Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eve
Later that night, I’m sitting in bed, my textbooks sprawled out in front of me, studying for next week’s midterms, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I say distractedly, pencil eraser pressed against my cheek. Closing my eyes, I recite the definition I’m currently working on— Retrieval is the process of pulling stored memories from long-term memory into immediate, working memory…
The door swings open, and I glance up from my textbook to see the devil himself leaning against the frame. “What do you want?” I ask on a sigh.
He holds up a black envelope. “For you.”
I pause, waiting for him to explain further, but he doesn’t.
He’s baiting me. He wants me to ask what it is. Instead, I shake my head and go back to reading my textbook. “I’m busy.”
With a laugh, he pushes off the doorframe and wanders over to me. His gaze falls to the tray of food sitting on the nightstand. Someone brought it up earlier. I ate the banana, but nothing else.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asks in his usual bossy tone.
“Why are you worried about my eating habits?”
“Well…” He leans back and rakes a suggestive gaze over my body. “I’d hate for you to lose those delicious curves.”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, my skin itching under his scrutiny.
He’s not wrong, though. I haven’t been eating super well. Lately, I’ve been going down to the kitchen to get something to eat, and the kitchen has been stocked, but 90% of it is stuff I can’t eat. I haven’t been brave enough to mention why.
So, yeah, I’ve basically been living off Ramen for the past two weeks.
“What’s the last thing you ate?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“Ramen,” I say, annoyed with his line of questioning. But answering him is the quickest way to end this conversation. My brother is stubborn and controlling, too, so I know exactly how to deal with guys like him.
“And before that?”
“Ramen.”
“We have a variety of food downstairs, Eve. Why are you only eating Ramen?”
“Because I can’t have anything with nuts in it,” I say quickly. “I’m allergic.”
He frowns, eyebrows pinched. “How allergic?”
My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip. I’ve always been embarrassed to talk about this, because not everyone believes me when I tell them. The number of times I’ve been told that nut allergies “aren’t a real thing,” or that it’s “all in my head,” is pretty wild. Going into anaphylactic shock has happened to me twice, and it was terrifying each time. It definitely wasn’t “in my head.”
“I have an EpiPen in my bag,” is my only answer.
“Just peanuts or all nuts?”
“Mostly peanuts and almonds, but I stay away from all nuts.”
And that’s because I’ve never done an actual allergy test. My aunt, who raised me after my mom died, was one of those people who thought my allergy was just me being dramatic and acting out for attention. I’ve never figured out how hives erupting on my skin and my throat closing up could be considered “acting up,” but whatever. Sin was the one who finally got me the EpiPen.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I was embarrassed, I guess.”
Christian nods once, pulls his phone out of his pocket, and shoots off a text to someone. Probably, Austin, who seems to be the errand boy around here.
He tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Okay, the food will be here in a bit. I’m having Austin pick something up.”
“Thanks.”
“Now that that’s settled…” He flicks the black envelope at me without releasing it. “Your invite.”
I snatch it from his hand and toss it onto the bed next to me. “I’m studying. I don’t have time for parties. So thanks, but no, thanks.”
“Attendance is mandatory. For you, at least. You’re the guest of honor.”
Dear God. Guest of honor for what? Ugh. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I snatch the envelope up, popping the gold wax seal.
You are cordially invited
to join the Burning Crown’s
Fox Hunt and Gathering
Tomorrow Night
Eight O’clock
Rush House
Full Hunt Breakfast to follow
Formal Hunt Attire Required
“You hunt foxes in Malibu?” I ask, looking up at him with a mixture of horror and disgust. We do have foxes around here, especially in the foothills, but to create an event hunting them…that’s a new kind of evil, even for the Burning Crown.
“Not often, but we do,” he answers, something cryptic in his tone.
Whatever. I flick the invite and it lands at the end of the bed, then I go back to my textbook. “Not interested.”
With a grin, he sits on the bed next to me and moves the book out of my reach, so I can’t use it as a distraction. “Do you know what ‘mandatory’ means?” he asks, mocking me. His clean, pine scent surrounds me, reminding me of what happened just a few hours ago in the dining room—how effortlessly he taunted me.
“Why does it matter if I’m there?” I ask.
