Page 3 of Property of Necro
Chuckling awkwardly, my ride grips his tattooed throat. “Kinda like my head still attached to my body.”
“Righttt,” I drawl, not at all freaked out. Nope. Not me.
“They’ll take good care of you, Sola,” Dark promises from the sidewalk, but he doesn’t look convinced when the jerk doesn’t meet my eye.
Not knowing how to respond besides asking questions he won’t give me answers to, I press my lips together and nod twice.
“We will,” Rot confirms,flashing me a wink.
With goosebumps sprouting all over my body and nerves eating away at my gut, I turn and march inside.
In for a penny.
In for a pound.
Fuck a horny duck…
What did I agree to?
Chapter
Two
Crossing into the sanctuary,my Crocs squeak across the center aisle. I wince at the sound as men sitting in the pews look up. Their penetrating gazes lock on me as Rot urges me to keep going.
Stained glass windows depicting angels line one wall, casting beams of colorful light across the space. As I reach the middle of the room, a bone chandelier hangs overhead. From here, human skulls guide my way, hanging on the end of aged pews, some with dried flowers poking through their eye sockets.
Keeping my head down, I clasp my hands in front of me and keep going.
Nerves gnaw my insides like an anxious rat trying to get free.
Incense perfumes the air but does nothing to quell my unease.
A man clears his throat, but I keep moving.
“Five more steps,” Rot whispers from somewhere behind me.
Right. Five steps.
Counting them in my head, I take them slowly. The gray-and-black tiles underfoot flow to a single red tile, where I stop.
The man behind me hums his approval, and for some reason, that little sound warms me the tiniest bit as I school my features and glance up.
On a stage, a shirtless man, carved with muscles and littered with scars sits on a black throne, watching me like a predator does its prey, with eyes so blue they’re almost white. A black mask out of a post-apocalyptic hellscape covers his nose and mouth. He cocks his bald head to the side, and his dark brows hike to the sky as if daring me to say something, to do something, to challenge him, to cause trouble.
But I won’t. That’s not why I’m here.
Feet together, I stand on my red tile and await his instructions.
This is the man I’m here to please.
I’m his gift.
Sure, I might not be much of one with my curly red hair and pale skin covered in freckles, prone to sunburn, but Dark asked this of me, and I owe everything to the Sacred Sinners. They gave me life. They saved me from a fate worse than death. This is the least I can do to repay them.
A different man, also shirtless, though blond, lumbers up the steps and leans down to whisper in his president’s ear. They exchange nods, and the man disappears.
Rot steps beside me, no longer laden with my bags, and touches my arm. “It’s time.” Wrapping his muchlarger hand around my wrist, he escorts me up the steps onto the dais and past his president on the throne, where a wall of stacked bones reaches the ceiling behind an altar draped in black cloth.
