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I am still struggling to understand how he managed to do all of this when he steps back from the altar and smiles down at me with satisfaction.
“Oh!” He snaps his fingers and turns away. “I almost forgot.”
His creepy smile doesn’t change as he returns with a knife from a table at the far corner of the room. He cuts through my clothing with a surprising amount of speed and efficiency, pulling each piece off of my body until only the silky fabric of the altar cloth rests against my bare skin. A small voice at the corner of my mind points out that I probably would have had intact clothes to wear home if I had just cooperated, but I ruthlessly tell that voice to shut the fuck up as I strain uselessly against the chains.
His eyes follow the movements and linger a little too long on my jiggling breasts as he suddenly pulls something from his pocket. I instinctively flinch but then stare in surprise as he pulls the cap off of what appears to be some sort of make-up stick that I’ve seen sold among the Halloween stuff. The greasy crayon streaks over my skin uncomfortably as he begins to draw sigils along my body and I can feel a cold sweat popping out all over me, making the drawn areas itch horribly. I feel like some sort of sacrifice, but I cling to his assurance that I will be walking away from all of this.
Gods, please let me walk away from this and I will never agree to something so idiotic again... and I’ll buy Damon stacks of pancakes every weekend for a month as an apology for ignoring his warning.
Mr. Blackspell hums as he works, the sound crawling over my skin. I’m glad when he grows silent and finally straightens, putting me eye-level with his crotch. I can’t say that I’m surprised to see that he’s aroused but he doesn’t make any further effort to touch me other than to pat my head before walking away.
I want to beg him to let me go but I can only sputter uselessly around my gag.
“This won’t even hurt,” he assures me from the farther circle as he takes his place and lifts a wand from the small table beside him. “In fact, you will likely even enjoy it. All of the others have. Now we must begin.”
I blink back tears as I force my gaze away from him and stare helplessly at the ceiling above me. My brow furrows at the black mirror suspended above me. What is that for?
A strange mist appears to be gathering at its corners, but I can’t tell if its disappearing into the mirror or coming out. Either option is absurd and yet there is something almost liquid about the glass now as Blackspell’s voice drones on in the background. There is a flicker of movement within the heart of the dark well above me and then two crimson eyes suddenly open and glow down at me from beneath those depths.
I jerk against my bonds and scream uselessly into the gag as those eyes get larger and brighter. They burn down at me as the mirror pulses with energy in a way I’ve never seen before, dark mist spilling free from it as a clawed hand extends down, reaching for me.
It wants me and only me. Its hunger rages through me from within those eyes, stroking my own, drawing my lust even as I fight with everything that I have against it. I can hear Blackspell shouting, his voice commanding beneath the soft croon coming from the creature emerging from the mirror. What little I can see of the shadowy figure is inhuman with thick horns and spines jutting from its powerful form as it creeps forward. I’m screaming inwardly despite my body’s aroused reaction, tears leaking from my eyes. Its head cocks for a moment, its croon cutting off as it quietly regards me.
I steel myself for the worst but startle when its regard suddenly shifts toward Blackspell with a deadly growl. My body shakes with relieved laughter, my eyes closing to block out the sight of the creature descending over me. I can feel the intense heat and power of its body climbing over me which just makes me even more aroused. I’m able to ignore that but I can’t block out the shouts of alarm coming from Blackspell that turn abruptly into screams of terror and wet crunching, gurgling sounds that I suspect will fuel many nightmares.
I nearly lose what little sanity I have left to terror when I feel a hand grab my arm, but it bleeds rapidly to relief as I hear Damon whisper in my ear as a thick blanket suddenly wraps around me. Any mortification that I might have felt at being seen butt naked by my friend is obliterated by the intensity of my relief.
“Keep your eyes closed and don’t make a sound. We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
Never was I happier to do exactly what I was told as I was freed from the altar and carried out of there, the bloody sounds following me from the house.
Chapter 4
I stumble into my house on Damon’s arm, my entire body shaking like a leaf. I know I’m in shock, but I acknowledge that in a distant way as we fall together onto the couch like a pair of drunks. Damon is pale and drawn, letting me know that he’s not in a much better place mentally than I am, but he still looks more worried about me than anything else at the moment. His gaze assessing, he grabs ahold of my shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze through the blanket I tug tighter around me.
“Are you going to be okay, Cleo?”
