Lycus
She was powerful.
I should have been happy about that, excited, even.
It was good for us.
It was what we had been looking for with the coven for generations.
It was what we had been missing.
It might make all the difference.
But I'd told her not to tell anyone.
It made no fucking sense.
I stood in my bedroom an hour later, watching the color start to return to my hand, the blisters shrinking and disappearing like they'd never been there in the first place.
One second of contact to her power had given me third degree burns. I shouldn't have been able to burn. Not when I came from a place where everything burned. But she had done it to me.
That was the kind of power that could change everything.
I guess she wasn't the reject she believed herself to be.
And, I imagined, her coven had no idea they'd sent us the most powerful witch we'd seen in generations.
I should have been running from my room to find Ace to tell him, to share this new information and discuss all the ways it might change everything forever for us.
We should have all been gathering in the study to have a drink, toasting to the end of all our troubles.
But, no.
I'd told her to keep it to herself.
I planned to keep it to myself.
It made no sense.
It was disloyal.
And it would all be for nothing, because, eventually, they were all going to find out.
Then, well, I had no idea.
I wasn't exactly doing Lenore a kindness by keeping her secret. I was, at best, just buying her more time to be a prisoner in our home.
That said, a prisoner was likely better than what may lay ahead for her if the truth got out.
I went ahead and had that drink, though it wasn't for celebration, but rather guilt that needed drowning.
The sun was high in the sky before I finally climbed into my bed.
All in all, the party was a success. We'd done what we all set out to do. It was maybe the wildest of all our parties, in fact.
I should have been focusing on that.
Instead, my mind was plagued with other thoughts.
A short skirt.
No panties.
The heady, sweet smell of her.
The feel of her tight pussy pulsating around my fingers.
The sound of my name on her lips as she came.
My cock was rock-hard in seconds at the memory, pride flooding my system at the memory of her body racked with aftershocks from the power of her orgasm.
Raw and untouched; that was what the witch was.
Innocence had never been appealing to me before.
Corruption was fun, of course, stoking that baseness in all human beings. But virgins were too easy. The challenge was more fun. Besides, what I did for work, and what I enjoyed personally, physically, were different things.
I'd fucked a virgin or two in my day, but a long, long time ago. Back before I realized that it wasn't as fun as fucking someone who knew what they were doing, who sucked like a porn star, begged for what they wanted, and could take a dick without crying about it.
Virgins weren't my fetish.
I avoided them completely.
And yet...
"Fuck," I hissed, reaching down to free my cock, stroking it to the memory of how openly the witch had responded to me, the sounds she made, the way her fingers clawed at me.
I came faster than a guy first touching his junk.
Harder, even.
Leaving me no less aching after I cleaned up and got ready for bed.
Shit was getting too fucking complicated.
The witch.
My reaction to her.
The way she said jump and I leapt.
Giving her a garden.
Letting her cook.
Buying her clothes and girl shit.
Allowing her to join the party.
Touching her.
Then fucking telling her to keep her powers secret.
What the fuck was going on with me?
Whatever it was, it had to stop. And for that to happen, I guess I needed to stay away from the witch.
Apparently, though, it would be easier said than done.
Chapter Nine
Lenore
"Witch?" a voice called, making me jolt out of my daydream.
In my mind, I had drifted back to Yule—the winter solstice—celebration with my coven. I had always enjoyed the colder seasons best.
In the days leading up to Yule, we would gather pinecones, would make garlands to frame the doors. We would bake sweet treats, and make homemade gifts for one another.
My mother always knitted new cold weather items—shawls, mittens, scarves, thick socks.
I had always found my fingers clumsy with needles.
But I had always been rather good with art.
Each year, I would dedicate myself to designing one new card to a deck of oracle cards I created, giving each person closest to me a new one. I had been working on them since I was fifteen.
I guessed, now, the deck would never be completed.
My heart ached at the idea of my mother's face not lighting up as she unwrapped the linen I would put it in, running her finger lovingly over the picture, asking me what the image stood for, how she would interpret it in an oracle reading.
Someone else would step in to make sure my mother wasn't alone for the holiday. They would have her in their homes, and would give her gifts. She would be taken care of.
That was a comfort, of sorts.
My heart hammered hard in my chest as I folded up in bed, realizing the voice didn't belong to Lycus. Or Ace. Or Drex. Not even the woman from the night of the party, Red.
No.
This was someone I hadn't met yet.
And with that came new worries.
About their intentions.
"Go away," I demanded, grabbing the blanket off the bed, holding it in front of me.
"Witch," the voice rumbled again, boots coming down the last few steps, making their way around, into the light from the window, revealing one of the men I had seen at the parties, a profile I had caught once or twice coming down the stairs before.
Minos.
He was handsome in a different way than Ly with his long hair, half pulled up and wrapped into a bun, and his facial hair, extremely tall body, and well-defined muscles.
