Lord of Fire by Gaelen Foley

“and they have been found worthy. Initiates, come forward and receive the final rite.” He pulled back his hood, unveiling a face of burning, satanic, male beauty.
    Alice held her breath, enthralled, feeling the resounding slam of some fateful premonition. Lucien Knight. One look erased any lingering doubt in her mind who he was. He had the bold, patrician features of a dashing adventurer and silver eyes that glittered like diamonds. The glossy jet of his hair set off his sun-bronzed complexion and the wicked, white gleam of his smile.
    Then she gasped as two naked women crawled up onto the stage and went to him on their hands and knees. Oh, God, don’t let that be Caro. The women crouched at his feet, and
Alice nearly fainted with relief to realize neither was her sister-in-law. “Draco” laid a hand on each one’s head and began making incantations over them in the same incoherent language the pale young man had used. The women moaned, caressing him all the while.
Alice watched their hands travel over his hard, lean body as if they could not get enough of him, and the writhing sensuality of the Grotto began to penetrate her naive awareness. She could not stop staring in fascination at Caro’s beautiful, evil lover. No wonder they called him Lord Lucifer, she thought. He was made for temptation.
    Concluding his prayer a moment later, he leaned down and kissed each woman gently on the forehead. They sought his mouth, but with a cruel, delicious little smile, he denied them; then the pale young man wrapped the women in white robes and led them away. Draco’s faithful began growing restless.
Alice glanced in rising uneasiness as the people all around her began mingling into pairs and more exotic combinations. Here and there, they were embracing, kissing, beginning to slither out of their brown robes. The service seemed to be drawing to a close.
    Orpheus suddenly grabbed her arm, startling her. “Give us a kiss, blue eyes.” He grunted, a bead of sweat trickling down his round, ruddy face.
    She jerked back. “Let go of me!”
    “What are you, a virgin?”
    “Get away from me!”
    They struggled for a moment and he tried again to kiss her, but
Alice shoved him away as hard as she could. Muttering a rude epithet, Orpheus angrily withdrew and moved off into the crowd, leaving her alone.
    Shaken,
Alice brushed a few strands of her hair back, her hand trembling slightly, then glanced around and stood on tiptoe, trying to spy Caro. She began making her way through the crowd, looking for the prodigal baroness everywhere. The pipers started up again on their drones, making dizzying, undulant music that seemed to coil and twist through her body. With every step, she heard various languages being spoken in the crowd. She realized there were people there from all over
Europe—and they were beginning to let loose the fullness of their depravity. The robes were coming off. The great pool was filling up with laughing nymphs and satyrs, as were the small, dark lovers’ nooks carved into the cave walls. Erotic wonders bloomed around her like otherworldly flowers. She saw a masked lady flogging a man who was tied to one of the Corinthian columns, his hands bound above his head; each time she struck his bare back with her riding whip, his body jerked and he cried out with pleasure while other people watched. A few steps farther on, she saw two women locked in a passionate kiss. She stared at them as she passed by, amazed and entirely confused. On every hand, people were doing things to one another that she never could have imagined. She was so overwhelmed by it all that she knew she would have to try to absorb it later. For now, she could only focus on her task—finding Caro, bringing her home to Harry.
    The thought of her nephew cleared her head and bolstered her determination. For his sake, she began pushing her way more aggressively through the crowd, ignoring the sex acts, both natural and unnatural, and the score of obscene