“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.”
ELEVEN
TYSON
Ican hear her heavy breathing fill the room while doing as she’s told. I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d go easy this one time. Of course, my easy isn’t soft, but it’s better than what I have planned for her in the future. She will learn to love being whipped, chained, and gagged when I fuck her. The daughter of Frank Minson will crawl on her hands and knees while begging me to use her however I want.
Her parents hate me. They blame me for Whitney’s death. I don’t give a fuck what they think. They were the ones who failed both of their daughters. One is dead, and the other will be wishing that soon.
I stay in the living room, watching the heavy rain hit the floor-to-ceiling windows while undoing my button-up. Shrugging the wet material off my shoulders, I pour myself another drink and throw it back, making sure not to let it go to waste. It’s Dalmore—a fifty-year-old whiskey, courtesy of her father. He had given Luke this room tonight. A sick way for him to make sure she bled when they consummated their marriage. I’ll make sure to leave him a visual. Just in case the scene I put on at the Cathedral wasn’t enough.
