My father, to most, was an impossibly brilliant businessman who’d taken the Winthrop fortunes and quadrupled them over time, giving rise to the arrogant arsehole he’d become to his sons. Well, some might argue that it was a matter of my opinion. I didn’t care.
“Got you good, didn’t we, Xavier?” Someone yanked off the hood.
Seething, I blinked a few times, recognizing my uncles and sniggering cousins before I saw my father’s scowling face.
He neared me with our family priest at his side.Bless me, Father, for I’m about to sin, I smirked.
Father narrowed his eyes. “You might’ve escaped me twice, boy. This time youwilldo as you’re told and participate in this ritual, or God help me—”
“I thought we’re supposed to ascend at age fifteen?” I spoke out of turn. “Why can’t I wait for the next gathering?”
According to our family history, King Sinclair Winthrop banished Snow, a white witch, after she fell in love with and married Prince Sebastian Winthrop. Angered, she’d cursed the Winthrop men for eternity stating the men would never fall in love and every eldest son would die at thirty-five. Unless our bloodline consummated with a virgin from her bloodline, we were done for.
Regardless of some vague truth to their explanations, I didn’t believe them, not even when Father showed me the so-called hall of fame featuring Winthrop men who died at thirty-five.
“Because we decided to allow you a special ceremony instead of joining us all next month,” one uncle bellowed like some great proclamation.
“Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to break the curse tonight,” another called out, earning a hoorah of agreement from his brothers.
I rolled my eyes, snagging Edward, my eldest brother’s gentle smile before Father stepped between us, blocking my view.
“Now, you listen to me, boy,” Father gritted, using that no-nonsense tone my arse was perfectly familiar with. “In three years, your brother will reach thirty-five. If we all fail to break the curse before that gathering, he perishes, and you become the head of the Sinclair family. I’ll be damned if I allow you to ruin what my brothers and I spent years building. When you turn seventeen at midnight, youwillfuck a virgin, and God willing, you are the one to break the curse, only then will you be allowed your freedom from the Brotherhood. Is that understood?” Pure ice lined his tone, daring me to argue.
I barely managed to keep a straight face, wishing he’d drop dead right now. His rule was always law until I became a rebellious arse, making it my life’s mission to annoy the fuck out of him whenever I could.
Unlike my brother and all the Sinclair men, when I turned fifteen, I’d packed enough food for a couple of days and hid within the castle dungeons until my family got tired of looking for me. Livid, my father had skinned my arse with his belt for defying him. Fortunately, the time for the ascension had passed, and I got away. Then I’d heard him tell his brothers that he planned to make me do it on my sixteenth birthday. Clever me disappeared again and got my arse degraded again in front of the entire Brotherhood.
Looked like the old man was one step ahead of me this year. “You can’t make me,” I grumbled.
He boxed my ear, sending me sprawling on my side. “Pick him up,” he barked.
I glared at my cousins as my brother approached and knelt before me. Despite our fifteen-year age gap, we shared a close bond only because Mother had been blessed with three daughters between me and Edward. If I had to do this for anyone, it would be for him.
“Xavier,” he began in that soft voice my father lacked. “This ritual is performed every year, but once a boy ascends at age fifteen, he only participates every five years after that. For you, the next one will be in three years. Father will tie you down and make a girl ride you until you come if you don’t do this now. Wouldn’t you rather have your ego intact than be ridiculed at every family gathering after tonight?”
Breathing hard to calm my churning insides, my shoulders deflated. He was right. With all the firstborn males dying at age thirty-five, baby making had become a household chore in my family once married. Hence, the Sinclair name was large, well-known, and dominated England, both in business and the high society I didn’t want to belong to.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” I glowered at my father. “But only with Edward in the room.”
Father’s lips pursed. He contemplated my request for a moment, not a smidgen of give in that stern expression.
Edward straightened. “He’ll do it, Father. I promise,” he said, his eyes warning me not to say anything.
As I assumed he would disagree, Father glanced around the room. “Everyone out.” The authority in his voice defied any would-be arguments. “I’m staying,” he declared tersely as soon as the doors closed behind the last uncle.
I looked from him to Edward and back. My brother shrugged, his silence telling me this was a battle I shouldn’t bother entertaining. Once my father’s mind was made up, we pitied the poor sod who decided to cross him. Wordlessly, I nodded.
Edward cut the ties that bound my wrists, and while I massaged them to get the blood circulating, Father gestured to the priest, who’d also remained behind. I rolled my eyes when he approached me and began chanting in a language I recognized as Latin.
“Do we have to do this?” I muttered, eyeing the priest’s censer swaying from a gold chain.
My father’s glare would’ve shriveled just about anyone. It didn’t affect me, garnering yet another enraged scowl I’d do well to heed.
Done, the priest stepped back, and Father nodded to Edward. Both men donned black masks before Father held out another mask, I hadn’t noticed him holding.
“What’s that for?” I made no move to take it.
“Your identity must remain a secret,” he replied, his tone hard, his warning evident. His other hand produced a condom. “No babies either until you’re married to a girl of our choosing, should you not break the curse.”
