Chapter 11
VAUGHN
From the second-floor balcony that rings the banquet hall, I drag my eyes over the survivors standing quietly on the floor below.
Okay, “survivors” is a bit dramatic. None of the others is dead.
I don’t think so, anyway—though I do have a sneaking suspicion that Sebastian only invited his random initiate because he wanted someone to kill.
He’s not the only one who had ulterior motives tonight. I have…questions for Carson involving his prospective Acolyte. But they can wait.
For now, my gaze flicks over the seven remaining initiates out of the twenty-five we had at the beginning of the evening.
They all look like they’ve been through some shit. But Evelina looks like she’s been to war and back.
She’s wearing a new mask, her original sneakers that I managed to find, and a black peacoat I gave her, since the rest of her clothing was destroyed during our…
fun. When we were done, her body looked like she really had just gone through battle: bruised, scratched, scraped, bitten, and streaked with blood and cum. .
She’s trembling a little, barely standing upright.
The initiate nearest her—Gabriella De Luca, who, curiously, has also passed tonight’s trials—creeps a little closer to Evelina and dips her head, whispering something.
Evelina quickly shakes her head, her throat bobbing heavily as she forces a wan, half-hearted smile to her face.
Gabriella peers at her a little closer, her brow furrowing under her mask.
Evelina just keeps looking straight ahead, swaying a little, like she’s struggling to stay awake.
But instead of the smugness I should be feeling, given that it was me who made her come so hard that she’s still barely fucking conscious now, all I feel is concern.
Not for her.
Please.
I’m not that human, as indicated by the activities of the past hour.
She knew her safe word. She could have tapped out any time she wanted.
But she didn’t.
She took every thrust.
Every smack.
And she liked it.
A lot more than “liked”, actually.
It wasn’t supposed to play out this way. The point was to scare her and then watch her break and run away, screaming her safe word and never once looking back on me or the Syndicate.
But she didn’t run. She didn’t even really break. She just…took it.
All of it. All of me. All my darkness. No matter how much I fucking gave.
So, no. My concern isn’t for her. My concern is that she’s still fucking here.
I drum my fingers on the railing of the balcony, eying her and the others who’ve made it this far. But I’m not thinking about the initiation, or what these new Acolytes could mean for our organization.
I’m too busy replaying every single lurid detail of what just happened.
I don’t usually let go like that and release so much of my darkness. Not even close. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by my proclivities or what makes me hard.
It’s that I don’t trust myself to remain as just me if I do that. I know what lies inside me…or should I say "who".
They used to call it split personality. Today, it goes by the much more refined name of “dissociative identity disorder”.
Well, they can call it whatever they like. The bottom line is, I don’t live alone in my head. I have roommates.
It’s not like in the movies. I don’t have conversations out loud with myself in different fucking voices.
Well…mostly.
I wouldn't even say mine for the most part are distinct personalities. They’re more like…moods. But they’re moods that take on a life their own.
They’re all manageable.
…Except for one.
Demon.
He’s the worst of me. The darkest, most depraved, hateful, volatile, cruel and dangerous part. When the others come, it’s more a conversation until I dismiss them. When Demon comes knocking, it’s anyone’s guess what will happen.
Sometimes, we’re a “we”.
Other times, I lose all control and he takes over completely. Those are the times that I wake up in a place I don’t recognize, covered in fuck-knows-whose blood.
It's why I hold myself to a firm, disciplined code of conduct. It’s why I don’t let myself loose, like I just did with Evelina.
I thought for sure he would come out to play in full, taking over completely, especially since sex—rough sex in particular—is usually a dissociative thing for me, and a prime moment for Demon to emerge and take control.
But tonight, it was just Evelina and me.
I groan inwardly, feeling my dick twitch as my eyes land on her, standing there swaying in the middle of the room, my peacoat wrapped around her body.
I can still feel the way she shattered for me. Still see the glisten of tears in the corners of her eyes and smell the mix of coppery blood and the sweetness of her cunt in the air.
My balls tighten.
Fuck me.
I want more.
All seven of the remaining initiates stiffen when Cassius steps onto the small dais, draped in his dramatic blood-red robes, holding his fucking staff. Cash isn’t true inner circle like Seb, Carson, or Gideon, but we still go way back, and he’s a close advisor.
He also gets off on spooking initiates, between the robes and the ultra-creepy voice and banging his staff on the floor like a fucking wizard.
“Congratulations,” he growls, his voice purposefully devoid of all emotion.
“You’ve survived the initiation.” He lets his masked gaze drag over the group of initiates.
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” he murmurs.
“And sisters,” he adds, bastardizing the original Shakespeare as he dips his chin toward Evelina and Gabriella.
Cassius has a real flair for the fucking dramatic.
“Now,” he continues, “the real hardship begins.”
I don’t miss the shudder that ripples across Evelina’s slender shoulders.
“From this moment on, you are no longer initiates. You are Acolytes. And for the next three months, your Adept is your god. You will worship them. You will do anything and everything that they ask of you without hesitation. There will be no abject cruelty or harm. Your Adept doesn’t want you to die.
But they do want to find out if you would die for the Syndicate if you were asked to. ”
I find myself nodding as my hand slides up to my throat, fingering the mark of the Syndicate inked into my skin.
“You’ve made it this far,” Cash continues.
“Ours is an organization that goes back centuries.” His masked eyes are unblinking as his gaze sweeps over each of the Acolytes in turn.
“At the end of three months, should you survive, you’ll be given a tattoo.
You will then be a member for life of the Obsidian Syndicate. ”
I watch Evelina shudder again. But this time, after the moment passes, her shoulders straighten, and her body stops its weak swaying. Slowly, haltingly, she turns her head, as if sensing my eyes on her.
I smile slightly despite myself as her face lifts. Because even from up here, I can see the flinty gray of her eyes flashing as they land on me, and the shiver that ripples down her spine before she quickly looks back to the dais.
“Per silentium. Per sanguinem,” Cassius growls. He dips his chin. “Your turn.”
“Per silentium. Per sanguinem,” the assembled new Acolytes mumble haltingly, cementing their fate.
God help her.
Cassius taps his staff. Some guards emerge from the shadows and begin to usher the seven Acolytes out of the ballroom. Just before she goes to leave, I see her turn slightly and raise her face to me.
I let my cold, emotionless gaze stab into her, ready to watch her scamper away to safety.
But instead, she looks me dead in the eye and her lips pull to a tight, grimacing, dare I say defiant smile. As if to say “fuck you, you didn’t break me”.
Maybe I haven’t.
Yet.
But there’s plenty of time.