by Caitlyn Dare
A server is busy placing down baskets of fresh bread and pastries, and there’s a hot food counter with eggs and bacon and pancakes.
The huge ornate doors swing open and Tim appears… with Fawn in toe.
“About fucking time,” Cade grumbles. “I called you an hour ago.”
“We were… busy.” They join us at the table.
“I bet you were. Nice hickey, Fawn,” Ashton smirks, and Tim leans over, smacking him around the head.
“Show some fucking respect.”
“Tim,” she soothes.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her around the group. Fawn Bailey is a quiet, meek girl who seemingly keeps to herself.
“Hey, I’m Mia,” I say.
“I know who you are.” Sympathy glitters in her eyes. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, Fawn.”
“Sasha.”
The air cools between the two girls, and I wonder what history lies there.
“Okay, everyone eat,” Cade says, and mayhem breaks loose as the guys clamber over the pastries and fruits. I follow Sasha to the hot food counter.
“Do you always eat in here?”
“For breakfast, usually. Sometimes we escape here for lunch if the guys want space.”
“Pancakes?”
I nod, and she loads a stack on my plate.
“Syrup?”
“I think I can manage,” I say, and her cheeks flame.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“You’re a good friend, Sasha.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Being Brandon’s sister doesn’t really afford me the luxury of friendship.”
“It’s hard,” I glance over my shoulder to make sure none of the guys are within earshot, “being one of them?”
“Look around you. Do you really think I’m one of them? That they’ll let me choose my prosapia?” She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “We are the fairer sex. The weaker sex. The submissive sex.”
I can’t argue with that—it’s clear Cade and at least Ashton think that way. That we’re property. Possessions. There to serve and please.
As if on cue, Cade calls over, “Mia, babe, bring me some bacon and eggs.”
“Is he for real?” I hiss.
“Deadly.” Her expression darkens. “It’s a test, girl. Never forget that. Everything you do, everything you say, it’s all part of his game.”
She takes off toward the table, but I give myself a second to catch my breath.
I’m not ready for all this. The games and veiled threats. My fingers curl around the edge of the counter as I try to rein in the onslaught of emotion.
What am I doing?
I should get out of here. Run far, far away and never look back.
Nothing good can come of staying in Gravestone, of staying with Cade.
Bexley’s face fills in my mind. The way he stood up to Cade at the fight. How he refuses to bow to the King of Gravestone U at every turn. Bexley won’t run. He’s made that clear.
“Mia, babe, the bacon…” Cade’s sharp tone makes me flinch, and I look up to find Ashton looming over me.
“Better not keep Kingsley waiting,” he drawls.
“Excuse me,” I say, darting around him, but he grabs my arm as I pass.
“Oh, and Mia… wear something pretty tonight. It’s going to be a very special dinner indeed.”
17
Bexley
"Are they for fucking real?" I bark, staring down at my cell and the summons from the fucking king.
"Sadly," Alex mutters from behind me.
"You're okay with this?" I snap, spinning away and drilling him with a look I'm sure most would cower away from. Not Alex, though. He's too laid-back for that shit.
He drags his head up from his own cell and meets my eyes.
"No, Bex. I'm not fucking okay with this." His lips thin in frustration. I know he's had a meeting with his mom and Harrison to find out the truth about everything, but he's keeping schtum about the details.
He's hurting, I get it. But I could use whatever he knows. We need all the ammunition we can get if we're to go up against that asshole.
"What choice do we have?"
"We fucking don't," I sulk, knowing that he's right.
We might not totally understand what we're suddenly involved in, but I know that we've gotta see it through.
Marcus has told me enough to know that Cade is a threat. To Gravestone, to Quinctus’ traditions and beliefs… to Mia. Kingsley is a loose cannon, one my uncle seems to think needs reining in.
"I don't fucking like it."
"I know. But we've got to do what we've got to do."
"Do we?"
"You have another option? We can't go up against them, we'll end up dead. We can't run, we'll end up—"
"Dead, yeah. I got it," I mutter, pulling my closet door open and rifling through my shirts to find a suitable one for tonight.
Thirty minutes later, we're pulling up to Cade Kingsley's mansion in my BMW. Alex is tense as fuck in my driver's seat, and I fucking get why.
