The Sacrifice: A Paranormal MC Romance Read online

  "Okay. When may I come down?"

  "Later," he said, nodding at me then turning, and walking away.

  All thoughts of the cuts on my legs vanished.

  Anticipation skittered across my nerves.

  I had no idea what was in store for me that evening.

  Had I known, I wouldn't have left the room.

  Chapter Six

  Lycus

  The parties were important.

  The parties were work, under the guise of reckless fun.

  We'd been walking this shithole of a human plane for generations. The first couple of those we did so simply creating chaos where we could. But as the humans progressed, it became harder to get away with the things we did. And as pesky as human law enforcement was, things got complicated when we were thrown behind bars and didn't rot like they wanted us to.

  So we got smarter about it.

  Eventually, came the emergence of motorcycle clubs, and the debauchery bikers were known for.

  They liked to fight and fuck and drink and snort and shoot and all the things we loved it when humans did.

  And the best part?

  Others outside of the lifestyle found themselves inexplicably drawn to these men and their rough—and often lawless—ways.

  That was where the fun came in.

  That was where we came in.

  So, we bought bikes.

  We had cuts made.

  We went to the rallies and rubbed shoulders with other MCs.

  And, when the mystery was strong enough, we would throw a massive party.

  They were the nights of the year when we felt near fully ourselves again.

  "When are Aram and Red coming back?" Drex asked, lounging in his usual jeans and tee, but with his leather cut over it this time, his one-percent badge on his chest.

  "Seven said they were on their way," Ace supplied, dressed more down than usual to match the aesthetic needed for the evening, looking more like Drex, and already miserable without added layers to keep warm. Knowing him, he would spend a good portion of the night in the hot tub, screwing hot, naked women, whispering things in their ears, bringing ideas to their heads they never would have thought on their own.

  And that was the plan.

  To bring out the buried—or sometimes not so buried—innate evil in humans. They all had it. Their selfishness, their pride, their bitterness, their hatred.

  It was surprisingly easy to bring those parts of them to the surface, to toy with them, to stoke the flames of them until they burned bright.

  Until there was no goodness left.

  Until they were wicked through and through.

  They would live out the rest of their lives sinning. And at the end, when their souls left their bodies, they would go to hell.

  It was the closest we could all get to revisiting.

  It was a way to stay connected to who we truly are, despite being so long stuck on this earthly plane.

  Some day, when the veil between worlds opened up again for us, we would go back home as heroes, thousands of wicked souls to our names.

  Plus, it was some fucking fun for a change.

  Normally, we were all in fantastic moods on the hours leading up to a party.

  And, to be fair, the others were.

  Well, Ace, Drex, and Seven were.

  Minos, as usual, was still in his room, keeping to himself. The longer we were on this human plane, the less often any of us saw him.

  He would come out for the party, of course. He would do his part. He might even find some joy in it, even though you would never know it.

  I would usually be excited to find new ways to corrupt those who were already so heavily leaning toward evil rather than good.

  But, I found myself excited for another reason.

  An unexpected and unacceptable reason.

  That reason was one floor ahead wearing a bra, miniskirt, and a velvet jacket, covered in shaving cuts and looking even more tempting than usual with her makeup applied, and her hair left long instead of in braids.

  I was regretting agreeing to allow her to come to the party.

  She would be noticed.

  Even with my demands that she stay silent and hug the walls, I knew that people would see her. She would stand out. There was something unique about her, something that drew you in.

  It drew me in.

  It kept fucking drawing me in.

  It made no sense.

  Yes, she was beautiful.

  But I had known many, many beautiful women in my time. And I had never felt the pull I felt toward this fucking witch.

  God, that scent of hers.

  Sweet like ripe fruit.

  I hadn't been able to hold myself back from getting one small taste of her.

  She exploded across my tastebuds, instantly intoxicating. And it wasn't possible for me to feel that way.

  Yet, I did.

  One taste of her.

  And I felt addicted.

  Each moment was like going through withdrawal.

  What was that?

  Was it her magic?

  No.

  That made no sense.

  I'd known all the other witches. They had never affected me this way. Not even when they were using their magic.

  Their magic didn't smell sweet.

  It smelt smoky, almost, like wood burning.

  It wasn't something I felt drawn to. If anything, it was overpowering, a little off-putting.

  So this scent, it was all her own. And that was somehow even more problematic.

  "Fuck," I hissed, getting up to get a drink.

  "What's with you?" Drex asked as I stole his bottle.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "But—" I started, before hearing the grumble of the bikes as they came down the road.

  "Here comes trouble," Ace said, taking a deep breath like a stressed-out father when he was preparing for his kids to cause problems.

  And, to be fair, Red and Aram were the youngest and wildest of all of us. They had barely had a chance to really enjoy hell before we were stuck on this human plane.

  So they were having fun raising hell on earth while we were homesick.

  The bike engines cut off, and the front doors burst open to the sound of Red's throaty laughter.

