The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Playlist

  Warning

  The Sacrifice

  Prologue

  1. Tyson

  2. Tyson

  3. Tyson

  4. Tyson

  5. Tyson

  6. Tyson

  7. Tyson

  8. Tyson

  9. Tyson

  10. Tyson

  11. Tyson

  12. Tyson

  13. Tyson

  14. Tyson

  15. Tyson

  16. Tyson

  17. Tyson

  18. Tyson

  19. Tyson

  20. Laikyn

  21. Laikyn

  22. Laikyn

  23. Laikyn

  24. Laikyn

  25. Laikyn

  26. Laikyn

  27. Laikyn

  28. Laikyn

  29. Laikyn

  30. Laikyn

  31. Laikyn

  32. Laikyn

  33. Laikyn

  34. Laikyn

  35. Laikyn

  36. Tyson

  37. Tyson

  38. Tyson

  39. Tyson

  40. Tyson

  41. Tyson

  42. Tyson

  43. Tyson

  44. Tyson

  45. Tyson

  46. Tyson

  47. Tyson

  48. Tyson

  49. Tyson

  50. Tyson

  51. Tyson

  52. Tyson

  53. Tyson

  54. Tyson

  55. Tyson

  56. Tyson

  57. Tyson

  58. Tyson

  59. Tyson

  60. Laikyn

  61. Laikyn

  62. Laikyn

  63. Tyson

  64. Tyson

  65. Tyson

  66. Tyson

  67. Tyson

  68. Tyson

  69. Tyson

  Epilogue

  Epilogue two

  The Ritual

  Ryat

  Contact Me

  The Sacrifice

  Copyright © 2023

  by Shantel Tessier All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information about the author and her books, visit her website— https://shanteltessier.com/

  You can join her reader group. It’s the only place to get exclusive teasers, first to know about current projects and release dates. And also have chances to win some amazing giveaways- https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheSinfulSide

  Editor: Jenny Sims and Amanda Rash

  Formatter: Melissa Cunningham (To.All.The.Books.I.Love)

  Cover model: Mick Maio

  Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

  Cover and interior designer: Melissa Cunningham (To.All.The.Books.I.Love)

  PLAYLIST

  “Dethrone” by Bad Omens

  “S & M club remix” by Rihanna

  “Hungry Eyes” by Eric Carmen

  “Just Pretend” by Bad Omens

  “Bleed On Me” by Daniel Seavey.

  “Wicked Game” by Lusaint

  “Panic Room” by Au/Ra

  WARNING

  Author’s note:

  This is NOT a clean romance. It’s filthy and dark. This story is not to teach you BDSM. Nothing about this is to be taken seriously or used as an example of a Dom/Sub lifestyle. There is no safe word given or used. It is strictly a work of fiction and for your smut pleasure.

  The Sacrifice may contain triggers for some. For those of you who wish to go in blind, please remember this dark romance is a work of fiction, and I do NOT condone any situations or actions that take place between these characters.

  If you don’t have any triggers, please skip to the prologue. If you have triggers, please read below.

  Trigger warnings include but are not limited to:

  Dub/non-con, CNC, erotic asphyxiation—breath play, anal, punishment, forced enema, shock treatment, bondage, praise kink, degradation, virgin h, orgasm denial, nipple banding, wax play, forced orgasm, painslut, branding, graphic murder, rape

  Things to know about The Sacrifice

  Secret society

  Arranged marriage

  Revenge seeking H

  Virgin h

  It is MF (no sharing of the h)

  J/P (jealous/possessive) H

  OTT (over the top) H

  Told in dual POVs

  The Sacrifice is set in the Lords’ world introduced in The Ritual. They can be read as standalones in no particular order.

  PROLOGUE

  L.O.R.D.

  A Lord takes his oath seriously. Only blood will solidify their commitment to serve those who demand their complete devotion.

  He is a Leader, believes in Order, knows when to Rule, and is a Deity.

  A Lord must be initiated in order to become a member but can be removed at any time for any reason. If he makes it past the three trials of initiation, he will forever know power and wealth. But not all Lords are built the same. Some are stronger, smarter, hungrier than others.

  They are challenged just to see how far their loyalty will go.

  They are pushed to their limits in order to prove their devotion.

  They are willing to show their commitment.

  Nothing except their life will suffice.

  Limits will be tested, and morals forgotten.

  A Lord can be a judge, jury, and executioner. He holds power that is unmatched by anyone other than his brother.

