Page 40 of Soul Bound (Cursed Descent (MistHallow Academy) #2)

40

MATILDA

We position ourselves around the altar. The stone surface still bears dark stains from centuries of rituals, but this time is different. This time, it’s my choice.

“Are you sure about this?” Vex asks, his runes blazing so bright they cast dancing shadows on the walls. “You know what we have to do, right?”

“You have to rape me,” I croak.

Draven’s growl echoes around the chamber. “No.”

“With my consent,” I add. “We have to.”

“No.”

“You can’t say no!” I snap.

“This is twisted as fuck,” Luc says, interrupting before Draven can hit the roof. His face has gone so dark, it scares me.

“Yes, it is. But that is what we have to do.”

“So consensual non-consent?” Vex asks, with a nod. “I can get on board with that.”

I shoot him an exasperated stare before turning back to Draven. “Look. It’s this way or the full force of the Praxian strains against the curse, which will hold, and probably bring MistHallow down on our heads. So what is it?”

Draven’s face is a mask of conflicted emotions as he stares at me. I can see the war raging behind his eyes. His protective instincts are battling against the necessity of what we have to do.

“There has to be another way,” he growls, but I can hear the resignation in his voice.

“There isn’t,” I say softly. “You know that as well as I do. This is how the curse was cast, so this is how it has to be broken.”

Luc steps forward, his eyes blazing with Hellfire. “If we’re doing this, we do it right. No holding back.”

I nod, feeling fear coil in my gut. “That’s the only way it will work. We have to recreate the original act when Bronwen threw the curse.”

Vex’s runes glow brighter. “The chamber will amplify everything. Are you sure you can handle that level of power?”

“I have to,” I say, more confidently than I feel. “We all do.”

I turn to face the altar, bracing my hands on the cold stone. The Praxian force inside me jolts, starved and ferocious. It knows what’s coming. It wants it. It needs it.

“Are we sure this is what we have to do?” Luc asks. “Breaking the curse, I mean?”

“If we want answers, then yes. It will draw everyone out of their little, shitty hidey-holes and we can finally get the answers we need.”

“Blackthorn is going to kill us,” Vex mutters, but steps closer. “You ready for this, sprinkles? It’s not going to be pretty.”

I grit my teeth, grinding them painfully as panic hits my chest. Am I ready for this? No, in a word. But it’s the only way. “Make it fucking ugly.”

Vex’s smile turns almost sinister, and I gulp when he moves forward and grips my hair tightly, pulling my head back. He licks my face and fists his hand in my hair as the other one rips my top, tearing the fabric under his strength. I shiver, and he gives me an annoyed glare. “You’re supposed to be fighting me.”

I blink. “Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t apologise to him,” Draven snaps. “Can we just get this over with?”

I bite back a retort and try to focus. This isn’t just roleplay, we’re recreating a traumatic ritual to break an ancient curse. I have to make it real. Fuck, this is twisted beyond belief. Fucking ancient bastards. Why were they so disgusting?

I re-focus when Vex yanks my hair again, and I cry out and struggle against him. “No! Stop!”

His hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my protests as he roughly gropes my breast, gripping and tugging my nipple. I thrash wildly, my nails raking across his arm.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Fight me.”

Luc moves behind me, ripping my pants down. I kick back at him, but he easily subdues me. Tears spring to my eyes, from pain or the intensity of the moment, I’m not sure.

Draven stands back, conflict etched on his face. But as the ritual energy builds, something dark flashes in his eyes. He stalks forward, gripping my chin.

“Look at me,” he commands. When I try to turn away, he squeezes harder. “I said look at me while they ravage you.”

A sob escapes me as Vex and Luc manhandle me naked onto the altar. I struggle in their tight grip, twisting to try to get away from them. I feel sick knowing this happened for real to women before me and here I am with the loves of my life doing what, exactly?

The cold stone bites into my skin. Vex pins my wrists above my head as Luc spreads my legs.

“Please,” I whimper, but it’s drowned out by the rising hum of power.

Tears streak down my face from the intensity of their actions and from channelling the trauma of those who came before. This has to be real; it has to carry the weight of pain and violation.

Vex’s grip on my wrists is bruising as he holds me down. Luc’s Hellfire burns hot against my skin. Draven looms over me, his eyes fathomless pools of darkness.

“Please,” I sob again, struggling against their hold. “Don’t do this.”

But my pleas fall on deaf ears as primal male energy fills the chamber. The runes beneath us flare to life, drinking in the dark ritual energy.

Luc enters me first, slamming in to the hilt without a word. I cry out at the painful intrusion, my body instinctively trying to twist away. But there’s nowhere to go.

Vex forces my head to the side, plastering his hand on my cheek, pinning me in place as Luc slams into me.

“Fight, little witch. Fight us,” Vex murmurs.

Draven’s death magick swirls around us, amplifying every sensation to an unbearable degree. His cold hands ghost over my skin, leaving trails of numbness in their wake as he holds me down while his brother fucks me, harder and more painfully than I’ve experienced.

“Ah,” I cry out, thrashing wildly against the tight grip on me.

Luc grunts and shoots his load into me. He is barely finished before he pulls out and swaps places with Vex as I writhe on the cold altar, held down by Draven and Luc.

