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“You have the next two days to get settled, and then we will be commencing our program. Now, I don’t feel as if I should be telling you this, but I will anyway.” His eyes scanned across the crowd, taking in The Society members as he went along before he finally settled on me. I waited for his gaze to move along, only it didn’t, and I knew that this was it - I looked enough like my aunt - like my cousin - to give him pause, to make him doubt. It was the very reason that it had to bemewho got into the basecamp and not anyone else. But now that Benson’s gaze was on mine, I fought the urge to squirm. Instead, I stiffened, forcing myself to endure his scrutiny with a stiff spine and my chin up.
“There a reason that Benson SinClaire is looking at you like he wants to carve you up and serve you for dinner?” Mack’s voice was filled with amusement, but beneath it, I was almost certain I detected concern. Benson’s gaze flicked to Mack - to our proximity, but still, I refused to look away - refused to cower and break before this hateful man.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I forced a grin to my lips, filling my tone with the same amusement he had just spoken with.
“Have fun and be safe.” Benson finished his speech, his gaze still pinned to mine as he spoke.
“Of course you don’t.” Mack spoke on a humorless chuckle, and I suddenly felt every bit the fraud I was.
As the room cleared out, I was left with one lingering question:Who was Mack,really?Because I was certain that he wasn’t just a Society boy.
Chapter Three : Mack The Knife
Mack
Theonlythingworsethan a hangover was that state you sometimes found yourself in where you seemed to swing between the state of ‘hungover’ and ‘still drunk.’ And the only thing worse than that was when you were swinging between those two states with a goddamn hard-on.
She looked like a goddamn Disney princess. That deer-in-the-headlights gaze coupled with those lush lips were exactly the reason I should walk away. She didn’t belong here - not really. She couldn’t because The Society women were tainted with sadness, dipped and bronzed in expectation. And the ones who fought it? Fought what we would all ultimately become, wore their rage and grief as if it were armor.
And even though I sathere, atetheirfood, slept intheirbed - I didn’t belong to them, not really. They approached my family because we became too powerful - tried to control what they deemed uncontrollable - and so my grandfather struck a deal. When looking at The Society’s history, we were considered fresh off the boat when it came to our acceptance. It didn’t stop Da from choosing someone within their ranks to marry, and then, like a big fuck you to Benson SinClaire and this fine institution, he took her home and made her part of the family, and suddenly my mother was more O’Riley than she was a Society woman.
My name carried weight - held meaning in the right circles. Most of those circles were Boston based, but it still carried enough weight here that most gave me a wide berth.
But none of that mattered, not right now, anyway, because I needed to walk out of this auditorium with the biggest goddamn hard-on of my fucking life. Touching her had been a mistake. It started out as an easy way to ease the skittish new girl, but it didn’t end that way because once I started touching her, I couldn’t stop. Which was the worst fucking possible thing to happen. I was under no illusions about why I was here - about the debt I would be paying to The Society - about the wife that I would ultimately pick. It couldn’t be her though - no matter how much my cock ached to discover what she felt like. She wouldn’t work - she was too soft for this life - too soft for the shit that my family and I did, and I wouldn’t pick a soft, compliant wife that I kept in the dark. Our lifestyle simply didn’t allow it. With that thought in mind, I stood up on stiff limbs, cursing myself for my binge drinking escapades last night. But in fairness, I was devouring my last night of freedom.
Drunken flashbacks flitted through my mind, reminding me of everything I got up to last night. Naked limbs wrapped around my waist, whispered promises in my ear, the way she arched against the wall. What was her name? Sheryl? Candy? Fuck - it didn’t matter, not when my whole life had been chosen for me. I wish I could blame it all on The Society, but this wasn’t just on them. My family was notorious, so either way, I would have had expectations placed upon me. Only difference is now I have double.
The little lamb sat still, glaring at the space where Benson SinClaire once stood. If I cared, I might explore what the fuck SinClaire has against the new girl, but I didn’t care -nope, not one bit. Instead, I walked out of the auditorium without a backward glance, intent on finding out where the hell my room was so I could sleep off this hangover. Because there was no doubt about it - now it wasdefinitelya hangover. Maybe if I jacked off it would help with the pulsing headache that had seemed to begin the minute I lifted my hands off the new girl.
I marched my way back towards reception, where that stone cold woman stood with her clipboard. It made me want to snap the damn thing in two. She had looked down at me as if she were better than me in every way - as if she knew exactly the kind of shit I grew up doing. Instead, I flashed her my college boy smile - the one that told others that I was harmless, that I wasn’t apredator. Wordlessly, she handed me my keycard and directed me to my room. I knew how this shit would go down - they would pair me up with someone who they thought was my speed - allow me to test the waters with someone under the guise ofroommates. It was goddamn laughable really. I wasn’t sure how that would work? Once we hit it off and I was balls deep in her, I would tell her who my family really was? What I really did?
