is what normal people do, right?” he asks, now wiggling my arms around. I twirl under his arms and in this moment I am so delightfully happy that I forget where I am altogether.

“Yes, I think normal people dance,” I say, shoving the nervous pit in my stomach away.

The musicians finish the song and the crowd responds with applause. Cedric and I tear our gazes to the small stage.

“Our last song, dedicated to the Bloodrite which Jero and Khan completed. May it burn the blood in your heart until it boils over into the Ever,” the musician says, retreating back to his seat and instrument.

The flute begins a slow crescendo followed by the strum of a mandolin. Eventually, the other two musicians join and the tune begins playing. Around us, couples come close and begin to dance to the song.

Cedric and I look to each other. I get bumped from behind again and I lean into Cedric.

“Sorry,” I say, turning behind me. The man who led us here smiles and continues his steps with who I assume is his wife.

Cedric and I begin to sway and spin to the music. I look around the yard, taking in each couple. Some look entranced in each other’s eyes while others seem to be melting into the song altogether, their bodies spin and move together as one.

“Is this too much?”

I look up to his voice. From here, I can see the reddish hue of his eyes. I will forever be in awe of the spectacle.

I shrug. “It’s just a dance. Dancing is innocent.” I want to believe that, but I can’t.

Cedric brushes my hair to the side, tucking it behind my ear. I still at his touch, afraid of a lot of things.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching for my hand once again. We spin around a firepit, my legs warming near it.

“What is a Bloodrite?” I have to ask because it feels like more than a ceremony.

Cedric looks around and clears his throat. “It’s a ritual done under the moonlight with a bonded couple. Erees, king of the Gods and the one responsible for our kind, blesses us during the rite. There is a blood exchange and other,” he clears his throat again, “intimate exchanges.”

“Oh,” is all I come up with. “And we’ve…”

“Yes,” he answers before twirling me around.

The dance comes to a finish and I still feel elated from the moment. I don’t know what kept us dancing. The music, the sense of community, or whatever else. We say nothing to one another as it finishes. Everyone bows or curtsies, which I mimic, almost tripping myself.

Cedric reaches for two cups and walks over to a cask, presumably filled with wine. Once he turns the spigot, I feel my mouth ache. He looks over his shoulder nonchalantly before stopping the flow and approaching me.

He holds the cup of blood before me and it feels like fire ants are dancing across my skin. Am I sweating? My fingers twitch but I try to swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.

“I won’t force anything on you, but you have to try.” He tries to hand me the cup. “You will never get answers dead. I’m right here with you.”

My lip quivers and I slowly take the cup from him. “I’m afraid.”

“Why? Nothing bad will happen to you. This is sustenance, your nutrition. You can’t feel shame about it. We have made strides to make this as ethical as possible. There is always room for improvement –” he sips his blood – “but we can talk about that another time.”

The wooden cup’s grooves dig into my palm and I feel my fangs protract.

I need this.

Want this.

Desire this.

Without a second thought, I tilt the contents into my mouth and feel my breath pick up. My heart beats faster and I drain it to the dregs almost instantaneously. I’m not wholly proud of it but the pain and sweats begin to subside.

He simply takes the empty cup from me and takes them away to a discard table. I walk over to the firepit and rest my forearms on a stone wall.