The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance
The Sacrifice: Chapter 22

I’m avoiding my husband. I’m mad at him, and although my ass reminds me that he’s probably going to spank me once again, I just don’t care.

How can he be mad at me for something I did years ago, when he’s fucking other women now? That doesn’t make any sense to me. I guess it doesn’t have to. He’s Tyson and does whatever he wants. I’m Laikyn, who has to obey her husband’s every demand.

The club has closed, and I’m standing at the end of the bar counting out my tips. I’m really surprised at how much I make here. And Tyson hasn’t taken my money away. Yet. Which means there’s hope that I can put some away for a rainy day if I ever get the chance to run away from this place and this life. I’ve always dreamed of something different.

I hear laughter and look over my shoulder to see four guys walking through the empty club, talking to one another. They make their way across the dance floor and over to the round booth where Tyson always sits while we’re cleaning up. He hasn’t even looked my way.

He’s proving a point. I know he saw that I read his text and chose to ignore it. My punishment will come later when we’re alone.

“Fuck, those guys are all fine.” A cocktail waitress by the name of Starla sighs. She hasn’t spoken directly to me, and she’s not now either.

Bethany snorts. “They’re all pretty much spoken for. So don’t waste your breath.”

“They can choke me any day,” Starla goes on. “Especially Colton Knox.”

I watch them all slide into the booth and talk to Tyson, wondering what they’re saying and who they are. Why is he allowing them in here after hours? I haven’t seen them here before, so I know they don’t work at the club.

“He’s definitely not available,” Bethany tells her.

“What? He’s a fuckboy. He’s not saving himself for marriage.” She snorts.

“He’s secretly in love with his stepsister.” Bethany rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows this. And Alex is in love with his high school sweetheart. That’s how they got their job working for Tyson to begin with.”

“They’re Lords?” I ask without thought.

Bethany and Starla both spin around to look at me. Their eyes narrow as if they had no clue I was standing right by them. I’m used to that—being invisible.

“No,” Starla answers, surprising me. “They work for a Lord. There’s a difference.”

I nod as if I understand. But I don’t. What does this Alex guy and his girlfriend have to do with Blackout and Tyson?

We all go about our business, cleaning our sections, tipping the bartenders, and putting everything away. When I finish, I look over to see Tyson sitting in the booth with the four men. I make my way upstairs and enter the bathroom. Yawning, I get undressed and step into the shower. I’m exhausted and just want to go to bed.

The warm water stings as it runs down over the belt marks on my ass, and it makes it hard to wash my hair, but I manage as quickly as I can.

Stepping out, I walk over to the mirror and run my hand through the steam on it. I stare at myself and sigh. I hate how I look. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Over the past few years, I was transformed into someone that I’m not. It’s changed me. I felt myself slowly slip away every day.

My eyes look sad, my lips frown. Dropping the towel, I see my fake boobs, and I want to cry. I allowed a man to change me. Well, not like I had a choice, but I didn’t even end up with him. Now I’m stuck with this person that I don’t want to be.

Being told that you’re not good enough over and over gets to you. No matter how much you try to ignore it, you start to tell yourself that maybe one day it’ll get better, but it doesn’t.

I miss my dark hair, small boobs, and smile that I used to have. I always knew I’d be someone’s Lady, and although I didn’t love the idea, I was okay with it. I accepted it. Then everything changed.

Three years ago

“I got you something,” Luke says, entering my bedroom at my parents’ without even knocking. Good thing I’m dressed. My own mother won’t even alert me when he comes over to visit me or my father.

“What is it?” I sit up straighter on my bed.

He walks over and sits down on the side, holding out an envelope for me. “Go ahead, open it.”

I gently pull apart the seal and remove the card inside. I read over it and frown. “I don’t understand.”

He rips it from my hands. “It’s a gift card.”

“To a doctor. What’s wrong with me?” I’m not sick. Why the hell would he get me this?

