Page 60 of This Blood that Bonds Us (This Blood that Binds Us #4)

Fifty-Nine

Presley

Of course it was a creepy church. Where else would the blood cult ask me to go? I guessed I was lucky it wasn’t an underground cave or the sewer or something. They were lucky I’d gotten good at reading a paper map.

I checked none of my surroundings as I walked through the snow into the church. Nothing mattered when it felt like my heart was bleeding. Putting one foot in front of the other, I opened the double doors. Everything was well lit. Modern. Like those kinds you see in the wedding magazines with the perfect hanging fixtures and the soft see-through curtains.

Only, no one was there. The whole place was empty with no echoing heartbeats or even rats in the ceilings. The company would have been nice. I walked slowly down the aisle, passing lit candles on the edges of the pews. As I reached the front, the stage light illuminated a large altar bowl full of black liquid. Definitely blood. A gold plate sat on the edge of the rim, and on it, was a word that had been etched haphazardly. “Drink”

I sighed. Dramatic much?

Everyone said I was dramatic, but those cult vamps had it down. They could’ve done all of that from the beginning rather than give me the run around. Then, I guess I wouldn’t understand loyalty. I realized I might have turned out exactly like Akira intended. Like he knew the person I was before I did.

The black blood mocked me. It was a bad idea. Like flashing red signs that said Stop Now or Turn Evil type bad, and I was about to collect 200 dollars and pass go. I couldn’t leave the church. My feet were glued to that tile floor, and my only option was to drink or turn back.

Was it that infamous fate everyone was always going on about?

What would it be like to be king for a day? To be on the side that was constantly three steps ahead of us . . .

That was a bad thought. I didn’t need Luke to tell me that. He wouldn’t want me to think that way, but he wasn’t here.

There was a silver goblet next to the bowl, and I grabbed it. More theatrics. Wouldn’t a SOLO cup have been more practical? Probably didn’t fit the aesthetic. Okay, maybe I was stalling a little bit. It was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Drinking the blood meant possibly giving up a part of myself I couldn’t get back, but it was the cost to get back to them, and I was oddly okay with it.

I couldn’t wait another day. Another minute. Another second. I wanted to be with them because maybe it would change something. Maybe I could do something this time.

And maybe submitting to this thing calling to me was worth it. Whether it was Her or fate, at least we’d be together. It probably looked like I was giving up, but it didn’t feel like giving up. It was my choice. I wanted to go see my brothers, so I was going to.

There wasn’t a way to know for sure if it was the worst idea I’d ever had.

Ah. Fuck it.

I filled the goblet to the brim, threw it back, and the blood chilled me to my core.

Oh, shit.