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Sasha catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. At least she’s here too. Fawn is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder why she doesn’t have to endure this.
The servers—girls dressed in maid’s outfits that leave very little to the imagination—keep our glasses topped up, and I find some relief in the slight buzz in my veins. I couldn’t survive this stone-cold sober. It’s too intense. Every look, every sigh and shift on a chair draws attention.
“So Bexley, tell us… are you looking forward to your next initiation task?”
“Whatever you throw at me, I’ll complete. You know that, right? Nothing you do to me will break me.”
“Is that right?” Cade sits back in his chair, loosening his collar. All the guys are dressed up in slacks and dark shirts. It only adds to the bizarre vibe of the evening so far.
Dining with the Electi in our formalwear wasn’t something I ever anticipated would become a normal event in my life, but here we are.
The servers make quick work of cleaning away our plates. Bexley still hasn’t touched so much as a bite of his food, earning him a scowl from Cade.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Easton,” he snarls as the servers wait for the signal to remove Bexley’s plate. After a second, Cade nods and the table is finally clear.
“Why don’t we move this party into the den. Dessert will be so much better in there.”
Sasha’s brows furrow, and I try to figure out what’s going on, but then Brandon says, “You should go to your room, Sis.”
“I’m coming.” Her chin lifts defiantly, and relief floods me. She isn’t going to leave me. Thank God. But a low growl rumbles in Cade’s chest.
“Brandon is right, Sasha. Unless you want Daddy dearest to find out about your little drug habit, I suggest you go to your room.”
She pushes from the table, slamming her hands down. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” Grabbing her glass, she downs the contents before pinning me with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she mouths before hurrying from the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“This doesn’t concern Sasha,” Cade says, as if it’s that simple.
“But she’s one of you.”
“Only when it suits,” Channing mutters, and Cade levels him with an icy look.
“Something you want to say?”
“Nope.” He glances away, his anger obvious in the tight set of his jaw.
“Come on.” Cade stands, holding out his hand. Bexley’s eyes burn into the side of my face as I slip my hand into Cade’s and follow him through another set of double doors. This room is smaller, filled with a huge sectional and a selection of huge chairs. There’s a massive fireplace with an electric fire flickering wildly, casting an amber glow around the dimly lit room. Music pumps out of hidden speakers, and there’s something in the air, a scent I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What is that?” I ask, my voice quivering because nothing about this feels right.
“Just a little something to help everyone relax. Here,” Cade grabs a champagne flute off a nearby tray and hands it to me, “drink this.”
I eye the contents suspiciously, and Cade chuckles darkly.
“Such a fighter. Trust me, you’ll want to drink it for what comes next.”
“What comes next?” I’m vaguely aware of the others filtering into the room behind me. The icy fingers of fear grip my throat. I’m all alone now, surrounded by five guys I know have illicit morals and two guys I barely know anything about.
“Initium,” Ashton barks, “take a seat.”
It’s then I notice the two chairs in the center of the room.
“Drink it, Mia.” Cade pushes the glass to my lips. “I won’t ask again.”
I knock the drink back and gulp it down. If it’s anything like the last party, I don’t want to be sober.
Not this time.
