“Still so young. I heard you play hockey.”
“You have?” That has him preening.
What an asshole.
“Yes. I also heard you lost last season.”
I bow my head to hide a laugh when Derek’s posturing shatters at the reminder.
Maxim might have driven me up the wall tonight, but I hope he’ll put Derek further in his place. The rumors about him are heinous—because they’retrue.
A soft bell dings from the atrium. Which is disappointing. Maxim barely had the chance to lacerate Derek’s ego.
Hiding a pout, I peer around the asshole in front of me and see it’s a rather simple entryway for a supposed “elite” society.
“We should go in.”
Furious, and showing it, Derek strides over to the lodge.
“Are you supposed to intimidate little boys, Maxim? Won’t you get a reputation for being a bully?”
“Good.” That he switches to Russian comes as a shock. A nice one.
“I believe his father is high-ranking.”
“I’m sure he is.” He sounds as unbothered as a tiger cleaning his claws post meal. “Some need to be reminded that a few of us would prefer tokilltheir ass, not kiss it.”
My chuckle earns me a quick glance of shared amusement as he guides me to the door, which is in the style you see in older European churches or castles—a small opening within a wider portal.
Inside, the walls are white. Not smooth like modern-day plaster. But roughly hewn, adobe-esque. It’s also free from any type of design or ornamentation. A blank canvas with a floor of oversized slabs. That is, of course, until I see the faint engravings on the stone and realize they’re burial markers.
Here lies Euric I – 1789–1867is inscribed below my feet.
“Thank you for gathering here tonight,” a man intones. “I am Alaric, your guide.”
My eyes whip around as I seek out the speaker, but Maxim murmurs, “Look over by the mosaic.”
Mosaic?
Wishing I’d worn my heels now because I’d have a better vantage point, I finally find a mosaic—it’s an oversized “V” in white that matches the walls. No wonder I couldn’t damn well see it. The tiles barely gleam in the candlelight. These guys need Inessa, a soon-to-be licensed interior decorator, to come in and renovate.
At the very point of the “V,” a man stands. He has a hood over his face and he wears a cape. Black.
My nose wrinkles at the cliché because of the whole secret society baloney, but I tune in as Alaric continues, “Those who vouch for you, speak the names of the pledged.”
I stiffen. “What?”
Maxim’s hand finds mine. “I’ll vouch for you.”
“You’re not a brother.”
“You don’t have to be. This is about power, sacrifice, and ties by association.”
“What?!”
Derek shoots Maxim a displeased look, which has me questioning what’s going on.
Once the Veronians had received Maxim’s offering of an ear, the same courier showed up at my door with an invitation, but… that wasn’t enough? Mine had a time and a date on it. That’s it. No mention of a plus one.
