Page 9

T he raucous clamour of the party fades to a dull roar as Briar’s retreating figure disappears through the crowds, her roommate’s firm grip guiding her away. A muscle twitches along my jaw, the sight of those two together stoking embers of irritation deep in my gut. That mouthy bitch is going to prove a bigger complication than anticipated if she’s got Briar’s ear poisoned against me already. I need to get them away from each other.

“Well, that meet and greet went over splendidly,” Rhys deadpans from somewhere off to my left, materialising with his standard unsettling silence. Those cold depths glitter with amusement as they track the direction Briar and her chaperone fled. “Your silver tongue and good looks clearly working their usual charm, as per usual.”

Snarling, I whip around to face that caustic smirk head-on, tamping the urge to wipe it clean off with my fist. “Spare me the sanctimonious digs and make yourself useful for a change,” I growl, giving Rhys’ shoulder a rough shove. “Go find Jace and have him dig out something potent enough to put West under for the night.”

Rhys’ brow arches, expression shifting to overt incredulity even as he scans the room for signs of our missing cohorts. I can see the wheels turning behind those shuttered depths, no doubt weighing the repercussions of indulging my whims rather than counselling restraint. One look at my face must disabuse him of whatever cautionary rebuke he had brewing, shoulders slumping in resignation.

“You’re barking if you think slipping her a roofie is going to pan out well for any of us,” he mutters, turning on a heel to retreat into the foetid throng. “But I’ll go rustle up the other wankers and see what pharmaceutical party favours are in supply.”

With that parting shot, Rhys vanishes, leaving me to snag a bottle of scotch from the countertop. Uncapping it, I tip it back for a healthy swig, letting the sting blaze a path down my gullet.

Christ, there’s something so infuriating about this whole affair with Briar—an obstinate itch demanding to be violently scratched until it bleeds. Everything about her, from those defiant eyes to the scathing barbs tumbling from those profane lips, emanates an almost untamed magnetism I can’t resist provoking.

Most of the pampered heiresses and debutantes pawed their way through this institution, simply resigning themselves to playing obedient fucktoys—pliable receptacles content to spread their quims and take whatever Daddy’s cronies saw fit to seed inside them. Briar, though… there’s something utterly feral beneath that rough exterior, a genuine spark of rebellion honed from years scrabbling through streets rather than coddled behind hallowed halls.

The prospect of smothering that blaze, of grinding her resilience to ash beneath my heel until all that remains is a sullen ember to be stoked at my whim… it’s an irresistible siren’s call coiling through my blood. I always did have a penchant for games of cat-and-mouse, especially when the stakes are so deliciously perverse.

Perhaps that’s at the heart of this craving flaring my nostrils and quickening my pulse—a desperate hunger to shatter that facade of arrogance until Briar is stripped bare, naked in every sense. To shove aside those last vestiges of dignity and lay her vulnerabilities gaping for my scrutiny, splayed open and quivering in need for whatever debauched cravings I see fit to inflict.

It would be so simple to take what I desire, stalking her until she’s cornered and helpless to resist my whims. One dose of Jace’s most potent concoction swimming through those slender veins and she’ll be rendered obedient and pliant; a helpless sacrifice offered up for the slaking of my baser urges.

A shudder ripples through me at the dark fantasy, the visceral thrill of watching those gorgeous eyes cloud to sightless agony as I violate every inch of Briar’s flesh, hilting myself to the root within her lush cunt again and again until it’s rendered a gaping, cum-drenched ruin. To plunder her brutally, listening to breathy whimpers morph into howling sobs while I claim each untouched crevice as my own private fuckhole…

“Figured you’d be partaking in some premature celebration,” a gruff baritone rumbles from the doorway, shattering my reverie.

My head whips around, confronted with Rhys’ slouched countenance propped against the threshold, one hand shoved in his pocket. Even through the dim lighting, his eyes glow with razor-edged amusement as he takes in my rumpled state.

“Jace and Hayes are deciding what to slip our guest of honour,” he continues, lips curving in a smirk that sets my hackles bristling. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Though I’d wager you two could simply retire to a spare room now and skip the tedious preliminaries if raw animal urges are all that’s left on the agenda.”

A sneer twists my mouth as I straighten, every sinew coiling in preparation to unleash the maelstrom of rage roiling beneath my ribs. Before I can draw breath to unleash the caustic tirade burning my tongue, Hayes’ silhouette appears behind Rhys, mouth set in a grim line.

“Alright you miserable pricks, are we doing this or not?” he grouses, raking a hand through his tousled locks. “Quicker we get this sorted, the quicker I can stop stewing over how royally buggered this shiteshow really is.”

A weary sigh escapes my lips as I pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to rein in the simmering frustration threatening to boil over. Nodding to Hayes, I gesture for him to proceed. “Ensure the preparations are made discreetly. Miss West must remain unsuspecting until the opportune moment.”

Hayes shrugs, the ghost of a smirk playing across his features. “I’ve a knack for flying under the radar when needed. But I have a distinct feeling I won’t need to, not with this one,” he drawls before melting into the crowd, no doubt seeking out our target.

Rhys regards the exchange with poorly-veiled disdain, rolling his eyes as he leans back. “Resorting to underhanded tactics already? Classy as ever.”

Before I can formulate a rebuke, Jace strolls in with his easy swagger. “The others are assembling and awaiting our arrival,” he announces, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve sent the message—they’re en route to the chapel as we speak.”

I nod curtly, downing another mouthful of scotch to fortify my resolve. Turning to Jace and Rhys, I fix them with a stern look. “Make yourselves scarce for now. I’ll join you shortly once our… guest of honour has been properly prepped.”

The two exchange a furtive glance, something unspoken passing between them. Nevertheless, they obediently depart without comment, disappearing into the throngs.

Alone once more, I allow the cacophony to fade as I gather my thoughts. Tonight marks a pivotal juncture, one that will test the mettle of us all—myself more than the others. Failure is not an option; the consequences too dire to contemplate. No, we must see this through, no matter how unsavoury the means.

Squaring my shoulders, I down the last of the scotch and set the bottle aside. It’s time to ensure the game remains stacked in our favour, no matter the tactics required. The Order’s legacy, and my own future, depend upon it.