Page 31 of Devour

He reaches for the wine bottle and fills my glass again. “Drink up, baby sister. You look like you need it.”

“I’m fine, Justin.” I’m so not fucking fine. I’m already a slut for Axl Kade Hollister.

“I won’t tell Mom.” His voice is soft, and there’s no edge in it. “At least that’s over. Now we just both have to get through this stupid ceremony tomorrow.”

I take the wine. The first sip goes down smooth. I take another drink. Then another.

“There you go.” He takes a sip from his own glass. “This is our last night in this house for a while.”

The wine is warm in my chest, and the tension in my shoulders loosens. I finish the glass and set it down. The room shifts under me.

I’ve had too much to drink tonight. I can usually handle my alcohol, but then again, I didn’t eat much at dinner. My arms are heavy. My head is cloudy. The edges of the room are going soft. I just need my bed so I can get a good night’s sleep before everything that is going to happen tomorrow.

“I think I need to go to bed.” I push my chair back. My legs are shaky, but I gain control over them.

“You definitely need to go to bed.” Justin is watching me. “I’ll clean this up. Mom will lose it if she sees the extra empty bottles. You need to get upstairs before she realizes that you’re drunk.”

“Thank you.” I grab the edge of the table and hold on until the room settles. My vision is blurry at the edges, and my body feels like it’s moving through water.

“Sayl? Do you need me to help you?”

“I’m fine.” I let go of the table. My legs are heavy, and my arms don’t feel connected to my body. But I can make it upstairs. I drank too much on an empty stomach. At least I didn’t take any pills tonight. I’d really be fucked. This is Axl’s fault for getting me all worked up.

“Night, Sayl.” Justin’s voice follows me out of the dining room. It’s gentle. The way he used to talk to me when I was little and scared of the dark. I always went to him instead of our parents since he’d try to make me feel safe. Ugh, my fucking stomach is turning from the wine. “Sleep well.”

“Night, Justin.”

I grip the railing and pull myself up the stairs. Each step is harder than the last. My heels click on the wood, and I kick them off halfway up because I can’t trust my feet anymore. The hallway is long. My door is at the end. I get there and push it open. My bed is right there. I push the door shut behind me.

I manage to unzip my dress and slip out of it as I stumble into my room. It pools on the floor. I can feel Axl’s cum sticky on my thighs. I need a fucking shower, but I don’t trust myself not to slip and fall in my current state.

I fall onto the mattress, and the room spins. I really shouldn’t have had more wine. The ceiling is moving in circles while my body sinks into the mattress. Axl’s face appears when I close my eyes, and then I let myself pass the fuck out.

CHAPTER 13

SAYLOR

Our world knows power, money, and sex. Money is the least exciting of the three.

The stone bench is cold under my thighs through the thin white dress. This place has been owned by the Ravens for centuries, and it looks like it. It’s a Gothic fortress of dark stone and iron arches with ceilings so high they disappear into the dark above us. Talons have been fighting and dying on this floor for as long as our world has existed. I’ve never been inside before tonight, but I’ve heard about it my entire life. It smells like death and sweat, which is fitting for what’s about to happen here.

The Ravens don’t usually let everyone watch when they kill someone. Most of that shit is handled quietly by the Talons. Nobody outside the Council ever knows it happened, unless they have a reason to make it public. But tonight is different. Tonight is about reminding hundreds of masked faces who the fuck is in charge, and these fights are how they do it.

The founding families have their own section with the best view. The Sinclairs are right in the center of it since they run this entire shit show. Every face is covered because the Ravens love their traditions even though we all know exactly who’s sitting behind each mask. That’s the thing about our world—everyone pretends they don’t recognize the judges, the senators, and the men who run this city sitting in these seats. The masks just make it easier for all of them to watch men die and then go home to their families.

The Doves don’t get masks. We sit near the front in our white dresses, put on display so that the Talons know what they’re working for. The chance to claim one of us in their final year. There are only eight Talons moving to the last year of the service tonight, if they all survive their fight.

I sit among eleven other Doves. Any of us not claimed will go on the roster for the next auction. That’s our motivation to ensure we’re caught since we all made the choice to serve a Talon over the auction block.

“Rough night?” Kynlee asks, nudging me. “You look like shit.” She’s pressed against my right side, watching the line of Talons get into position.

“Thanks a lot, Kyns.” Not exactly what I want to hear when I’m finally about to get the man consuming my every thought.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch. Your eyes are puffy, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.” She glances at me. “Are you that worried about tonight?”

“I’m not worried.” I’m more exhausted than anything. I shift on the bench, my entire body sore like I spent the day in the gym. I don’t know that I have the energy to run through the woods. “I think I’m just hungover. Justin and I finished off the wine after everyone went home last night. I barely remember going upstairs.”

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Did you mix it with pills?”