There was something cold in his eyes, despite the hint of red I came to recognize in all the demons.
"Go away," I demanded again, yanking the blanket higher, holding it under my chin.
"Trust me, that is of no interest to me," he rumbled at me in a voice that sounded like gravel.
"What do you want?" I asked.
To that, his brow raised. As did his arms, making my gaze fall to see the tray there. "You haven't been upstairs for three days."
Had it been that long?
I spent the whole first day after the party asleep, finding myself tired down to my bones. The day after that, I wallowed. And this day, I daydreamed so deeply that I felt none of the calls of my body.
But now that Minos mentioned it, my stomach felt knotted and angry with its emptiness.
"You can sulk all you want, but you have to eat."
"If I don't, will you force-feed me?" I shot back, getting a little sick of these demons bossing me around.
"That shit is up for Ace to decide. I bring the food. That's what I do. You eat it, you don't, not my problem. Though, I was told to stop bringing you flesh, so I did that."
He made his way to the bed, dropping the tray onto my lap.
There was an odd array of foods arranged there. Carrot and celery slices with some sort of white dip, raspberries, slices of plain rye bread, and a small bowl of almonds and walnuts.
The vegetables and fruit were new.
Someone had been to the store to pick them
up for me since my garden wasn't producing yet, and the last time I had been in the kitchen, there hadn't been any of it in the refrigerator.
"I forgot the tea," Minos said, shaking his head.
"You made me tea?"
"No."
"Ly?" I asked, his name a bittersweet thing on my tongue.
"Why he wouldn't bring it the fuck down himself is beyond me," Minos said, sighing.
"I heard Drex say you always feed us."
"No one else would remember," Minos admitted, shaking his head. "Except, apparently, Lycus. But only this generation," he said, eyes probing, making assumptions, coming to conclusions. "Are you coming upstairs today?"
"No."
"Tomorrow?"
"No."
Minos watched me for a long second before shrugging.
"Suit yourself."
"You're judging me."
"If you have freedom, and you don't use it, you're a fucking idiot," he told me, then turned away, making his way back up the steps.
Alone, I tore into the food, finishing everything provided to me, but feeling famished even after.
I tried to convince myself it was enough, that I would get fed again soon, and that I could stay where I was and tolerate a little hunger.
In the end, the desire for more food—especially that interesting dip—overtook me.
I inched my way up the stairs, stopping at the top, listening at the door for a long moment. When I was sure no one was there, I rushed out, making a beeline for the refrigerator, finding more carrots and celery, and a bottle of something that said "ranch" on the front that appeared to be the interesting dip.
"You're fucking stubborn," Ly's voice said, making me whip around, a gasp escaping me as I spun to find him standing in the doorway to the front of the house.
He looked even better than he did in the explicit dreams that plagued me when I closed my eyes. In those dreams, he was behind me, inside me, touching me the same way the man had been touching the woman at the party.
Feeling my body start to respond to him, I ducked my head and made my way toward the basement door.
"Not so fast, witch," he said, moving across the room in a few strides, blocking my retreat.
"Don't touch me," I snapped, voice coming out sharp, shrill. And I could only hope he took it as a warning.
"If I remember correctly," he said, voice silky, "you like it when I touch you."
"Hey now, what do we have here?" a female voice asked, heels clicking as she walked into the room.
Ly's eyes closed for a second at her voice, taking a steadying breath, like her presence was putting a crimp in his plans.
Turning, I found the woman who I'd heard at the party. The one named Red. Which was a fitting name, given her hair.
I wondered while looking at her how any man could see her and not realize she couldn't possibly be human. She was too perfect, too beautiful.
There were many beautiful women in my coven.
Mother nature shaped us all in unique ways.
And since there was no competition for men, there was no reason to feel anything about another woman's beauty.
Standing here, though, I couldn't help but wonder if Lycus and Red were ever an item, if he touched her the way he'd touched me, if he liked it more.
Envy was an ugly trait, one of the few emotions that the coven actively discouraged. All the others, from the positive ones like joy and hope to the negative like sadness and anger, were all accepted expressions of our inner world.
Envy was something unnatural, something born of resentment and feelings of lacking.
There was no denying that was the feeling curling its ugly fingers around my heart, though.
"The Sacrifice," I supplied, lifting my chin a bit as her eyes moved over me. Whether she found me lacking or not was beyond me, though.
"Oh, is it that time again?" she mused, perfectly arched brows pinching. "I'm a little rusty, Lycus, but since when do the witches roam around the house?"
"Since they make it rain when they're sad," he grumbled at her.
"Oh, oh that's rich," Red said, smiling. "Ace must love that."
"Exactly. That is why she gets to gather food and fuck around in the garden. Keeps the rain at bay."
"Well, what's her name?" Red asked, glancing at me, then Ly.
"My name is Lenore," I supplied. "Though everyone here seems to enjoy calling me witch, as though it is my name."
