by Thorne, Leia
After pouring me a glass of champagne, she says, “Drink this.”
I look at the drink, wondering if she’s added something extra, something to relax me… Then I decide I don’t care. I down the champagne in two gulps.
“It’s fine, Remi. Remember,” she says, “you can leave at any time. Let’s go.”
Right. Because I have a choice. Yet, I wonder if I chose any of this. Is a choice made out of desperation really a choice? Is there an option?
As I follow her toward the back of the penthouse, I shake off my nerves, the alcohol making my head feel light and bubbly. Sawyer takes out a keyring and selects a key, then pushes it into a deadbolt on the door at the end of the hallway.
This is it; I think. I’m about to be kidnapped and sold in some sex trafficking ring.
But when the door opens, a soft glow illuminates the space. Candles and blankets and cushions… It’s all very inviting, until I see the canopy of steel and ropes.
“What is that?” I ask, trying to conceal the tremor in my voice.
“A toy,” Sawyer answers simply. “Don’t worry. That’s not for you. Not tonight.” She winks, then looks past me, over my shoulder. “We’re about to begin.”
This really is it. My last chance to walk out, run away. I roll my shoulders back and turn to face the Broken Saints.
And my world shifts off kilter.
* * *
Five robed individuals surround me in the softly lit room. The robes are dark-gray and intimidating. Alarming, honestly. Concealing the people who I’ve learned to trust. I know they’re masked behind the robes, their features hidden by the cloak of darkness, but it’s not enough to quell the fear.
I stand amid the circle of Broken Saints. Candles casting tall shadows on the walls. A white blanket on the floor beneath my feet.
I’m naked.
Their eyes rake my exposed flesh.
This is my initiation.
When I’ve said my pledge, when I’ve revealed my deepest, darkest secret, I will become one of them. Welcomed into the circle of the elite. A member for life.
One of the robes steps forward. “You, Remi St. James, have been invited into the sanctum of our trust. The secrets we share here tonight must forever remain hidden, veiled to the world outside these walls.”
I recognize his voice, and a quiver of apprehension skitters down my back. This is the boy with the beautiful pale-blue eyes that drink me in, that I get lost within. The boy with the slanted, devious smile, the pop of dimples, and unearthly beauty that casted a spell over me my first week at Brighton.
Now, he’s my judge.
The urge to cover my breasts rises up within me, but I tamp it down, suppressing the shameful need to shield my body before him.
“By pledging to the society, you swear to protect our secrets, to honor our traditions, and to place the members of the Broken Saints above all others.” He steps closer, and I swallow. “Do you swear it?”
My heart knocks painfully against my rib cage. A thunderous boom detonates inside my skull. The moment of no return. My mouth parts, and I say the words…the only words that will break the endless, downward spiral that has claimed me for six months.
“I swear it,” I say.
“Do you accept your place among us?” he asks.
“I accept my place among you.”
He raises his hand and beckons another member forward. Shorter than him, it could be Palmer, but as her features come into focus in the candlelight, I recognize Sawyer. She hands him a silver goblet.
Gage drinks of it first, then presents it to me. “This is the lifeblood of our society. By sharing in this offering, you commit your body to the society. Flesh, bone, blood.”
Holy shit. I take the goblet and pray to the god I don’t believe in—that has ignored me and punished me this past year—and press my lips to the silver rim. I swallow a sip first, and when I realize it’s the same champagne I had before, I take another, longer swallow.
Thank fuck. Sawyer winks at me, and a tendril of unease uncoils from around my spine.
“Now,” Gage says, “for your pledge.”
I lift my chin, prepared.
“In order to be accepted as a qualified member, you must entrust your fellow Broken Saints with a secret. Trust us to keep it for you, to protect you. What do you have to pledge to us, Remi?”
My belly trembles as the chilly air assaults my bare skin. I suck in a breath, then release the dreadful thing I’ve kept buried all this time into the air, setting it free.
“I killed my mother,” I say.