“It’s for your tits, babe.” He points at my chest. “He’s the best plastic surgeon in California. He’s booked out for the next year, but I got you in, in three months.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slump.

“I’ve already told him the size I want. And I’ve already spoken to your mother. She’s going to go with you, and you guys will spend a few nights there. They’re going to look amazing.”

I stare down at my hands, and he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Why wouldn’t I be okay with him wanting to change my body? I mean, how dare I be confident and like how I look? I didn’t get to pick who I spent the rest of my life with, so I shouldn’t be surprised. My sister was killed, then this guy shows up in our lives, and I’m just handed over like a piece to be traded. “He’s going to be powerful,” my mother told me. “You’ll be set for life.” That doesn’t matter when your life is hell.

“Nothing.” I lie because he won’t care, just like the rest of them.

That’s when I knew I’d never have a say in how I live my life. If I refused anything that Luke wanted, my parents would make sure he got it. After that, he just kept changing things about me. My father joined in on it too. I always walked into a room and was already greeted with things that I needed to work on. A personal trainer to stay in shape. A diet. It was never ending. I had to drop eight pounds for the wedding. The dress was designed in the size that Luke wanted it. Then I had to make sure I fit into it.

Maybe Tyson could be different in this aspect. He doesn’t want me to look a certain way, so it seems. It never hurts to ask.

TYSON

I enter the apartment and master suite to replace her walking out of the bathroom. She comes to a stop and looks down at the floor for a long second before her eyes slowly lift to look at me through her long lashes. She’s already showered, her hair still damp and makeup off her face, dressed in one of my T-shirts. My cock instantly gets hard noticing her hard nipples through the thin fabric.

“Can I color my hair?” she asks softly.

“No.”

“You didn’t even consider it,” she growls, her eyes narrowing on mine as she lifts her chin.

“Why do you want to change it?” I ask my own question, curious of her answer. I’m pretty sure I already know, though.

“Never mind.” She turns to walk to the bed, but I grab her upper arm, bringing her to a stop.

“Did Luke make you bleach it?” I wonder. Maybe he prefers blondes.

She bows her head, biting on her lips nervously. I reach out, letting my knuckles run over her breasts, noticing how she pushes her chest into my touch. I bet she’s begging to get off right now. “I asked you a question, Lake.”

“No,” She answers softly.

“Then who?” I ask.

She looks up at me, her eyes red. “My dad.”

“Why would he care what color your hair is?” I snort at the thought.

She swallows. “He said I looked too much like Whitney,” she whispers. “We weren’t even allowed to mention her name. So the fact that he thought of her every time he looked at me disgusted him.”

Lake and Whitney looked nothing alike, other than they were both brunettes. But even that wasn’t identical. Whitney’s was darker, and she kept it shorter—just below the shoulders. Why would it bother him how Lake looked? That doesn’t make sense.

Reaching out, I take a piece of her hair and twirl it around my finger. I step into her, letting go of it. I slide my fingers through the damp strands to the back of her head and I gently tug, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “If you want to change your hair, then change it.” I don’t want to give her permission to change something that she doesn’t like about herself. Her body has already been altered because a man told her it wasn’t what he wanted.

Her eyes light up, our earlier fight forgotten, and her plump lips pull into a big smile. She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you.” She presses her lips to mine to give me a kiss. It’s innocent and thoughtless on her part. Just an action of gratitude.

She goes to pull away, but I use my hand that holds onto her head to keep her in place. I part my lips, forcing hers open as my tongue enters her mouth, wanting to taste my wife. My free hand wraps around her waist, holding her to me. Fuck, I want to bend her over and run my tongue along the slashes on her ass. Hear her gasp as my teeth sink into her skin and listen to her cry as I make her beg me to let her come.

But not tonight. I pull away and give her my back. Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me. This is just the beginning of her punishment for avoiding me tonight. If she doesn’t want to come see me, then she sure as fuck isn’t getting off. And as hard as my cock is right now, I’m not sure I’d be able to do a quickie and finish before she could.