Page 29 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

We are the first to arrive at the secret entrance, but we are fifteen minutes early, so we take a seat on a nearby bench.

“Alek?” she whispers.

“Yes, malishka? ”

“Can you ease up on my hand? You’re crushing my bones.”

I glance down where our hands are joined, and indeed, her knuckles are turning white. I loosen my grip.

Neither of us speak as the clock tower counts down the minutes, and as we draw closer to ten o’clock, none of the other candidates show up.

“Did we get the time right?” Willow keeps her voice low.

I’ve checked the invitation every day since we returned from St. Moritz. We’re in the right place at the right time, but still, fear seizes my chest and squeezes so tightly I can hardly breathe. If I’m sentenced to die because I can’t read a calendar properly…

With two minutes remaining, the cellar door creaks open. For the first time, relief washes over me instead of terror at the sound. I won’t be dying today because of a scheduling mix-up.

But this is Willow’s first underground ritual, and she startles.

She grips my arm as a pair of figures emerge, one of whom I recognize as a candidate.

I believe his family name is Weitzmann, but I don’t know his first name.

Both Weitzmann and his female companion are wearing white togas draped around their frame with laurel crowns askew on their dark, mussed hair.

“I know her,” Willow murmurs, nodding at the female beside him. “She’s in one of my classes. I think she was at the Feast of Apollo.”

The girl’s face is the same shade as her white garment, although hers is more sheer than her partner’s and clings to her body. Mascara and lipstick are smudged on her face, and the haunted look in her eyes makes me pull Willow tighter against me.

They gingerly make their way across the landscaping, and when they emerge from the bushes, I understand why. Their feet are bare and caked with dirt, just like mine were after the first trial.

“What happened in there?” Willow asks, a hint of desperation in her voice.

The female’s lower lip quivers as tears well in her eyes, and she shakes her head before hurrying off down the sidewalk.

“Good luck in there.” Weitzmann gives me a curt nod before casting his gaze to the ground, and he follows after the woman I presume is his pythia.

“What the fuck was that?” Willow bites her lip, her brows knitted together as she watches the couple disappear into the fog.

Whatever they just endured left her traumatized and him too ashamed to even meet my eye. And that doesn’t bode well for Willow and me.

When the clock tower rings on the hour, the cellar door opens once again, and a hooded figure steps out. His face isn’t visible beneath his low hood, and he gestures down the stairwell that leads underground.

I glance at Willow, and in her eyes, I see an emotion that I’m all too familiar with—fear. She used to get off on it when I’d make her afraid of me.

But nothing is arousing about this situation.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask. “You can still walk away.”

She shakes her head. “Where you go, I go.”

I stand up and pull Willow to her feet, and then I hold her hand as she steps over the decorative iron edging that runs along the landscaping. We wade through the brush until we reach the hooded figure, who says nothing as he watches us.

“I’ll go first,” I whisper to Willow.

She nods, and I step over the lip of the cellar onto the first step. Glancing behind me, I hold out my hand, and she places her soft palm in mine. I guide her down the stairs to where another hooded figure waits for us, holding a torch to light our way.

When we approach him, he gestures toward a stone bench in the dark corner. Two white robes are folded into neat piles, along with a laurel wreath resting on top of each.

Willow tugs on my arm. “Where are we supposed to change?”

The hooded figure doesn’t respond; he keeps his arm extended toward the clothes.

“I think right here, malishka .”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t protest.

I slide her coat off her shoulders and lay it next to our clothes, then take off my own. Before I let a hooded stranger watch her undress, I shield her with my body.

Willow slips out of her dress, revealing a stunning pair of black lingerie underneath, which has garters clipped to a pair of sheer, knee-high stockings. However, when she reaches for the robe, the figure behind me rasps, “Take everything off, including your underwear and shoes.”

With a hesitant glance over her shoulder, she starts to peel the lingerie from her body. I keep myself between her and the hooded figure while stripping my clothes off.

I can handle the cold, but this underground corridor is freezing without clothes on.

The damp, uneven floor slides under my feet as I reach for my toga and drape it around myself.

As I affix the laurel crown on my head, I glance down at Willow, whose nipples are peaking against the sheer fabric in two tan circles, and the dark strip of hair on her pussy is only partially obscured by the opaque robe.

A low growl rips from my throat as I grab her hand and turn around. I throw a look of disgust at the hooded figure, who ignores me and walks deeper into the tunnel with his torch in hand. I follow, even though Willow’s trembling hand awakens every instinct in me to take her to safety.

We weave through the tunnels as cobblestone slicks beneath our bare feet. With every step we take toward the inner chamber, my heart sinks lower and lower into my gut.

When we reach our destination, our guide steps aside to let us pass.

