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“Shh,” I mutter.
My fingers fumble with the hem of my shirt, and I yank the fabric over my head in one swift motion. It’s a symbolic shedding of civility, of any pretence at decency. The chamber’s chill bites at my bare skin,but it’s nothing compared to the heat roiling inside me.
Alistair, Ben and Charlie move around us. Their faces are all focus and dark intent, a grim picture against the flickering light. We’re all players in this twisted game, bound by desires and traditions darker than the chamber we stand in.
“Ready?” North Cardinal’s voice cuts through the thick silence, his tone devoid of any warmth.
The ritual will start, and when it’s done, nothing will ever be the same. Ever’s life—as she knows it—is about to shatter.
39
BENEDICT
The moment stops my breath. Ever, chained to the wall like some medieval captive, is a sight I can’t shake off. She’s never looked more out of place than in the dim, cavernous room, her eyes green pools of shock. Around us, the sounds of leather against skin ring out—a chorus of pain we inflict upon ourselves.
I whip myself harder, the sting sharper with each crack, but it’s nothing compared to the torment in Ever’s gaze. Her tears, silver trails on her cheeks, are like gasoline to my fire. The arousal comes fierce and wild, a storm that rages in my soul, uncontrollable and forbidden.
“Please stop,” she whispers, but her plea only tightens the coil inside me. I’m lost in this dark craving, sinking deeper as I watch her break.
When the ritual ends, the whips fall silent, heavy with our sins. I drop mine, the leather slick in mygrip, my skin burning underneath. There’s a pulse in my head, loud and demanding, as I turn toward her.
Crossing over to the altar, its red velvet catches stray flickers of candlelight as my fingers close around the knife, cool and solid, a promise of what’s to come. Each step back to Ever echoes off the stone walls, a drumbeat to my quickening heart. I can feel the weight of every eye in the chamber, but they’re just shadows now, blurred at the edges of my vision as I play my part in this ancient game.
Chained and breaking, yet still so goddamn beautiful it hurts, I get closer, and the reality of her terror hits me—hard. Her eyes are wide, fixed on the knife, that sea green losing its fire to something colder, something like the first frost biting into late autumn leaves. It’s fear, raw and unfiltered, and it etches itself across her delicate features.
“Ben, please,” she chokes out, her voice a shard of glass in the stillness. But there’s no going back. Not now.
Her body shakes, small quivers that ripple through her like she’s a leaf in a storm. I hate myself for what I’m about to do, for the part of me that craves the sight of her laid bare. Desire is a dark beast, and it’s got its claws deep in my soul.
“It’s time.”
My breaths come in soft pants as I hold the knife, cold and certain in my grip. Ever’s eyes are clouded with fear. It cuts deeper than the blade ever could. It almost makes me hesitate.
Almost.
The ache to protect her, to tear down these walls and whisk her away from all this madness, is overwhelming. But it is fleeting. There is no place for mercy here. My role is clear, scripted by twisted tradition and expectations I can’t escape even if I wanted to.
I press the blade steadily against the fabric of her t-shirt. Her sharp intake of breath only serves to arouse me further. Slicing through the material, slowly and methodically, to my surprise, she doesn’t fight, doesn’t scream, just watches me with those damn eyes that seem to see right through me. There’s a plea in them, silent and desperate, but I can’t afford to understand it. Not if I want to keep my own sanity intact.
The knife hisses, a whisper of steel against cloth. Each tear of fabric is a note in a deadly song that has been sung for centuries.
“Please,” Ever’s voice is a shattered murmur. Her body stiffens, the tremble in her limbs betraying the cold and fear that seizes her.
Peeling her clothes away, bit by bit, I eventually slide the knife under the fragile fabric of her bra, the only barrier left between her bare chest and my burning gaze. Her skin is a canvas of candlelight, each cut freeing more of her from the confines of her clothes. The delicate material gives way with a last gasp, falling to the floor like a broken wing.
Her breasts tumble free, and I stifle the gasp at seeing their luscious beauty, her pink nipples pebbled as if eager for me to bite down on them.
The knife slips beneath the waistband of her underwear, and I pause, looking up at her. Ever’s face is etched with terror and humiliation. With a quick snap, her underwear falls away, and I drop to my knees to remove her shoes and socks. In this moment of unwanted intimacy, my lips graze against her pussy. It’s not part of the ritual, but I can’t stop it. A raw need has taken hold of me, one that I’ve pushed back for too long now.
Ever flinches, a sharp intake of breath that slices through the thick atmosphere. Tears streak down her cheeks, and it makes my cock go stiffer. She’s so vulnerable, so real in her distress, and for a second, I hate myself for being part of what’s brought her to this breaking point.
The chamber is dead silent now, like we’re the only two left in the world. Just our breathing – hers fast and scared, mine all fucked up with want. We’re teetering on some dark edge, about to tumble into something wild and dangerous. Something that will change the game for good.
Time freezes. My hand lingers on her skin, the silence swallowing us whole. Ever’s eyes lock onto mine, and I’m drowning in green sea storms.
Rising, I take a step back, my hands falling to my sides, my body aching with a lust I can’t put into words. She stands naked, her beauty raw and haunting in the flickering candlelight. Intertwining with the uncertainty hanging thick in the air, I wonder how far we’ll fall before the dawn finds us.
40