The last time we were with the five of them, they damn near killed us. There's no way this is just a normal dinner to get to know us better, as the message said.
There is nothing friendly about this visit. We're initiates, after all. We've heard all about the tests we're expected to pass before we're officially welcomed into this fucked-up world.
"Ready?" I ask Alex, forcing some confidence into my voice. The reality is that my heart is racing and I'm about ten seconds from having sweat rolling down my spine. But equally, my muscles are ready for the impending fight.
My injuries have barely had a chance to heal, but there's no way I'll back away from a chance to plow my fists into that motherfucker’s face.
"I'd rather be heading to my own funeral."
"That could well be what's about to happen."
"That's it, fill me with hope."
"I'm not gonna fucking lie to you, man. This has ‘set-up’ written all over it."
Without waiting for his response, I push the door open and make my way to the front of the oppressive building.
It seems Quinctus has a thing for gothic architecture.
Alex catches up with me right as the door opens. A young woman smiles at us and pulls the door wider for us to enter before thrusting a tray I didn't notice she was holding toward us—I was too taken aback by her outfit. Watching Cade with Mia makes my skin crawl, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not that he seems to be just as demeaning to all women.
"Nah, I'm good," I say, remembering all too well what happened the last time I took a drink from them.
"You will take what is offered to you," a voice booms from somewhere in the building.
The woman pushes the tray closer once more, but still I hesitate.
"Things will get much worse for you if you don't follow orders, Easton."
My eyes flick around the vast entryway before us, trying to work out where the owner of the voice is, but after a couple more seconds, I no longer need to wonder. He emerges from a doorway, and he's not alone.
My breath catches in my throat as my eyes lock onto Mia's.
She looks breathtaking in an elegant high-necked little black dress. Her hair is curled with most of it pulled into an updo. Her long-ass legs are on full display, and I can't help but smirk that she's been forced to wear something that covers her chest.
I wonder if he has any idea why that is.
"Drink," he demands, pulling Mia closer into his body and holding her neck with a painful grip, if her wince is anything to go by.
With my eyes still fixed on Mia, I reach out for the shot glass and down it in one. Whatever it is burns the second it hits the back of my throat, and I have to fight not to react to the strength of it.
I'll take the consequences of his fucking games any day, if it keeps her safe.
Alex follows my move, and when I finally look at the asshole, an accomplished smirk plays on h
is lips.
"Good boys," he announces patronizingly. "This way. Dinner will be served shortly. It's going to be an incredible evening, I can feel it."
Without warning, he spins Mia around. She wobbles on her heels and it takes every bit of my restraint not to reach out and steady her, to pull her into my arms where I know she'll be safe.
But I can't. I can't put her at risk like that.
What I did to her last night is bad enough.
It was reckless to leave my mark. To brand her. But fuck, I couldn't not.
My cock swells as I think back to her laid out on her bed, tied up and completely at my mercy.
"Ow," I hiss when Alex's elbow connects with my sore ribs. "What?"
"You're drooling."
"Fuck off."
Fuck knows what he was doing there, but after escaping from Mia's dorm I ran headfirst into Alex in the hallway. He took one look at me and smirked. He knew exactly what I was doing. And from the state of his hair, it didn’t take a genius to work out what he was up to either. My excuse of us doing an economics assignment fell on deaf ears.
Seeing as we were both thrown into the basement while unconscious during our last visit here, we didn't get a chance to really check out the lavishness of the house, and fuck me is it something else.
Our shoes tap against the black marble tiles, and huge chandeliers hang above our heads.
It puts all the houses I thought were over the top in Sterling Bay to shame.
Huge canvases of modern art line the light grey walls along with sculptures on each of the ornate pieces of furniture. It looks nothing like I would expect from five college kids. Although they are college kids with more money and power than sense, so I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised.
I didn't have Cade down as an art lover—not that I've spent all that much time thinking about him or considering him having a life that doesn't involve ruining everyone else's.
We pass multiple closed doors as we follow, my eyes taking in everything, trying to absorb any information that might come in useful one day.
