"Tonight marks a pivotal juncture in our journey as we welcome these two chosen souls into the dark embrace of Impío. "

  A hushed reverence swept through the masked audience, their anticipation more palpable with each passing second.

  As Mr. Hawthorne continued speaking, the men in red he’d referred to as Tenebrarius began to heat the brands they held, holding them in the flames that danced inside the pit.

  "Through careful observation and trials, they have demonstrated their resilience and capabilities of adaptation. With their submission, they will become a part of our society and bearers of our future legacy."

  The Tenebrarius stepped forward simultaneously, each bearing a branding iron. As they approached the women, a mixture of rage and dread twisted within my gut. They were going to brand them like cattle.

  The man Mr. Hathorne called Graves, his face hidden behind a menacing skulled deer head, moved to stand behind the woman wearing the fancy collar.

  As the flames burning within the wall scones cast eerie flickers across the room, the iron was placed against her skin.

  It sizzled, searing the flesh just beneath her left shoulder. A muffled cry escaped her lips, followed by a sob that echoed my own silent scream. At the same time happening right beside her, the other woman was receiving the same treatment. Her serene composure was a stark juxtaposition to the searing pain inflicted upon her. She remained detached, a distant witness to her own suffering.

  Another disturbing realization swept over me then—this was what awaited me. My thoughts spiraled, a tumultuous storm of panic and denial. I couldn’t do anything to evade it. I was trapped in this damn box and surrounded by a mass twisted loyalist.

  Mr. Hawthorne stepped between the two women and regarded them with nothing more than a curt nod of approval.

  "The brands they bear shall serve as a reminder of their chosen path and whom they belong to. Let this be a reminder to all that we do not tread the path of the faint-hearted."

  Each masked head bowed and what I was starting to assume was praise was recited. "Laus Diabolus, dominus tenebrarum, qui regnat in aeternum. Gloriamus in malum suum et nutrimus per viam obscuritatis.”

  The women were led away and taken out of sight. The word consummate reached my ears and gave me a grim idea of what awaited them. It was sickening.

  “Rise,” Mr. Hawthorne commanded the room as two feminine masked figures approached me. They opened the door of the box and offered their hands to help me climb out. I’d briefly considered refusing to move, but I knew one way or another I would be forced to the front of the room.

  As gloved hands guided me, I could feel a mix of awe and reverence all aimed at me. I wondered if Esther and Nicolette were amongst these people watching all of this unfold.

  The walk to the front of the room felt like a country mile. When I was finally before the altar and turned so that I was facing the room, I couldn’t bring myself to kneel. I was forced to do so by one of the masked nun’s gentle touches on my shoulder.

  As my knees hit the cold, blood-stained marble floor, the truth of my reality sank in and the terror that had gripped me since my abduction amplified.

  I couldn't escape from this.

  "For too long, we have yearned for this day." Mr. Hawthorne weaved a spell that held everyone captive. "We have bided our time, anticipating the arrival of those who would be worthy of our embrace."

  I heard his soft footfalls as he advanced on me, his overbearing presence radiating a dark power. His hand brushed the top of my head with a possessive tenderness.

  "Tonight, we celebrate not only my Electi’s arrival, but the strength of our purpose. Let this Rite reaffirm our shared destiny and illuminate the path that lies ahead. Together, we shall usher in a new era of darkness."

  As his words hung in the air, an unsettling sense of unity pervaded the church. They had a bond forged from some sense of twisted devotion to their leader and the sinister religion that united them all.

  Without further warning, heated iron seared my flesh where the dress exposed a portion of my back. A strangled cry of agony and anger tore from my lips and tears blurred my vision. It wasn't just the searing pain—it was the knowledge that I was being marked.

  I was a possession—his—and everyone would know it. Despair threatened to overwhelm me, but before I could be wholly consumed, hands raised me from the floor and ushered me through a rear door. The second I stepped through, a figure stepped from the shadows faster than I could track.

  A sharp prick in my neck plunged me into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I traced the outline of the brand—my mark—that was now a part of her. It was a symbol of unity that gave me a deep sense of satisfaction. The only way for it to be removed was if she cut the flesh from her body, and I would never allow that to happen.

  If and when Lolita was going to bleed, it would be solely because of me. I studied her beautiful sleeping face, feeling a surge of possessiveness mingled with tenderness. It was a confusing mix of emotions I had never felt until her.

  I cradled her head in my lap and did my utmost to keep from ripping off the dress she was wearing. The only thing stopping me was the short amount of time remaining until we were home. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I wanted her so fucking badly that for the first time in my life, I was on the verge of losing control.

  When Ambrose reached our home, I didn’t say a single word to him before carrying Lolita inside. I took her straight to our shared bedroom, her weight in my arms a reminder of the precious gift I’d been given.

  I gently placed her in the center of the bed and then took a step back. Moonlight filtered in through the windows and bathed her body in a soft glow. I studied her peaceful expression, concealing the turmoil that surely lay beneath.

  She’d done well tonight considering the offense she committed at breakfast. I couldn’t hold that against her, I suppose. In fact, it made me want her more.

  Watching her run away with nowhere to go had given me a twisted sense of excitement, hinting at a kink I wasn’t aware I had. All I’d wanted to do was slam her against the window and fuck her until she lost all feeling in her legs. I couldn’t then. I wasn’t able to touch her at the resort either, not in the way I wanted.

  But nothing was stopping me now.

  I took my time removing my clothes. The sedative would last a little longer, so there wasn’t any need to rush. This final act of patience was a true test of restraint. I knew as soon as I was inside her it would unravel completely. My dick was so hard it was almost painful. I stared at down at the woman in my bed and quietly approached her.

  With gentle hands, I began to get her out of the dress. I’d chosen it for tonight, picturing how good it would look on her—and the bedroom floor. Of course, I’d been right. Lolita was a vision in red. The dress had been made to fit her like a glove and took time to fully remove. When I was done and she was completely nude, I stood to appreciate her the way she deserved.

  As I beheld Lolita in her entirety, the room's air grew thick, the weight of my every desire pooling in my chest. She was a fucking masterpiece. Seeing her unclothed for the first time was akin to discovering a sacred relic. Long hair fanned across the pillows like spun silk. Her flawless bronze skin glowed under the ambient moonlight.

  Her every curve and contour was a testament to perfection. The gentle swell of her rounded breasts and hips held a magnetic pull.

  My hands itched to trace each inch, to claim every part of her that was now laid bare. In this moment, she was the epitome of vulnerability and innocence, a priceless piece of art. The knowledge that she was mine and only mine to gaze upon simultaneously soothed and ignited the most depraved and carnal urges within me. I wanted to protect, possess, and cherish her.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I climbed onto the bed and gently took hold of her ankles, spreading her legs. I positioned myself between them and lowered my face.

  I ran a light touch over her triangular patch of hair, parting her labia with my fingers. I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her. I groaned, dick pulsing with the need to feel her wrapped around it. I swiped my tongue up her center, breathing in again as I did.

  That first taste did nothing for me.

  I licked her up and down, flattening my tongue against her clit and slowly pushing it inside her pussy with each stroke. She continued to slumber, but her body came awake. I groaned appreciatively when her juices began to coat my taste buds. I kept going until her clit started to swell, gently rolling the hardened bundle with my fingertip.

  Lolita stirred slightly but still couldn’t overcome the effects of the sedative. I slowly kissed my way up her body, inhaling the scent of the bodywash I had carefully selected for her. It was a sweet and alluring fragrance. The perfect embodiment of her. I settled between her legs, adjusting her supple body beneath me.

  Reaching between us, I gripped myself and guided my tip to her entrance. Planting one arm beside her head and the other beneath her left thigh, I began to ease inside her.

  “Fuck,” I swore and slightly drew back as her body resisted the intrusion. I pushed forward again. This time I didn’t stop, I forced my dick all the way inside her, tearing through the only thing guarding her virtue. I swore again as her body stretched and tightened around me.

  I had imagined this moment countless times, played it in my mind over and over, but the reality was infinitely more intense. I withdrew and pushed back in, unable to help myself. I fucked her slowly, content with being inside her while she slept. When her head lolled and she showed signs of waking, I pushed myself deeper. I wanted her to wake up with me fucking her.

  A soft moan slipped through her sensuous lips and her beautiful brown eyes fluttered open. She stared up at me with obvious confusion. I watched as everything clicked.

  Without missing a beat, her body tightened, and she began to fight.

  “Get off of me!” She shoved at my chest and tried to separate us.

  “I’m not done yet.” I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. “And neither are you.” I thrust deeper, a thrill shooting through me when she cried out. “Keep fighting, deliciae. In fact, fight me harder. It’s making me never want to stop.”

  Her eyes widened, another cry escaping as I began to fuck her earnestly. She fought like a hellcat, going as far as biting me. I laughed, groaning as her pussy tightened. It was fascinating. The more she struggled, the wetter she became. I watched her closely, needing to know exactly what she liked.

  The way she was reacting sparked a theory that made her all the more perfect. I pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach. She immediately tried to escape.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I grabbed her by the hair. Her pained cry was music to my ears.

  “Fuck you,” she seethed breathlessly.

  “Such a filthy mouth, Lolita.” I tsked mockingly and wrapped her long hair around my fist. “Allow me to oblige.”

  I shoved her face into the pillows and lifted her ass, bringing my hand down on her right cheek as I returned to my new favorite place. She continued to struggle as I fucked her. Her screams and raw cries of pleasure she was desperately trying to withhold heightened my excitement. I released her hip and slipped my hand between her legs, finding her clit still swollen. I began to roll it, increasing my efforts when Lolita began to tremble.

  “No,” she rasped, weakly trying to throw me off.

  “Let it happen,” I urged with a gentle assertiveness I would never use with anyone but her.

  I adjusted my hips, focusing on finding and hitting her G-spot with deep, measured thrusts. She whimpered, her beautiful body tightening beneath my ministrations like a well-tuned bow. I wasn’t delusional or foolish enough to believe I’d conquered her so easily. We had a long way to go, but I couldn’t deny I was pleased.

  “Come for me.”

