The Ritual by araeo, T - Z
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The Ritual by araeo
Lead Sails (And a Paper Anchor) – Atreyu
Withering away, a shrinking violet dies
So full of life, these lights have dried me out
Into the sea, I needed a drink
I never thought this would consume me whole…
-Chapter 1: La Louche-
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I stared at the glass as the water trickled through the slotted spoon. The liquid
melted the sugar cube, dripping slowly into the viscous green liquid below. Each
drop of ice-cold water sent a white haze rippling outward to the edges of the
glass, slowly completing the transition from transparent peridot green to the
milkiest jade. Appropriately, it represented the spreading cloudiness in my soul.
Each day it became thicker, like a cataract, until I didn't even recognize myself.
I sat alone at a table in the crowded bar, the same as every other night, swirling
the glass as the last of the water dripped through. Staring into the expanding
cloud, I ignored the chaos around me. I was still; everything around me vibrated
with energy. Numb and fuzzy, I longed for the lucidity that would place me on an
equal playing field with the world. I hated myself for this. Hated that I needed
this to feel like I wasn't one of many background instruments in the score of life.
Hated that I could no longer release the thoughts boiling inside of me without
chemically altering my psyche. The words that had flowed out of me so easily in
years before now refused to come forth without a little greasing of the hinges.
Hell, who was I kidding? I was so ruled by the ritual, by La Louche, that writing
barely mattered anymore. I could have had it prepared for me behind the bar,
but the ritual was as completely necessary to me as the drink itself. The wave of
calm that washed over me during those few minutes of watching the
transformation from clear green magic to hazy wonder was indescribable. It was
only eclipsed by the feeling of electric clarity that followed the commencement of
my nightly dance with the Green Fairy. It was that feeling I now lived for.
Quite simply, I felt alive with the first swallow. I was the smartest, most creative
being on the planet. The most outgoing, the most beautiful, and the most
entertaining person in the room. I was confident and fearless. At first, I'd loved
the feeling; now I hated it. It wasn't me. Unaltered, I was shy, quiet, fading into
the background as if I was clothed in the most efficient camouflage. I hated this
too. I was a paradox, both halves of myself working to cancel out the other. If my
life continued on this path, I would eventually cease to exist. Unfortunately, that
thought wasn't enough to stop me.
My ritual complete, I held the drink to my lips, ignoring the slight tremor in my
hand as I held the glass. I paused to inhale the fragrance of anise and herbs,
feeling a tiny, electric tingle flow down my spine in response. The first time I tried
absinthe, I'd been repulsed by the scent. Now it caused saliva to flood my mouth.
My brain immediately realized what was coming as soon as it detected the scent.
I knew that the liquor should be savored, but tonight I didn't care. I couldn't
stomach the fuzziness anymore. Greedily, I swallowed the entire glass in one
gulp, immediately signaling the waitress to bring me the another glass.
I prepared the second drink as clarity slowly began to seep into my body. The
electrifying warmth slowly spread from my stomach outward. I was staring into
the milky celadon liquid when I heard a honey-smooth voice behind me.
"Would you like some company?" His voice was like homemade ice cream on a
hot summer night – sweet and satisfying. I turned my head to stare at him; his
beauty rendered me incapable of speech even while dancing with the Green Fairy.
Every hair on my body prickled with awareness. His green eyes looked into mine
with intensity, reminding me of the absinthe in my glass before it met the ice-
cold water. They were so clear and jewel green, almost catlike. I was captivated
and I couldn't look away. I wanted to sink into him and lose myself until both of
us were clouded together like absinthe and water, impossible to separate.
He was Michelangelo's David and DaVinci's Mona Lisa rolled into one; the
combination of mystery and beauty almost painful to view. His features were
even and sharp, with heavy brows slashing over deep set eyes. He was saved
from feminine beauty by the slight crookedness of his nose, as if it had been
broken at one time. The shock of coppery brown hair on his head was untamed,
and his eyes shimmered with a green brilliance that rivaled the beauty of the first
shoots of green leaves after the stark white of a snowy winter. I looked away, his
intense regard burning me like an ant under a magnifying glass.
"If you'd like," I answered, one corner of my mouth kicking up in a slight smile. I
turned my attention back to the now opaque liquid in my glass. He sat down
inches from my side, his proximity warming my body through the short distance
that separated us.
"My name is Edward," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the air of
confidence radiating from him.
"Bella. Pleasure to meet you," I answered, sneaking a peek through my
eyelashes. I held out my hand in greeting. He took it, enfolding my hand in his
much larger one and squeezing firmly before releasing it. I reached for my
second glass, trying valiantly to control my shaky hand, not sure if it was due to
his presence or to the fact that I'd only consumed one drink so far this evening.
