The Sacrifice: Chapter 10

My wife stands before me in the very spot I signed my life away for her three years ago. Her watery eyes meet mine, and I smile at the blood smeared across her lips. I felt her body stiffen when I kissed her at first. The way she tried to fight me. But a part of her, the best part, melted into me. Her body is going to crave being mine. I’m going to parade her around as my own personal fucking trophy for all to see. For her father to be disgusted and ashamed.

The bell is rung, slicing through the silence of the Cathedral. She jumps at the loud intrusion, trying to take a step back, but I hold her in place.

My eyes drop to the blood trail that makes its way from her neck to her chest. She will bleed for me in more ways than one tonight.

“Tyson.” My name is spoken softly on her trembling lips.

“Yes, little darling?” My eyes lift to meet hers.

“Go to hell,” she whispers, referring to my last statement.

I smile at her. “It’s going to be so much fun bringing you to your knees, Mrs. Crawford.”

She swallows.

LAIKYN

He grabs my hand and helps me off the altar, and immediately pulls me down the aisle covered in the white carpet. Everyone stands on either side to watch us go. My parents don’t even try to catch up and speak to me. But what is there to say?

It’s too late. I’m now married in the eyes of the Lords. The pastor didn’t even ask those who opposed to speak now or forever hold their peace. Because he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Once a Lord chooses his Lady, there is no going back.

We make our way outside and rain instantly drenches me. I squeal, throwing my free arm over my head. He’s already got a black limo parked right in front of the Cathedral, and he holds the back door open for me to jump in.

That’s probably the most gentlemanly thing he’ll ever do for me.

I get as far away from him as I can, which is hard, considering my dress is in the way. Finding a seat, I yank on my train just as he shoves it into the car and gets in. Placing my hands on the now ruined silk, I don’t even bother looking out the window to see if my family came out to see us off.

It doesn’t matter.

There was a big and elaborate wedding reception planned that was also supposed to take place at the Cathedral but I’m guessing that’s no longer needed. He proved his point and made me his wife.

We sit in silence as the driver takes the curvy two-lane road while the rain comes pouring down. He takes us downtown and my heart races when he pulls under the awning of the hotel, knowing why we’re here. I was hoping that he’d skip this part. The valet opens the back door for us, and Tyson exits. It takes me a moment to get back by the door, and I mumble a thank you as a man at valet helps me out.

“Congratulations.” The guy smiles when his eyes land on my wedding dress, and I feel my shoulders slump, unable to thank him this time. No matter how rude of me that is.

Tyson takes my hand and drags me up the black velvet stairs and through the glass door. I feel eyes on us, so I keep mine on the white marble floor with the black diamond inlay design.

My heels get caught in the dress, and I almost trip, but he yanks on my hand, keeping me up.

We make our way through the elaborate lobby of the luxury hotel and to the elevators. We have to wait for ours, and I try to calm my breathing. I’ve spent a lot of my childhood here at the Minson. My father owns it. He has over five hundred locations in the United States alone. People check in having no clue what kind of illegal activity goes down here. The Lords place their members throughout the world to benefit their society. They will take the worst kind of evil, dress it up in a ten-thousand-dollar suit and give them an expensive bottle of scotch and the ability to suck your soul out of your body without you knowing. I’ve seen my dad do it too many times. Poor bastards never see it coming.

Our elevator opens up, and we step into it. Tyson pulls out a card before scanning it. This is the only one that has access to the floor. H for honeymoon suite lights up and takes us over twenty-five floors up in silence.

I run my wet hands down my dress when the door slides open, and we step into the suite. On any other day, it would be gorgeous. Red and white rose petals litter the white and gray marble floor. A black circular table sits in the middle of the foyer. A glass vase sits on top with the most beautiful red roses I’ve ever seen, and a bottle of champagne along with two flutes sits on either side.

He walks past them, stepping down into the open living room. I slowly follow.

