Page 33

AVA

L ying on the altar, I forced my limbs to remain slack as Ciaran’s clammy, shaking hands began to undress me.

Each layer he removed left more of my bare skin pressed against the icy, unyielding stone, but instead of cooling me, a strange heat churned in my core, burning brighter with every second.

I could feel their eyes on me, a prickling weight crawling over my exposed skin.

The sense of vulnerability was suffocating, yet beneath it simmered a darker thrill—electric, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.

My body betrayed me, a skittering ripple of sensation racing over my flesh as if it could sense the peril in the air.

I focused on my breathing, keeping it slow and even, inhaling the damp, earthy scent, tinged with smoke.

But the silence wasn’t still. It pressed in on me like ghostly hands all over my body, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire torches on the walls, the red glow flickering across my lids.

Boots scuffed against the stone floor, heavy and deliberate. Each step sent a faint vibration through the altar, a reminder of how exposed I was, how close they were, predators circling their prey, and my nipples hardened as an unwanted ache grew inside me.

Despite loathing every part of their sick initiation ritual—hating being trapped in this nightmare, hating the way they were forcing Scáth to corrupt something sacred between us into something vile—a dark thrill surged through me, unbidden and unwelcome.

I grew wet and achy at the anticipation of Ciaran fucking me while I lay “asleep” while strangers watched.

He tugged off my skirt and I was left almost naked. But Ciaran’s fingers paused on the hem of my panties.

“Don’t stop now,” the dean said, his dark laugh cutting through the darkness behind my lids. “It’s just getting good.”

I willed Ciaran to be strong. We could get through this together.

If I could look into his eyes for just a moment, I could reassure him that I was alright. That we would be alright.

But it was impossible. If I moved even an inch, opened my eyes for just a moment, we’d be caught. He would have to trust I was strong enough.

Ciaran tugged down my panties and the feeling of exposure was like nothing I’d ever felt.

My hair dragged behind me when Ciaran slid me toward the edge of the altar, and I felt him stand between my thighs as if he was trying to shield me .

The heat from his thighs burned me even through his pants and I felt his cock brush against me.

Fuck. He was hard. He was ready. A rush of need went through me.

“A gentleman,” the dean laughed cruelly.

“A cunt isn’t worth fucking if it isn’t wet,” Ciaran snapped back as he stroked two fingers against my pussy lips, his fingers sliding through my wetness, my dark shame.

I wanted him. Even in this forced and twisted situation, I wanted him.

He let out a soft gasp. A surprise at my welcome.

Shame threatened to overcome me but I shoved it down. No. I would never ever apologize for how he made my body feel. Or how my body reacted.

The body was the most primal part of me. It knew no morals, no judgment, no law. It only knew pleasure and pain, need and want, my sexual instincts the most natural thing in the world.

No matter how twisted this initiation was, nothing Scáth did to me could ever feel wrong.

But I could feel him fighting with himself as he pushed two fingers in to stretch me, to ready me for the size of his cock.

I could feel his torment in his jagged breath, how his hand shook as he positioned his cock at my entrance and hesitated.

My body flushed with need, ached to grab him and pull him deep inside me.

But I remained still, waiting, wanting, aching.

Finally, he pushed inside me. For a moment of bliss, the surrounding tomb faded away and I was taken back to all the times he’d fucked me, filling me so deeply.

There was no High Lord. There was no Sochai. There was no altar, no watching guards or video recording.

I got so lost in the pleasure of him that I almost let a filthy groan escape my lips. But I caught myself.

Ciaran began to take long, steady thrusts as I remained limp beneath him.

My breasts shook with every thrust, my nipples bloomed to hardened peaks, and my bare feet swung from the edge of the table.

I knew Ty was listening to the wet sounds of me getting fucked through the listening device hidden in the necklace, Ciaran’s groans echoing in the tomb.

I imagined him watching just like he did at the doorway, his hand on his cock. Imagined him leaning over me to suck my nipples the way he did as his brother fucked me on the table.

The image was so powerful, I felt the ghost of his mouth on my breasts, felt his cock filling my mouth, and I nearly gave myself up with an uncontrollable rock of my hips as I begged for more.

