by Jayla Kane
And then he was gone.
My heart didn’t slow down for the entire orientation. It hammered away inside of me, as if urging me to use that power and run, run far away, as fast as I could. To leave, to escape—there are wolves in the wood, it said. This is too dangerous.
But I stayed where I was.
Sineater, huh.
They were going to let me in the Vault. The Society was handing me the ticket, and no way in hell was I going to tear it up.
I was going to punch it. Hard.
Chapter Three
Jacob
“You’re sloppy, Delia,” I said, pushing her off of my dick. She wiped her chin and stared up at me from under her lashes, but I pointed at Bailey instead and curled my finger, beckoning her forward. “You’re up.” She eagerly shoved past her sorority sister and ran her tongue along the underside of my cock, slipping the head past her teeth with a small grunt. I sighed and gazed up at the ceiling, content to let them show off for each other while I imagined someone else entirely on the end of my shaft.
Someone I hated. But she would hate doing this, so it kind of appealed.
Raven Kintera Divinity Keller is the worst person alive. People might think it’s me—I fit the bill, at least on paper… And yes, in person too. I’m a big guy, with a big dick and a big wallet—don’t get in my fucking way, don’t try to talk to me about your problems, just don’t. Fuck off. I don’t care. I will never care. You’ve been warned.
But I’m honest about it. There’s no one who wonders where they stand with me; it’s all laid out from the first minute we meet. I don’t care about you, and you want something from me—that might be my attention, it might be a ride on the back of my bike, it might be a sneak peek at the mansion or just to feel like you’re inside the secret circle of elite jerk-offs that run this town and the Institute… Whatever it is, there’s a price. Delia and Bailey just wanted to hang out with me; they thought it would make them feel something, like they were having a ‘college experience’ or becoming different people than whoever they were before they got to Ashwood—as if that’s possible. But it was fine with me, because they were more than willing to pay the price.
I started to soften when I remembered who was down there, and then Delia got back in the mix and both of them went to work on me. I let them, and pictured Raven’s face instead, getting harder by the second.
Raven, with skin like cream colored velvet and black hair you could never find in a bottle, with eyes like a moonless night. Raven, who had a dimple you could only see when she laughed so hard she might snort. Raven, who betrayed me and ripped my fucking heart out.
Mmm, I thought. There it is.
“Get ready,” I said absently, and somewhere below me, two mouths prepared themselves.
Raven, whose brainy bitchery managed to thwart most of my worst schemes in high school. Raven, who applied to be Sineater—unff—Raven… Who was about to be my slave.
There it was. “Uhhh… Good work girls,” I said, and absently patted their heads. I don’t know if they expected more; I definitely didn’t give a shit. I zipped up my pants and glanced down at them before waving them towards the door. “I’ll meet you outside. We’ll head over to the party in a minute.”
“Oh, okay,” Bailey said, shooting a glance at Delia. “Um, is there room—”
“We’re walking,” I said, and from the tone of my voice she could tell she would be walking alone if she brought up my bike again. Both of them darted out of the room and I heard the door click behind them, then I leaned over and dug out the phone that had appeared in my backpack three days ago.
It was a high grade burner, something that probably cost a fair bit of money but would be utterly untraceable; if I knew anything about the people that snuck it into my bag, it was also probably highly monitored. I wasn’t stupid enough to use it for anything. I just pulled it out and periodically stared at the screen.
For the first time in a day and a half, there was a message waiting for me.
Four am. Common room. Halloween.
I understood it, all the codes, all the nonsense; even without the charming encounter I had with the previous, deposed Master of Games, I’d been prepped years ago by this gorgeous brunette who I hated now. She was all about the Society—she wanted to get into that goddamn Vault more than almost anything.
Maybe that’s why she was ever my friend; maybe she knew they’d pick me one day.
Anyway. I nodded down at the screen, tucked the phone in my back pocket and dug my wallet out too. We’d need something extra for this party, I thought, wondering where Hunter was. I picked up my own phone and texted him, letting him know where I was taking the girls; all three frats had approached me, but I was already invested in the Society. I didn’t have the time to pledge a frat, although if I remembered correctly—and I did, because I remember everything she ever said—Raven told me the Society actually wanted you to join a frat eventually, to cover some of their own activities. She’d wondered how many pranks and scandals had been blamed on the frats over the years that were really the work of some peon at the Society. We’d never know.
Maybe I’d send her over to service a frat. Make her pledge as a Sigma—have her enter wet t-shirt contests with good old Delia and Bailey. I walked out of my room in the dorms and saw them waiting for me by the stairs, talking on their phones and pointedly ignoring each other.
Whatever. I gave them my most practiced smile and Bailey batted her lashes at me in return; Delia was quieter, more pensive, so I took her hand and started down the stairs. No need to make either of them sad so early. Might need another blowjob before the night was through.
“Let’s have some fun, ladies,” I said, and this time they both smiled up at me.
