The Sacrifice: Chapter 63

I read over the text before pocketing my phone. Looking up from the front pew, I watch the naked woman struggle in the rope displayed on the Lords’ table. She’s been there for over an hour, waiting, screaming nonsense into her gag.

My wife is pissed at me, but it’s nothing new. It’s also something I’m more than willing to live with.

Ryat enters from the side door that leads back to the hallway and office. “Done.”

I nod. “Package will be here any minute.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, and I wait for the inevitable. He doesn’t make me wait long. “You sure you want to do this?” His green eyes slide to the table at the sound of her gagged sobs and then back to mine.

Do I want answers to who took my wife away from me? Abso-fucking-lutely. Does that mean she may hate me the rest of her life? Yes. But I can live with that. I’ve been her husband while she hated me, and it didn’t bother me. I won’t let it now.

Sighing at my silence, Ryat adds, “I hope it works.”

It will. It has to. “Bring in our guests,” I tell him. “Place them in the front pew.”

Walking away, he goes back through the door but returns seconds later with our two guests we brought with us from Carnage. They’re both dressed in black cloaks and white masks—just like the Lords do when they gather here to perform some ritual or tradition.

The only difference is they’ve got their hands cuffed behind their backs and gags in their mouths. Jackson’s is full of an inflated ball gag—just like the one I used on my wife. I wanted him as silent as could be. The woman has tape over hers.

Ryat pushes them both to sit in the front pew. I can tell which is which just by looking at them. The woman is significantly smaller, so the cloak swallows her up. Ryat sits between them. If need be, he has to make sure they don’t get up and try something.

The sound of the front doors squeaking alerts everyone that our package has arrived. I straighten my shoulders as a set of dark eyes meet mine. He’s at the far end of the aisle, but he’s slowly walking toward me.

I want to smile but don’t, too much could go wrong at this point. “Tyson.” He draws out the single word and then snorts. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”

Shrugging, I place my hand on the edge of the Lords’ table. His eyes drop to it before meeting mine. I see the apprehension in his.

“Is she your wife or mine?” I question as her tied body trembles. She’s been in this position for quite some time.

He fists his hands and takes a step back.

“Go ahead.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Have a look.”

Reaching out, he unclenches his hand and grabs the drawstring holding the hood on. He pulls it gently, untying it, and his eyes rise to mine. He yanks it off, showing off our main guest—his wife.

I look at mine who sits in the front pew next to Ryat. I wish I could see her face, but I can’t through the Lord’s mask. But by the way she jumps to her feet, I’m glad I placed tape over her mouth because she’s screaming into it.

LAIKYN

I’m exhausted, body still shaking from the way Tyson used it in the cathedral at Carnage. I lie in the passenger seat of his Bentley, eyes closed and pussy soaking wet. He brings the car to a stop, gets out, and picks me up out of the passenger seat.

Opening my eyes, I notice we’re at the Cathedral. The same one where I became his wife. He starts to take the stairs, and I look over his shoulder to see Ryat pull up into the dark parking lot and get out of an SUV I don’t recognize. He goes to the back and opens the hatch. He’s reaching into it when Tyson enters the building, and I can no longer see.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, my tongue as heavy as my eyes.

“We’re having a confessional,” Tyson answers, walking me down the aisle to the chancel. It feels like it’s been years since we were here saying our vows.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into it as well. I open my eyes moments later when he sits me down. I look around to see we’re in an office. I’m sitting on a leather couch, and he kneels in front of me. His hands on my shaking thighs.

“Why?” I wonder.

He stands, leans over, and gently kisses my lips. That’s as much of an answer as I’m going to get. I know my husband well enough by now to know when he’s going to keep secrets from me.

“We won’t be here long,” he assures me, pushing my tangled hair behind my ear. “And when we’re done, I promise to fuck you.”

I groan. “Please.”

He chuckles at how much he got me worked up. The door opens and Ryat enters. He tosses a cloak and a Lord’s mask on the couch beside me. “Our main attraction is in place,” he informs my husband.

Tyson nods and reaches into his back pocket, removing a pair of handcuffs, and Ryat hands him a roll of duct tape.

I swallow nervously, shifting on the couch. “Ty—”

“Stand up and put your hands behind your back, Lake,” he commands, interrupting me.

My wide eyes go to Ryat but all he does is turn and exit the room, closing the door behind him.

I know that Lords restrain their chosens when they perform their vow ceremony, but Tyson said we’re here for confessional. You don’t perform the ritual when you’re already a Lady.