I hadn’t considered how risky it would be to lose myself so completely in this little show.

But as my orgasm came barreling toward me, fear lashed me.

Oh God.

I hadn’t been able to keep myself silent when I came during my ‘test.’ I hadn’t been able to stop the groan from slipping from my lips or the way my hips had twitched up, to milk every last wave of pleasure from Ty’s cock .

What if I couldn’t stay still now?

We’d be caught. Tortured. Killed.

I tried to stop it, tried to push down the surge of pleasure, tried to pull myself back from the edge.

But it was no use.

My pussy clenched around Ciaran’s cock as he thrust into me. There was no way he didn’t sense my impending climax, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

Then he redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder and faster, his fingers digging into my hips. I knew what he was doing—trying to mask my inevitable reaction with his own.

The pressure built inside me, a tidal wave I couldn’t hold back. Just as I was about to shatter, Ciaran let out a guttural groan, loud enough to echo off the stone walls.

His hips jerked erratically against me as he came, and in that moment of chaos, my orgasm crashed over me.

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, desperately fighting to keep my body still as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm me.

My inner muscles clenched around Ciaran’s cock, milking him, and I prayed the pulsing would be mistaken for his own climax. Prayed that my involuntary twitches would get lost in the rough way Ciaran spasmed against me.

Then Ciaran collapsed on top of me, his arms shaking on either side of me as he kept from crushing me.

For a moment, the only sound I could hear was his ragged breathing and my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. It filled the silence like a war drum, beating out the fear I tried desperately to suppress.

Sweat slicked my skin, cooling as it mingled with the cold air of the tomb .

Every instinct screamed to move, to reassure him, to break the sick tension in the air, but I fought to keep my face slack, my limbs loose, my body convincingly limp. The effort was excruciating.

Then the beep of the video recording being shut off pierced the silence like a blade. It was a splash of cold water dragging me back to reality.

I’d almost forgotten where I was—forgotten that this wasn’t just Ciaran and me. For one desperate, deluded moment, I’d let myself believe the room was empty but for us, and that our pleasure wasn’t being watched, dissected, and judged.

Ciaran made this sound in my ear—a low, guttural noise, raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t just pain; it was agony, shame, and the unbearable weight of what they were forcing him to do.

My heart ached in ways I couldn’t describe.

He shook against me, his breath hot and uneven on my shoulder, and it took everything in me not to wrap my arms around him, not to shatter the illusion. I wanted to whisper that I was fine, that there was nothing wrong with him, nothing broken, that I wasn’t hurt.

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I focused on my breathing, forcing it to stay slow, steady. My heart hammered anyway.

Ciaran withdrew from me, his cum trickling down my thighs making me feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly filthy. But beneath it all, a flicker of triumph burned. I’d done it. I’d come without moving, without screaming.

Anticipation flooded me, a sickening wave of hope and dread all tangled together. Did we do it? Had we fooled them? Or was the next second going to be my last?

The dean’s slow clap echoed through the chamber, deliberate and mocking, and my chest constricted. He was pleased, the sadistic bastard.

His voice followed, cruel and cutting. “Well done, son. Your father would be so proud.”

A chill ran through me. The words were poison, laced with malice, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of them.

Ciaran was everything his father wasn’t. Every fiber of my being knew this.

Beneath his shadowed layers lay a core of goodness, a stark contrast to his father’s heart, rotten to its very core.

Ciaran was strong, driven by a relentless fight for what was right, even when his path was paved with blood. His father had been weak, hiding behind power and control, wielding cruelty as a means to an end to satisfy his twisted selfish desires.

But I feared, in the horrible silence that followed, that Ciaran didn’t know it. Not truly.

What if he saw himself as his father’s reflection? A monster wearing his face? What if he believed the dean’s vile words? The thought gutted me, leaving a void of helplessness in its wake. What would Ciaran allow to happen to himself if he believed that? What would he become?

My chest tightened, panic rising. I couldn’t lose him—not to them, not to himself, not to this. I wouldn’t.

My body may have been still, a facade of unconsciousness, but my heart screamed the truth. I couldn’t let them corrupt him .

