The Sacrifice
“Please, please let me go!” Raven Asher pleaded, struggling against the chains pinning her wrists to the neatly crafted pentagram on the concrete floor. She added a faint tremor to her voice, her breathing shallow and her hands shaking—the perfect illusion of a frightened damsel in distress. Her pathetic behavior nearly had her gagging, but if she could spot a weakness among one of her captors and use it to her advantage as a poor, petrified woman, she’d do it.
She cast a beseeching glance at a few of the fifteen coven members in attendance, each of them covered in those ghastly black robes with hoods that covered most of their faces. They looked right at home in the coven’s sacrificial chamber, while Raven stood out in a red, silky nightgown.
In her defense, she’d gotten snatched right out of her bed, so she hadn’t exactly received the option to dress for the occasion.
But how did one dress up for their own murder, anyway? Ugh, she couldn’t believe her shitty luck. And to go out like this?
Death via sacrifice was so unoriginal.
Frustrated, Raven yanked her arms in a poor attempt to free herself. The chains attached to the manacles on her wrists rattled loudly against the floor, but otherwise didn’t budge. No one even looked in her direction.
Assholes.
When she’d woken up this morning, she hadn’t expected that later that same night, she’d spend hours of her life begging just to stay alive. It was beneath her. And frankly? The action disgusted her.
As the daughter of North America’s head coven leader and a tenth generation witch, her power was immense. She shouldn’t need to resort to begging when a minor flick of her wrist could snap someone’s neck. Unfortunately, that was no longer possible. Besides her heavy manacles, she now wore a special collar around her neck enchanted to nullify her magic, leaving her all but mortal.
Mortal!
For now, she thought furiously, sending an evil glare to the cloaked figures filling up the room she lay imprisoned in. But as soon as I’m free, I’ll kill every one of these witchy bitches that betrayed me.
Even her own mother.
That last betrayal stung the most out of everyone here. Her own mother intended to sacrifice her. And for what? To please a demon king who likely wouldn’t even show up? No one had successfully summoned Beelzebub in centuries, and she doubted it would happen now. Based on the excited whispers of her fellow coven members, they all disagreed with her.
What did they know that she didn’t?
It doesn’t matter. Get the hell out of here!
Sighing, Raven began her cries anew, pitifully whimpering, “Please, someone help me—”
“Stop your whining, child,” Abigail, her mother, chided. “Your sacrifice today is a great honor to ourselves and to the demon, Beelzebub.”
“He won’t give a damn about my death,” Raven hissed, giving up her pretense of a scared, fragile woman altogether. It didn’t suit her, anyway. “He hasn’t resurfaced to grace our coven with his presence since we gave him a bride that fucked his brother. We were lucky he didn’t wipe us off the face of the Earth in retaliation! Do you really think killing me in his name will do anything beneficial?”
Abigail ignored her, turning toward a hooded warlock, the lower half of his face exposed. Raven narrowed her eyes, spotting a very familiar mole on the left side of the warlock’s chin.
Spencer, that little shit! He was a part of this? Not only was her mom going to murder her, she had Raven’s ex-boyfriend helping!
Unbelievable.
Silently, Spencer handed Abigail a dagger, the sharp silvered edge gleaming in the candlelight.
“You don’t really care if killing me benefits the coven, do you, mother?” Raven spat, yanking on her chains uselessly. They rattled ominously throughout the room once more. “You just want me out of the way. You can sense that my magic has grown stronger than yours, and you’re threatened I’ll take your place as coven leader,” she guessed, lifting a mocking brow.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Raven. I’m not killing you,” Abigail finally answered with a roll of her eyes. “Our bloodline has a beautiful destiny,” she stated, looking around the room at the various coven members scattered around.
Destiny? What did she mean by that?
Abigail raised her voice dramatically, as if she were preaching in church. “Tonight, we right the wrong committed against our liege, Beelzebub, King of Hell!” A roar of approval went up through the crowd, and for the first time tonight, Raven actually felt a genuine stirring of fear. “Tonight,” her mother continued, “we bestow upon him a new bride—a mate to call his own.”
“What?” Raven screeched, a cocktail of panic and growing terror swirling inside her.
Marry a demon? No, not just marry. Mate! Was her mother out of her mind? “I can’t marry a demon king! He killed the last bride our coven gave him!”
“Yes, our ancestor Francesca was a terrible selection.” Abigail shook her head in disappointment. “Long ago, a seer prophesied our bloodline would merge with a benevolent ruler, thrusting our coven into eternal glory. If only that whore hadn’t fallen victim to King Asmodeus’s charms, our history could have been drastically different.”
