Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
The crowd loved it, their laughter and cheers filling the tent, but my eyes never left Sunshine. I was still thinking of how I could have her all to myself, away from this crowd.
Once the ring was cleared and the rigging retracted, Kinks turned her attention to the next part of the night.
“Melantha, darling, it's your turn to have some fun! Care to give the Wheel another spin?”
She stepped forward without hesitation, her movements deliberate as she approached the Wheel of Misfortune. The anticipation in the air was thick, and I couldn’t help but admire her courage. As she reached out to spin the wheel, my gaze drifted back to Sunshine. The way she stood there, so poised yet so exposed, was driving me insane. I wanted to cross the distance between us, wanted to touch her, taste her, claim her in a way that left no doubt she was mine.
“One… two… three!” Kinks’ voice rang out, and the crowd counted along as Mel spun the wheel. The clatter of the spinning segments echoed in the tent, but I barely registered it. I was too focused on the way Sunshine’s chest rose and fell with each breath, the curve of her hips, the slight tremble in her hands.
The wheel slowed, the segments clicking past each option, until it finally stopped. The wedge read: The Iron Maiden Waltz. The crowd’s cheers rose again, a fresh wave of excitement coursing through them. Kinks’ eyes lit up with delight as she turned to the crowd. “Oh, this will be divine! Prepare yourselves for a dance of death like no other!”
Hael was already moving, activating the mechanism that brought up the next setup. The Iron Maiden rose from the floor, its spiked doors ominously open, mounted on a rotating platform. This was no ordinary execution device—it was meant to perform, to turn the act of killing into a dark, seductive dance.
Eryx and Rafe moved with their usual precision, dragging the hunter—a man who had chosen the wrong side—toward the flawless machine.
His struggles were fierce, a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable, but they were futile. Eryx and Rafe had done this too many times before, their strength and skill rendering the hunter's resistance meaningless. With a final push, they forced him inside the spiked chamber, the sharp metal pressing ominously against his flesh.
Kinks’ voice echoed across the club, cutting through the murmurs and anticipation. “Now how about our Serpine beauty—would you do us the honors of sealing the door?”
A ripple went through the crowd at the mention of her surname. The name “Serpine” carried weight, and those who hadn’t yet realized they were in the presence of Pandora Serpines daughter, which meant the women with her were more than likely the only ones she’d ever been linked to.
The excitement in the air grew palpable, a mix of confusion and admiration fueling the whispers that spread like wildfire.
Lana didn’t flinch, not even at the murmurs or the sudden intensity of the gazes now fixed on her. She stepped forward with the same quiet confidence that had always defined her, moving toward the Iron Maiden. The crowd watched as she placed her hands on the heavy doors, her touch as steady as it was deliberate.
“Think Pandora witnessing her legacy is alive and well makes up for me stealing her daughter away?” Ciaran asked jokingly from beside me.
I glanced at him, then back at Lana. He was right; the crowd’s excitement had reached a fever pitch, the knowledge of who stood before them adding a new level of thrill to the proceedings.
But my focus was still on Sunshine, her presence a constant pull at the edges of my mind. Lana, now fully aware of the crowd’s eyes on her, gave the Iron Maiden’s doors a final push. The spikes pressed into the hunter’s flesh, drawing a choked gasp that carried from the mic planted within. The sound of the doors locking into place reverberated through the ring, a finality that sent a fresh wave of excitement through the audience.
The lights dimmed as the haunting melody of a waltz filled the air. The Iron Maiden began to rotate on its platform, the spikes inside retracting slightly only to extend again with each spin, slicing deeper into the hunter’s body. The device was more than just a method of execution—it was a macabre dance, a performance designed to entertain as much as it was to kill. The waltz continued, each note synchronized with the grinding of the Iron Maiden’s gears and the hunter’s increasingly faint screams.
Blood seeped from the cracks in the device, pooling beneath the rotating platform in a grotesque display that captivated the crowd. The Iron Maiden spun faster, the spikes doing their lethal work with precision until the hunter’s struggles finally ceased. The music faded, the Iron Maiden slowing to a stop.