  Chosen one:

  A Lord must remain celibate during his first three years at Barrington University. Once he is initiated into the Lords, he is gifted a chosen for his senior year.

  A Lady:

  After they graduate from Barrington, they are to marry a Lady—a wife to serve him. If he shall die before her, she is then gifted to another Lord to ensure the secrets are kept within the secret society.

  ONE

  TYSON

  INITIATION

  Loyalty

  Freshman year at Barrington University

  “As a Lord, one must prove to us that we can count on you. No matter the situation. No matter the cost.” Lincoln paces in front of me and the other Lords. He’s our leader I guess you could say.

  We’re all required to live at the house of Lords for the next four years of our lives, and he runs it. I’ve heard rumors that some call the HoL a fraternity on crack. But no one really knows what happens inside that mansion, other than the bad ass parties we throw. Only the Lords who attend Barrington and are going through their initiations know what we really do.

  It’s freshman year. Our first time to show just how far we’re willing to go in order to be the best.

  “You will not be punished for your actions, only rewarded,” Lincoln goes on. “A Lord is willing to take a life without any questions asked.” He comes to a stop and opens his arms out wide. “You will be given an assignment each year to show just how far you are willing to go for us.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Not all of you will make it, gentlemen, but those of you who succeed will know a life that others can only dream of.”

  My father’s voice echoes in my head. “Joining the Lords is not an option—it’s an honor. And you want to honor the Crawfords, right, Son?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  He has prepared me the best he could for this day. For this life. And I will do whatever I can to be the son he raised me to be—ruthless.

  “Tyson, you’re up.” Lincoln’s words have my head snapping up to look at him.

  I stand from the spot where I was kneeling and see a guy enter the makeshift ring. He’s got to be in his late thirties and have at least six inches of height on me and who knows how long of a reach. He’s wearing a hoodie and jeans with black combat boots.

  Reaching up, I yank on the top of my shirt and pull it over my head before throwing it to the side, knowing the fewer restrictions I have, the better. I’ve also got jeans on but am wearing tennis shoes. They won’t help me in a fight. But technically I’m not supposed to win. They want us to fail. It’s their way of weeding out the weak ones as quickly as possible.

  The guy shoves his hand into his back pocket and removes a pocketknife, flipping it open. I see dried blood on the blade and my eyes meet his as he smiles, showing off his crooked teeth. “You’re dead,” he states.

  The words make my heart race. Not with fear, but anticipation. This is what we’re bred for. This is why they make us show our worth. Not just anyone can be in this society. It only accepts the best of the best. And I am the motherfucking best at everything I do.

  You have to be born into this world—your blood makes you a Lord—but they can remove you at any time. Some would be so lucky to get this chance to prove they can live up to their name.

  I glance at Lincoln, and he shakes his head, knowing my silent question. The only way I’ll get a knife is if I take his.

  Challenge accepted.

  The guy rushes me,
and I jump out of the way just in time, throwing my arms up in the air, barely missing the knife he holds out in front of him. I kick my leg out, making contact with the side of his knee. He goes down but rolls at the same time I try to stomp on him, missing my shoe to his face.

  Recovering quickly, he jumps to his feet, knife out in front of him once again. He swings his hand in front of my face, trying to cut me, but I duck while moving out of the way. The quicker I am, the better my odds. Keep him guessing my next move.

  “Do your job, Clarence,” Lincoln calls out to the guy, sounding bored. These men have been Lords for a long time. They should be able to take us down without thought.

  I’ve got a split second to make a decision. It’s not the best, but it’s all I can think of.

  I rush him, getting low enough to wrap my arms around his waist, and pick him up off his feet. I feel a sharp pain in my back as he screams out but the adrenaline coursing through me overrides it.

  The weight of his body pulls us both down to the ground, slamming him onto his back. It knocks the wind out of him, and I take the opportunity it gives me and fist both my hands, hitting him in the face.

  “Motherfucker,” I hiss, feeling the skin on my knuckles split from the contact. But it doesn’t stop me.

  Fellow Lords are yelling for me to succeed. They will be up next. If I lose, it sets a tone. Right now, I represent all of us. I’m not fighting them; I’m fighting for them. For us as a team.

  Blood splatters my face, and my fists start slipping from it, covering his face and my sweaty hands. He fights back, or tries to, at least. His eyes start to swell shut, so he’s fighting blind. I’ve got an advantage.