“Gavin will be here shortly.” He finally speaks to me, making my pulse race.

I’ve heard that name before. I’ve seen him a couple of times when he came to visit my father. I’m pretty sure he’s a doctor. That has to be wrong. “Who … who is he?” That’s my biggest fear. That he’ll whore me out. Let others use me because I’m no use to him. Sell my body to make him some extra cash. This isn’t a marriage out of love. So why would he treat me with respect?

“A doctor,” he clips, removing his black tuxedo jacket from his broad shoulders while walking farther into the room. I take a look around, seeing more flowers all over. The overwhelming smell almost makes me gag.

I swallow nervously. Afraid I was right. “Why … why do we need a doctor?”

He comes to a stop and turns to face me, his baby-blue eyes scrutinizing my smeared makeup from the downpour. I hate that I care what I look like right now. “Are you on birth control?”

My cheeks flush. Luke didn’t want me on birth control. He wanted a baby straight away. An heir. A Lord is nothing if he doesn’t have someone to carry on his name. I hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to keep that from happening, but I wasn’t going to have Luke’s child. I answer Tyson. “No.”

“Exactly.” Turning his back to me, he goes over to the baby grand piano. A silver tray sits on top with a tinted decanter with an M in the middle. He removes the glass diamond top and pours the whiskey into one of the glasses that sits next to it. “The last thing I want to do is knock you up,” he adds.

I want to be happy that he doesn’t want to get me pregnant because I don’t want kids either. But instead, it pisses me off because it’s just one more way he’ll control me. Why wouldn’t he take away my ability to reproduce?

Taking in a deep breath, I remind myself it’s something we agree on. But that thought also makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. He’s going to fuck me. I knew this day would come. That it would be my wedding day. That a man would take my virginity. I just never thought it’d be my sister’s ex.

A part of the agreement of me being handed over to Luke was that I was a virgin. I know the Lords have to abstain from sex their first three years at Barrington. He wanted me to remain one until our wedding night. If I didn’t bleed for him, then I would be considered a whore. My parents promised him my innocence, and I had to deliver. I know for a fact that Luke had been fucking women the past few years. I didn’t care. I actually prayed to God, hoping that Luke would fall in love with one of them and forget about his arrangement with me. They were not answered. Instead, God laughed at me and sent me someone far worse than Luke.

“Here.” Tyson offers me the second glass of whiskey, and I look from it to him, making no attempt to take the drink from his hand. “I didn’t drug it,” he growls.

“I don’t believe you.” I lift my chin. He could have very easily slipped something into it since we entered the room. It only takes a second to spike a drink. I know. I’ve seen it done before.

He rolls his eyes and throws the one he’s offering me back, proving that it was, in fact, not laced with something. Setting both down on the tray, he walks over to me, closing the distance, and I stiffen. “Why would I drug you?”

I swallow nervously but answer honestly. “Makes me compliant. Easier to take advantage of.”

Reaching up, he runs his hand through what’s left of my bun, pulling bobby pins loose and letting them drop to the floor at our feet. The long, wet curls fall down across my bare back and over my shoulder, some falling in front to frame my face. “That would be too easy.” He finally speaks, his knuckles brushing it off my shoulder. “I want you to feel me holding you down. I want you to hear yourself gasping for breath when I force you to come. And I want your eyes on mine while I make you cry. I’ll never drug you, Lake, because I don’t need you compliant. You’re now my wife, and I can take whatever I want from you.”

My throat closes up while his eyes bore into mine. He’s got it all figured out. I hadn’t realized until just now that he’s had this planned. I thought it was a last-minute thing. Like he just woke up this morning and decided he would crash my wedding and make me his wife. But I was wrong. He’s had this plan for quite some time. The Cathedral, the hotel—he’s rubbing it in my father’s face. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to figure out any of this information. It’s been in the works for years. My parents and Luke making a big deal out of this day. “Tyson, please…”

“You’ll do that too, little darling.” His hand moves to cup my jaw and he lowers his lips to my forehead, brushing them against my skin. Words spoken as soft as the tender kiss and my pulse races at how calm he can be. How well he can hide what he really feels. He hates me and my family. I’m nothing more than an outlet for his revenge.