I didn’t bother smiling back; I didn’t have to. I was just a ticket to them, and they were halfway through the ride already. I watched as they danced ahead, now the best of friends, and saw Hunter leaning against a tree in the Commons.
Who knew where he was earlier. Hunter minded his own business twice as hard as he minded mine, and liked it that way. I nodded at him and we followed the girls into the night.
It was going to be a long one.
I was ready.
I had an idea of why the Society might want to meet me so late, so far from prying eyes, and I could taste my revenge already.
Chapter Four
Jacob
It was cold enough to wish I’d worn a jacket, or maybe another shot of Jack, once we made it out to the Commons. The party was almost dead; most of the people there were passing out in piles or drunkenly swaying to music so obnoxious even molly couldn’t make me enjoy it. My high ended hours ago. I pulled the ski mask over my face and nodded at Hunter before ambling under the trees to the central fountain. He couldn’t come with me; no one could. The air rippled with possibility, the promise of vengeance like blood in my mouth.
I thought I might be alone but for the three people that had shown up last night to give me my ridiculous outfit in a ceremonial gesture, all clothed in long, billowing black robes like members of a terrible metal band from the eighties, but instead of a reunion show, this time there were three kneeling figures on the stones, and five hooded shadows. They were more intimidating in the moonlight. One of them pulled the black cloth off of their head, revealing a plastic Michael Meyers mask. I was surprised when the figure spoke and the voice was female.
“Game Master,” she said, and I nodded to her; she studied me for a moment, then pointed at my chest with a hand gloved in leather. I couldn’t tell if she was one of the ones from before; every detail was obscured, except her voice, which I didn’t recognize. “Your phone isn’t meant to be left in a bag. It’s meant to be on you at all times.”
How the hell did they know I left it in the bag? I only did that to keep it safe, anyway, but alright. “Yes, Sister.” We were all brothers and sisters, apparently. That’d been explained to me by Raven years ago, so I wasn’t too weirded out when they said it
as they’d handed me my robe. It was strange to speak the words out loud, though; I tried to remember the names of all the Council positions, the twelve that ran things—not that I could match any of them with their real identities yet. I should’ve brushed up, read the Wikipedia page. The only two I really cared right now about were the Game Master and the Sineater. The woman in the mask pointed at the hunched figures on the ground. “You will choose,” she said, and I realized that one of these three crumpled up, fabric covered piles of trash must be Raven.
My Sineater.
I waited for them to stand, but they didn’t. No one spoke, the other members of the Society watching me carefully, and I realized this was some kind of test. The position of Game Master was coveted, and it gave me an enormous amount of power on campus, with many caveats, of course; it wasn’t fair, some thought, that it had gone to a freshman. I thought it was a clever way to draw in new members, to stay relevant; I understood why there might be some resentment, though. And someone here knew I wanted Raven Keller to be my Sineater.
Were they friends with her, and trying to keep her out of my hands?
Or were they just punishing me?
Maybe both. Maybe this was just the first game of many. I turned to the woman and cocked my head. “May I speak to them?”
“No,” she said. There was a rustling among the other Society members, as if I were breaking some rule.
Fuck the rules. “May I touch them?” I took a step closer, as if I would, and the one on the right shifted—flinched.
“No,” the woman said, but by now I was enjoying myself.
“That’s too bad,” I growled. “Can I kick them?”
“No,” she said, her voice indifferent, but this time the one on the right held still, and the other two shifted underneath the weight of the fabric draped over them. I took one step closer, and the one on the right rustled again.
So clever, that little bird.
She was the one who knew what to fear; she was the one listening to my feet, instead of my voice.
I rapidly grabbed the edge of the cloth before anyone could stop me and yanked. Sure enough, her beautiful dark eyed face glared up at me, defiant. I smiled down at her, dropping the cloth on the ground.
“Come with me, Sineater,” I snarled, and turned away before anyone else could speak, walking back the way I came.
If they liked Games, they were going to have to learn to play my way.
I heard her soft footsteps hurrying behind me and picked up speed.
Chapter Five
Raven
Jacob was tall; I realized as I was following him that he’d grown even more since the last time I saw him, months ago, back in high school. He hit six feet our sophomore year. If I had to guess, I think he was up to six four now, and as I rushed behind him I felt like most of it must be legs. He wound through the silent hallways and took the stairs at the base of the Rose Tower, skipping the elevator. At one point I could hear him high above me, at least two flights, and I rushed to keep up. This was my first task as his second—his Sineater.
How had he known it was me?
They covered us meticulously, dumping cardboard over us and then that fabric, which I hadn’t seen until I was rushing after Jake as he left. I wondered if he would still be Game Master tomorrow, and realized that the way he’d behaved was kind of the point of a Game Master—always pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable, what would be allowed. I could tell from the questions he asked that he didn’t know who the other members were. Neither did I; that was kind of the point of a secret society, too. Took a little getting used to.