“I’ve got you, malishka .“ I press a kiss into her hair before stepping into the cavernous room.

Willow gasps at the sight of dozens of masked, hooded figures in black, and every head in the room turns toward us. Rather than stand, they’re seated in wooden chairs arranged in a circle around a four-poster bed in the center of the chamber. The mattress is made up with pristine white sheets.

My gut roils, but I fight the urge to vomit. At least they changed the sheets after the last couple, although that’s the only courtesy we’ll likely be afforded tonight.

Gripping Willow’s hand tightly in mine, I lead her toward the center of the circle and step in front of the bed to face the Altar of the Dead. Hundreds of skulls stare back at us with empty sockets, and I can only imagine the horrors they’ve witnessed in this chamber over the centuries.

But standing next to the altar is a hooded figure with a leash, and attached at the end is a live hog.

Its snout is buried in a trough filled with brown slop, and it makes wet, slurping sounds between snorts.

Is it going to be sacrificed as an offering to the pagan gods in exchange for wealth and power?

Willow moves closer to me and clings to my arm. This is her first time in this room, and she’s a trembling leaf on a stormy night, fighting to hang on to its branch. I wrap my arm around Willow’s waist and pull her closer.

A figure in front of us stands from his seat in the circle.

“Welcome, Aleksandr.” When Enzo slips his hood down and removes his mask, Willow gasps.

He sets the mask on his seat and stalks toward us with a villainous smirk.

“Tonight, you will endure the Trial of Lust on your journey to becoming a god.”

Enzo rakes his eyes over Willow’s body, lingering far too long on her pussy. I turn her in toward my chest to keep her covered, but Enzo drags his gaze over the swell of her ass.

“Apollo handpicked his pythias to serve as the Oracle of Delphi. Through them, he delivered his divine message to the world, and to honor him, each brother has selected their own pythia. Tonight, you will do the same.” He finally glances up at her face when he addresses her.

“A pythia’s role is to serve her god and obey his every command.

This role is not without sacrifice, but what awaits you on the other side is a godlike man who will reward your efforts with unimaginable wealth and influence. ”

Willow presses her cheek against my chest, but she continues to watch Enzo over her shoulder.

“Aleksandr, tonight, you must declare who will walk with you at your side on this journey through hell. To seal Willow as your pythia, you must claim her in front of all to see.” Enzo gestures to the bed.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. This is a humiliation ritual, and Willow and I are unwitting participants in their twisted theater, a live pornographic show put on by every candidate.

Mikhail is somewhere among the hooded figures, although he’s already seen me fuck Willow before. I glance around the circle, but each figure is indistinguishable from the next.

Both Josie and Enzo have described Willow as the perfect pythia, and now I understand why. There aren’t many girls who would be okay with being fucked in front of a crowd of masked men, but Willow craves being the center of attention. It isn’t the first time she’s done something like this.

The night she told me she loved me, I claimed her pussy for the first time in front of Mikhail and my friends, and she relished having an audience.

She even fucked her entire high school football team, one right after the other, and didn’t bat an eye.

But when the video—filmed and posted without her consent—went viral, it nearly drove her to jump off a cliff.

Tonight isn’t on her terms, and that’s what scares me.

I challenge Enzo’s gaze. “And if I refuse?”

His grin grows even wider. “You know what happens if you fail the trials. However, there is one more option to consider.” Enzo steps back and gestures toward the hog at the top of the raised platform. “As we said in our invitation, a substitute pythia will be available for your use.”

Willow holds her hand over her mouth as though she’s about to be sick. “Oh, my God.”

The very thought makes bile rise in my throat.

Enzo laughs. “Most of our candidates don’t go with that option, but it’s not unheard of.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “So, Aleksandr, what’s it going to be? Willow or the pig?”

Willow straightens and holds her head high, facing Enzo head-on. “Me.”

I lean in and press my lips to her ear. “Are you sure?”

When she tilts her head to meet my gaze, her jaw is set with determination. “I’m sure.” She steps away from me to survey the room, turning in a slow circle to face the faceless figures staring back at her.

Enzo’s lips part as he sucks in a breath. “See? I told you, Willow. You were made for this.”

Willow looks like a goddess in her sheer robe, her body on display at every angle.

Her fear melts away as she not only accepts her fate but embraces it.

She craves being the center of attention, being worshipped and lusted after by lesser men, and tonight, she’ll indulge in her most carnal, filthy fantasy.

I’m awed by her seraphic radiance, and these men don’t realize how lucky they are to bask in her mere presence. She possesses Athena’s strength and Aphrodite’s sensuality, and I can’t help but wonder how such a woman exists, much less belongs to me.

I glance at the floor, and with a chuckle, I slowly shake my head. “This is your show, malishka . I’m just along for the ride.”