His cell rings, making me jump, and he pulls away to answer it. “Hello? Yes, send him up.”

The elevator dings before the door opens, and he turns, giving me his back. I let my shoulders fall while trying to calm my breathing.

“Mr. Crawford. Good afternoon, sir,” a man’s voice says.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tyson growls.

“I’m Jackson,” the man answers.

“Where the fuck is Gavin?” he snaps.

“He got caught up in surgery and asked me to fill in for him.”

Tyson pauses a second before he speaks. “She’s in here.” They enter the open living room a few seconds later. Tyson is holding his cell to his ear, eyes on me. But after a few seconds, he hangs up.

“Hello, Mrs. Crawford.” The kid gives me a big smile, and my stomach sinks that that’s what I’ll be known as now until the day I die. So easily stripped of my maiden name that once meant something to me. Minson is known around the world—wealth and power are just a couple of things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always hated that my father is a Lord and the life we have to live, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a Crawford either. “This will only take me a second.” He places a briefcase on top of the piano and pops it open, pulling out a couple of packages. He rips one open, revealing a syringe, and the other is a vial full of liquid.

“Whoa.” I take a step back. “I thought—”

“You’re getting on the shot,” Tyson interrupts me, and I look over at him to see he’s now standing at the island in the kitchen, making himself a new drink. “Too many women are irresponsible when it comes to taking the pill, and I refuse to wear a condom when I fuck my wife.” He glares at me, daring me to argue.

My cheeks redden at the way he talks to me in front of this stranger in the room, but this is one fight I’ll let him win.

The guy inserts the syringe into the vial and pulls back the plunger, filling it with the liquid. Once done, he looks at me. “Turn around and pull up your dress.” His eyes drop down to the train, and he frowns. “Tyson might have to hold it for me.”

I take several steps back away from him, my heels tripping over the silk material, and I fall onto the bench seat at the piano. “Excuse me?” I shriek, wide-eyed.

“Turn around—”

“You will administer it in her arm,” Tyson snaps at the man, and I flinch when I hear him slam the glass down.

“Of course.” The man nods, walking over to me. He opens the new alcohol pad before rubbing it on my arm. He lets it dry and then grabs the skin. “Small pinch,” he says and sticks me.

I don’t even feel it. Too many other things running through my mind right now. “How long will it take?” I ask, hoping he says days, maybe weeks. It could buy me some time to stay a virgin if Tyson refuses to wear protection.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” the guy asks.

“Earlier this week,” I answer softly, counting the days in my head. Luke planned our wedding around my cycle. I’ve always been like clockwork. I just recently got off it.

He smiles. “You should be good then. As long as it’s five days out from when you started, it should work immediately.”

Fuck my luck.

“But I also brought some morning after pills that you can take just to be on the safe side. Just remember, they aren’t to be used as a form of birth control. Just last resort. You may experience some bleeding for the next couple of months but that’s nothing to worry about. Make sure to schedule another shot within twelve to thirteen weeks for it to be the most effective.” His eyes drop to my chest, and silence fills the large room.

My eyes shoot over to Tyson in panic. Am I payment? Will he let him fuck me now that I’ve received the shot? Is that another reason he’s putting me on birth control? So other men can’t get me pregnant when he allows them to fuck me? A Lord raising another Lord’s child? Unheard of as far as I know. If it’s not their bloodline, they don’t want it. It’s just another awful thing on a long list that disgusts me about these men.

Tyson was about to take another drink but sets it down. Not as hard as last time. “Is there a reason why you’re staring at my wife’s chest?” he demands.