“You sound insane,” Raven replied adamantly, tugging on her chains so hard her wrists would have bruises. “I haven’t heard anything about that woman being a relation of mine!”
Abigail scoffed, her grip tightening on the dagger. “Like I would publicize who Francesca was to our family? She was a weakness. A blight on the family name, and now you, daughter, will fill her role and restore our rightful place alongside the king. I am giving you quite the honor.”
Raven sputtered, shaking her head so hard her charcoal colored hair fell into her eyes. “This isn’t an honor, otherwise you would have mated him when you were younger. I can’t believe you would sell me off like cattle!”
Being sacrificed might have been the better choice after all.
What did a demon king even look like? There were seven of them, but she’d never seen one in person, only in drawings and art throughout history. Did Beelzebub have a forked tongue, horns? Was he a freaking goat? She’d heard one demon king was part snake, part man. Could that be him?
She really didn’t want to find out.
Abigail approached her with the knife, and the coven members encircled the pentagram drawn beneath Raven, beginning a chant she had never heard before.
“H-How about I promise to sacrifice my first-born daughter?” Raven lied hastily, trembling as the pentagram began to glow. “I’m sure she’ll love to marry a demon.”
Abigail crouched in front of her, sending Raven a sympathetic look. “Time is of the essence, I’m afraid.”
“How is time of the essence?” Raven snapped. “You don’t even know what witch from our bloodline the prophecy spoke of!”
Her mother leaned in, whispering, “You’re right. But Bertyl’s coven is seeking to overthrow ours and take leadership of North America. We need this alliance with Beelzebub to ensure our place as head coven remains intact. So even if you aren’t who the prophecy spoke about, you’re still marrying him.”
“Are you joking?” Raven hissed in exasperation. Bertyl was twice the age of Abigail, and her shoddy little coven wasn’t a threat to theirs at all. “What happens when you give him the wrong woman again? He’ll kill us all!”
Abigail didn’t answer, but her face hardened. Grabbing Raven’s hand, she turned it over, palm facing the ceiling, and sliced her skin open with the blade.
Raven hissed in pain, trying to squeeze her palm shut, to keep any blood from dripping onto the pentagram. But her mother caught her fingers, prying them open before she slapped Raven’s wounded palm onto the pentagram, activating the summoning circle. Quickly, her mother backed away.
The chanting from the witches swelled in size, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing harshly in her ears, filling her with more panic. Her blood seeped into the white paint of the pentagram. Suddenly, the bright white glow morphed into one massive blood-red beam, covering her and the circle completely in brilliant light.
Screaming, Raven slammed her eyes closed as the smell of sulfur filled the air, half-expecting that she would just burst into flames at any moment. Instead, the chanting died out, gasps and exclamations filling the air.
“What is the meaning of this?” a deep, husky voice stated from high over Raven’s head, and she felt a heavy presence close in on her. She shivered, her nipples stiffening against her nightgown; not from fear or trepidation, but from something far more sensual as the unknown male continued, his voice like heated velvet sliding over her skin. “You dare summon me, witch?”
Oh, gods.
It was Beelzebub, and he was in the summoning circle with Raven. Eyes still squeezed tightly shut until she worked up the courage to open them, she heard the shifting of robes coming from behind her as her mother’s voice floated over to them. “My King, please excuse the abrupt manner of travel. It was imperative you come at once.”
Raven felt something warm and soft brush the outside of her bare leg before a loud smack sounded beside her, like a hoof clomping down on the stone floor. It startled her enough to jerk her arms in panic, her chains rattling loudly in the now silent room.
“Imperative?” Beelzebub grated out. “Why is a half naked wench at my feet?”
“This is your bride, King Beelzebub. Your fated mate,” Abigail crooned. “The one the prophecy foretold.”
Fated?! No. No! Absolutely not!
King Beelzebub snorted, the sound distinctly … inhuman. “The last witch your coven sent my way was an unfaithful shrew, and never truly mine. Do you expect me to fall for your tricks again?”
“It is not a trick,” Abigail exclaimed indignantly. “Look upon Raven yourself. You’ll feel the call to mate her. I’m sure of it, King Beelzebub.”
Beelzebub sighed. “Open your eyes, witchling, so that I may cast you aside and be done with this farce.”
Cast her aside? He’d let her go once he realized they weren’t mates? Calming immediately, Raven’s eyes popped open, ready to get this over with so she could begin orchestrating her mother’s demise. Fuck Bertyl; the old hag wouldn’t be needed to take out Abigail. Raven would do it herself.
The first thing she noted as her eyes adjusted to the now faint red glow from the floor was that she was laying between a pair of hooves attached to long, muscular, though oddly shaped, legs covered in a luxurious, shiny black coat. But he didn’t have just two legs; she spotted another set further back.
