Page 97 of Semper
Her words settled in my chest like a promise, and I found myself smiling despite the weight of everything. This place had a way of consuming you, of turning every moment into something darkly significant.
In the midst of it all, there was a thread that was tied to these women, and what I had become part of.
Night had begun to fall as the final preparations were completed. The women, dressed in dark, elegant gowns, fitting for the gravity of the occasion, gathered around me. Each one carried a sense of purpose, of knowing what was to come, and it gave me a strange sense of calm.
Together, we left the room, moving in unison through the grand halls of the estate, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone floors. My heart raced, but there was a quiet resolve within me. As we made our way toward the Chapel where the Rite would take place, I couldn’t help but think that this moment, this night, was inevitable. It was as if the Isle had known all along that I would end up here,
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The limo rolled to a stop at the back of the Chapel, and the women with me fell into a quiet reverence. The car had been full of chatter on the way here, but now, with the weight of the night pressing down on us, the silence was all-consuming. Esther sat beside me, her hand lightly resting on my knee, a silent gesture of support as I took a deep breath.
We stepped out, the cool evening air biting against my skin, but I barely noticed. The Chapel loomed before me—its grand structure seemed to breathe with the night, an imposing silhouette against the sky.
I was guided through the rear entrance by Esther and a masked disciple, my heels clicking against the stone floor, and there, waiting for me, was Draven.
He had an air of quiet power about him, his presence commanding. His gaze held mine, and for a brief moment, he gave me a nod—approval, understanding and pride. He reached out and took my hand, his grip firm but not unkind.
“You look stunning and ready,” Draven said, his voice a low rumble. There was a warmth in his eyes, despite the chilling formality of his demeanor. “Are you?”
I swallowed, nodding. “I am.” The words felt more like a mantra, something I had to tell myself over and over, but the truth was... I wanted this. I wanted him.
Draven's hand squeezed mine. “You’re becoming one of us now, truly. There’s no going back.”
His words didn’t unsettle me the way they once might have.
I had already made my choice, and tonight was about proving it. The Chapel had been transformed, every inch of the space reflecting the dark beauty of the Isle. Dark roses cascaded from the ceiling, spilling down onto the floor like a river of blood. Candles flickered in tall glass pillars, their light casting eerie shadows that danced along the stained-glass windows. It was like something out of a gothic fairytale—a twisted, beautiful vision. It was both haunting and breathtaking.
“Your gown,” Draven said as he gestured to Esther, who quickly adjusted the long, flowing train behind me. I looked around, unable to help the awe that seeped into my expression. I had known this would be extravagant, but not like this. This felt more like a coronation than a wedding.
When the time came and organ music filled the air, Draven offered me his arm with a genial smile. “Ready?”
I nodded, my throat tightening as he led me forward. My heart pounded as we approached the altar, and there, standing at the front was Alexander.
The moment I saw him, time seemed to slow. He was breathtaking. The tuxedo he wore matched my gown perfectly, the deep burgundy and black lace complementing each other in a way that made the entire moment feel unreal. His eyes locked mine, and for a brief moment, the world around us faded. It was just him. Just me.
My heart twisted painfully, still aching from the way he had left me the night before. He had left me wanting, longing for him, for his touch. And yet, even now, standing before him, I felt a desperate need to be close to him. To prove myself to him. The congregation—disciples, masked and unmasked—stood watching. Their murmurs filled the air, but I couldn’t focus on them.
My mind was entirely consumed by Alexander. He was the only one who mattered. Esther carefully adjusted my train as we moved forward, but I barely registered her presence. All I could think about was him. As we reached the altar, Draven placed my hand in Alexander’s. The moment his fingers curled around mine, something inside me shifted. The grip was possessive, commanding, as though reminding me that I was his. Always his.
The Magistri stood in a semicircle before us, Draven joining their ranks. The air grew heavier as they began to speak, their voices low and resonant, echoing through the Chapel. This wasn’t just a ceremony. This was a binding, something far deeper than any traditional union.
“This night, we witness the union ofDiabolusand his chosen,” the lead Magistri announced, his voice dark and booming.
“This is not a union of mere mortals. This is a bond that transcends the flesh, that binds in spirit and in submission.”
My breath hitched at the word submission, the weight of it settling over me like a shroud.
“Lolita,” Draven’s voice cut through the air, pulling my attention to him. “Tonight, you become more than yourself. You become one with him. You will submit to his will, his needs, his desires, and in turn, you will find strength in his power.”
The words felt heavy in my chest, but instead of fear, I felt a strange calm wash over me. This was what I wanted. This was what I had chosen.
“Do you, Lolita, submit toDiabolus, to his will, to his command?” the Magistri asked, their voices blending together in a dark harmony.
I swallowed, my eyes locking with Alexander’s. “I do.”
Alexander’s gaze darkened, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down my spine. “And do you,Diabolus, claim her, not just as your wife, but as your own in every way?”
He didn’t hesitate, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I do.”