Ingrid felt hot.
About a year and a half ago, Kyle called her a blabbermouth. She remembered it because she'd been gravely offended by it, but each lapse on her part as time progressed, although she'd mastered the act of covering her slip-ups, was a clear reminder of the insult. But could it really be called an insult if it were true?
"I asked a question, Ingrid." Jodie's voice went a tone higher than she would've liked. Despite her best attempt to remain calm, the ambiguity of her situation was nerve-wracking. Was she in danger, as she had already suspected? Or was Ingrid implying something else? Was she hunting for a potential killer as the people she was attempting to assist hunted her for ritualistic reasons?
Ingrid addressed the matter cautiously. "Relax," she cooed, more to herself than Jodie. "I was referring to the initiation ritual of Phoenix Pack. Do you remember I told you a little about it before you paid Viola a visit?"
Jodie nodded with a slight frown.
"Well, I wasn't supposed to let you know, but Viola's preparing a few things for your initiation ritual. Until it's completed, a guard will be assigned to follow you around, and your movements are limited."
"I know it seems like a lot of rules and ceremonies," she continued. "But this is how we've protected ourselves for the longest time. This is how we've remained impenetrable."
Ingrid paused to gauge Jodie's reaction. She didn't look convinced; however, Ingrid had told the truth about the Phoenix Pack ritual for new immigrants. If Jodie did some snooping, she will find it to be so.
"What about the sacrifice?" Jodie asked. "And how terrible is this ritual because you said something about not believing you guys are going to do something to me?"
Ingrid took a step closer and touched her by the arm. Her chest went tight as Jodie held her gaze with slight suspicion. "Jo, I've already said much more than I should have. But I promise, it's all for the best. No one's hurting anybody; it's just a purification. The end of evil and the reign of good. You won't even feel a thing."
"What are you talking about?" Jodie shrugged away from her touch. "Reign of good? End of evil? I feel uneasy about this. What happens if I decide to leave? Can I leave?"
"Y-yeah, you can," Ingrid flushed. "Listen, learn a little more about the pack before making hasty decisions. I know you'll love it here, Jo."
"And how am I supposed to learn when I've been boxed to a place?"
"The bonfire tonight; come with me. You can wear something of mine. You'll see met the Phoenix Pack and learn from our story. Together we would drink wine from Ares' and dance in fuzzy elation while the breeze teases your hair until the sun starts to rise again. What do you say?"
Jodie eyed her intently for a few seconds. Her gut feeling spoke of danger, but looking at Ingrid, her heart found it difficult to believe she could be plotting something sinister. Ingrid was the first normal friend she had, so she thought maybe she was just being paranoid. Perhaps she wasn't completely over her experience at the Whispering Moon. It was the people there who lied, deceived, and hardened her until she no longer tolerated their bullshit. Different packs had their own separate rules, and as the saying goes, when in Rome, behave like the Romans.
Setting her fears aside, she nodded once. "I'll come with you tonight."
Ares was going in search of a bottle of beer in the kitchen when he pulled up short at the entrance, all the breath knocked squarely from his chest.
Leaning against the kitchen table with her breasts threatening to spill out from a yellow floral gown, was a stunningly beautiful Jodie. An invisible grip seized his throat, and squeezed until he twisted his neck to alleviate the discomfort. She glanced up from a sketch she'd been working on and smiled tentatively at him—the gesture went straight to his toes. For a long moment, all he could do was gawk like a pimply-faced teenager experiencing his first outburst of hormones.
Her long, red hair fell in layers beyond her shoulders, and her face was expertly made up. The bareness of her neck drew his attention back to the generous curves of her breasts and held it there. It was highly inappropriate, he knew, but it felt like he'd been hypnotized. She already invaded his thoughts fully clothed and with her hair secured in a low bun, but now that her dress offered a preview of what lay below, he couldn't unsee it.
Jodie cleared her throat, and he looked up, embarrassed to be caught staring, but then he locked eyes with hers. A hint of a smile curled up her plump, generous lips, and white teeth flashed in his vision.
Two dimples appeared in her cheeks as her smile broadened. "You look thirsty, Alpha. Can I get you anything? A cold glass of water, perhaps?"
He rolled his eyes and marched towards the fridge, pulling it open with more force than required. The drinks jostled inside, and the door creaked in protest.
"What the hell are you wearing?" he demanded before he could think better of it.
Behind him, she stifled a laugh. "Err, I believe it's a dress. Ingrid was kind enough to let me use it for the night."
He took a bottle of beer and popped open the cap with his teeth. "That explains why everything looks so tight. How's your breathing like?"
"I'm breathing just fine, thank you."
Again, he hated the playfulness he heard in her voice. He closed the fridge with less aggression and turned. Just as expected, amusement twinkled in her eyes.
He frowned. "I'm guessing you're dressed for the bonfire?"
"Yes, I am. Are you about to forbid me from going?"
His gaze skittered over her body briefly before landing on the sketch on the kitchen table. "I'm tempted to, but I'm guessing you haven't fulfilled your end of our agreement."
"I'm working towards it," she replied, her eyes narrowing as he came around the kitchen table to retrieve the paper from under her palm and focused intently on the Crow she'd sketched.
"You have until midnight to give me a name, so don't get too distracted out there," he warned.
"I'll do my best, alpha." she said dryly.
Their eyes locked, and they held each other's gaze a long time before Ares swallowed and blew out a short breath. He crumpled up her sketch, grabbed his beer, and walked away.