Savages: A Reverse Harem Romance by Loki Renard

Author:Loki Renard [Renard, Loki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2018-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

When Ice and I return, it is not sleep that the others have in mind. There is something brewing over the fire, and the bear is laid out, her eyes covered with leaves. There is respect in the way she has been positioned, and for reasons I can’t explain, I feel tears springing to my eyes as I see her powerful body lying dead before the flames. She wanted me dead, but there was something more than her desire for my death.

I can’t explain any of this in words, but we were connected, this bear and I, and somehow, I feel as though we still are.

“The ritual?” Ice stops me next to the fire, his hand on my shoulder.

“She took her first blood. Now she must drink from the mother,” Maverick replies.

My relationship with these men is continuously evolving. It feels as though every day brings something new. The dawn is beginning to rise as Ice sits me down before the fire.

I have been awake too long. I have seen too much blood. I have tasted death. I want nothing more than to just lie down and sleep.

“What do I need to do?”

“Drink,” Maverick says. Hans is ladling some of the brew into a bowl. He brings it over to me and hands it to me with both hands. I take it with both hands too. It doesn’t smell very good, and I’m not in any way hungry or thirsty. I can imagine how I must look right now, my face marked by the bear’s claws, my tattered skirt ruined and dirty and wet, my hair braided as if I am one of them… and now there is this brew.

“You’ve earned this,” Ice says, squeezing my shoulder. “This is not something we share lightly. Drink deep, Riley.”

I look around at all four men and lift the bowl to my lips. The brew smells of fungus and dirt. I hesitate, but their encouraging smiles make me raise the bowl to my lips. I take a sip and gag, but one of them puts their hand behind my head, and someone else’s fingers take my nose, and before I know it, they have poured a good dose of the brew down my throat.

I splutter and spit, looking at them with fury in my gaze.

“What are you doing?”

“Ensuring you get the proper dose,” Hans says. “Settle down and gaze at the fire.”

I shake my head. I am so tired. I just want to sleep. I don’t want to have this stomach-churning brew swilling around in my innards. I want to go and lie down, but they won’t let me.

Maverick and Ice take a place on either side of me keeping me up and awake. Hans crouches nearby and begins to hum. Stryker takes up the tune, then Maverick follows and finally Ice lifts his voice in a song, speaking words I don’t understand. They are not in the common tongue, but they are powerful. I can feel them flowing into me, just like the brew did.

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