"Oh, I like her," she said to Ly. "I like you," she added to me. "That spirit. That has to be a good sign."
"A good sign of what?" I asked, feeling a sizzle of electricity at the base of my spine, an omen of sorts, my intuition telling me Red didn't like my spirit because she would enjoy conversation with me. Rather, my spirit might be useful to them all in some way.
But what way?
That was the question.
That was what my mind needed to be on, not ridiculous fantasies about Lycus and his hands and his mouth and, well, other things about him.
What did they want to do with me?
What was my purpose?
Why only one Sacrifice per generation?
"Of things," Red supplied, a guard going down over her face, making it clear that I wouldn't be getting anything out of her. "Ace wants us ready in ten," she added, giving Ly her attention again. "Lock up the witch, find your cut, and let's go."
With that, she was gone, heels clicking down the hall then up the stairs.
"Are you leaving for long? Should I find more food before you lock me downstairs?" I asked, angling my head to the side.
"Seeing as you willfully didn't eat for nearly three days, you should be fine," he said, yanking the door open.
The words bubbled up, angry and childish, but ultimately unstoppable.
"I hate you."
"Good," he agreed, slamming the door in my face.
He stormed off after, completely forgetting to lock the door.
I sat there on the steps, waiting, listening.
Ace, ever the whip-bearing and punctual leader, called the lingering Drex and Seven. A moment later, the rumble of their motorcycles droned off into the distance.
I waited half an hour, maybe more, before I put down my snacks and opened the door.
I made my way through the first level, then the second, making sure there was no one around.
Then, heart hammering, I went back into Ace's room.
The house, as a whole, was kept orderly. For a bunch of demons who likely didn't know how to use a broom and mop, that is. But Ace's bedroom was a mess. Not of discarded food or dirty clothing, but rather books and notebooks, scraps of paper full of cryptic phrases, charts, and maps.
He wasn't crazy, surely, but there was a lot to suggest he was obsessed.
With what, was the question.
The maps seemed to be of this general area, with certain spaces circled in red marker.
A path through the woods, following a river to what seemed like a massive rock formation had a red circle was the map closest to the top, all the others beneath had x's drawn through the circles, places investigated before.
Looking for what, though?
I shifted the maps to the side, reaching instead for the other pages.
Pages in books, notes scribbled in the margins.
About witches.
About powers.
About spells.
That was why they wanted us.
They wanted to use our powers.
To what? Find something? Tracking things wasn't exactly a strength of ours. Unless, perhaps, it was something that had belonged to us in the first place.
To sense places of power?
We could do that.
But to what end?
Demons couldn't harness power.
Their only power lay in persuasion on the human realm and eternal torture in hell.
I had more questions than answers, but my fate lay in the discovery of those conclusions.
What did they mean to d
o with me?
I sorted through the rest of the pages, finding nothing of significance, but took the map with me as I made my way back through the house, grabbing my cloak as well as the shoes I had worn on the trip from my coven.
And then I did the unthinkable.
I left the house.
Pulling the map out of my pocket, I moved into the woods surrounding the house, intent on finding the red circle, seeing what I might be able to deduce by being near it.
I underestimated the woods, though, misinterpreted the simplicity of the map.
I'd always been good with direction. You could have dropped me off in any random spot in the woods around my home, and I would have found my way back.
But as the minutes turned to hours, as my thighs burned, and my breath heaved as I scaled hill after hill, I realized I wasn't as adept as I had once thought myself to be.
And before long, I lost sight of the estate, got so turned around that I found myself good and lost.
In the woods.
As the sun went down.
I wasn't afraid of the woods, of the dark. I was raised in them. I knew all their secrets.
My fear was of being in the woods at night had nothing to do with the woods. And everything to do with that massive estate, and with its empty basement.
And the motorcycles I'd heard returning half an hour before.
It was too late to prevent my escape's discovery, though, I reminded myself as I sat down on a fallen tree, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Getting upset about what might happen did nothing but steal the peace from the present moment.
Marianne had always said that. I was disappointed in myself that it took so long to truly understand the meaning of those words. I guess I had simply never had much to fret about in the past. Now, though, my entire world was uncertain; my fate was dependent upon creatures known for their utter lack of mercy.
And I had gone ahead and ticked off the only one of them who seemed to—at least on occasion—have a fondness for me. I should have been using that to my advantage, not trying to push him away.
Now, he was likely going to be in trouble for my escape. Which meant there was very little chance of him being kind to me again in the future.
"Enough," I whispered to myself, shaking my head.
I took three slow, deep breaths, expanding my belly, holding, then releasing as I let the sounds of the woods greet me. The chirps of the crickets, the sounds of the frogs in the water, the rustling of the crispy leaves in the trees, the occasional skittering of some small forest creature—mice, opossums, raccoons. The hoot of an owl somewhere far off reminded me of home so deeply my heart hurt.
The Sacrifice: A Paranormal MC Romance Page 8