In a few minutes she could die. With each step she took, the reality of her perilous situation increased. The fateful gamble with her life drew near. Lifting her chin, she reached deep within herself and found what little courage she had. Determination alone brought her down the long aisle to an altar positioned in front of the sanctuary. Three lights shone on it, illuminating a trio of identical goblets.

No cleric presided over the ceremony. The ancient tradition required neither preamble nor explanation. This ritual of her people had occurred time and again. Like all the mated females who had come before her, today she had to make her choice.

When she stopped and faced the table, the room filled with silent anticipation. Her pulse kicked up, racing with anxiousness, pounding in her ears. She glanced at the cups briefly and dread washed over her, prickling her skin. Dropping her gaze, she focused on the decorated cloth situated underneath the golden vessels. A thick green vine, embroidered along the edges, twisted and turned, adorning each corner with scarlet berry clusters. This hallowed symbol embodied who they were, a poignant reminder of what they had become. They were Kan Asma, the people of the Blood-vine.

It was fitting that the tapestry contained this emblem, for in the center was the very thing which made them unique. The blood of three males, each in a separate chalice, sat waiting for her selection.

Only one of them contained her future.

Except, she didn’t know exactly which one it was.

The surreal moment threatened to crack her composure, possibly even topple her over the edge into insanity. She rolled her shoulders and wiped her damp palms on the front of her pants. Scrutinizing the first cup, she wondered what set it apart from the other two. Nothing, really. They all looked the same. Moving closer, she bent her head and inhaled. A spicy scent tickled her nose. Right away, she knew it came from the sample in the middle.

Like a powerful storm, volatile, raw and wild, it captivated her attention. Another breath and this time the flavor lingered, enticing her taste buds with a hint of cloves. She lifted her finger and traced the lip, round and round. The temptation to dip into the liquid, bring a bit to her mouth and lick each tantalizing drop, tasting it, in truth, shocked her all the way to her core.

Maybe, this was the one.

Jerking her hand away, she fought the spell, knowing she must consider the matter with all seriousness. Guessing was out of the question. Cautiously, she stepped back.

She concentrated, shutting out all other distractions. Tilting her head, she peered at the crimson fluid in each goblet, waiting for some kind of confirmation to go zipping through her veins.

But nothing happened.

Behind her, the guests became restless. She could hear them shifting in the wooden pews. The vaulted ceilings of this old Episcopal cathedral echoed the slightest sound. When a youngling whispered urgently, a reply to ‘wait a little longer’ pressured her to make a choice and let the poor kid go to the bathroom.

Hells bells! Not that this life and death decision should be rushed or anything.

One, two or three?

Her stomach flipped, no longer a nervous fluttering but a tidal wave of sour nausea. Which one should she pick?

Oh God, she had no clue.

Footsteps broke the profound silence. A murmured query followed, “Anna, have you made your selection?”

Steeling herself, Anna tried not to dwell on how her mother’s choice had occurred. She didn’t need anymore distractions. Besides, her mom had mastered being calm, cool, and collected. She had marched in, considered her choices for all of a split-second, and downed the contents in a blink, never hesitating or contemplating the negatives.

Anna scowled at the goblets, wishing her choice was as simple. “I don’t know. You said I would sense the one to select instinctively. I can’t feel anything.”

Therese moved alongside Anna and lowered her voice. “This is nothing you can avoid. The laws of our people demand you must take this step and embrace your future. Seldom does a woman make an unfortunate choice. Find the one that calls you and be brave.”

Anna knew what her mom said rang true. If she found her blood-mate, her lifespan would elongate. She recognized how her mother felt. Therese did not want to watch her daughter grow old and waste away while the rest of her family wouldn’t experience the consequences of aging.

Sometimes she cursed the First Mates for their foolishness. In the early days, her people were only human. One simple act of fate, the discovery of an extraordinary fruit hidden in the Caucasus Mountains, changed everything. To this day, they maintained the altered characteristics that ingesting the berry had wrought within them. Males bore traits of power, vitality, extrasensory abilities. Females were gifted with youth and well-being. To make things more complicated, the women carried the mutated genes.

If fate was on their side, together, blood-mates shared extended lives.

However, females were born less often. Because of this, they became revered, protected. In earlier times, some had been taken against their will. Every young girl learned it took only one fateful bite, and they would be bound by blood forever.

Or, it would kill them immediately.

While other cultures celebrated maturity with parties, her people anticipated this rite. Facing three goblets wasn’t the part that frightened them, though. The possibility of making a bad selection gave them nightmares.

She turned her head to the side, just enough to glance at her mother. “Choosing a human as a mate would have been simpler,” she muttered sardonically.

Therese visibly trembled at her flippant comment, and replied tersely, “It is true. The risks aren’t as daunting. But don’t be fooled, Anna, such a choice definitely comes with a fair share of heartbreak.”