At Gage’s unaffected expression, I continue, emboldened. “Seven months ago, I called my mother from a party where I was…” I trail off, hating the person this confession is about. “Where I was messed up. Drunk. High. We’d had a fight before that, and she was the last dialed number in my contact list.” I take a steadying breath. “She tracked me there, peeled me off the curb, put me in the car, and hours later, I awoke in the emergency room. I had sustained moderate injuries.” My hands hover over the scars on my thighs, feeling them all over again like new. “My mother didn’t survive the wreck. She died of internal bleeding in the hospital only twenty minutes after she arrived. She wasn’t conscious. My father said—” I break off, my voice choked.
Sawyer steps forward and places her hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right.”
I nod shakily. “My father said that it wasn’t my fault. That the truck driver had been sleep deprived, but that’s simply not the truth. I didn’t tell him about our fight, or the fact that she forbade me to leave the house that night, or that I had called her. That I had told her on the phone that I hated her. That she felt she had no other choice but to find me. But that doesn’t matter, anyway,” I say, lifting my chin. “I see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. The blame.”
Sawyer and Gage exchange a look. Then Gage approaches me, tilting my face up toward his with a crooked finger beneath my chin. “Thank you for your secret,” he says. “We will covet it away. We will protect you from suspicion, from judgment. As a member, you are no longer permitted to abide this shame within yourself. Do you understand this?”
It’s impossible not to feel shameful for what I’ve done, but I nod anyway. “I understand.”
“Good.” Gage motions with his hand, prompting the others to drink from the goblet, before he says to me, “Now, there is the matter of the trade.”
My gaze slips to the robes, seeking a connection with Palmer. This is the part she prepared me for.
“Our secret society is lawless. We are the carnal attributes of desire and hedonistic principals. We believe only in ourselves, trust only in one another, and feed our flesh of every wanton desire. We are our own gods. What we want, we take. Our bodies are temples, and in order to achieve greatness like no other, to be truly elite, our temples must be in a state of fulfillment at all times.”
I swallow. I can do this…
“Do you understand what is being asked of you?”
“I understand.”
Gage steps away, and he and Sawyer push their hoods back.
“The trade is the initiation process. Once complete, you will be one of us, subject to demand gratification when in need. Do you understand?”
A beat. “I understand.”
“You must select one of us to accept your trade, your virtue, binding you to the Broken Saints. This is a gift we do not take lightly. You are gifting us your ultimate trust, and the society will honor you for it.” Gage pauses. “Who do you choose, Remi?”
Suddenly, every nerve in my body is aflame. A powerful current pulses through me, making me aware of every set of eyes on me. This is a choice I thought would be the simplest. But, as I stand here, my virginity on display, my very first time to be witnessed by everyone in this room, that intimacy stripped away…
“I choose Sawyer.”
Chapter 18
Sawyer
I feel the charge in the air, the ripple of aggression
that travels through the room the moment Remi says my name. I don’t have to look at Gage to know this taut violence stems from him, to know the infuriated expression that masks his face.
“You have selected Sawyer,” Gage says, demanding confirmation.
Remi glances between us, seeming unsure, but she holds strong. “Yes. Sawyer has helped me feel less…timid. Self-conscious.” She looks at me. “Remember that day in the dressing room, when you told how you handled your own virginity?”
I nod knowingly. The seed I planted has finally sprouted. “That’s what you want?”
Her feigned smile wobbles. “Yes.”
If not for Gage glaring my way, I might smile, I’m so proud of her. Instead of allowing herself to be completely seduced by the lure of Gage, she’s taking charge of her own body, owning her sexual independence.
I shrug off the stupid robe, letting it fall to the floor, exposing my naked body beneath. I head to the closet where there’s a plethora of toys to select from—but I choose the one that will cause Remi the least amount of discomfort and pain. Hey, I’m not a complete sadist.
I return with a basic dildo, and the others form a tighter circle around us. Gage moves back to join them, enclosing us in the center. I refuse to look at him; this is Remi’s moment.