Vex takes his place between my legs, his runes blazing with dark energy. He enters me roughly, his thrusts merciless as he pounds into me. The pain and pleasure blur together as the ritual energy builds to a fever pitch.

“Fight me,” he growls.

I sob and struggle against their iron grip. My body betrays me as waves of pleasure crash over me. The Praxian force inside me convulses, feeding off the dark energy permeating the chamber.

Draven’s cold hand wraps around my throat and he tightens his grip, pinning me to the altar as he watches with fathomless eyes. His death magick seeps into my skin, amplifying every sensation to an unbearable degree. Luc’s heat is burning me. He is stripping my soul from my body, but the Praxian won’t let it go. I scream in real pain and fear when I feel it slip slightly. Luc’s surprised grunt jolts me back into my body as he shifts to his Demonic form, but this time, he is more significant, scarier and more Devilish than before. I whimper as his eyes of fire fix on me, but my soul is intact, and the Praxian resumes protecting me. Was it testing me? Him? Something happened there, and it was for a reason.

Draven’s breathing becomes heavier as Luc places his hand on my sternum and pushes down. It’s like a building came down on me, and I rasp.

“Please,” I whimper, not sure if I’m begging them to stop or keep going.

The runes beneath us flash with light as the ritual feeds from the sex and fear. Vex’s movements grow frantic as he nears his release. With a guttural groan, he spills inside me.

As soon as he pulls out, Draven takes his place. His touch is like ice as he enters me, the contrast of cold and heat making me cry out. His thrusts are measured but powerful, each one driving the ritual energy higher.

“Look at me,” he commands. “Look at me fucking you.”

I meet his gaze, shuddering at the darkness I see there.

He shifts to his enhanced Necromancer self, and his eyes bore into mine as he thrusts relentlessly, his icy touch the opposite to the burning heat of Luc’s hand still pinning me down. The ritual energy builds to a fever pitch, feeding off our actions and amplifying every sensation.

I sob and struggle against their grip, playing my part even as the height of ecstasy reaches its peak, and I shudder with revulsion through my climax when it hits me hard. The Praxian force gorges itself on the pitch black power permeating the chamber.

“Fight me. Hate me,” Draven growls, his movements growing faster, harder, more painful with each thrust. He thrusts deep and with a low growl comes inside me, overfilling my pussy with cum, which slides back out and onto the altar. Vex is already waiting with his athame as he slashes it across my throat, bleeding me out as the guys take turns cutting themselves. I choke on the pain from the shallow wound, but the Praxian approves. It isn’t darkness, it’s black. Pure, unadulterated evil.

Sitting up suddenly, I gasp, slapping my hand to my throat. The magick swirls around us, and I feel a black robe slide against my skin as something or someone clothes me, covering me up.

The ground trembles violently, and I can’t see the guys anymore. The mist swirling around grows thicker, darker, more sinister. A deafening boom shakes the air as something ancient and powerful snaps.

We all cry out as a shockwave of pure magick explodes outward. It slams into me, knocking me off the altar. I hit the ground, harder than I’d have liked, breaking my arm as I land twisted on it. I yell out in pain as the agony lances through me.

Through the haze of pain and swirling fog, a blinding light fills the chamber. Laurent materialises, but not as we know her. Massive wings of pure light unfold behind her, her true form finally revealed.

“Stop!” she commands, her voice carrying divine authority. “You don’t understand what you’ve done.”

My broken arm throbs as I struggle to my feet, the black robe clinging to my sweat-soaked skin.

“You are an Angel,” I gasp, the Praxian force recoiling inside me at her presence. “You were meant to prevent this.”

“I was charged with containing the Praxian magick,” she confirms, her ethereal form rippling with power. “To ensure the curse remained stable. But Anu...” She pauses, conflict crossing her divine features.

“What about her?” I demand.

The chamber trembles violently as another presence makes itself known. Xanthos rematerialises from the shadows, his eyes fixed on Laurent.

“Tell her,” he says quietly, and I get the feeling we’ve got something horribly wrong here. “Tell her what Anu really wants.”

Laurent’s wings flutter with agitation. “The curse is containing something other than what you know. Something Anu has been trying to access for millennia.”

The ground beneath us groans. The ritual circle blazes with power, blinding me.

“The Praxian magick was never meant to taste Hell essence,” Laurent continues urgently. “The combination is destabilising everything.”

“Because that’s exactly what Anu wanted,” Xanthos interjects, his expression grim. “She’s been orchestrating this from the beginning.”

Before he can explain further, the chamber convulses. The ritual circle beneath us fractures, dark energy pouring from the cracks. The curse is shattering in the worst possible way.

“You have to stop it,” Laurent commands, her divine power flaring as she tries to contain the chaos.

But it’s too late. The Praxian force inside me responds to the breaking curse, warping and transforming as it mingles with the Hell essence we’ve introduced. The foundations of MistHallow above us shake as aeons of contained power begin to unravel.

“When the curse breaks completely,” Xanthos shouts over the growing maelstrom, “she’ll come for you. Don’t let her connect you to?—”

His warning is cut off as the chamber erupts in a massive explosion of combined energies. The last thing I see is Laurent’s wings wrapping around us, trying to shield us from what we’ve unleashed.

We didn’t break the curse.

We’ve started something that was never supposed to happen.

Or was it?