The Hockey’s Plaything
Elara recognized her instantly, it was Mira one of the newer initiates.
Something sharp and hot twisted in Elara’s chest. Jealousy.
The Confessor’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Elara. “You’ve returned.”
“Yes, Master,” she breathed, dropping to her knees.
He smiled faintly, a predator’s smile. “Good. Tonight’s ritual will be… more elaborate.” His hand stroked Mira’s hair possessively. “You are not the only one in need of cleansing.”
Elara’s nails dug into her palms. She’s mine, she wanted to scream. This ritual is mine but she stayed silent. She had no right to question him.