I’ll deal with the backlash later.
“I want you to kneel,” I tell her. “Spread your knees apart. Ass on heels.”
She nods a couple of times, then does as instructed. I join her on the blanket and look at Palmer. “Please bring us a towel.”
When Palmer sets the towel off to the side, I face Remi, mirroring her position on the blanket, and touch Remi’s cheek, guiding her gaze to mine. “Don’t worry about that, or anything else. Just be here with me, in this moment. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says.
“Now,” I say, placing my hands on her thighs. “Close your eyes.”
She seals her eyes shut and I take her hand, moving it to her inner thigh, my palm atop the back of her hand. “Pretend there’s no one else here,” I whisper. “Touch yourself where it feels good. Touch yourself the way you want to be touched.”
I help guide her hand up her thigh, while I move in, laying soft kisses to her neck. I can feel her breathing hitch. She needs to be relaxed as much as possible, her body turned on as much as possible, for this to feel even remotely good.
I’ve talked to enough girls after their first times, and I call bullshit on anyone one of them that claim to have experienced an orgasm. For a girl, the first time is painful, and the body is strung so tightly with nerves and apprehension, it’s damn near impossible to climax in that state.
I don’t want Remi to climax; that will come later. I want her to break her cherry and toss the damn thing away. Discard it like the useless piece of flesh it is, a barrier to other more satisfying, sexual encounters.
And that’s what I help her do as I ease her into the experience.
“Open your eyes,” I tell her. “Only look at me.”
I touch myself, finding my clit and swirling the pad of my finger over the sensitive nub, nodding for her to mimic my motions. I rock my hips slightly, spreading my knees wider, allowing the erotic position to stimulate me further.
“How does that feel?” I ask her.
She’s breathy as she says, “Good.”
I lean forward and kiss her breast, tweaking her nipple to stimulate her even more, and then I touch her, sliding my finger along the seam of her pussy, making sure she’s wet.
“Damn. This is hot as fuck,” Rush says.
Palmer shushes him. “Hush.”
When I feel Remi is wet enough, I guide the dildo beneath her, positioning the tip at her entrance. “Just hold it there,” I instruct her. I move closer, taking over for her hand, touching her in just the right spot to send a current of pleasure through her body.
Her back arches on impact, and the head of the dildo slips inside. She gasps, her eyes wide. I nod to encourage her, then grasp her around the back of her neck, keeping her focus on me.
“Ease your hips down,” I say. “Go as far as you can before it hurts.”
She rocks on top of the toy, then braces her hands on my thighs as she pushes down, accepting the girth inside her. Her nails dig into my skin, and I welcome the pain for her, keeping my hand anchored to her neck.
“It won’t fit,” she whispers.
“It will,” I encourage, my voice strong. “Lift up, give yourself a break, then push down farther. Harder.”
She inhales deeply, letting out a shaky breath as she slides down the shaft. She bites her lip as the dildo fills her completely.
“That’s it,” I say, smiling. “It’s all done. You’re doing good. The pain will subside soon.” As I help her lift up, I take hold of the base, easing it out and slowly pushing it inside her. I do it again, and she undulates her hips, finding a rhythm as I fuck her with the dildo.
“Dammit,” Rush says, his voice gravely with arousal. “I’m going in.”
I look over to see Gage grab his arm, preventing just that. “No,” Gage orders.
I give my attention to Remi, knowing that her world is about to be knocked of kilter. I work the shaft inside her, opening her up more, getting her used to the feel. If she can come, the pain will dissipate, and she’ll handle what’s to come next much better.
But as I’m about to start working her clit, Gage steps beside me. His robe drops to the blanket. “Not like that,” he says. “She deserves to know what real pleasure feels like.”
Dammit. He’s angry with me, and about to take it out on her. I remove the dildo and grab the towel at the edge of the blanket. “Gage,” I say his name in warning. Don’t do this, my eyes caution.
Gage produces the ring—Lesley’s ring. My heart stutters.