His eyes flicked down to watch me. I knew he couldn't miss the trembling, and I
wondered what he thought of it. Heat flooded my cheeks as I considered the two
options, but both made me equally ashamed. I raised the glass to my lips,
downing the contents of this drink just as quickly as I had the first. Closing my
eyes, I felt the fire slide down my throat as I lowered my hand to the table. He
placed his hand over mine as I set down the heavy tumber, forcing me to look at
him.
"Come with me?" he asked in a low voice, grabbing me by the hand and leading
me to what I assumed was the service corridor. I leaned against the wall for
balance; it seemed even the Green Fairy wasn't enough to keep me upright in the
presence of this man. My vision was centered solely on Edward, and I greedily
drank in every detail, from his firm, toned chest to his narrow hips and solid legs.
He leaned forward and placed his lips at my ear. "I've watched you here every
night," he whispered in my ear. He pulled back slightly and I remained silent,
drowning in his gaze. His sandalwood and citrus scent enveloped me, warm and
crisp even over the stale scent of the bar.
His long, elegant fingers rose up to caress my cheek, leaving a streak of fire in
their path. I turned my cheek into his palm, trying to capture more of his
warmth. My chest rose and fell steadily with the increased tempo of my
breathing. Edward stepped closer, crowding my frame with his larger body.
"You watch me? Why would you?" I whispered softly. I wondered how I'd missed
seeing him here. I wouldn't have forgotten a face like his.
"You're so beautiful. You're here every night, looking so sad and lost… I'm going
to save you."
I instantly bristled at his implication. Of course, I knew better than anyone else
how badly damaged I was, but that didn't mean that I needed this beautiful man
to point it out to me.
"What makes you think I need to be saved?" I asked stiffly. I pushed against his
chest abruptly, needing space between us so I could think clearly. He stepped
back and dropped his hand. It wasn't far enough, but I sensed that he wasn't
willing to move any farther away. His eyes bored into mine, pinning me with a
stare that was entirely too perceptive. I knew he could see the sickness in my
soul, the tendrils of darkness that spread through every part of me. Unable to
stand looking at him anymore, I turned quickly to walk away, but he caught my
wrist and roughly pressed it against the wall behind me, once again caging me
with his body.
"Maybe because I see you here every night, staring into a glass after glass of
absinthe like a zombie," he growled angrily. "Because I see how your hand
shakes like a leaf before you get your fix. Because your eyes look so lost right
now, like you know there's no saving you." His voice cracked; that sharp, bottle-
green gaze conveying the pain he felt at that realization. He shut his eyes and
shook his head slightly before looking at me again. I remained motionless, my
eyes stinging with the burn of unshed tears. I would not cry in front of this self-
righteous stranger, no matter how much his soul called to mine. Drawing upon
my anger, I tried desperately to rebuild the wall he'd so easily cracked.
"What, so you're stalking me?" I spat. "You might think I need saving, but I think
you need professional help. Stalking isn't exactly acceptable to mainstream
society either."
His brows drew together, eyes flaring with anger, jaws flexing. A vein in his
forehead stood out slightly as he took a deep breath, those eyes boring into me. I
could feel his chest expand against mine – we were that tightly pressed together.
"You think I'm not ashamed of the way I've watched you? You think I didn't feel
like a creep, sitting in the shadows and waiting for just one glimpse of you? I
came to you tonight because I can't stand watching you kill yourself any longer,"
he said, his voice low and rough. "I feel very… protective of you. And I'm so
goddamn tired of trying to stay away."
I sucked in a breath to reply, but his lips crushed mine before I could form any
words. It wasn't a gentle kiss; the intensity of the emotion coursing through both
of us too great for that. I knew I was making a giant mistake by not pulling away,
but the electricity I could feel at the touch of his lips to mine was too powerful for
me to fight. I couldn't think of anything else but the slide of his lips against mine,
the taste of his tongue as it filled my mouth. He sucked my bottom lip into his
mouth, pulling strongly and nipping with his teeth before diving back in to deepen
the kiss once more. One hand still held my wrist pressed against the wall, the
other curved around to the small of my back, pressing my hips against his.
I trailed my free hand up over his hard chest, grazing the hot flesh of his neck
and jaw before sliding my fingers up into his hair. Making a fist in the bronze
strands, I let my nails graze his scalp, tugging his hair roughly. He growled
against my lips, never pausing in his assault on my mouth. I licked his lower lip,
reveling in the soft texture and exciting taste. Urged on by some primal instinct I
didn't know I had, I bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery tang only
adding to his flavor of spice and sin. He pulled away suddenly, the desire in his
gaze triggering a rush of moisture lower, between my thighs.
