Chapter 7 - Saint
Floating on my back, I stared up at the night sky, no longer an ominous black but now a midnight blue peppered by millions of brightly lit stars. My previous birthday rituals had all been dark, cloudy skies like my mood each year.
“Weather’s different this year.” Sitting at the deep end of the pool with his legs in the water, Rhett verbalized my exact thoughts.
“Do you think it a portent to change?” I asked then grinned. “Perhaps I should approach this one with a more zealous than blasé attitude.”
“May the devil of mercy rise victorious,” Rhett shouted then sniggered like the schoolboy idiot he chose to emulate at times.
Years ago, we’d played what seemed like a silly game now, where each person had to choose pseudonyms for their characters. I chose the devil of mercy. Unfortunately, I’d won most of the games and the name stuck. Somehow, it carried over into the rituals or if I was in a foul mood. Not that I cared for it.
Rolling onto my stomach, I swam a few intense laps then dived deep until nothing, but shadowy water surrounded me in its depths. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I cupped my knees, listening to the sweet tunes of silence. Hazy images like my dreams and still distorted nonsense, flickered behind my closed lids until pressure built in my chest, urging me to seek oxygen. Pushing up on my feet, I shot to the surface, inhaling deeply.
“It’s time, cousin.” Rhett was standing next to John.
Swimming to the edge, I climbed out of the pool as our butler stepped forward holding out a towel. “Your father summons you, Sebastian. He’d like a word before the event begins.”
“Thank you, John.” I accepted the towel. “Tell my father I’ll see him in a few.” I glanced at my waterproof watch as John left us. Midnight approached and with it, another monotonous period of hopes and wishful thinking.
“In exactly fifteen minutes you’ll be thirty-five, how does it feel?” Rhett followed me indoors while I dried off.
I shook my head, wondering why people made a fuss about birthdays when it just took them a year closer to death. “Same like any other.”
“Last year for you, surely that must have some impact.” He voiced a fact I’d chosen to ignore years ago.
“Should it?” I met his solemn gaze and offered him a comforting smile. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” We walked inside together.
Most people didn’t believe in omens or signs, and I’d probably agree with their sentiments. Given my family’s history, however, I could not in good conscious concede to those skeptics. And that brought me to the very reason why I now stood amid the traditional five-year ritual, with a finger in my mouth having just licked the cream off my birthday cake, staring at the girl across the room.
Something set her apart from the other girls either huddled together or kneeling. Unlike them, she stood to one side, observing the happenings around her with a no-doubt mind. I couldn’t put a finger on why she caught my attention in the first place. Perhaps it was the corset, crisscrossed with laces down the front, mid-thigh skirt and six-inch, patent heels—all black leather embracing her fuller figure almost lovingly. Or maybe it was her long, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail enhancing her black mask. Edged by tiny diamantes they glinted in the light above each time she moved—the catlike design adding a subtle plumpness to her naturally pink lips, now parted slightly with a hint of a smile.
Or perhaps it was a combination of all these together that had my interest piqued.
Are you a natural submissive, though?
Even though I asked the question, some part of me wished for the opposite. As though she could hear my thoughts, her gaze lifted, locking with mine and sealing the deal of who she belonged to tonight. From where I stood and given the rich lighting that cast a halo around her, all I saw was her breath-taking innocence caught in the reflective hues of her eyes. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out the actual shade. In my mind though, I decided it would be blue—not just any blue, though—luminous sapphires sparkling with mischief yet still sensual in its lure—the very color I’d sought for a long time.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and I felt the knee-jerk reaction in my trousers. My lips parted in a slow smile, and she dropped her gaze to the dusky carpeted floor between us. For once, the tedious ritual prefaced by the usual tirade of choosing one of the girls suddenly looked promising. I don’t think I’d been this keen in a long time and I hadn’t even seen her face yet.
