The Sacrifice: Chapter 66

My wife drops to the Cathedral floor as the shot rings out. I rush to her, falling to my knees. I pick her up in my arms, my hands instantly covered in blood. “Lake?” I cup her tear-streaked face. “Lake, look at me.”

She gasps, sucking in a breath, and her eyes pop open. I pull her to me, and she wraps her arms around my neck as sobs rack her body.

I kiss her hair, and she pulls away. Her eyes fall to my bloody arms, and she begins to shake. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” I assure her.

Her wide eyes meet mine, full of panic, and her face drains of color. “You—’

“I’m okay.”

The sound of a mumbled cry comes from beside us, and we look over to see Ryat handcuffing Miller while his bloody body lies on the floor. He was able to get a shot off in Miller’s shoulder without hurting Lake. I knew he wouldn’t let her go, and he wouldn’t talk much longer. We had run out of time.

“Let’s go, you piece of shit.” Ryat yanks him up and drags him out of the Cathedral.

I help her to stand on shaky legs and start to walk down the aisle to leave, but she pulls me to a stop. “What?”

“I’ll wait here.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Please,” she whispers when I go to reach out to her again. “I need a second.” Her eyes drop to the floor.

“Okay.” I nod, give her a kiss, and run outside to help Ryat load him in the back of the SUV.

I make a quick call to Saint, giving my wife the time she needs. Hanging up, I pocket my cell and enter the Cathedral to find her standing at the altar. I walk down the aisle and come to the front. Watching her stare at the Lords’ table.

“Lake—”

“Why did you waste your life?” she asks softly, interrupting me.

I don’t respond. I instead, I tilt my head, confused by what she means exactly.

“Why did you waste your life?” she repeats, and when I still don’t answer, she adds, “On me.” She turns her back to the altar to face me. “You could have had any woman in the world? Why me?” Her bottom lip starts to tremble at her words, and I hate that I ever let her doubt my intentions. I could treat my wife like my own personal slut but still make her feel loved. I chose to make her fear me and hate me instead. That was so stupid of me. I reach out and cup her soft face.

She knocks it away, and I grip her chin, forcing her head back while I push my body into hers, pinning her up against the table. The softest whimper comes from her perfect lips, making me smile. My wife reacts better to force than tenderness. She likes to be taken, but even before I came into her life, she was groomed for that. She was always meant to serve, and her father saw to that. “You’re right, Lake. I did waste my life.”

The first tear runs down her cheek, and I hate how broken it makes her look. She’s so lost and confused. “I wasted the last three years plotting my revenge against your family—how I was going to make them pay, and you know what?”

“What?” she growls, trying to pull out of my hold but is unsuccessful.

“Every scenario I came up with always brought me back to you,” I say truthfully. “Killing them was too easy. The best revenge is served over and over. Years and years of torture. You were the one thing I could take from them. And you know what I regret the most?” I don’t let her answer. “That I didn’t make you my wife sooner.”

Her face falls, eyes soften, and she inhales sharply. My free hand comes up to cup the other cheek. I lower my face to hers, close enough to kiss but don’t. Instead, I stop and whisper against her lips, “I’d choose you, Lake.” If you want the Lords to give you something, then you have to give in return. I gave it all up for her.

“Tyson—”

I gently place my lips on hers, and she opens up for me as I slide my hands into her hair, tilting her head back and devouring her.

She wraps her arms around my neck, and my hands drop to her thighs, picking her up. Walking forward, I set her on the Lords’ table. Her heavy eyes slowly open to look up at me through her long lashes.

“The question is, Lake…” I run my thumb over her parted lips. “If you had the choice, would you pick me?” Her answer doesn’t matter really, considering she’s already mine, and I’m not giving her up for anything.

Dropping my hand into my pocket, I pull out her wedding ring. Her eyes widen when she sees it.

LAIKYN

“Yes.” The single word is out of my mouth before I can even think about it.

He arches a brow in question, clearly not believing me. Some would say it’s stupid because I didn’t get to choose. Tyson did that for me months ago in this very spot. I’m his Lady. He’s my Lord. And I am to serve him for the rest of my life. I was always drawn to him. Obsessed with him. I wanted what my sister had. And although I wasn’t given a choice, I’d pick him a thousand times over.

Tyson Riley Crawford is the kind of man that women dream of. And I’d gladly never wake up.

I hold out my hand, and he slides on my ring. I want to ask where he found it, but I’m guessing it was on Luke. The bastard probably took it after he kidnapped me from Blackout.

Fuck him and Miller. I refuse to allow anyone to come between me and my husband. I’m his wife, pregnant with his children.

