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Tightening my grip on her hand, I ground myself in the present. I want to hurt her, yes, but God, I want to protect her, too. It’s a war in my black soul and one I’m not sure I want to win.
The tunnel spills us into a cavernous darkness, where secrets slither through the shadows like serpents. She shivers, her hand in mine, an icy contrast to the heat that simmers in my veins. Ahead, the chamber waits, our playground for tonight’s twisted festivities.
There is complete silence.
I expected Ever to ask questions, to be nervous and to ramble as she does when she feels anxious. But she is stoic and rigid. The anticipation coils inside me, tighter and sharper with every step. A gift for her, asecret wrapped in silence and tied with dread. It’s something she’ll never forget, something that will mark her, change her. My lips twitch into a smirk at the thought of her seeing it all unfold.
As we cross the threshold, the chill of the underground chamber envelops us, swallowing the warmth from our bodies. I tighten my grip on her even more, not just to reassure her but to claim her with the pressure of my possession.
“Watch your step,” I murmur, guiding her across the uneven, cold stone floor. The scant light from the entrance fades, leaving us in near-total darkness. I relish the power I have over her, the control. It’s intoxicating.
The ritual awaits, and with it, the unveiling of her gift. The moment that will strip her bare, expose her fears, her desires. I can almost taste her shock, her awe. It’s delicious.
We stop before a wall carved with ancient symbols, the history of this place etched into the very stone.
Ever twists her head, looking around. Her blonde hair caresses my cheek—an angel about to fall. And we, the devils, are ready to catch her.
Black candles flicker to life as Alistair strikes a match, the flame’s brief sizzle cutting through the silence. It’s a slight sound, but it echoes in my ears like a starting gun. This is really happening. Charlie follows, his match sparking up another wick. The candlelight throws their faces into sharp relief—grim, resolute.
Ben is almost reverent as he lights the last of the candles. Their soft glow doesn’t reach far, but it’s enough to make the shadows dance, to give this whole thing a nightmarish edge.
My pulse hammers with a need that’s dark and urgent, beating through my veins like a drug.
Ever stumbles slightly, her body close to mine, so fucking close, but this isn’t my time. That will come. I can feel the heat of her, smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo. It’s intoxicating. She looks up at me, those striking green eyes wide with uncertainty, a silent question hanging between us. She’s scared now—I can taste it in the air, see it in the slight tremor of her lips. But there’s something else, too, a flicker of defiance that makes me want her even more.
We’re at the centre of the chamber now, the red velvet-covered altar looming before us like an accusation. It’s ancient, the stone cold and unyielding, and I walk her past it, my fingers digging into her skin. She gasps, the sound loud in the silence.
Alistair nods at me, approval etched into the lines of his face. Ben and Charlie move with a purpose that’s been drilled into them; their part in this ritual is as vital as the blood in their veins. Everything hinges on this, on her.
“Good girl,” I whisper, almost tenderly, as I press her back onto the cold stone. I let my fingers trail down her arm, a mock caress that has my insides coiling tight with anticipation. Her breath hitches, and I know she feels it too—the pull of the darkness that’s about to swallow all of us.
Her eyes catch the candlelight, flickering with fear and confusion. For a second, I’m caught in their depths, drowning in the what-ifs. But then the shadows shift, and the moment’s gone. The darkness of this place feeds the hunger inside me.
Ever’s chest rises and falls sharply, and I can almost feel her fear. It’s potent, the power I have over her in this space where light and shadow merge. My gaze stays locked on hers.
This is our world, a place of control and darkness, and we’re about to show Ever just how deep it goes.
Ever’s body stiffens against mine, her breath hitching.
Alistair, Ben, and Charlie are like one machine. Each step they take is precise, and each movement is calculated. They finish setting up the last of the black candles and laying out the necessary tools.
“Damien,” Alistair’s voice cuts through the tension, “It’s time.”
I nod, feeling Ever’s gaze on me, searching for an answer I don’t dare give. My fingers wrap around her slender wrist, and I lift it without hesitation. Guided by my hand, the cold metal of the cuff above her head clinks open and then shuts with a finality that echoes in the chamber. She tries to pull away, but my grip is iron.
“Don’t fight it,” I murmur, close to her ear. Even as the words leave my lips, a part of me thrills at the defiance in her eyes. This is the game we’re playing—cat and mouse, predator and prey, and tonight, we’re the monsters she fears most.
Her body jerks in a futile attempt to escape as I catch her other wrist, my fingers encircling it with a ruthless grip. The cold links of the chain rattle ominously before I snap them closed around her, anchoring her arms above her head against the unforgiving stone wall.
“Damien, please,” she gasps, but her plea is brushed aside. My name, even spoken with such desperation, is a siren call to the darkness inside me.
The candles flicker like the whispers of those long gone, casting a spectral light over us. Their glow bathes the chamber in otherworldly hues, shadows dancing across Ever’s face, accentuating the fear and defiance in her eyes. It’s like watching an angel trapped in hell—a sight that stirs something twisted in my core.
The chains rattle softly as Ever shudders against them, her vulnerability stark in the dimness. A chill runs down my spine—not from the cold, but from the sheer intensity of what is about to unfold.
I can’t tear my gaze from Ever’s face; her terror is a blade twisting in my gut. But the thrill surges through me, a dark wave I ride with a sick kind of joy.
“Damien...” Her voice breaks, that one word heavy with an unspoken plea.