  "Anybody home?" she called a second before sauntering into the study. "So predictable," she said, sighing.

  Red was almost absurdly good-looking. It made her good at what she did in this club. She was tall and lean with big tits, nice hips, and a round ass. Her face was an inverted triangle, a wide forehead with a softly pointed jaw. She had high cheekbones under bright blue eyes. And her hair was an almost unnatural shade of red, the flicker of flames in a fire, which she wore long and curly down near to her waist.

  Aram was darker-skinned, black-haired, black-eyed, tall, fit, and covered in tattoos that he would only have to have re-stuck in a couple decades, but I guess the bastard just liked the look. And the pain.

  But, like Drex, Aram was always up for a fight, got off on the bloodshed, and the ache after. No matter how short lived.

  "Did we miss anything?" Red asked, reaching for a bottle of vodka, and throwing some back.

  "The new witch is here," Ace said.

  "Does this one cry all night?" Red asked, lip curling.

  "She makes it pour rain when she's sad," Ace told them, sighing.

  "Drag," Red said, rolling her eyes. "Glad she's not in a shit mood tonight. Aram and I have been working overtime to get people to come tonight. It should be packed."

  "Good," Drex said, standing, cracking his neck. "I'm itching to do a little corrupting," he said, winking at Red.

  "Who set up the music?" Aram asked, casting a dubious glance around the room. "Don't say it is Minos. That angsty shit nearly ruined the last party."

  "Ace did," I supplied.

  "Shit," Aram complained, sighing, running a hand through his hair. "It's not all classical is it? I am going to look it over," he said before Ace could res
pond, moving off to do so.

  "Speaking of Minos, where is our resident curmudgeon?" Red asked, looking around.

  "You know him," Ace said, shrugging. "He doesn't come out until the guests arrive."

  "Alright. Well, I am going to go slip into something to make all the seats wet," Red said, smirking at us before sashaying out of the room.

  "The kids are home," Ace said, sighing.

  "They do half the work for us," I said, shrugging. "Remember when we all had to go to the rallies nonstop?"

  "Don't remind me," Ace said, grimacing.

  He made a terrible biker. He was a little too well-spoken, a little too into his books. He'd never fit in with the outwardly rough-and-tumble biker sort.

  That said, the human bikers would shit themselves if they knew the real Ace, and if they knew the evil, twisted shit he liked to do. If we ever got back to hell, countless of those bastards would see first-hand what frauds they were, and how legit he was.

  "Sounds like they're arriving," Drex said, nodding toward the driveway where a couple people were rolling up on bikes.

  Anticipation sizzled across my skin as the house started to fill up, as liquor started to pour, and music pounded.

  Within an hour of the first person arriving, the place was packed. Women gyrated, skinny-dipped, flashed their tits to anyone who asked.

  Men fought, drank, and watched the women.

  As for us?

  Well, we did what we did best.

  We brought out their wicked.

  We whispered in their ears, we supplied their drinks and drugs.

  It wasn't until nearly two hours into the party that I remembered the witch upstairs.

  "Shit," I hissed, looking up at the sky, hoping she wasn't already getting all fucking weepy. I rushed up the stairs, opening the door, and finding her standing facing the windows, munching on some fucking apple slices.

  "Can I come down now?" she asked.

  "Yeah. But remember the rules. No talking. Stay unseen."

  "You have a lot of friends," she said as we made our way down the stairs.

  "I don't know any of them. This is a night for work. Alright. Go," I demanded, waving a hand out, seeing Minos coming around the corner, not wanting him to see me with the witch, to draw conclusions.

  "You're kinda hot," a warm voice whispered in my ear as I watched two bikers staring off at each other over a game of cards. They just needed the smallest of urges to come to blows, to start a war between their MCs. It would be short and easy work.

  "Yeah?" I asked, turning to her, finding what I expected. The women here were always the same. Pretty in a forgettable way, their tits on full display, jeans so tight you could see their fucking pussies through them.

  All these years on the earthly plane, one thing that didn't really get old was sex.

  All it usually took was a smile like this chick was giving me, one full of scandalous promise, to get me hard and aching for it.

  Any other party, I would have pushed her onto her knees in front of me, pulled out my cock, and let her suck me off right then and there.

  No one would even notice. People fucked in every corner of these parties.

  But even with her looking at me with those promising eyes, I felt nothing. Not a stirring. Jack shit.

  What the fuck was going on?

  Even as I thought it, a figure came into view, walking with her back plastered to the wall, eyes huge, lips parted at whatever she was looking at. I couldn't see it myself with the wall blocking my view, but I couldn't help but wonder what she was looking at. At one of these parties, anything was possible.

  "What do you think of him?" I asked, turning the girl, pointing toward Minos.

  "Ohhh," she said, the sound vibrating through her.

  What can I say?

  Minos might not have had much going for him in the personality department, but he was always the best looking fucker in a room.

  He towered over the rest of us, all long dark hair and corded muscles.