He had four legs in total.
“Oh, what the fuck?” Raven exclaimed hysterically, tilting her head back to get a better look at the king. Her gaze traveled up and up, over the powerful front body of a horse that eventually blended into a male’s tan torso. Chiseled abs, a muscular chest and two powerful arms that looked like they’d be great at both holding someone close or ripping them in half. Strong jawline, and sculpted cheeks covered in a light dusting of facial hair. Long, shiny black hair fashioned into a thick braid, piercing brown eyes, and black horns that jutted from the sides of his forehead, curving upward at the base and standing several inches straight up.
Beelzebub was a centaur.
And for some horrible reason, the sight of him turned her the hell on. As soon as their eyes met, her heart picked up a frantic beat, and her thighs clenched. Her core spasmed, slick dripping from her entrance like she’d just spent the last several minutes touching herself, and not pinned to the floor.
Recognition speared her soul right as his nostrils flared, his eyes taking in every inch of her face. He took a step back from her before stiffening his legs and keeping himself in place above her.
Oh no, he feels the same connection I do! That can only mean one thing …
This … this centaur was actually her f mate. A freaking horse-man? What in the hell had she done to deserve this?! Nothing. How could this male be her fated mate, her perfect match? She’d never want to mate a centaur, and she wouldn’t bow down to anyone, not even a demon king!
So why did she find him so … alluring? Just because he was her mate didn’t mean she wanted to have sex with a half horse! Except, as more slick spilled from her center, and heat spread throughout her body, she wasn’t sure she believed that.
Just don’t look at him. If you pretend he’s not here, you won’t feel so turned on, she thought, quickly jerking her head away in panic.
Just as suddenly, she turned back to face him, incapable of looking away. His brown eyes were so dark they were nearly black, and as they skated over her frame again, she could have sworn she felt him touching her. Another sinful shiver slid over her.
Slowly, Beelzebub looked over her head to where her mother stood. “You have my thanks for locating my mate, witch. Once we’ve completed the mating ritual to bind our souls together, you will have whatever you desire as compensation. Within reason,” he finished with a growl, his words bringing the world crumbling down around her.
Mating ritual? Oh no, he was really going to mate with her! Except, that idea didn’t seem as bad as it had only minutes ago when she’d first spotted him. In fact, she found herself suddenly curious about what it would feel like to fu—
No, don’t be ridiculous! You’re not attracted to him because if you were, you dirty little slut, he’d split you in half with his HORSE COCK!
That daunting thought seemed to do the trick, cooling her body and decreasing the ache in her core. She hadn’t mustered up the courage to look between his legs, but she could only imagine how big he’d be. There was no logical way he’d fit without killing her.
Pulse thundering in her ears, Raven yanked on her chains in one final attempt to escape. “I’m not mating you, you-you freaking horse!”
Beelzebub stilled, and the room grew so quiet she was certain everyone could hear the unsteady beat of her heart as his eyes met hers once more. “What did you call me?” he asked darkly, and her scalp prickled with unease.
Swallowing thickly, Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “You heard me. How could I possibly mate a horse?”
Do not look between his legs. You don’t want to see his monster cock.
Beelzebub smirked then, a dangerous, heated look entering his eyes. Front legs bending, he reached down, snapping the chains holding her down and plucking her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. Grabbing her shackled wrists, he dropped them over his head, leaving her to dangle around his neck like a human necklace. Her arms strained until she wrapped them around his shoulders, fingers digging into toned muscles.
His body was warm, and she shivered again, her silky nightgown adding a delightful sensation to her now sensitive skin. One of Beelzebub’s sturdy arms swept under her ass, lifting her until her only option was to wrap her legs around his waist.
As she did just that, the muscles of his abdomen brushing against her pussy lips were the last thing she expected to find erotic, but a small, needy whimpered left her throat at the light touch. As his scent—cinnamon, spices and musk—filled her nose, he whispered, “You’ll soon find out exactly how it feels to take a cock like mine, Raven. You’ll gladly take every inch, and you’ll beg me for more.”
Oh—
He snapped his fingers, and she flinched as the world around her shifted and changed. The air grew hotter, thicker, as everything she once knew melted away. The coven members disappeared, the walls around her morphed from gray stone to sharp, glistening onyx in an instant.
“What’s happening?” she asked, panicked as the manacles around her wrists snapped, freeing her. Keeping one arm firmly around Beelzebub, she reached for her neck, expecting her collar to be gone as well. Her fingers brushed heavy metal, her true shackle still firmly in place. She wouldn’t be able to use magic and escape until it was removed.
“Welcome to your new home, Raven.”
