Her eyes wander downward, and she slumps against me, as if the emotion has crippled and wrung her dry. I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her to look at me. It’s not rough, but I’m desperate for her eyes and to keep her from trying to hide.
Her skin is damp beneath my touch, and her pulse is wild. I force her to look at me, to see the truth in my words. She belongs to me, and I need her.
“Be with me.” There’s a note of cruelty in my tone. It’s slight, in fear she may decide I’m not worth her trouble, but I can’t be without her. It’s torment, and now that she’s in front of me, there’s no way I can let her go.
Her breath hitches, and she leans her head back, exposing the delicate column of her neck. I lean down, mouth a breath’s width away from her thrumming pulse. She trembles but tilts even farther, and it unravels the sliver of control I have left. I press my lips to her neck, and a tiny broken gasp greets me. Her scent—rain mixed with sweet vanilla—wraps around me until I’m swept into a frenzy.
I kiss again, slower, nipping at the spot hammering wildly. She clutches my biceps, and her soft whimper turns into a moan.
“Be with me,” I say again, in between where I lap at her skin, tasting her. Starved. I was starved for her.
“I’m trying,” she answers, and I chuckle against her, pulling away enough to make out the flush dusted over her porcelain cheeks.
Though the moment sours when I remember my new role and the Severing that’s approaching. I step back, tugging her toward me and the bed.
“Slade?”
“It’s not that easy, Thea. I accepted the position. I’ll be doing the Severing to sit as one of the Eight. It gives me leverage and way to further my plan to destroy them from the inside. I won’t lie to you, they will come for you as the?—”
“Offering.” She swallows, mouth twitching at the corner. “I know. If you can give away so much for me, let me give this to you. I am your Offering. I’m not afraid.” Her hands move to the top button of her shirt, fingers whittling open the buttons one by one. I stare transfixed as she undoes it.
I knew it when I accepted the position. It’s her. It was always going to be her. This time, though, she knows, and she’ll endure it.
“You don’t get to do this alone. Whatever it costs, Slade. You’re the man I choose. This is my purpose.” She shrugs off her top, letting the wet fabric flop to the floor and leaving her utterly bare. With a slight tilt of her chin toward the dandelion painting above my bed, she says, “Do you remember the saying? Bloom where you aren’t meant to grow. Well, we’ll do that. We’ll bring EV down together.”
If there were a fabric I had an aversion to, it’d be velvet. The cape around my shoulder is heavy, and it pools around my feet. It doesn’t sway so much as flow like a liquid along the floor as I approach the stone. The hood casts a shadow over my eyes and those staring back at me, and I roll my shoulders, adjusting the silver clasp holding the garment closed at my throat.
I can’t help but cast glances down the pathway I know she’ll be escorted down. Having her out of my sight, even if only for a little while, makes me anxious. It’s been a week and a half of bliss, pure bliss that I can’t quite explain. In a way, it feels as if I’ve lived a lifetime. I can still hear her laughter, feel her skin burning underneath my touch, soft and alive in ways I don’t deserve. Heat, breaths, and whispers in the dark each night, her body pressed to mine. Then, living life with her during the day—she saw my congressional office for the first time, and put her childhood home up for rent because she couldn’t bring herself to sell it just yet, and then went grocery shopping solely for Frosted Flakes.
The way she’s loved me in these past weeks has been fierce and bold, and I’m so proud to call her mine.
Now, the time has come, and I’d be lying if I didn’t want to sweep Thea away from this place, take off, and never look back. It’s she who has ushered in the reminders every morning when we’re tangled naked in the sheets of how importantthisis.
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth, and I scan the crowd. Kenji’s the only one not paying attention as the quota for the ritual is met, and I watch as he studies his phone, jaw tight.
Graves wanders over and stands beside me, offering me a nod. I acknowledge him but quickly turn my attention back down the hall. Let them believe I’ve bent. Let them see the obedient grandson taking up the DuPont name within the Eight, smiling through it.
What they can’t see is the fire in my chest that burns where I’ve been carved, for myself and for Thea.
I’ll play the part for a while, but really, I’ve manipulated my way into the heart of their empire, and I’m ready to cut out the rot. First step: No more Market girls. I won’t let it happen.
The chamber lights lower, and the chatter of voices among the members fades. Flameless candles invade the darkness, theirshadows swaying with the shifting of bodies as everyone tries to get a better look.
It won’t be a surprise who the Offering is. Not to the members who saw me lose my mind over her. Smoke curls upward toward the vaulted ceilings, the scent of incense and wax potent.
The LED lights gleam around the stone platform, and for a moment I’m scared for Thea. For what they will ask of her. What she will have to endure as I stand idly by. Her instructions last night were not to interfere, that she would smile through it. I think she’s stronger than I am. The difference with her as the Offering is that there’s nothing that could be said or done that would tear us apart.
Graves steps closer to me, the rustle of his robe echoing in the silence.
“Please direct your attention toward the rite doors. Thank you,” the feminine EV voice announces.
I swallow as the doors open and the six remaining leaders, dressed in their red robes, walk in toward the marble platform.
Graves speaks. “To rise into leadership, a member must prove he is willing to sever empathy, identity, and personal morality. An Offering, male or female, is selected by the current leadership as a symbol of weakness. The initiate must sever all compassion during the Severing.
“Will the initiate, Slade DuPont, please step forward.”
I shuffle forward, eyes still locked on where I know she’ll come through.
