Page 2 of Stolen By the Reaper

“They’re all here for you, Jo,” Alain cut in smoothly. “Everything’s going to be perfect. Trust me.”

Trust him? Hadn’t he been insisting it was just us? How could he do this behind my back? With no one from my side? I blinked back tears as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

“There she is,” someone crooned. A middle-aged man with ice blond hair pulled me into a suffocating embrace. The smell oflilacs filled my nostrils. “It’s so good to meet you. Alain has told us absolutely nothing about you. I don’t even know your name!”

What the fuck? I darted a look to Alain. His gentle smile morphed into something sharper and his eyes flashing with predatory delight.

The middle-aged man released me and stepped back, but was instantly replaced by another. A hand tightened around my wrist and dragged me forward. My bouquet fell to the ground, petals scattering like the last fragments of my composure.

“Let go of me!” I yanked hard, desperate to get away, but the grip was unbreakable. “Alain, make them stop!”

He didn’t even look my way. My soon-to-be husband—the man I thought I knew—barked orders like a general commanding troops. The group swarmed around me, pressing in from all sides, their fingers pinching into my skin, pawing at my clothes.

“What are you doing?” Panic clawed up my throat. “Stop!”

They didn’t listen. Didn’t care. My heels dug furrows in the damp earth as they dragged me toward a massive stone slab in the center of the garden. Vines twisted around the base, the leaves all streaked with red.

An altar.

This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening.

My back hit the cold stone. Hands pinned my wrists and ankles. The lace of my dress tore as I thrashed.

“Alain!” Tears streamed down my face. “Help me!”

He loomed over me, eyes bright with a fervor I’d never seen before. “Hush, Jo. This is for the good of us all.”

The group formed a circle around us as Latin filled the air. The chanting started low, a whisper of dried leaves crackling in the wind. Swelling, swelling, swelling into a thunderous chorus.

My chest heaved as I fought for breath. Between the swaying bodies. I spotted a figure following the same path I’d taken withAlain, cradling an ornate box made of dark wood, a blood red jewel sitting in the center. The chanting reached a crescendo as another member reverently opened the lid.

Alain reached inside and withdrew a blade as long as my forearm. The metal gleamed wickedly in the dying light.

“No,” I whimpered. “Please, no.”

“We are gathered here today,” Alain’s voice rang out, “to bind this woman in unholy matrimony.”

Tears streamed down my face. I squeezed my eyes closed and willed myself to wake. It was a nightmare. A hallucination. Anything but real.

“Do you, Josephine Clark, take our patron to be your master and lord?”

The knife grazed down my throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

“To have and to hold, to serve and to suffer, from this day forward as death parts you from your mortal shell?”

“Fuck you,” I snarled.

He tsked. “Such language from a blushing bride. No matter. I’ll speak for you.”

The point of the knife rested above my heart. The chanting reached a fevered pitch. My heartbeat stuttered under the pressure of the blade.

“Who gives this woman to be married to our dark lord?” Alain intoned.

The silver-haired man stepped forward. “We do, faithful servants of Clauneck.”

The air crackled with electricity. The hair on my arms stood on end. Even the garden itself seemed frozen in the moment before taking a breath.

“With this offering, we dedicate our newest bride to you, oh great Clauneck.” Alain raised the dagger high. “Accept our sacrifice and grant us your favor!”

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