I hate that my thighs tighten when he calls me wife. Like it actually means something. As if he will protect me. I could laugh at myself right now if I was alone. Tyson Crawford only cares about himself. History proves that.

“Oh no.” The guy chuckles. “The blood.” His eyes meet mine. “Do you need stitches?”

“She’s fine,” Tyson growls before I can say anything. “And your services are no longer needed.”

“Just in case.” He removes some Band-Aids from his briefcase and drops them on top of the piano. Like they’re going to do me any fucking good.

Tyson walks him to the elevator, and then he returns. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. His crisp white button-up that once fit him like a glove is now wet, sticking to his skin and showing off his hard chest. My eyes drop to the way his abs flex as he breathes.

His sleeves are rolled up, showing off his tanned and muscular forearms. A Rolex watch that I know must have cost him over a hundred grand sits on his wrist. All Lords wear their crest on a ring while attending Barrington but take it off after graduation. They no longer need it. The brand on their chest is reminder enough of their devotion. My eyes drop to his wedding ring. It’s simple—a silver band. I haven’t gotten a good look at mine. But I feel it. It’s bulky and heavy, weighing me down.

I used to think he was hot. I found him attractive when my sister dated him and was jealous of her. I was so stupid. An immature little girl who didn’t understand how the world works. I hate that he looks better now than he ever did back then. How is something so stunning so evil?

He walks over to me, and with each step he gets closer, the louder my breathing gets. “Stand up and turn around,” he orders.

Getting right to it.

I stand on shaky legs and turn around to face the piano. I feel him reach up and unzip my dress. My breathing is erratic, my heart hammering in my chest. The room sways as the soft material slides down my body and pools at my feet. Heat covers every inch of my skin. All of a sudden, it’s too hot in here.

I tremble when he gently moves my hair to lay over my shoulder before his knuckles touch the top of my spine and slowly run down the curve of my back, making goose bumps rise all over. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and I close my eyes tightly to keep from crying.

I’m trembling. My heels are shaking on the marble floor, and I can feel the sweat beading across my forehead.

I feel like I’ve turned my back on my sister. Even though I don’t have a choice in the matter, she would still hate me for what’s about to happen. She loved him. He just didn’t love her in return. Not the way she deserved.

“Face me,” he softly commands.

Taking in a shaky breath, I slowly turn to face him but keep my eyes closed.

“Look at me, Lake.” His hand cups my cheek, and I open my watery eyes to meet his. His thumb brushes over my parted lips and I sniff. His eyes drop to my neck and then my chest, following the blood from when he cut me with the dagger at our wedding.

Blood is our oath. I had to bleed for him in front of his fucking cult. And I’ll bleed for him now when he rips my innocence away.

His knuckles run down my sternum and outline the top of my white strapless bra. Reaching around me, he brushes his lips on my ear while I feel him undo it. The material falls to our feet seconds later, making me whimper.

When he pulls back, his baby-blue eyes darken while devouring my breasts. I hate that my nipples are hard. I’ve waited so long for this moment. To become a woman. I wished I could have done it a hundred times with him. Back before he took the one thing that meant everything to me.

“I’m going to take it easy on you,” he speaks softly, “because it’s your first time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, hating that he’s going to have so much power over me. That I’m going to have to thank him for everything. I will forever rely on him for food, shelter, fucking survival. Men like Tyson don’t allow women to have their own careers or lives for that matter. They are owned. A Lady doesn’t need to know who she is. She belongs to her Lord, and serving him is all that matters in their lives.

His hand grips my chin and lifts my face so I have to meet his cold stare. “It’s still going to hurt, Lake.”

My stomach ties in knots, but my pussy pulses. I don’t understand it. Why is my body reacting to him when my mind knows it’s not right.

“And afterward, I won’t give you the courtesy of going easy,” he adds. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.” My voice wavers, and my feet shift in my heels.

He pulls away and gives me his back, ordering, “Go to the bedroom and lie on the bed.”