The Ritual: A Dark College Romance

SHE’S STOPPED CRYING, her body has gone slack, and I can hear her even breathing. She’s passed out again. She hadn’t been out long enough the first time. It was clear the drugs were still in her system when she woke up.

I hear my cell ring in the bathroom. I gently lay her on the bed and cover her up before making my way into it. I turn off the sink, pick up the vibrator, shutting it off, and grab my cell off the counter. Dad flashes across my screen.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Son,” he greets me. “I just spoke to Phil. He said you and Blakely went on a trip.”

I didn’t have to watch the cameras in her apartment to know she’d call her daddy. She needed a quick escape, and his jet would be her only option. Only we weren’t going where she had planned—the Hamptons. I told him to inform the pilot of our new destination and that me and Gunner were hijacking the girls’ trip. He didn’t even question it.

“We are,” I answer.

“Well …”

“We didn’t run off to elope if that’s what you’re wondering.” Not like he’ll be invited to the wedding anyway.

He sighs, letting me know he’s got something on his mind. “You know I’ll back you a hundred percent. I just want to make sure this is what you want.”

“The contract has been signed. The deal is done.” She will be my wife.

“But the Lords …” He pauses. “She has to be initiated in as your wife. You sure you want to put her through that?”

“She would have done it when she married Matt.” I shrug, not seeing the problem. Or the difference in the matter. Other than her last name will be Archer.

“Matt won’t have the title that you will be awarded, Ryat,” he growls.

A Lords wife is much different than a chosen one. As my wife, she will be untouchable. Invincible. Because I will give her as much power as she fucking wants. Matt was going to make her his whore. Probably let anyone who wants a piece of her, have her. He planned on using her to get him whatever his title wouldn’t. Not one person will fucking touch her but me. “She can handle it,” I tell him.

“We both know that if Matt doesn’t marry Blakely, then he won’t get anywhere. His father needs the Anderson name to stay alive.”

“Your point?” I snap, getting irritated. He’s speaking like I haven’t already asked her father and gotten his permission. Like I’m going to just wake up and toss her to the side. That was the original plan, but not now. Not after what Matt did to me while we were in jail working for Gregory.

“My point is that giving her your last name isn’t the same as taking Matt’s.”

“Did you call for any another reason, or just to piss me off?” I growl.

He lets out a huff. “I just … I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. A Lord getting married isn’t like taking on a chosen one. You can’t toss Blakely to the side when you’re done playing with her.”

“You didn’t mind me offering money for her when I was at the house in New York.” I remind him. He asked me twice what I’d pay for her while I was there.

“That had to do with Matt. Not you,” he argues.

I bend down, pick up my hoodie, and walk over to the doorway, leaning against it. My eyes fall to her sleeping in the bed. A sense of overwhelming jealousy runs over me at the thought of anyone else’s lips kissing her body. Their hands running over her soft skin and wet pussy. Fucking her like I have. Her moaning their name. Or her begging them for their cock.

She’s mine! It’s just that simple.

I’m addicted to her smile, the way she touches me. The sound of her voice. How she says my name. The way her scent lingers on my clothes when I’m not with her. Everything about her feeds a hunger that can never be satisfied. I know it, and she knows it. It’s not a matter of if I love her. The question is, can I hand her over to Matt after graduation? Fuck no! Call me selfish, but I’m not handing her over to anyone.

“I understand the difference, Father. Thanks for your concern, but Blakely Anderson will be my wife.” I hang up before he can say anything else about my decision to marry her.

Walking back over to the bed, I run my knuckles down her cheek.

“Ryat?” she whispers, moving onto her back.

“Yeah, little one?” I ask, my fingers running down her neck, stopping to feel the strong rhythm of her pulse.

Her heavy lashes lift for the briefest second, soft blue eyes meet mine before falling shut once again. “Take a nap with me.”

“Whatever my girl wants,” I say, removing my clothes and climbing into bed next to her. She rolls, giving me her back, and I cuddle up to her warm body, pulling her into me. Within seconds, she’s back to sleep.

BLAKELY

I EXPECTED BEING married to feel different. I always had this dark cloud hanging over my head that I was expecting to open up and drown me once I married Matt. That’s not even close to what it feels like being married to Ryat.

It’s a freeing feeling that I can’t even begin to explain. The only thing I can compare it to is when you’re swimming and come up for air. That burning sensation in your lungs, that tightness in your chest. When you break the surface and get that first breath and feeling the sun on your face. That’s what Ryat is to me.

My sun. My air.

We spent two days away together doing nothing but having sex when we played the cat and mouse game. We could have literally done that at my apartment or at his cabin in the woods. Instead, he had my father’s pilot take us to one of his parents’ vacation houses in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, wet, and started to snow. We spent every second indoors screwing all over the house. Even joined the mile-high club on the way back. It was by far the best vacation I’ve ever had. And not one tan line to show for it. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years, sitting on beaches with Sarah.

The moment we touched back down in Pennsylvania we went and applied for our marriage license. Three days later we were at city hall getting married.

I look down at the ring on my finger and run my thumb over it. It’s still hard to comprehend. It’s like a dream. One that I could have never imagined. I guess you would call that weekend we had away our honeymoon because we didn’t have time to get out of town after we said I do.

I stand in Ryat’s bathroom at the house of Lords, looking at myself in his mirror. My hair is up in a French twist, my makeup done heavily with silver and black eye shadow with thick black liner on top and bottom, with extra thick mascara and matte red lips.