“This is yours now,” he tells Remi, then takes hold of her hand. He slips the silver ring with the Broken Saints crest onto her ring finger. “Lie back.”
She looks over the ring for a brief second, her gaze shooting up to meet mine—and in that fleeting moment, I assure her with a firm nod that it’s all right. This is what’s supposed to happen.
No matter that she made the pledge to the society, no matter what Gage claims… She belongs to him now. Gage is the leader. He formed this society. And we are all his little broken saints.
Remi lies back on the blanket, and Gage climbs on top of her like a feral animal to mark his territory, claiming her as his own. He pushes inside her with no preamble, and she lets out a small cry, her thighs clenched tight against his hips.
He rests there, letting her adjust to him, before he pulls out and pushes in again, and again. Her nails dig into his back. He captures her wrists and pins them to the floor. She’s not marking him; he’s marking her.
“Oh, my god. I can’t stand it any longer,” Palmer says, disrobing. “That damn robe is stifling. Quick, someone fuck me before the ache consumes me.”
I keep my eyes on Gage and Remi as Emry plants Palmer on the floor next to her. Palmer touches her hand. “You did awesome,” she tells her. “Try to relax. You’re so hot…” Her voice trails off as Emry thrusts inside her. “Look how hot you made my guy.”
Remi attempts to smile, but soon she’s consumed with Gage’s carnal thrusts. She can’t restrain the harsh moans that escape as he fucks her into submission.
Rush attempts to motivate me to join him, but I shake my head. “I’m staying right here,” I say, my gaze latched on to Gage.
“Suit your damn self,” Rush says, then joins Emry and Palmer. He knows better than to try to steal prey away from the pack leader. Gage would rip his throat out. Maybe figuratively; maybe literally. I don’t know at this point. I’ve pissed him off pretty good.
What the hell.
Might as well go for the jugular.
As his thrusts increase, driving inside Remi harder, faster, until she’s arching against his chest, her breathing labored, Gage looks up at me, a dark sneer on his beautiful lips.
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He fucks her mercilessly.
And when she starts to panic, the pain becoming too intense, I make a choice.
I crawl over and tilt her head my way. I look into her eyes as I press my lips to hers.
I kiss her, tasting the sweet mix of fear and lust.
She submits to the kiss, her breathing harmonizing with mine, the quiver of panic abandoned, as our lips move in sync. Soft caresses clash with the sound of Gage’s primal thrusts; a lecherous, erotic symphony.
When Gage pulls out, his breaths heavy, I release Remi. My gaze roves up to meet his, and his intense blue eyes spear me. Gage stands and looks at Rush. “Finish her off,” her orders him.
“Gently,” I command, turning toward Rush. “Make her come.”
Remi reaches for me, and I touch her hand briefly. “Thank you,” she says, and I lick my lips, sending Gage a message.
He gets it. He understands exactly what I’ve done. He storms toward me and his hand grips my hair before he wrenches me to my feet. “Let’s go,” he says through gritted teeth.
He practically drags me out of the room and outside onto the balcony, where he finally releases me. I stumble a few steps from the momentum.
“Her?” he snarls.
I lift my chin, not backing down. I remain silent.
“You kissed her just despite me,” he accuses. “Admit it.”
I shrug indifferently. “I don’t deny it.”
I took away the claim over me he most wanted.
“There’s no reason to keep trying now, Gage,” I say. “It’s done.”
He barrels toward me, still hard and erect. His hand fastens around my throat. I latch onto his hand, but he has me in a vise grip, preventing me from moving. He thrusts me down on the marble table, the slab cold and hard against my back.
His cock pulses as his gaze wantonly roams over my body. Every muscle in his body is strained and corded tight as he seethes, fighting himself to hold back.
I spread my legs, a blatant dare to him. If he takes me in this way, I’ll never belong to him. He knows this, and with gritted teeth, he grabs his cock at the base and squeezes. He pumps furiously, gripping my neck with barely controlled need, before he releases over my belly.