Christian tilts his head to the side, watching me like one might watch an insect under a magnifying glass. “Because you , my dear, are the fox we are hunting.”
It takes a second for that to sink in, and when it does, disbelief quickly follows. “You’re joking.”
“You’ll be quite the catch…” he says, tension in his voice.
For the hundredth time since coming here, I wonder what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into. I knew the Burning Crown was made up of a bunch of cruel lunatics, but this —a hunt with me as the prize—is unreal.
Heart in my throat, I ask, “What is a Fox Hunt exactly?”
“That’s for you to find out,” he responds, a slow smile spreading across his face, like my fear actually amuses him. The fucking asshole. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d dig my thumbs into those cold blue eyes.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve been watching how this place runs. I listen to conversations, try to remember the names of the major players, and one thing has become abundantly clear— nothing happens in this house without Christian’s approval. His twin, Lucas, is the official leader, but he’s never around, which makes Christian the Burning Crown’s de facto king. What he says goes. Which means this Fox Hunt was his idea. Just another way for him to torture me.
“Will you be joining the hunt?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I’m recusing myself.”
“Why?”
Per usual, he ignores my question.
“Get some rest,” he says, dipping his head so his mouth is hovering over mine. I hold my breath, bracing myself for the kiss…”You’ll need your energy.” He stands abruptly, and the moment evaporates, making me feel stupid. “When the food comes, eat,” he says, walking out the door.
When Christian leaves, I try to go back to studying, but my mind is whirling, my body still vibrating. It’s impossible to focus. How does he do that? Every time I’m in a room with him, I’m shaken, lost, thrown off balance, no matter how hard I try to fight it.
Less than an hour later, there’s a knock on my door. It’s probably Austin with the food, and just in time, too. My stomach is devouring itself.
Opening the door, I’m greeted by a pretty blond, thin, my height, with thick wingtip eyeliner that sets her apart from the other girls. I’ve seen her here a lot and I know her name is Sara. She’s one of the many girls who trail behind Christian like a lost puppy.
She holds up two fast-food bags from a burger place down the road a bit. I’ve eaten there many times, so I know they’re nut-free. “We didn’t know what you wanted, so we got a variety of things. Christian said you’re allergic to nuts.”
“Yeah.” I open the door wider so she can come in and set the bags down. “Thanks.”
She holds up a refillable water bottle. “Austin forgot to order you a drink, though, so I brought you some filtered water from downstairs.”
“Thanks,” I say again.
With a quick smile, she moves to a carved mahogany cabinet and opens it up. I have no idea what she’s looking for, but I decide to take advantage of having her here. I don’t get a lot of alone time with the members.
“So, um, Christian said there will be a Fox Hunt tomorrow. Do you know what that is?”
Something tells me I don’t really want to know, but then again, not knowing will be a million times worse. My mind won’t just go to the absolute worst case scenario, it’ll take it three steps further into waking nightmare territory.
Inside the cabinet is a mess of whiskey bottles and cut crystal tumblers. “You haven’t been initiated into the Burning Crown, so I really shouldn’t say,” she says.
“Well, apparently, I’m the guest of honor. So I’m going to find out soon, anyway.”
She grabs a glass and sets it next to the refillable water bottle. “Sorry, I don’t want to say anything that could make Christian angry…”
Wow. Okay. What a cultish thing to say…
“Oh.” My mind reaches for a response that doesn’t sound too judgmental, but “oh” is all I’ve got. In my normal, every day life, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell someone how fucked up that is. Who cares if Christian is angry? Fuck him. But I can’t afford for Sara to hate me. I need all the allies I can get in this house, so I keep my mouth shut.
But, damn . Her response makes me wonder what happens when Christian gets angry…?
“So, um, are you two dating?” I ask, more to fill the silence than anything. And the more information I gather on the Sacred Sons, the better, right?
Know thy enemy.
Sara’s pale eyes flick up to meet mine. “Christian and me?”
I’ve seen them practically fucking in the livingroom, so, yeah, who else would I be talking about? “Yeah. You two seem pretty close.”
A smile tugs at her glossy lips. The Sacred Sons are all manwhores, so I doubt Christian’s attention toward Sara is anything special, but she clearly feels a sense of pride when I mention their closeness.
“Yeah, we’re dating. I mean, kinda.”
I shake my head. “What does that mean? