Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“I like the best in life,” he replied smoothly, his voice like velvet. “That’s why I have you.”
His words hit harder than I wanted them to. I tried not to let it show, tried to steel myself against the effect he always seemed to have on me, but it was useless. My pulse quickened and I looked away, feigning indifference. I failed miserably. It was his usual driver waiting for us, the same man I’d seen a handful of times.
He was always silent but somehow commanding in his own way. He gave Alexander a respectful nod as he opened the door for us.
Alex motioned for me to get in first, carefully helping with my dress before sliding in beside me. As the door shut behind us and the engine purred to life, the plush seats cradled me in a way that felt both luxurious and claustrophobic. The quiet hum of the car filled the space, the world outside a blur of passing trees and darkening skies. Getting closer to the Chapel, I began to notice subtle changes.
The security on the Isle had been increased tenfold. Guards were stationed at key points, ensuring that the boundaries keeping the tourists in check were solid and well-patrolled. Alexander noticed me watching them and, as if reading my thoughts, began to explain.
“They’ve increased security for tonight. We can’t risk anyone wandering too far.”
I nodded but said nothing, my eyes still glued to the passing landscape.
The long road between the trees that led to the Chapel stretched ahead of us, a dark, winding path that grew more ominous with each passing second.
After another a few minutes I began to see them‑‑people of the Isle. They dotted the landscape, moving like shadows through the trees, their faces either painted or hidden behind elaborate masks. It was like something out of a twisted masquerade ball, their attire much different from ours—simpler, but no less formal. Some wore vibrant colors, others dark and muted tones. The designs on their faces ranged from intricate patterns to bold streaks of paint, all adding to the surreal atmosphere.
We bypassed the main entrance of the Chapel, instead heading for a private one. The car stopped, and Alexander, ever the gentleman, helped me out before leading me through a hidden doorway. He paused just inside, careful not to smudge my face paint as he adjusted something on my gown.
His fingers grazed my skin with a tenderness that caught me off guard.
For a moment, his eyes met mine, and there was a depth in his gaze that made the world around me tilt, as if the very ground beneath me was shifting. He stopped just a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over me with a quiet intensity, absorbing every detail—the gown that clung to me like sin, the roses entwined in my hair, and the mask painted to mirror his. His eyes gleamed with a dark hunger, and I could feel the air shift between us, thickening with unspoken promises.
"Perfection incarnate," he murmured, his voice dark and rich, like the whisper of temptation itself. "Are you ready for your debut?"
I realized, with a sudden tightening in my chest, that the people on the Isle—his disciples—hadn’t truly seen me since the night I was branded. That night had sealed my fate but after that... I had remained a ghost, hidden in the shadows of the viewing room, a whispered name sometimes seen behind a flock of tourists, a presence always just out of reach. Now, I was about to step into the light, no longer a myth or prophesized fable, but something real and tangible.
The people of Stygian Isle wouldn’t see Lolita, the server, the cashier, or the hotel housekeeper. They would see me as I was now. His. The woman the Isle had been waiting for.
I took a shaky breath, meeting his gaze once more. “I’m ready.”
What else could I be?
He took my hand, and we moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors. I recognized this path. This was the corridor that led to the room where punishments were conducted during the services. The room that everyone feared, where the guilty were taken when the ceremonies demanded it.
At the end of the hall, another door stood open, revealing a scene that stole my breath. I stopped in my tracks, unable to move as my eyes took in the room beyond.
Opulence.
That was the only word that came to mind. Glistening chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their crystals throwing shimmering patterns of light across the marbled floor below. Long, polished tables stretched from one end of the room to the other, adorned with gleaming silverware, crystal goblets, and the finest linens.
The scent of a grand feast filled the air—roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and rich, aromatic spices that made my stomach twist in a strange mix of hunger and unease. Everything felt heightened, every sound louder, every scent more vivid.