Page 33 of Lessons in Touch

Liam nudges me forward.

“This is it,” he says, and he tries to take my hand. I know that he’s looking for a connection, but I don’t want it. I pull away gently because I am loyal to Gabriel’s touch.

The group forms a tighter circle, and a tall student, Marcus, steps forward. He’s holding a silver chalice etched with Wolfswood’s crest.

“We gather to honor the legacy,” he begins, and his words are formal, almost reverent. “To pledge our loyalty, our discretion, to the institute and its secrets.”

My unease grows. The atmosphere is heavy and cult-like. It’s far from the lively student parties I imagined.

They recite an oath, promising to uphold Wolfswood’s traditions, to guard its mysteries.

We, the chosen of Wolfswood, swear by the blood of our forebears to uphold the sacred traditions of this institute. We bind our hearts to its secrets, etched in stone and shadow, never to be spoken beyond these hallowed grounds. With our will, we guard the mysteries of power, wealth, and dominion, forged in the silent pact of those who came before. We vow to protect the legacy, to shield its truths from unworthy eyes, to carry its burdens in darkness. By this oath, we are one, bound by loyalty, sealed by silence, under penalty of exile and ruin.

My skin prickles, and the words crawl over me like a cold wind. Their solemnity is unnerving, almost otherworldly. The students’ eyes gleam with fervor, and their faces look pale in the lantern’s flicker. It feels like the oath has summoned a presence that watches us.

Marcus raises the chalice, which is filled with dark wine, and passes it around.

“Drink,” he says to the students. “Swear silence.”

The cup reaches me, but I hesitate. It feels so heavy in my hands. And so unnatural. I take a small sip, though, because everyone is watching me. The group nods. It’s a silent warning not to speak of this night, and I feel trapped. I am a part of a world I don’t understand.

“Pretty intense, right?” Liam says, trying to take my hand.

“It’s… different. What is this, Liam? Some kind of secret club?”

“It’s tradition. The elite students at Wolfswood have to keep the legacy alive. You’re part of it now, Rose.”

“I don’t know if I am,” I say. “They don’t see me as one of them. I’m the adopted heiress, and I was not born in this world.”

I keep watching the strange ceremony. Marcus holds the chalice higher, and its silver surface glints in the firelight. Hesteps toward the center of the circle, where a small fire crackles in an iron brazier.

His movements are deliberate, almost ceremonial, and my stomach churns with unease. I can feel something darker is coming.

“We seal our oath with sacrifice,” Marcus declares. His eyes sweep the group, lingering on Cassandra, who nods in approval.

Marcus unfastens his pants, and moves his hand to his cock. I watch as he begins to stroke himself, slow and methodical, right there in the clearing. I can’t even move, that’s how shocked I am.

But the rest of the students watch casually, unflinching, as if this is expected or sacred. Over on the other side of the circle, Cassandra looks very relaxed. She’s clearly pleased, and her satisfaction is the complete opposite of my horror.

Marcus moves his hand faster around his cock. I want to look away, but I’m frozen. I’m trapped by this ritual. He finishes with a shudder, and releases his cum into the chalice. The act is very profane, but the others treat it with reverence.

He raises the cup and pours the contents into the fire. The flames hiss and flare, and I can smell a sickly sweet scent. Then, the entire group of students starts to chant together.

“Bound by fire, sealed by will.”

I try to keep my composure, but I am beyond shocked. This isn’t just a pledge. It’s a twisted rite, and a secret these old-money heirs guard with their lives.

Cassandra is clapping, as if the act cements her place in this elite circle. Liam nudges me and tries to take my hand yet again. But I recoil. My body is rejecting his touch, and all my thoughts flee to Gabriel. He’s safe. He’s not like this.

At the center of the circle, Marcus wipes the chalice with a silk cloth and addresses us all.

“The legacy endures through us,” he says, and the group nods.

But I refuse to participate. This world, with its rituals and secrets, is a labyrinth I’m not prepared to navigate. And this realization shakes me to my core.

The ritual is over now, and the students are going back to their rooms. Liam walks me back to the dorms and continues to chat with me, even though I barely answer him.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says. “You belong here, Rose. I’ll make sure of it.”