  I slam my fist into his jaw, feeling a crack. My next swing hits high on his head, making my arm go numb for a brief second, so I hit him with the other, knocking his head to the opposite side. Getting to my unsteady feet, I kick him, rolling him over onto his stomach. He’s coughing up blood and his body starts to convulse. I yank him back over, fall to my knees again, and wrap my bloody hands around his throat, squeezing with the little strength I have left. Now is not the time to show off. It’s time to finish what I started.

  He doesn’t even fight me.

  An arm wraps around my neck from behind, restricting my air, and I’m yanked off the guy. I start kicking and my hands grip the arm holding me in place.

  “Calm down, Tyson,” Lincoln says in my ear. “He’s dead. You’re done.”

  My body instantly relaxes in his hold, and he releases my neck. I fall to my knees, my bloody and busted hands slapping the concrete floor. I’m having trouble catching my breath. Looking down, I notice blood drips from my mouth. Did he get more hits in than I thought?

  I cough and more blood splatters across the concrete floor. The room starts to sway.

  “Gavin.” Lincoln calls out to our doctor who is among the audience.

  The last thing I see is the guy’s knife on the floor, covered in my blood, before I pass out.

  TWO

  TYSON

  INITIATION

  Devotion

  Sophomore year at Barrington University

  I hold the knife down to my side, and blood drips from the tip onto the once pristine white marble floor. I had to kill the two guards to gain access to the house. They never saw us coming.

  The woman lies on her stomach, hands tied behind her back with duct tape over her mouth, silently sobbing. Pathetic really if you think of why we’re here. Don’t ever let a pretty face and tits fool you. A woman can be just as ruthless as a Lord. She’s as bad as they come. So I’ve been told. We weren’t given much about why we’re here. Other than to collect another Lord and do whatever needed to be done to fulfill the assignment.

  I kneel next to her, using the bloody blade of the knife to push her bleach-blond hair away from her face. “Where is he?”

  She shakes her head quickly, informing me she doesn’t know. She’s lying. “Bring me the girl.” I stand, snapping my fingers.

  The woman starts screaming behind the tape, her body thrashing on the floor. She goes to get up, but I place my black boot in the middle of her back, holding her down.

  A fellow Lord, Miles Hopper, was given this assignment with me. He enters the living room, his arm wrapped around the girl’s upper arms. He shoves her into the room and she trips, falling to her knees. Her arms are also tied behind her back. She leans forward, her long, dark hair shielding her face from me.

  I step into her and place the tip of the knife under her chin, forcing her head up. Bright blue eyes glare up at me. “Where is your brother?” I ask her.

  “I’ll never tell you,” she says through gritted teeth.

  Sighing, I crouch in front of her, my elbows resting on my thighs. “You understand that I have to hurt you if you choose to protect him, right?” I run the blade over her heaving chest.

  Her brother has betrayed the Lords. There’s always someone who can’t fulfill their oath. That one Lord that risks it all and then runs, leaving behind a family to take his punishment. It’s a shame really. We’re taught to rule the world, but no one wants to take responsibility when we fuck it over.

  “Do what you have to do,” she spits out.

  Standing, I shake my head at her. “What a waste.”

  “You’re the waste.” She pulls her lips back with a growl. “Doing whatever the Lords tell you to do. You’re nothing but a fucking puppet.”

  I throw my head back, laughing. “What’s that make your brother?”

  “He had the balls to stand up for himself,” she snaps. “To get away from them.”

  Smiling, I wonder, “Why didn’t he take you and your mother with him?” The poor thing has no clue as to why he really left them. Or why we’re here. Not like it matters. Her knowing won’t change the outcome.

  “He’ll come back for us when the time is right.” The way she lifts her chin, I think she truly believes that. But why wouldn’t she? He’s her brother. He’s supposed to protect her.

  But rules are rules. I have an assignment to complete, and they are at the top of my list. If we don’t retrieve the Lord, we are not to leave anything for him to return to.

  I move over to her mother lying on her stomach and pick her up by her hair, making her scream into the tape over her mouth. I stab her in the chest. Yanking the knife out, she falls to the floor dead.

  “MOM!” Her daughter jumps to her feet to rush over to the body.

  I step in front of her, wrapping my hand around her neck, lifting her feet up off the floor. Placing my face in front of hers, I say, “Still want me to do whatever I have to do?” I arch a brow.

  She’s sobbing, body shaking. I loosen my grip on her neck, and she chokes out, “I … don’t know anything.”

  Miles enters the room, and I didn’t realize he had left. He holds up the girl’s cell phone. “Let’s see if we can get him to come to us.”