I was exhausted. I’d been kneeling on the ground, covered from head to toe in crap, for at least an hour. I was sure that was part of the test—Jake, gigantic cocky ass that he was, still wouldn’t have been late to a meeting the Society summoned him to. The other two Society members and I were being fucked with by the elder sisters and brothers. I hadn’t been able to sleep beforehand, my body thrumming with adrenaline as I ran over the possibility again and again—first I would think of Jake and grow cold, then hot, and then I would think of the Vault and it would happen all over again in succession. I listened for his footsteps, panting, and prayed this wasn’t some trick. When I heard him again, far overhead, I ran to catch up, my boots slapping against the stone stairs.
Finally, I reached the top flight. The Rose Tower was open for viewing, but only by day; directly across from the small stairwell that led up to the highest point—a stairway leading to the castle’s uppermost floor with a famous view that looked out over the valley--was a door. It wasn’t a particularly noticeable door, being like all the other ones in the college so far, but this one had no number, insignia or professor’s name. Instead, there was a tiny symbol carved just above the keyhole—three circles interlocking, with smaller dots surrounding them and a single deep divot in the center of each one. The symbol of the Society.
And slipping an ancient key in the lock were the long, brown fingers of Jacob Warfield, Game Master. He gave me a small half-smile as he turned it and the door clicked open—was this the Vault? Was it happening already?
No, he wouldn’t—he couldn’t be—
When the door creaked open, I stared into a comfortable office and sighed.
Of course he couldn’t be.
His laugh told me he understood every expression that had flitted across my face. He sauntered inside, his grin painfully endearing in spite of the malice that glinted in it. “Walk into my parlor,” he said cheerfully, and I rolled my eyes and followed him in.
This was the office he warned me about.
It looked harmless enough; there was an expensive, plush rug on the floor, and two leather armchairs on either side of the door, facing towards the desk that drew your eye to the center of the room. It was more like a table, almost, the wood polished so that it shone, elegant legs carved with beasts of all kinds tapering down to a narrow point. There was nothing on it, besides a phone just like the one I found in my backpack earlier today. Bookshelves lined every wall, and the light was dim, provided by a low lamp dripping down from the corner of the room. Behind the desk was a window that spanned the entirety of the wall—it began a few inches above the floor and stretched to either corner, gazing out over the valley and away from campus. It was just as good a view, I was sure, as the one directly above us, and probably a lot warmer. It took me a minute to remember that I wasn’t the only one in the room as I gazed out at the star-flecked sky, the mesmerizing glimmer of far away lights from distant farms framing the black horizon.
“Lovely, isn’t it.” I turned abruptly around and stared at Jake, who was leaning on one of those pricy, uncomfortable chairs. No cushioning. Straight backs.
They suited him. “It is,” I agreed, turning to enjoy the view one more time before firmly facing him, my arms crossed over my chest. He smiled lazily at me and draped himself across the chair, long legs stretching out and one hand behind his head, as if he were watching a particularly amusing reality TV show.
And I stared at him.
I couldn’t help it.
Jake is beautiful. He shouldn’t be—he has no right to be. He’s cruel, and he enjoys hurting people, finding their soft parts and squeezing them until they bleed. But Jacob Knight Warfield is an exquisite specimen of manhood, and doesn’t he just know it.
Jake was always cocky about how he looked, even when we were little. He had a face like an angel, and he grew up with more than a passing resemblance to Michelangelo’s David… Except from what I’ve heard, his equipment now is more along the lines of your average porn star, and he uses it much the same way. He has dark curls that gleam chestnut in the light, like mahogany streaked with teak, and hazel eyes that change in the dark. Electric green, like a cat’s; a brown so warm you’d swear he tastes like chocolate. Full lips, straight nose, high cheekbones, all the standard super-model crap. And muscles. Lots of those, all over the place, popping out every time he moved or winked or laughed at you.<
br />
Jake was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen, and he’d become the most beautiful man I ever would, I was sure. It didn’t make me hate him any less.
“Like what you see?”
“What, a jackass who never learned how to sit in a chair?” I shrugged. “I guess. Not much to see, really.”
“I’ve always loved that mouth of yours,” he murmured, his eyes flashing in the low light. I felt my skin grow cold as he went still, perfectly still, as if he were about to pounce. “I used to make them tell me exactly what you said whenever one of my little games caught up to you. ‘That fucking prick!’ ‘Fuck you, you fucking asshole!’” His eyelids fluttered rapturously. “You’ve always been a poet, Bird.”
“Fuck you, you fucking asshole,” I bit out, and he grinned at me. Even sitting, he was so tall we were almost face to face. He slid over in the chair and leaned towards me, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I wanted to show you this place, because you’ll be spending a lot of time here,” he explained in a maddeningly reasonable tone. “Alone. With me. Doing… Work.”
“Jake, listen, I think—”
“What did you just call me?” He was standing up, suddenly, and far too close to me—I backed away instinctively, my feet scrambling to escape, but I ran right into the edge of the desk—and then he was leaning over me, his eyes green and harsh. He placed a hand on either side of my ribs, lowering his perfect face to mine with a snarl on his lips.