Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
The mists of my mind clear, and I open my mouth to croak, “Come in.”
“Seeress.” Liora’s warm voice is a balm. I close my eyes, fighting back tears. Of all the wolves who helped raise me during my time in Moonhollow, Liora was the kindest. She’s also a true believer, embracing the harsh rituals of the Moonborn. She once told me living simply makes her wolf happy. She revels in how connected she feels to nature, to the woods, to the earth.
She kneels beside me, offering me a steaming pot of liquid. My wolf leaps up, smelling the rich ambrosia of cooked meat. It’s broth. The first thing I’ve been allowed to eat in almost a week. I cover Liora’s hands with my own, and she helps me lift the stoneware to my lips. I’m grateful for the help because my hands are shaky. After days of visions, coming back to the real world is hard. The smooth surface of the clay pot feels too rough, too heavy. The guard outside the door clears his throat, and I shudder, my ears sensitive to the sound.
Liora seems to understand. Under my freezing fingers, her hands are warm and strong. She holds the pot for as long as I need, letting me drink the broth slowly. The taste is rich and meaty, almost overpowering. There’s a tang of herbs, thyme and wild onion. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Thank you.” My voice sounds a bit less raspy. I’m still hungry and definitely dehydrated. Fasting is fine, as long as you’re normally well-fed.
There are some bits of meat and bone at the bottom of the pot, and I want to devour them, but I hold off. I need to pace myself and be gentle with my stomach.
“Of course.” She waits until I lean back and take a deep breath, then sets the pot in my lap. I rest my hands on either side of it, letting the warmth seep in.
Liora folds her hands in her lap. She’s a beautiful woman with long sandy-blonde hair hanging past her waist. She’s wearing a thick knitted sweater over a simple woolen dress. The Moonborn are forbidden to wear anything but natural, undyed fabrics. During the hot days of summer, many go without clothes entirely, embracing their “natural state” as a way of staying in touch with their wild side.
Right now, she looks so warm in her wool garments and fur-lined boots. I try not to shiver in response. I’m only wearing a thin white shift. I know she would’ve brought me a blanket or something extra to wear, but the Warden has forbidden it. Even if she dared defy him, I wouldn’t accept anything that might get her in trouble. “I come seeking wisdom.”
I straighten my spine. Of all the wolves in the Moonborn and pack, Liora is the only one I would freely give my visions to. Her gentle respect makes me feel like my gift is really a gift.
“Ask.”
“During the next Blood Moon, the Warden intends to lead us in the Alpha Rites.”
I nod. I’m keenly aware of the doomsday clock ticking down.
“He’s chosen the females who are to be blessed and consecrated on the altar.”
Blessed and consecrated. What a way to say “tied up with vines and gang-banged.” Some of the girls will be willing, but they’ll all be virgins, and the ritual doesn’t leave much room for kindness or gentleness. In fact, it seems designed to make their first sexual experience as intense and traumatic as possible.
It’s the Seeress’ job to oversee the rites. According to Oma, that means I need to use my herbal tinctures to drug them. “It’s a kindness,” she would say. The herbs will help the females relax. It will also make them more obedient.
I think it’s horrific. I don’t want to drug a bunch of young females, so they’ll submit to this atrocity. But if I don’t, and the females rebel, they’ll be punished and still raped. Not honored. Possibly killed.
If I had my way, I’d stop the ritual. But I have no idea how.
Liora hesitates, licking her lips as if she’s deciding how she wants to phrase her request, as if she’s reluctant to voice her true feelings. She’s an obedient wolf, whether because she’s a true believer or so beaten down she can’t remember how to dissent. The irony is her gentleness makes me see how horrible the Moonborn’s treatment of its acolytes really is. What sort of religion tortures its most faithful followers? A shitty one.
“Oriana is among the chosen.”
Oh, no. Gooseflesh rises on my skin. Oriana is Liora’s daughter. She’s only sixteen.
I remember with a flash of intuition that Liora had been one of the chosen. She was young, too, probably the same age as Oriana now. During the lunar eclipse, she would’ve drunk the ritual wine and fallen into a drugged trance that made her pliant enough to be bound to the sacrificial table, but still aware of what was happening. She submitted then, but she wants to save her daughter now.