  And in this generation, the women dug his beard, the fact that he would braid his hair, wear it up, that they could run their fingers through it.

  "Yeah. Go get 'im," I suggested, already turning, making my way toward the witch.

  I was a solid ten feet away when I could smell her.

  Fucking pineapples and watermelon and ripe peaches, that was what she smelled like right then. Sweet and dripping down the chin.

  I was hard from two yards away.

  She turned slightly, following whatever she was watching, allowing me to move in behind her, look over her shoulder.

  And there they were.

  A man and a woman the next room over.

  She had her tits out the top of her tube top, her skirt yanked up around her waist, getting plowed from behind by some random guy whose name I doubt she knew.

  That made sense, didn't it?

  She was turned on.

  That was why her scent was stronger.

  She was turned on watching these other people fuck.

  How overpowering would her scent be if, instead of touching, instead of just getting a taste, I made her come?

  I guess I would just have to find out, wouldn't I?

  Chapter Seven

  Lenore

  It was difficult to think.

  I wasn't sure how people enjoyed having their music so loud that it made your ears hurt.

  I figured, after walking around the house for a while, that perhaps they liked the music so loud because they didn't want to actually speak to one another.

  I saw and heard very little conversation.

  These people appeared to be communicating nonverbally.

  Apparently, all the women needed to do was look at a man, giving him a small smile, and he knew that meant he was allowed to approach. And approach they did. Time after time after time. Even when they got rejected more than a few times.

  I guess it was a game of odds, finding a mate. If you approached enough of them, surely one would want you.

  Watching the men and women interact was my favorite part of the evening.

  I didn't like how the men interacted with one another. It was brutish and reminiscent of how cocks would fight if our flock of hens was too small, always looking for a reason to scuffle, or simply having no reason at all other than wanting to prove themselves as the bigger and meaner of their kind.

  It was base and off-putting to watch that behavior in human beings. So whenever I entered a room where that seemed to be the main event, I moved onto the next room.

  The women with other women in this world seemed little better than the men with men.

  Sure, there seemed to be friend groups, but the basis of them appeared shallow and easily shaken. If both women found themselves attracted to the same man, it looked like that was reason enough for them to be angry with each other.

  Who wanted friendship that shallow? Especially when there was no shortage of attractive men around.

  I wouldn't have thought I was any judge of such a thing, never having been exposed to many men in my life.

  Apparently, though, it was something innate, encoded in me. I instinctively knew which men were attractive by the skittering sensation of my heart.

  But, by my estimates, there were far more attractive men than unattractive ones, so I couldn't imagine why the attention of one of them was so important as to impact a friendship.

  Perhaps in this world, though, men were more important than friendships.

  My heart ached at the very idea.

  Which was why I turned away from the spaces where those were the things I noticed most.

  Which left me with the men and women.

  And how they interacted.

  Sometimes, it seemed like a sort of dance, a back and forth, a give and take.

  Other times, though, it appeared immediate.

  A man would approach a woman and after maybe only a couple of moments, they were locked in a kiss, hungry hands roaming over bodies.
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  No one had ever informed me that this was how men and women interacted, that they pawed at each other in public places. In the stories I had been told, intimacy was something for behind closed doors, between a man and a woman, with no one around to witness what they shared.

  It sounded sweet.

  This, though?

  There was nothing sweet about these couples.

  They seemed hot and hungry and unable to control their reactions to each other.

  I saw hands going up shirts, down pants.

  I saw a woman get pushed to her knees as a man exposed himself to her. And then she closed her mouth around him, moved her lips up and down him until the man's body tensed, and he hissed something out.

  It was shocking, to say the least.

  I never could have imagined that women did that to men.

  Then again, Lycus had run his tongue up my sex only hours before, so I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised.

  After that couple, I moved to another room, finding a different couple. The man already had the woman's top down, had his lips sucking on her breasts the way a babe might, while the woman whimpered and begged him to "fuck" her.

  Then, his hands were yanking up her skirt, pulling down her "panties," as Ly had called them, then pulling out his hard length, turning her, then slamming inside.

  I could feel my own muscles tense in response, a primal urge for fullness, a need that felt nearly undeniable.

  "Enjoying the party?" a deep, familiar voice asked from directly behind me, breath warm on my ear, sending a jolt through my system. Surprise, sure, but I had a feeling there was something else as well. Anticipation? Maybe a little guilt at being caught watching the couple, even if they were doing nothing to keep their actions private.

  "I, ah," I started, unsure what to say.

  "It's okay to watch," he told me, moving in closer, his whole front against my back. "They would get a room if they wanted privacy," he added, taking a deep breath, letting out a low, growling sound, something that made the ache between my thighs even stronger.

  "Do people do this in public often?" I asked, and maybe while I did so, I leaned back. But just a little.

  "Normally? No. At these parties? Yes," he told me, arm going around my waist as the woman moaned louder, slamming her hips backward as the man thrust inside. "You like watching."