Blood beaded on his lip where I'd bitten it and I watched, almost hypnotized, as
the tip of his tongue slowly licked it away. We were both breathing heavily, each
breath causing my nipples to brush against his chest. The fabric of my bra was
suddenly too rough on the sensitive peaks, and I wanted nothing more than to
feel them brushing against his bare chest.
"Come with me," he said again. This time it wasn't a request. I found myself
being pulled down the corridor by the wrist he still held captive. We weren't
heading back toward the main room of the bar, but to a bank of elevators at the
opposite end of the hallway.
I was afraid to speak, afraid the sound of my own voice would break me out of
the sexual haze he'd woven around me. As much as I knew this was a bad idea, I
wanted this. He pulled me into the elevator and had me pressed back against the
wall as soon as the doors closed.
His eyes searched mine, and when he finally spoke, it was low and rough. "I'm
going to show you why you're worth saving." He ducked his head down and
placed his hot mouth at the sensitive juncture between my neck and shoulder, his
teeth closing firmly on the sensitive skin, before soothing it with his tongue. I
knew he was marking me and I didn't care; I wanted to be marked by him,
wanted his marks all over my body, wanted to be reminded that even though I
was worthless to everyone else, I meant something to this man.
Framing his face with my hands, I relished in the feel of the rough stubble against
my palms. I took his lips in an incendiary kiss, thrusting my tongue into his
mouth, not waiting for an invitation. He returned my kiss eagerly, taking over,
hungrily licking and sucking. I closed my eyes, concentrating only on the feel of
our lips moving together.
Vaguely, I heard the elevator door open; he slid his palms under my skirt to
squeeze my ass gently as he lifted me up against him. I hitched my legs around
his waist and threw my arms around his shoulders, my palms pressing against his
shoulder blades through the soft leather of his jacket. He walked out of the
elevator, but I still couldn't be bothered to open my eyes. I didn't care where we
were going, as long as we were there soon. When he pulled away from the kiss
and halted, I opened my eyes to look around, noticing that we were in an
elegantly furnished bedroom. A large king-sized bed was the focus of the room,
an ocean of cream colored fabric that stood out against the stone colored walls
and black iron headboard.
"You live here?" I asked, turning my head back to look at him. His lips were
swollen and wet from my kisses, his eyes hooded and dark.
"I own the building." I waited for him to say more, but he remained silent, staring
at me. Reaching behind with one hand, he slipped the ballet flats off my feet
before slowly lowering me to the plush carpet. I could feel every inch of him as
our bodies brushed together. I looked down, feeling too exposed at the intensity
of his gaze. "Look at me," he whispered, raising my chin with his hand. "You need
to know that you matter to someone else." His eyes burned with impossible
emotions.
Emotions that shouldn't have been there when we'd only just met.
"You don't even know me." My voice was almost inaudible. My heartbeat sped up
in panic as I recognized the look in his eyes, marveling that I could make
someone feel something so strongly. I didn't want him to care about me. It was
dangerous. I didn't want to matter to anyone else, because I only ended up
poisoning everything I came in contact with. But even more dangerous were my
feelings about this stranger. He called to me, pulled me out of the depths of the
hole I'd dug for myself with such precision.
"I want to know you, so much. Just let me. Let me…" He kissed me again, and
this time it wasn't frantic or rough. It was sweet and tender, bringing tears to my
eyes. But I didn't want tender or sweet. I couldn't handle that depth of emotion
now. I wanted to forget about everything but physical sensation, to lose myself in
the pleasure he offered without thinking about anything else. Wanting to break
the spell that had us caught, I clutched his shirt collar, ripping it open and
sending buttons flying in every direction. My hands slid both the ruined shirt and
his jacket off his shoulders; he shrugged and sent them both falling to the floor. I
broke the kiss, eyes lowering to take in his naked chest.
Fine dark hair trailed between his pecs, fading away to nearly nothing, before
picking back up again below his navel and disappearing beneath his belt buckle. I
followed the path with my hands, trailing my fingertips over the ridges of his
abdomen before hooking them into his waistband and tugging him in the direction
of the bed. He grasped my waist, his fingers burning me where they brushed the
strip of skin between my shirt and waistband. I raised my arms, giving him
permission to remove my blouse. He did, making sure his hands didn't lose
contact with my body the entire time. Once my hands were free, I reached for his
belt buckle and made quick work of opening his jeans.
I reached inside and curled my hand around his impressive erection. It was thick
and hard, soft skin stretching over iron. He groaned and thrust into my palm as I
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