I scoffed at the notion, opening my door to my suite. As digs went, it wasnice.Too nice. My skin prickled and burned at the back of my neck, reminding me that this wasn’t real - this wasn’tme. It couldn’t be. I kept a one bedroom box of an apartment in Boston for when I visited home. Ma tried to force me to accept things to make it more homely, but I couldn’t give a fuck about those things - not when ninety percent of the time I was kicking off blood stained clothes and washing away any evidence in that apartment. I had a desk setup there, along with a laptop and futon bed - just another college kid’s pad, but the truth was that I rarely used it. In fact, I only put those things there in case anyone stopped by to poke around. It was unlikely, but I liked to play my cards safe.
The layout of this apartment was simple. Open plan lounge, dining and kitchen, with two bedrooms on separate sides leading off the common area. I didn’t even look at the first room, choosing the furthest one by default. And what do you know? Each room had its own bathroom. Without giving it much thought, I kicked my boots off and fell face first onto the bed. A part of me wanted to barricade the doors - ensure I was safe, but the truth was that it wasn’t necessary. The Society had more use for Patrick O’Riley’s son alive and well, and so there probably wasn’t a safer place in the world.
My body awoke with a start as if it knew that danger lurked nearby while my mind fought to play catch-up. I forced myself to lay still, mentally sorting through the sounds in the apartment. The sound of water running filtered through the wall. Dishes being moved about, and then the sound of singing. Not the off-key kind of singing you might expect, the kind that you would watch and re-watch on Idol or America’s Got talent or some shit. This girl was good. That was my first thought. And I was no longer alone - that was my second.
I sat up quietly, dropping my sock clad feet to the floor as I inched towards the door. I wanted to get a good look at who The Society had paired me with before she saw me. If I had been thinking more clearly, I would have stayed up - waited for her, simply so I knew what I was dealing with, but my hangover had other plans.
I opened the door silently, watching the blonde woman bounce around the kitchen, her focus solely on the coffee pot before her.
I recognized her jeans - they were the same pair I had my hands on earlier, and while the cardigan was the same, she had lost the shoes, her feet bare and pressed against the kitchen floor as she swayed her hips to the song that she sung.
She looked just as sweet here in the apartment as she did in orientation - perhaps even sweeter because she didn’t know she was being watched. Her voice was husky and low, singing some indie pop song I had never heard, but then I didn’t really classify myself as a music junkie, so perhaps it wasn’t indie at all. All I knew was that she sounded like sin and looked goddamn angelic, and I wanted to spin her around, press her wrists above her head against the fridge andtakeher -claimher for myself.
It’s not like I couldn’t - no rule against claiming her. If anything, that was the very reason I was in this place, because The Society assumed that they kept their claws in the O’Riley’s because we had bonded with them through blood - bred their children with ours. But the girl before me wasn’t Society - not really. She was an outsider, just like me.
Still, I didn’t want to disturb her, and yet I couldn’t keep the fuck away. My body crept towards her on instinct, gravitating towards the enigma before me, her gaze fixated on the coffee pot. For a heartbeat, I thought she knew that I was there - knew that I was creeping up behind her like the goddamn stalker I was. But then, just as quickly as the sway of her hips stalled, so it started again, reassuring me that she was simply absorbed in the caffeine before her.
I slid closer, breathing in the scent of lemons and something else - something that spoke to my baser instincts - something that made me want to lock the fucking door and have my way with her - have her begging me foreverything. I shifted back, needing a breath of air that didn’t smell like her - if only for a second. It was an attempt to clear my head - to gain some perspective.
With practiced ease, my girl swung around to face me, the distance between us almost unbearable as her blue gaze took me in. Her heart-shaped face was something to behold, and even as I waited for the panic to set in - for her to start screaming or yelling, I wondered what her breath against my lips would feel like.
A whistling sound brushed against my ear, the echo of pain following, and still it took me far longer than it should have to register what the fuck just happened. The girl before me still stood her ground, widening her stance in preparation for a fight.
Warm droplets dripped from my ear onto the shoulder of my shirt. Baby girl knew how to throw a knife.
Laughter burst out of me, rough and jagged. It was goddamn ridiculous, really - the fact that this sweet young thing knew how to throw a knife better than some of my family members. Her scowl deepened at my laughter before she smoothed her expression into something akin to boredom. Well, this wasunexpected.