  Another thrust, and she did. With a soft cry, I felt her body tense. Her pussy began to contract around my dick, a rush of arousal gushing out of her.

  “That’s a good girl.” I loosened my grip on her hair and kissed up her back, grinning when she shivered and moaned. I waited until she started to catch her breath before forcing her to come again, gently swirling my fingers around her clit.

  She gripped the sheets and would have fallen if I didn’t have hold of her. I allowed my release to come then, keeping my thrusts measured until I needed to push deeper so that I came buried inside her. I stayed just like that for a moment, holding her trembling body tight.

  “Are, are you done?” Her soft, breathless voice shook with unshed tears.

  “Done?” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “We’re just now getting started.”

  She took a shuddering breath and murmured something unintelligible. This wasn’t the way I wanted to get what I needed, but it sated me. For now. Molding Lolita into the perfect partner without taking away too much of what made her herself was going to be a challenge.

  If she’d been raised on the Isle, things would be different, but now that I had her, I couldn’t think of a single thing I would’ve done differently.

  I greatly looked forward to strengthening our union and watching her flourish. In more areas than one, but especially when it came to our sexual proclivities.

  I wanted her screaming and begging—on the verge of sobbing—while I drove my dick so deeply inside her it felt as if we would become one. I wanted her to hurt but, in that pain, find exquisite pleasure. It’s what I needed and she deserved.

  I ran my hands over her body and slowly pulled out with a quiet grunt. I looked down and saw blood and her juices coating my dick.

  “Lay down, deliciae.” I eased her onto the bed, stomach down, and brushed aside her long hair. I placed a kiss on the mark that would forever remind her she was mine and trailed a path down her spine. I kneaded her fleshy ass and spread both cheeks to give myself better access to her pussy.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked in protest.

  I brought my mouth to her folds and grinned. “I want your virtue on my tongue.”

  Her sharp intake of breath when I licked her from top to bottom urged me on.

  The taste of her come mixed with mine was a fantasy come true. Her virginal essence made it even better. I licked and swallowed until she was crying out again, leaving enough that I could gather some in my mouth. As she shook from a mix of emotions, I moved up her body and forcibly turned her head.

  I kissed her roughly, making her taste everything I’d taken and what she gave in return.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Early morning sun filtered through the partially draped windows, giving the room an aura of beauty and semi-darkness. I stirred from a brief slumber, my senses slowly returning as my eyes adjusted. The distant sound of running water reached my ears. Something about it was gentle and comforting, a sharp contrast to how I was feeling.

  The mattress beneath me was as soft as I imagined a cloud would be, while the bed’s four towering columns resembled the spires on the dark cathedral that I’d seen the night before.

  I had to be in Mr. Hawthorne’s bedroom. The sheets smelled like him. So did my skin. As the memories of the horrifying events that I witnessed in that church came back to me along with what happened throughout the night, I struggled to process the surreal reality I'd been thrust into.

  I needed…

  I needed to do something to keep myself from having a total breakdown. I began to look around the room, momentarily stilling the mayhem in my head. His bedroom was a mix of themes. Brooding elegance and seductive sin, like the man himself.

  The ebony hardwood floor stretched like a midnight sea, its spotless sheen another sign of how immaculately clean this house was. He had to have more than one maid to keep up with it. Just from my brief rendezvous, I could tell this place was huge. His room alone rivaled the size of the suite he’d stayed in at the resort.

  The right side of the room was dominated by an enormous fireplace. Above it hung a large portrait, a portrayal of the devilish statue inside the church, whose presence seemed to permeate every corner of the room.

  Adjacent to that was a chaise longue, upholstered in deep burgundy. Its high back and sweeping armrests were intricately carved from blackened mahogany, depicting scenes of roses and serpents amidst tangled vines and thorns. Flanking the chaise were two chairs, similar in design. Their wooden legs culminated in clawed feet, gripping the plush rug beneath them.

  There was an armoire off to my left and two nightstands on either side of the bed I was in. Subtle feminine touches had been weaved into the overall design, soft accents of gold that lined the accent pillows and tasseled ropes that controlled the drapes.

  My gaze drew upward, and I froze.

  “What the fuck?” I whispered to myself, both fascinated and unnerved. The storm of thoughts that I had managed to momentarily ward off roared back with a vengeance as I had no choice but to face the woman staring back at me. She felt familiar, yet foreign.

  Her lips were swollen.

  Her hair cascaded in wild disarray, tousled from the restless night and how hard she’d fought. Light brown eyes, usually vibrant and full of life despite the hardships she’d endured, now held a shadow of something else. She was angry and confused. Ashamed. But more than anything, she was exhausted and sore. I couldn’t recall a time that I’d been this worn out, and I had once worked two jobs in the same day.

  A cultured voice that sounded as if it were wrapped in velvet ended my observation. "Good morning, deliciae.”

  My gaze instinctively turned toward him, and my breath caught in my throat.

  He stood in the doorway, his tall and powerful form wrapped in nothing but a towel that hung low on his hips and revealed every sculpted inch of his torso. His raven-black hair was slightly tousled, adding an untamed edge to his predatory magnetism. The light scar that marred his striking face made him even more dangerously attractive.