THE BLOOD RITUAL

“Yes,” Jimin nodded, his eyes fixed on Ghost. “If you know what’s good for you, do not cross my path in the Black Wolf Pack. You won’t live to tell anyone the story.”

“The same applies to you,” Ghost smiled and brought out a knife from his pocket. He slashed across his flesh with force and he twisted his hand as the black blood dropped on the floor of the cave. Calisté snapped her fingers and a bowl appeared under his arm. Within a minute, the bowl was already half full with his blood and she took it again from underneath his arm.

“You don’t have to be this dramatic every single time,” Calisté frowned as she stared at his had that was still dripping blood.

“I’m not being dramatic,” Ghost laughed. “Who knows if you would want to resurrect all the dead wolves from the war next? I don’t want you meeting me for blood again. I would not even answer you, Calisté.”

“Deal,” Calisté grunted. “And stay away from Jimin. If as little as a hair from his head is missing, you would automatically swi