Anna understood her mother’s concern. Due to the fact that they forge blood bonds rather than marriage contracts, mating with mere humans was an egregious matter.

“You are aware of the consequences. Being separated from your family would be the least of your concerns.”

Anna nodded in understanding. In the past, they had all suffered because of intermarriage. So many had died. When scientists learned about the apparent longevity of the Abkhazian villagers, they came to study the phenomenon. But it had been an elaborate ruse for their hidden agenda. They wanted to establish a reason for ethnic cleansing. War followed and in the early twentieth century Anna’s people fled to safety. The horrors of such carnage had scarred them all.

As refugees, they joined other Russian immigrants, reestablishing their secret community in West Hollywood, California.

This new, unmated generation struggled with willfulness and rebellion. Rules and bylaws regarding such licentious behaviors were enforced. No human mates!

Throughout her schooling, even Anna had been tempted to indulge in the forbidden. Human men were handsome and alluring, but they never lived up to her expectations. Deep down, she knew it would be only a male of her people who could satisfy her sensual hungers.

Not that she knew exactly what sating said hunger felt like. Since she came from one of the most powerful and influential families, her future had already been predetermined. Fooling around, even in secret, never happened. With four older brothers watching her every move, Anna’s intimate experience was sorely lacking.

The time had come to put an end to the dearth of intimacy. All she needed to do was make her choice.

“This isn’t a pair of designer heels, Anna. A little bit of consideration and voila, your life mate.”

The growled sarcasm interrupted her thoughts. It came from her left. Peeking over her shoulder, she glared at her brother, Traian.

Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned indolently against a marble pillar, the bottom of a scarlet tapestry flirting an inch above his head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave two fingers so only she could see them.

Number two? She considered, her gaze flicking back to the middle goblet. Tray could be a total ass, but he loved her very much. He wouldn’t tease her about something this important. Unless, maybe he wanted to kill her...

Trust me. Tray’s demand was forced into her thoughts and Anna tried hard not to betray the mental invasion.

Anna deliberated about her brother’s glib command. Of course, he wouldn’t regard this choice with the same timidity as she did. Males didn’t experience this situation. Instead, their involvement came after a rigorous elimination process by the Family Elders. At sundown, the three best candidates came before the council. Each brought a ceremonial dagger which had been passed down from father to son. Slicing their wrist, they freely offered their blood for a goblet. Usually, there had already been an attraction to the female going through the ceremony. By agreement though, they must accept her choice regardless of romantic intentions or any other sentiment.

Females faced a grave consequence if they chose the wrong cup. However, males did have their own crucible to endure should the selection turn out poorly.

“Stop worrying. Everything will be fine,” Tray whispered, his tone reassuring yet impatient.

Fine, let the consequences be damned. She would do this. It was time to choose.

Anna exhaled slowly and fixed her stare upon the altar. Lifting the second cup, her clammy fingers started to lose their grip but she caught it in time. How embarrassing that would have been; her future spilled all over the floor.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she slid her palm under the bottom, holding on tight. She didn’t want to end up looking like an idiot. Before crossing the tiled space, she made sure nothing would trip her. Walking over to where her father stood on a dais, she cautiously went up the two stairs.

Anna glanced at him, met the resolute glint in his eyes. She offered him the cup.

“Is this your choice, Anna?”

“It is.”

Her mother came and stood beside him. Together, they gave her their sacred blessing. Anna tuned out halfway through their well-rehearsed speech. Instead, she examined the black carpet under her feet. She grimaced at the stitching, more berries. Why couldn’t they have a naked, gorgeous god as their icon perhaps, someone like Eros or Adonis? There was absolutely nothing sexy about a piece of fruit.

“So be it.” Those fateful words, in her father’s deep drawl, pulled her attention back. It signaled that she must solidify the deal and drink the contents. Lifting her hands, she accepted the vessel, cupping it between both palms. A few, shaky steps brought her back to the altar. She looked at the scarlet fluid and watched it ripple with her nervous trembling.

Well, this was it, in just a few seconds her time would come.

It didn’t look remotely appetizing if anyone cared to ask her. And drinking it seemed a tad much. After all, science had improved immensely since the Dark Ages. The twenty-first century had perks to it. How come someone hadn’t made a capsule she could wash down with a stiff drink? Even better, how about mixing her genetic stuff with a potential “his” stuff in a Petri dish to make sure it didn’t implode when blended. All this doom and gloom tied up in a formal procedure needn’t actually happen.

Except, it was happening. Right now, as a matter of fact.

Staring at the revered liquid, she tipped it side to side pondering if she had the stomach for it. She figured pretending it was like a shot of tequila might make her less likely to gag. Counting down in her head, and wishing she had a lemon and some salt, she brought it up to her mouth. Tossing it back, she waited for it to go down.

Then possibly kill her.