Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

WYATT

I’m so fucking stupid. Falling in love with Asa Donovan was not on the list of things that would keep me alive. Somehow, I’ve got to get back into Ari’s good graces while I’m crazy about her husband. No one can know.

Once Arianna got married to him, that threw a kink in the plan for my legitimate heir unless the baby would end up mine. As far as John knows, it’s still a possibility. But the truth is, likely not. It took an act of the devil to get my secret vasectomy that only the Donovans know about and if the Johns figure out that Ari is not with my child…

They aren’t going to like that.

It’s not a problem. They’ll just give me someone else. If I can convince them to allow Ace and Ari to live, maybe promise their child to the trade like my father did with me, they’ll survive.

I shut off the engine before I reach the alley I need, then coast between the buildings so as not to alert bar patrons on the street. I tuck the bike behind a rusted dumpster and head toward the big man wearing a tuxedo and sunglasses. He opens a metal door on the side of the brick, and I head down the stairs.

Through a dark hallway, I enter a dirty office, but my feet halt at the door. The room holds five men in tuxedos and an owl. Painted on the floor, likely in blood, is the symbol of Clavius and Herodius and a lone wooden chair sits in the middle of it as well as a small table. “This looks like an unfortunate party,” I say, narrowing my eyes at each of them. They can’t touch me. They need my blood too badly. And they still think they’ll get my seed in case I don’t cooperate. Even still, my pulse throbs in my neck, making it difficult to swallow.

“Come in, Barrington. Have a seat.” One of the men points to the center of the room.

Trying to sound confident, but coming out strained, I say, “I thought I was just meeting with John.”

“Well, you get more of us.” Despite wearing a mask, I know the one smoking a cigar in the corner from television. He’s a federal politician, and part of me wonders if the nation’s leader is watching, too. I steal glances at the corners of the room for cameras. There are none. That may not be a good thing.

“What do you have to say about the Donovan fiasco?” a John asks, his arms crossing over his chest. Another shoves a Brandy in my hand and I sip it. Hopefully, there’s more to dull my senses completely if this goes south.

Swallowing, I give my thought-out answer. “There’s no need to replace them. Asa will be on board, and that will get his wife on board.”

“And there’s no notion of you having a child with her?”

Licking my lips, I sever the emotional tie that’s bound me for the last year. I’ve prepared myself for this. No more Arianna for me. It’s the only way to save her. “Yes, correct. That’s done with.”

The politician echoes from the dark recess of the room. “And you’re sure the child is not yours.”

I take another sip, nodding. “Yes, I’m positive.”

The owl flaps her cape with a raise of her arms but doesn’t speak.

John asks, “We aren’t pleased with the amount of time you’ve wasted attempting to interrupt their marriage and impregnate the woman. And now that it seems she is not going to have your child…why are you protecting them? Is it that you believe Asa will still support your bid for consort?”

I try to steady my heartbeat as I say firmly, “Absolutely.” The Johns exchange glances, and I interrupt their doubts. “Listen, Strauss’s mistress didn’t tell Arianna anything of importance. It’ll be easily played off. I’ll tell them I’m playing both sides, that I’m for the people and that’s why I need to be made consort. And, yes, before you ask, that I am against our primary trade. Asa wants to believe me. I’ve done my duty. He’s in love with me now.”

Schooling my face, I take another sip, washing away even the momentary thought of how much I feel for him. If they know…that will be it for him and Arianna. I knew going into this not to catch feelings. And I did. I hate that I love them. All it did was put us all in danger. And I need to leave them to save them. Continuing, I repeat our plans, louder than before, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“The Freidenbergs will be under our control the moment they realize Strauss knows of their illegal trade. Fearing for their lives, they’ll comply and want me instated. Cal Von Dovish will need to be taken care of, but this will be easy once he finds out Strauss killed his pregnant wife the week before my bid. And the people will be happy with the new school program that I’ll put in place once I’m made consort.”