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” came Ciaran’s bitter response.

I felt a cloth swipe over my inner thighs, the tender motion at odds with the bitterness in his tone.

My heart clenched, a war of emotions waging inside me. What was he using as a rag? His shirt? His pride?

“Now, if you’ll please come with me,” the dean said smoothly, his voice a sinister calm that made my blood run cold. “It’s time to get fitted for your robe, Mr. Donahue.”

The grating screech of stone against stone filled the chamber, signaling the opening of another door. The sound was as much a warning as it was an invitation, and my heart leaped into my throat.

Two equally overwhelming thoughts flashed through my mind.

We did it. We fooled them.

And, God, Scáth, please don’t leave me here alone.

Ciaran’s hesitation was a physical thing, his hand lingering on my thigh for a beat too long.

I fought the primal urge to reach out, to clutch his wrist, to beg him not to go. But I couldn’t. Not if we were going to survive this nightmare.

“Now, Mr. Donahue,” the dean’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and commanding. There was no room for defiance.

Ciaran’s hand slipped off my thigh, and I heard his footsteps moving away, each step feeling like a blow. He was leaving me behind.

My chest tightened, panic clawing at the edges of my resolve.

“Give that to me,” I heard him mutter to someone .

And then, suddenly, his footsteps returned and before I could process it, he draped a cloth over my exposed body, the weight of it feeling both protective and crushing.

“ Nobody touches her,” his voice echoed through the chamber, a fierce command. “Or I’ll tear their fucking arm off and beat them to death with it.”

For a moment, everything was still; even the tomb seemed to hold its breath.

I could almost feel the fingers sliding onto the triggers.

Then the dean laughed, breaking the tension like snapping bone. “Mr. Donahue, please. We’re not savages. No one’s going to touch your property.”

His property.

Rage flared hot and fast in my chest, so potent it almost forced me to break character.

God, I couldn’t wait to burn their fucking sick, misogynistic society to the ground.

The heavy door groaned as it creaked shut behind them, the sound echoing like a death knell. And then, silence.

But I wasn’t alone.

The air in the chamber shifted, tense and charged, and I caught the faintest shuffle of movement. Someone was still here. Someone was getting closer.

I stopped breathing, straining every nerve to listen.

My skin prickled with the undeniable sensation of being watched, of eyes raking over me, assessing, judging. My pulse pounded, deafening in my ears, and I prayed they couldn’t see it hammering at the base of my throat.

The sheet was ripped away from me so violently it was as if the room itself exhaled in shock. My body jolted instinctively, but I swallowed the scream that clawed its way up my throat.

A presence loomed above me, heavy and oppressive. Fear slammed into me, twisting my insides into knots.

No. Oh God, no.

Ciaran’s words meant nothing now. His decree that no one touch me was worthless against whatever monster the dean had left behind.

I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, hear the low rasp of his breathing as he leaned closer.

My mind spiraled, wild with terror, as I imagined what was about to happen.

What if there’s more than one? What if they all—

Time warped, stretching into a cruel mockery of itself. Seconds felt like hours as my mind fought to reconcile my rising panic with the cold logic of survival.

Could I keep pretending I was unconscious if they decided to violate me? Could I endure this charade at the cost of my soul?

No. Fury surged like wildfire in my veins, burning away the paralysis of fear.

I wouldn’t let them take another piece of me. I wouldn’t lie there, motionless, while they shred my body to pieces.

I’d rather die fighting than let the Sochai steal any more of my soul from me.

But the figure above me didn’t move. There was no grab, no violence. Just… stillness. It unnerved me even more.

What the fuck are you waiting for?

His sharp inhale cut through the suffocating silence, and then— whoosh —a rush of air swept over my face.

My lashes flickered .

No.

No, no, no.

The reflex was instantaneous and damning. I’d managed to stay silent, to stay still, through all of it. But a reflex I couldn’t control had betrayed me. This had been their final test and I failed.

My only choice now was to fight.

Before I could reach for the blade in my hair, a feminine sigh sent goosebumps down my spine.

“You can stop pretending, Ava, darling.”