Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I was shoved forward, likely by the masked man, and my chest pressed to the unforgiving wood. It pronounced how short of breath I’d become. When I’d filled out the form earlier, I’d marked that I was okay with bondage, but the reality of it was more intense than I’d expected. My instinct to fight against the ropes was fierce, but I tamped it down.
In this position, I could only see in front of me to the robed people who didn’t seem to have faces. Were they wearing black fabric or mesh face shields? They must have had mouths somewhere though—because they began to chant in Gaelic. Their monotone delivery of the ancient language was dark, and I convinced myself it was the wind that caused me to shiver—and not their ritualistic chanting.
The girl who’d brought me here giggled uncontrollably, sounding so excited, she could barely stand it, and my heart thudded in my chest.
“You want to be the vessel,” came a voice from behind me, presumably the masked man. “Tell us. Let everyone hear it.”
I blinked as I stared at the black voids where there should have been faces. Their body language announced they were waiting, even as they continued to chant.
I cleared the gravel from my throat, but my voice was uneven anyway. “I want to be the vessel.”
My shaky attempt displeased him because he snapped at me, “Louder.”
“I want to be the vessel.”
“Louder.”
He wanted me to shout it? Fine. I balled my hands into fists, straining uncomfortably against the ropes. “I want to be the vessel,” I yelled.
“Again,” he ordered, still dissatisfied. “Louder.”
What the fuck?
I shouted it, over and over, not caring if I sounded like a fool. My nerves were jagged, making me compliant.
The chanting swelled to match my volume . . . until it abruptly ceased.
In the silence, my throat burned from yelling, and I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air.
“The ritual is complete,” the man behind me said, “but the vessel will fill faster if we make a place for him to get inside.”
I didn’t know where the axe came from—perhaps one of the minions had retrieved it from beneath the platform. It was a simple design: a large, curved blade on one side that stretched from its thick wooden handle. It had to be a prop, but—fucking hell—it looked real.
My gaze followed the axe as it was passed forward and up to one of the men standing beside me.
“Head down,” the masked man snarled.
My mouth went dry as I tucked my chin, resting it against the notch on the chopping block so the back of my neck was displayed. My eyes slammed shut when the cold, dull edge of the blade came to rest against my skin.
It wasn’t real, but my body began to divorce from my mind. Every muscle inside me twisted. When the blade drew away, the man looming over me took a deep breath of exertion, as if preparing. I pictured the moment, how the axe was held high in the air over my neck, ready to strike any second and send my head rolling to the cobblestones below.
“Oy!” someone across the courtyard yelled. “What’s going on here?”
My eyes burst open at the same time the man dropped the axe beside me, causing it to clang loudly on the planks.
“Go,” the masked man commanded in a hurried voice to the group. “We got what we needed.”
The group scattered as the guy on the far side of the courtyard charged forward.
He was dressed like he’d just come from the rave, with dark eye makeup and a spiked collar, and I’d never been so relieved to see a goth stranger rushing toward me. He scanned the courtyard as he strode to the platform, assessing the situation, and must have decided the poor man tied to the chopping block was a higher priority than the fleeing robed figures.
His heavy boots carried him up the steps on the side stage.
“You all right, mate?” the Englishman asked as he undid the knots.
I nodded, bolted up off my knees, and backed away from the block. Even though it was gone, I still felt the kiss of the axe’s blade on the back of my neck, and I lifted a hand to rub the sensation away.
The guy noticed the tremble in my hand but didn’t seem concerned. “Come with me,” he said.
Adrenaline still surged through my system, making me walk on jittery legs as I followed him to the corner of the courtyard then through the door at the base of the tower.
I was back in the castle, but once again, it simply looked like a plain outdated hotel. The corridor was dim and sad, and I only got a quick glance before the goth guy grabbed my elbow and thrust me forward, launching me into a tiny room.