It didn’t take me long to become used to being someone’s commodity. At the ripe age of seventeen, my body was so dulled by everyone that had abused it, it wasn’t even my own any longer. So much so my numbness became a badge of honor. Those who weren’t in the trade seemed beneath me. They weren’t wanted enough by these types of men and women, the ones who rule the country, the world even. Others were cheap and not worth fucking.

And that’s when I knew, to give these societies what they need and to get what I want, I came up with a brilliant plan. One to have the children of Gnarled Pine Hollow easily indoctrinated and willing to sacrifice their bodies for the greater good.

It doesn’t bother me in the least. I did it and I turned out well rounded. Noble even. I survived. My only desire is to get back in power and obliterate the name of Strauss from the planet. Or it was my only dream until I fell in love with the Donovans. Like an idiot. Now, I also need to protect them.

The owl lifts her chin and sniffs the air, then finally speaks. “Well done. The only thing that is left is to grant the Barringtons an heir. Since we didn’t move fast enough in breaking off the Donovan marriage, we have an alternative for you. A wife of your own.”

My stomach twists at this change in plans. I don’t like it and I think about my handgun on my hip. If I use it, the others in here will get to me before I discharge the first bullet, then they’ll just destroy everyone I care about.

Maintaining my cool composure like always, I only arch an eyebrow. “And that is…”

The owl slides in front of me and rests her ass on the edge of the table, then spreads her cape, revealing a very short skirt underneath. Her long legs are bare, and she slides the fabric up to reveal her shaved pussy. With a wave of her head, her cloak falls off, and she grasps her mask and sets it on the table.

Her age is indescribable. Likely in her forties, but her skin looks like that of a teenager. The reason I know she’s older is because of her eyes. There’s something almost inhuman about them. Black, dark holes that bore into my face until a shiver erupts down my spine. When she speaks, her voice sends a tingle to my balls and, despite not wanting to get aroused by her, it just happens.

“Me.” She curls a long finger underneath my jaw and forces me to look at her sunken cheeks. Her long, black hair spills like ink over her shoulder as she leans forward. “You get the gift of impregnating me. That’s how much we believe in you, Barrington.”

I can’t say no, I understand this. But it’s still on the tip of my tongue. To add to the utter terror that settles inside my chest, all the Johns stand and move to surround us as a unit. Even the politician. They take up a stance on the edges of the circle that has a hint of iron smell to it. Waving their arms in their ritualistic manor, they then collapse into a tighter formation behind me.

With an overly confident sneer, I say, “But I don’t even know your name.”

She leans back and spreads her legs wide, showcasing her ruddy pussy lips, glistening with wetness. “Amalthea.”

A full body shake almost makes me flee the chair, but a John puts his hand on my shoulder and another forces me to stand. She’s the most dangerous creature in the room. There’s absolutely no way out of this. But they don’t know I’m shooting blanks.

Her long nails sink into my neck and pull me closer to her core as the Johns on either side of me lower my pants.

THIS IS WHERE THE RITUALISTIC RAPE SCENE BEGINS. SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER IF YOU WANT TO AVOID.

“Step out,” one commands. Like on autopilot, I do. Then they remove my T-shirt, boots, everything until I am completely naked…and still flaccid. Two of the men hold up cameras and the other three stand behind me. It’s cold in the room and I shiver.

Amalthea grips one of my thighs and says, “Lift this up and rest it here. For your comfort, darling.” Her black eyes torture me with their incessancy. I do as she instructs, but I’m still not able to function.

A John behind me strokes my back with his bare hand as another pulls out a bottle of lube and opens his pants. “It seems you need help forgetting Mr. Donovan. And we’re all here to give of ourselves to Amalthea. But she needs the original seed inside her. You are the vessel of Clavius as you were blessed with during your initiation at eighteen.”

I don’t want the memory of that evening to return, but it’s unstoppable. The ax I had to bring down fifty-eight times to slaughter my first love in front of these goons. Ironically, her name was Angel. And the worst part was not watching the life leave her body slowly despite me wanting to hurry the entire thing. It was when they forced me to my knees to drink her crimson flood as a symbol of the sacrifices I would need to make along the way.

