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Wyatt and Owen are the only ones who find this amusing. The rest of them scrutinize my breath like it will give them insight into how we arrived here.
“So, how did you get in contact with a major secret organization?” Lev asks.
“They actually reached out to me.”
It took almost half the day to get them to stop peppering me with questions. I smile at the memory of that conversation as I work to fix my hair. The loosely braided faux hawk shows my hair’s vibrant midnight indigo, lavender, and violet colors.
Pausing, I stare at myself in the mirror. The woman before me is far different than the one who stood here nearly three years ago. Physically, I look the same, but mentally and emotionally, I’ve grown, and the guys have been part of that growth.
“When were you going to tell us that you were in charge of the Novus Ordo?—”
Guliana interjects, interrupting Wyatt. “NOS is just fine. Wouldn’t want you to have to keep saying the mouthful every time,” she jokes, peering across the table at them while I’m sitting at her side, trying to hide my smirk.
“The goal was always to have you sit in these seats with Ariah at the helm,” Guliana continues. “But you all needed to be tested. The Fraternitas has been in turmoil for too long. Between the resurgence of the Filiae Bellonae and then the disgraced Senator Baker and Miss Davenport, there’s a need to revamp the leadership structure in Edgewood.”
“Please be seated. We are about to begin.” Tamara’s voice booms through the room as I blink back into focus.
Owen snakes an arm around my waist. “You keep getting lost in your head, Angel,” he murmurs before bending and kissing the top of my head.
“Just thinking back over the last year. Hell, the last two and a half years,” I answer as we cross the room to take our seats around the table.
I slip my hand into Lev’s and squeeze as we sit, grinning at how much he welcomes my touch. He’s still the only one doing all the tying in the bedroom, but light touches are his favorite new thing outside of the bedroom. Having two almost toddlers whose love language is putting sticky hands on your face when you least expect it is definitely a form of immersion therapy.
Returning my affection with a squeeze, Lev rubs small circles with his thumb against the back of my hand. “How long do you think we have to be in the penguin suits?” Lev mutters, adjusting the collar of his crisp white button-up tuxedo shirt.
“You’d think members of such high society would be acclimated to such clothing. Some might even say it’s the country club starter kit uniform,” I tease, and they all laugh.
The next hour goes over all the requirements for the upcoming year. I survey the room, noticing all the factions that make up the NOS. Many faces are new to me, but a few aren’t.
“Isn’t that Azrael?” Sebastian nods his head to the space to the left of us.
My gaze shifts to where a giant man whose entire face is covered in a skull tattoo sits back in his suit. He’s accompanied by three other men covered in tattoos as well. “Who are they?” I ask.
“The Lycéan.”
I prepare to follow up with a tell me more, but Sebastian shakes his head, and Owen leans over and whispers, “A story for another day.”
“You will each find a blindfold and earplugs in the box before you. When instructed, please put these on. Anyone caught trying to violate these rules will be dealt with,” Tamara warns.
Picking up the case, I examine its contents. A silk blindfold and two black buds in a smaller container are inside. “I should bring these home,” I joke.
Sebastian’s gaze heats. “The things we could do with you while you can’t hear or see—these are coming home.”
My cheeks heat, and I clear my throat, refocusing on Tamara.
“You’ll all be called down to the center of the room, where you’ll be required to take the pledge. Once you’ve done that, you’ll be tattooed with the symbol of the Novus Ordo Seclorum on your right index finger. This will also be where your ring will go, keeping the symbol hidden,” she explains. Then she announces we’re waiting on a few more members so we can talk amongst ourselves.
We’re all laughing and talking while we wait for the induction ceremony to begin when Lev’s jovial mood morphs, his smile melting into a snarl. I attempt to spin to see what could change his demeanor so quickly, but Owen holds me in place.
“Ah, if it isn’t the beautiful Ariah Bradford.” A thick Russian accent shouts, drawing Tamara’s attention.
Gritting her teeth, Tamara’s nostrils flare. “Mr. Volkov, you’re late. Please take your seat so we can finally proceed,” she commands.
Mr. Volkov hisses something in Russian before he says, “It’s such a tragedy I wasn’t able to make your acquaintance. Hopefully, that will change now that we’ll see more of each other at these events.”
“If you hope to keep your spine, I’d suggest you never try to make her acquaintance again,” Owen seethes, gripping his knife.
There’s another grunt, and then the noxious cologne assaulting my nose is gone. “Someone want to fill me in on what the fuck that was about?” I demand.