"Our guests are here," Cade announces, throwing open a set of double doors and walking in with his arms held out wide.
Mia hurries around him and darts toward one of two empty chairs at the head of the table. Predictably, she doesn't go for the one that looks like a throne. I think we all know who that belongs to.
The room itself is quite plain. There’s more artwork, but the most distracting thing is the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the forest in the distance. If it weren't for all the sets of eyes drilling into me, I might get a chance to appreciate it.
"Please, come and take your seats." Cade smirks as he gestures to the only two vacant chairs that aren’t his over-the-top throne. Fucking asshole.
While everyone else is sitting in high-backed, cushioned mahogany dining chairs, the two waiting for Alex and I look like something from first grade.
Alex takes a step forward, clearly ready to accept this fate and allow this cunt to humiliate us, but before he can take another, I throw my arm out to stop him.
My ribs smart with the sudden movement, but I fight the grimace that wants to cover my face. He doesn't need to know that I'm still suffering because of him.
"Get us some decent seats and we might join you."
Cade's brows rise at the fact that I even dare to speak out of turn.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Yeah."
He takes a step toward us, tension crackling between us.
"Bexley," Alex hisses, but I ignore him.
"It would be in your best interest to do exactly as you’re told, Easton."
"Why? Gonna take me back to the pit?"
His eyes drop down my body as if he can see the bruises that still mar my skin from their brutal attack on Friday night.
"No," he drawls. "I know how to make it hurt worse than that." He studies me for a few seconds as my fists clench and unclench at my sides, more than ready to take a swing for the asshole.
"Babe?" he calls, not taking his eyes from mine for even a second.
"Y-yeah?" Mia's soft voice flows through me and makes my chest ache with my need for her, my need to get her away from this cunt and to safety.
"Remind our initiates who's in charge here."
"Uh… I'm… I'm not getting involved," she stutters.
Finally, he rips his eyes from mine and looks over his shoulder, piercing her with his death stare.
"Bexley, Alex, please, just sit down," she says after a beat, clearly deciding that this isn't worth Cade's wrath.
My chest heaves as Cade's attention comes back to me.
"You heard my queen. Take your seats."
I swallow down the response that's on the tip of my tongue and nod once at him in agreement.
His lips twitch in a smirk, but I'm not doing this for him. It's for Mia. Always for Mia.
The tension is heavy as Alex and I sit like we're a couple of toddlers at the adult table.
Each of the Electi stares at us with amused smirks on their faces.
After a few silent minutes, Cade's knife taps against his glass at the head of the table. I can't help but roll my eyes at his need to command the room. It's pathetic.
"Welcome, Electi. Prosapia." He looks at Mia and smiles insincerely at her.
It makes my skin crawl that she has no choice but to be close to him, to accept whatever he throws at her. "Initium. Before your initiation tasks continue, we thought it only right to get to know you. To learn what makes you both tick." He narrows his eyes on me. "Although I think we already know one of your weaknesses." One of his hands drops beneath the table and Mia startles, a quiet gasp passing her lips.
My teeth grind as my fingers twist in the fabric of my pants.
"So, without further ado, please enjoy our food—and more importantly, our company. After all, so long as you pass and are still breathing at the end, we are all now bound to each other for life." He smiles down at me, but it does nothing to lighten the weight of the threat that was laced through his words.
This is a death sentence, regardless of whether we're still breathing at the end of it.
The doors behind me open and two young women dressed in small black and white maid’s outfits, just like the one who greeted us, carry two huge trays in and begin placing plates down in front of the Electi. As they bend over, their asses are on show in their short dresses and their breasts threaten to spill out the top.
Ashton and Brandon eat it up, taking in every inch the women have to offer, while Cade watches on, seemingly unfazed, and Mia squirms uncomfortably beside him.
The scent of herbs and spices fills the air and my stomach growls in anticipation. Maybe one good thing could come out of tonight.
But before the women get down to us, they turn and leave the room, closing the door behind them.
18
Mia
This is hell.
No, it’s worse than hell.
Cade lords over the entire meal like he’s the king and we his lowly people. He keeps one hand on me at all times, touching my arm, my knee, sliding his fingers up my thigh, dangerously close to my panties.
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.