They’ll make me do the same to Asa and Arianna if they know how much they mean to me.

One of the Johns uses his lubed hand to stroke me to a half chub. The other gets behind me and grips my waist, then whispers, “I like these piercings. I’m sure your new bride will as well. Here, let me help you.” He plays with my balls, pinching a nipple while the other man picks up his pace until I close my eyes and let nature do its job. Just like when I was a kid.

Lifting my leg onto the desk, I line up with Amalthea’s entrance as John holds the base of my dick. The other John slides behind my back and presses a lubed finger in my ass. Sighing, I prepare myself as he enters me with a curled finger, then another as my hips press forward into Amalthea.

“Oh, yes. Those piercings are lovely,” she says, like she’s judging an art show.

“Lean forward more. Let me fuck your beautiful asshole,” the John says. I know what this is. And there’s no stopping it. So I just climb on the desk and spread my thighs under the owl’s and plunge in. John slides his dick inside me, and I work myself inside her and over his length.

“Don’t come until all of us fill you up, or you’re gonna have a rough time,” the John next to me says. I don’t think they have to worry. Keeping hard is going to be the issue.

So I imagine being inside Ari with Ace’s formidable arms surrounding me. After the first John finishes, the next steps up. Fortunately, he’s small and it doesn’t take him long. The third is chubby, his gut smacking my cheeks with every thrust. But I’m not here. I’m inside the safety of my vixen while Ace holds me and makes love to me.

By the time the politician steps behind me, I know I’ve made it through this trial. But he grabs my neck and pulls me back to him after spanking me. “Listen, I want your eyes open. You’re the vessel. You need to feel Clavius running through you as you give yourself over to Amalthea.”

With a hard shove, he both thrusts inside with his large cock until it hurts and bends me over the woman’s body. Amalthea raises my face to hers and tears form in my eyes with how rough he’s being. “Kiss me and give me that part of you you’re still holding on to. Let it go, Wyatt Barrington of Clavius.”

Her demon gaze latches onto mine as her lips part and we kiss. She’s intoxicating in some strange way, her flavor like something both familiar and unknown. Dangerous and comfortable at the same time. While the politician’s thick cock hits my prostate, I feel myself leak inside her slowly and I know he’ll work everything out of me before too long.

His fingers burn as they grip my shoulders, and he continues his assault for what seems like hours. Plundering me as the tears fall from my face onto the black-haired seductress in front of me. She latches her hands around my neck and writhes her hips as if to help milk me inside her. Pressing her forehead to mine, she says, “Are you ready to let them go and give that to me? Purge yourself of the last of your humanity and rise to something supernatural. Your emotions only hold you back from achieving what we have. Give it.”

The politician’s deep grunts let me know he’s ready, and as soon as the last of his hot load fills me, he stands still. “Fuck a baby into her. For Clavius, son of Barrington. You are the vessel. Say it as you fill her.”

A sharp snap hits my ass and I let go. He screams at me, “Say it!”

“I’m the vessel,” I groan as I give her my cum and the politician’s hips thrust his cock deeper inside me. The pain replaced with pleasure finally.

Amalthea’s dark eyes hold mine as I gasp for breaths against her neck. “I felt it leave your body, son of Barrington. Good boy.”

My soul is filled with the lightness of barrenness.

“Leave everything that just happened inside you as it will be with Amalthea,” the politician instructs as I gather my clothes. “Go and do your duty. We’ll be in touch for the marriage ceremony.”

Amalthea slides her cloak back to the way it was and replaces her mask. The Johns stand against the walls until I leave and head back to my bike.

Nothing.

I feel absolutely nothing.

I take a deep breath of the warm mist in the summer night’s air, rounding the corner of the dumpster to get my bike, but it’s gone. Turning to face one end of the alley, I see three large men walking toward me, too dark to make out who they are.

Twisting my neck to the other end, two more stroll from that direction. When my muscles jump to a sprint, theirs do as well, the men easily overtaking me. Arms surround my body tightly as a pile of bodies climbs on my back. A puncture of pain hits the side of my neck before all I know is darkness.