I push on Tyson’s chest, and he takes a few steps back, giving me some space. I reach down, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling the material up and over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra; I also don’t have any underwear on. I dressed for easy access after he tied me up naked and fucked my mouth.

“I choose you,” I say, feeling the butterflies in my stomach at the way his eyes devour my chest. He’s starving, and I want to be his offering. I’d willingly be his sacrifice. Make me yours.

Stepping into me, he lowers his hands to my shorts, and the zipper being lowered can be heard over my heavy breathing. The denim material drops to my feet, and he grabs my bare thighs and lifts me, setting me on the Lords’ table. I spread my legs wide for him to stand between them before wrapping them around his hips.

My hands go to his jeans, and I unzip them, needing him right here and right now. I need a reminder that I’m his. “Show me.” My voice is desperate, my hands needy. I don’t know why I need the reassurance. I’m his wife and carrying his children, but that’s not enough. Tyson was right. He’s trained me to be his whore, and I need that from him. Before tonight, it had been days since he’s fucked me. I thought I was going to die and that I’d never see him again. And after everything I’ve learned tonight, I need him. “Show me that you choose me.”

He growls into my mouth when I reach into his boxers and pull out his dick. He’s as hard as I am wet. “Lie back,” he murmurs against my lips.

Taking in a shaky breath, I lie back onto the cold Lords’ table that once held the dagger he cut me with and our candles. He lifts my already shaking legs over his shoulders as a flash of lightning outside illuminates the Cathedral. His eyes are on mine when he pushes into me, making me cry out as he stretches me. No foreplay, we don’t have time for that.

He wraps an arm around my thighs, holding them together, and he starts to thrust harder, making the Cathedral fill with my moans and cries.

My back slides against the table, my hands going to my hair, and I tighten my fingers around the strands, pulling to the point my scalp stings. “Oh God…” My voice trails off as the sound of our bodies slapping fills the large space.

I’m breathing heavily, body already shaking with anticipation when he pulls out, and I sag on the table. He grabs my ass, yanks me off, and spins me around, pinning my hips against the side of it.

Wrapping a hand in my hair, he yanks my head back as he slides into me, spreading my soaked pussy, and a whimper escapes my lips when his piercings hit just the right spot from this position.

He leans over my back, and I hear his heavy breathing in my ear. “Say your vows, little darling,” he orders roughly. “Remind me that you belong to me.”

“I vow.” I manage to get out as my hips hit the Lords’ table. My hands reach out in front of me, needing to hang on to something, but there’s nothing there, so I slap them on the surface.

“You vow,” he growls before his teeth sink into my neck, making my breath hitch and my body break out in goose bumps.

“We vow,” we both say, and my eyes fall closed as his free hand wraps around my waist and holds me tightly as the ground comes out from underneath me.

We’re in his car, the light from the dash illuminating the inside. It’s still dark outside. Looking at his clock, it shows a little past four in the morning. The rain hasn’t stopped, but it’s now a steady drizzle.

“Guess we’re not going home?” I wonder when I realize the direction we’re heading.

“Sorry, little darling. We’ve got to go back to Carnage.”

“How long do we have to hide out there?”

He lets out a long sigh, letting me know I won’t like the answer. Reaching over, he grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers and placing them on my leg. “Bleed On Me” softly plays by Daniel Seavey.

My eyes fall to them, and I see the red diamond on my finger. It’s as red as the blood that still covers him from Luke and Miller. “Did Luke have my ring?” I ask.

“Whitney did.”

My teeth grind. “Why the fuck did she have my ring?”

“The only thing I can think of was she removed it while you were in the hospital.”

“The Spade brothers are going to kill her,” I say, and I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Like, I’m not upset, but should I be? My sister who I loved let me think she was dead for the last three years. She tried to hurt me. She knew I was married to Tyson and had no intentions of telling him where I was or how to help me. I would have never done that to her.

“When they get the information they want,” he agrees.

“Do you believe her? I mean, how would she even know who Ashtyn is, let alone where she is?” They weren’t the same age. If I remember correctly, Ashtyn was a little older. I knew all of my sister’s friends, and I don’t remember her even mentioning Ashtyn. I only know the name because of Saint. But then again, Bethany acted like she knew Whitney, and I had never met her before either. “I thought Ashtyn was dead,” I say, and give a rough laugh. “Apparently, no one really dies.”

“She was supposed to be,” he says.

I look over at him and ask, “How do you know?”

His baby-blue eyes briefly meet mine. “Because I’m the Lord who was supposed to kill her.”