It’s all a game. A sick, twisted game I want no part in yet can’t escape.
“Something wrong with your meal?” he asks Bexley.
“Maybe you should come try it.”
While we sit and dine on a meal of filet mignon, crushed potatoes, and fine green beans, Cade had the servers bring them what can only be described as scraps from the kitchen. Alex has picked his way through some of it but Bexley hasn’t touched a morsel, and I don’t blame him. But Cade doesn’t reward insubordination, and part of me wants to yell that he’s playing right into his hands.
“There’ll be no dessert if you don’t finish your meal,” he taunts Bexley, and Ashton snorts under his breath.
I take another gulp of wine. Cade didn’t allow me to get ready with Sasha tonight, maybe because he didn’t want her to warn me about whatever the night holds, because I feel it in the air. Something is coming… like a storm on the horizon.
“Aren’t you hungry, baby?” Cade trails a finger along my shoulder. I feel Bexley’s eyes drilling into the top of my head, but I don’t meet his gaze.
I can’t.
This is the worst thing that could have happened tonight. Sitting here, between them, Bexley’s marks still on my skin, hidden by my high-collared dress.
Part of me wonders if Cade knows, if this is all some kind of sick punishment. If it is, we’re prisoners along for the ride either way.
I’d called my father earlier and begged him to find a way around Quinctus’ decision. It was no good calling my mother; she doesn’t get why I wouldn’t want to take my rightful place in our great town’s history.
If this is greatness, I want no part of it. Cade and his friends care more about their reputations and abusing their power than they do anything else.
Cade might be able to give me a life of luxury, of money and privilege… but at what cost?
“The food is fine.” I force a smile in his direction.
He leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek. “I think you’ll like dessert, Mia. There’s something very, very special on the menu.”
My stomach churns violently, but I don’t show my fear.
Sasha catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. At least she’s here too. Fawn is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder why she doesn’t have to endure this.
The servers—girls dressed in maid’s outfits that leave very little to the imagination—keep our glasses topped up, and I find some relief in the slight buzz in my veins. I couldn’t survive this stone-cold sober. It’s too intense. Every look, every sigh and shift on a chair draws attention.
“So Bexley, tell us… are you looking forward to your next initiation task?”
“Whatever you throw at me, I’ll complete. You know that, right? Nothing you do to me will break me.”
“Is that right?” Cade sits back in his chair, loosening his collar. All the guys are dressed up in slacks and dark shirts. It only adds to the bizarre vibe of the evening so far.
Dining with the Electi in our formalwear wasn’t something I ever anticipated would become a normal event in my life, but here we are.
The servers make quick work of cleaning away our plates. Bexley still hasn’t touched so much as a bite of his food, earning him a scowl from Cade.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Easton,” he snarls as the servers wait for the signal to remove Bexley’s plate. After a second, Cade nods and the table is finally clear.
“Why don’t we move this party into the den. Dessert will be so much better in there.”
Sasha’s brows furrow, and I try to figure out what’s going on, but then Brandon says, “You should go to your room, Sis.”
“I’m coming.” Her chin lifts defiantly, and relief floods me. She isn’t going to leave me. Thank God. But a low growl rumbles in Cade’s chest.
“Brandon is right, Sasha. Unless you want Daddy dearest to find out about your little drug habit, I suggest you go to your room.”
She pushes from the table, slamming her hands down. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” Grabbing her glass, she downs the contents before pinning me with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she mouths before hurrying from the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“This doesn’t concern Sasha,” Cade says, as if it’s that simple.
“But she’s one of you.”
“Only when it suits,” Channing mutters, and Cade levels him with an icy look.
“Something you want to say?”
“Nope.” He glances away, his anger obvious in the tight set of his jaw.
“Come on.” Cade stands, holding out his hand. Bexley’s eyes burn into the side of my face as I slip my hand into Cade’s and follow him through another set of double doors. This room is smaller, filled with a huge sectional and a selection of huge chairs. There’s a massive fireplace with an electric fire flickering wildly, casting an amber glow around the dimly lit room. Music pumps out of hidden speakers, and there’s something in the air, a scent I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What is that?” I ask, my voice quivering because nothing about this feels right.
“Just a little something to help everyone relax. Here,” Cade grabs a champagne flute off a nearby tray and hands it to me, “drink this.”
I eye the contents suspiciously, and Cade chuckles darkly.
“Such a fighter. Trust me, you’ll want to drink it for what comes next.”
“What comes next?” I’m vaguely aware of the others filtering into the room behind me. The icy fingers of fear grip my throat. I’m all alone now, surrounded by five guys I know have illicit morals and two guys I barely know anything about.
“Initium,” Ashton barks, “take a seat.”
It’s then I notice the two chairs in the center of the room.
“Drink it, Mia.” Cade pushes the glass to my lips. “I won’t ask again.”
I knock the drink back and gulp it down. If it’s anything like the last party, I don’t want to be sober.
Not