Running my hands down the white satin gown, I take in a deep breath. Tonight’s the ceremony. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’m not sure what to expect. But one thing is for sure, I’m no longer Blakely Anderson. Now I’m Blakely Archer—Ryat’s wife.

It isn’t hard to say or comprehend. I understand what we did. I also understand that I’ll never leave him. I owe Ryat that. My commitment. My body. My heart? Do I have to love him too? Or is the rest enough?

The fact that he was even willing to save me from Matt is good enough for me.

“Blake, you ready?” I hear Ryat call out, entering his room.

“Yeah,” I say, turning around to stand in the doorway of the bathroom just as he enters.

He comes to a stop; his emerald eyes drop to the train on my dress and slowly run up over the fitted material that hugs me like a glove. There’s a slit up my right leg, so high, I wasn’t even able to wear any underwear because it comes up past my hip. The satin material covers my chest, coming up high up in the front, to where it wraps around my neck, two silk pieces tie in the back in a big bow leaving the leftover satin to fall over the open back. Every time I move, I feel the soft and cool material glide across my skin, making me shiver. The entire back is cut out, dipping to the top of my ass.

I didn’t wear a dress to city hall. Instead, I chose a white suit. But tonight, I wanted to dress up for him. He once told me he was proud to call me his chosen after we performed the vow ceremony. I wanted him to feel that way tonight, knowing that I’m now his wife.

My heart begins to race, breaths coming in quick bursts at the way he looks at me. His emerald eyes slowly run up and down several times.

Reaching up, he pulls on his bow tie and clears his throat. Taking a step toward me, I take one back, and he stops. “Are you going to burn it?” I ask nervously. It’s revealing, showing off my bare back, leg, and hip along with a little side boob. But somehow, even the parts of my body it covers, I still feel exposed.

He begins to walk toward me again, and this time, I don’t retreat.

Coming up to me, he cups my face, his eyes searching mine. “No,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to my covered chest. “Blake … you look stunning.”

I blush, letting out a long breath, and drop my head, unable to help the smile that spreads across my face.

There’s a knock on the door right before it swings open. “Ryat?”

I look up, and he snaps, “What?”

“You’re needed, man,” Gunner informs him then looks at me. Winking, he gives me a thumbs-up. “Hot wife.”

My cheeks burn. I still can’t believe we did that.

“Gunner …” Ryat starts.

“I’m not leaving.” He enters the room and crosses his arms over his chest with a playful smile on his face.

Ryat growls deep in his chest and turns to face me. “I’ll meet you out there.” He places a kiss on my cheek and turns, walking out.

Taking a second to myself, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to slow my racing heart. I exit the room, making sure to shut and lock his bedroom door behind me before pocketing the key in my clutch that barely fits my cell phone.

Making my way to the ballroom, I look for Ryat or Sarah but don’t see them anywhere. The place is packed. Decorated with white twinkling lights and soft piano music. So different from when I was here the first time.

“Would you like a glass of champagne, miss?”

I go to tell her no, afraid of my last experience. Now is not the time to get drunk or drugged. But she pops the cork and grabs a flute. “Yes, please.”

Handing it to me, I thank her and take a sip.

The lights dim down a little, the music coming to a stop, and so does all the conversations.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

I turn to face the stage, seeing Ryat stand in the middle with a microphone in his hand. “I want to thank you all for attending the annual house of Lords ceremony.”

I take another sip.

“It’s been a long four years,” he says, running his hand across his chin as in thought.

I frown, wondering what he means by that.

“As a Lord, we’re taught to never accept defeat. To never give up on what we want.”

His eyes are looking past me, over my shoulder. I turn to see what he’s staring at and regret it the moment I do. It’s Matt. He stands there, dressed in a suit and tie like the others, and his girlfriend is wearing a black sequined dress with a plunging neckline to show off her assets. Giving them my back, I turn to face the stage once again.

“Some of us will never know defeat. Others will never know victory,” Ryat goes on. “But what I can tell you is those who don’t try will never know what they are capable of.”

I take a sip of the champagne.

“Blakely,” he calls out my name.

And I snort into my drink. Then quickly wipe it off my chin, praying it didn’t spill on my dress. Not again! Last time, I left a party here covered in alcohol.

I look up at him wide-eyed.

He stands there, looking every bit of a powerful man dressed in an expensive tux, hair slicked back and clean shaven. He’s so gorgeous.

“For those of you who don’t know, Blakely is my chosen.”

What is he doing? My hand holding the flute starts to shake.

“Sometimes, you get lucky in life. And I can say that I’m the luckiest man in this room.”

Oh, God. No. no. no.

“Just look at her.” He gestures to me with his left hand and my eyes go straight to his wedding band. The thought that he’s mine fills my stomach with butterflies. “She’s amazing, breathtaking, good hearted and a hundred percent mine.”

Don’t do it …

“As of yesterday, I can add my wife to that.”

Audible gasps fill the large room, and I hold my breath. “The stunning Mrs. Blakely Rae Archer, everyone.” He introduces me to hundreds of people.

I give a shaky smile to the applause given to us that follows, wishing the floor would fucking swallow me up.

Ryat walks down the stairs and comes over to me, people moving out of his way.

“What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.

He takes my drink from my hands and passes it off to a server who walks by. He spins me around, pulling me into his body, not answering me.