It’s been painfully exhausting. Do you ever just want to shut it all off? Not have to think about the next second of your life? Go on an unplanned road trip? Have a one-night stand with the cute guy you scrolled past on your timeline? Social media makes you think you have all this freedom, but you don’t. Not really. You’re stuck behind a device watching others live out their dreams. You post selfies of fake smiles and expensive clothes, hoping that someone will envy you. Reassure you just how good you have it. All the while hating your life. “Smile, dear, you never know who is watching you,” my mother always tells me.
Desperation is never pretty.
Ryat is my way out. Being a chosen one is my escape. Well, at least for now. Who knows how long it’ll last? Maybe it’s all for pretend, but it’s something I want to do.
Taking in a deep breath, I begin to climb the stairs into the building. Pushing open the heavy doors, they squeak, informing whoever is here of my arrival.
My heart hammers in my chest while I walk down the central aisle. Figures fill the large pews on either side. They’re all dressed in black cloaks and white masks. I wasn’t raised religious, so I’ve never been to church before. I always expected places like this to be the color of gold—shiny and expensive—to give you an overwhelming feeling of calmness. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
It’s old. The high ceilings are the same color as a dark night. You can see there were once paintings on them, but over time have faded to unrecognizable. The floor is covered in leaves and branches. It’s just as cold as it was outside and the old stained-glass whistles from the heavy winds.
Ahead of me looks to be a large stage and altar. On both sides are long staircases that take you up to a loft overlooking the congregation. In the middle of the loft sits a tub for baptism sunk into the floor up against the ledge. The side facing us is all glass to allow the people of the church to witness. Three steps on either side step down into the water, and it has to be about four feet deep.
I make my way on shaky legs to the front, leaves and branches that cover parts of the rotting floor crunching under my heels. Old, outdated, and very abandoned-looking, this place is nothing like the hotel where they live. Makes me wonder why they would use it for anything.
Coming to a stop at the front, I notice in the first two rows, sitting next to the ones dressed in cloaks and masks, are women. None of which are covered. They’re like me. Each wearing dresses and heels. The girl on the far end catches my attention.
It’s Sarah.
I go to walk over to her but stop when I see the woman next to her. It’s the blonde from the party at the house of Lords. Matt’s girlfriend.
Is he here? If so, he’s wearing a cloak and mask. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, thinking he’s watching me, but I notice you can’t see any of the women’s hands or arms. Looking closer, I realize they must be behind their backs. My heart hammers, blood rushing in my ears at the eerie silence in such a large building. It’s deafening.
I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder from behind. I try to turn around, but it prevents me from doing so. Instead, he runs his hands down my arms slowly, and I know he can feel me shaking. When he gets to my wrists, he gently brings them behind my back.
I close my eyes, knowing I’m going to accept what’s coming. No matter what happens here tonight, it’ll be because I took a chance. I chose to be here. I choose to be his for however long he decides he wants me.
He grips both of my wrists in one of his hands, then I hear the sound of metal. My chest rises and falls with each erratic intake of breath. I look out at Sarah, and she has her head down, staring at the floor. A quick glance down the first row shows them all doing it.
The cold metal wraps around my wrist, and he secures the handcuffs one at a time to the point they pinch my skin, making me whimper.
“Are they too tight?” I recognize Ryat’s voice, pulling my hair off my shoulder.
“Yes,” I answer softly.
“Good.” Then he tightens them each one more click, and I hiss in a breath.
“Will you hurt me?”
“Yes.”
I expect there to be pain involved, and a part of me is excited about that. Grabbing my upper arm, he yanks me back.
RYAT
I LEAD HER up the stairs with my hand on her upper arm, my fingers digging into her soft skin. I’ve been waiting for this day for too long. Seems like forever since I was told to take her as my chosen. But it’s finally here. Making our way to the platform, I bring her over to the small pool-like structure that was added for us to perform the ritual.