Page 72 of Love to Defy You
“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 soundsbetween 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.”