“Lake.” He growls my name and I get to my shaky legs. Staring up at him as he cups my face. “I love you, remember that.”

My eyes widen at his words, my fear tripling at what the fuck is going on. But he lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. Hands fisted in my already tangled hair, he’s possessive, stealing what little breath I have left. My body softens, mouth opening and allowing him to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls away, he spins me around, yanks my hands behind my back and cuffs them together before I even have the chance to speak, still trying to catch my breath.

“Turn around,” he orders, and the moment I manage to face him once again, he’s placing a piece of duct tape over my lips. It’s wide and covers both my upper and lower lip along with my cheeks.

I whimper, my heavy eyes looking up into his while he rips off another piece. His bore into mine when he places that one on as well, placing it diagonally, overlaying parts of the first one. I don’t know why, but the act is more intimate than the kiss. Maybe it’s because I’m horny as fuck and want him to use me. He rips another one off and places it diagonal again, opposite of the last.

Stepping into me, he cups my cheeks and runs his thumbs along the tape, pressing them into my lips, making sure I can’t wiggle my mouth to get them off.

Once satisfied, he runs his knuckles down the side of my taped cheeks and over my neck. My pulse races, and he smiles, feeling it.

Removing his cell, he opens it up and I feel the collar unlock. He takes it from my neck, and I watch him pocket his cell. I feel naked with it gone. I’ve worn it for so long that it started to feel as natural as wearing my wedding ring. Now both are missing.

He then steps back, grabs the cloak, and places it over me before putting the mask over my face. “When I’m ready for you, Ryat will bring you out.” He helps me to sit back down on the couch and then he exits, leaving me alone, taped, cuffed and hidden from the world that thinks I’m dead.

The blood rushes in my ears, my heavy breathing fills the mask, and I jump to my feet to run to the Lords’ table, but the back of my cloak is grabbed, and I’m yanked onto my ass in the pew. “Stay the fuck seated,” Ryat growls in my ear.

Now I understand why my husband taped my mouth shut, and as much as I try to talk, it’s impossible. Every time I move my mouth, the tape pulls on my skin. He covered most of my face for a reason—to keep me silent.

My wide eyes shoot to Tyson, and he’s already staring at me. No ounce of remorse in his eyes, just fucking emotionless. He knew! He fucking knew all of this time?

“What do you want?” Luke growls, and my husband gives him his attention. “My wife for yours?”

Wife? Tyson had called her Luke’s wife. I yank on the cuffs, my body thrashing in the cloak. No. It can’t be.

Tyson arches a brow. “You think this is a trade? I’ve already got both of them.”

My eyes drop to the woman once more, and there’s no denying who she is. It’s Whitney! My sister. My dead sister.

I can only see a side view of her, but she’s hogtied and naked on the Lords’ table. She’s screaming, thrashing in the ropes. Spit flying from around the black ball gag in her mouth.

“Our main attraction is in place.” Ryat had said in the office.

He tied her up in the same position he had me tied up in at the cathedral at Carnage. He took video of me, pictures of me, had a hood over my head, my collar.

My eyes fall to her neck, and she’s wearing my collar. Jealousy courses through me like my insides are on fire. That’s mine. Why did he give it to her? How long has he known she wasn’t dead?

“Then what the fuck do you want?” Luke shouts, the sound of his voice echoing through the large cathedral, and it makes me flinch.

The sound of the doors opening behind me at the entrance squeak, and Luke spins around to face whoever has joined us. I try to look over my shoulder, but the mask prevents me from seeing out of the eye holes.

“What the fuck is this?” Luke barks, and then goes to run toward the door that Ryat brought me through that leads to the office, but Ryat jumps up from the pew beside me, throws off his cloak and points his gun at Luke’s face, bringing him to a stop. Slowly, Ryat removes his mask, and Luke curses.

“How the fuck did this happen?” Luke demands. I feel like he’s talking to himself more than anyone else. He turns to the Lords’ table and leans down into my sister’s face. “How the fuck did you let this happen? You had one job.” He slaps her. “All you had to do was make sure she stayed in that fucking psych ward!”

Tears run down my taped cheeks at the betrayal I feel. From her, my husband, Luke. I mean, every-fucking-body seemed to have known that she was alive but me. Hell, Tyson let me think he killed her years ago. Why didn’t he tell me the truth?

Ryat moves toward the Lords’ table as Tyson grabs the back of Luke’s neck and slams his face down into the side of the table. It knocks him to his knees.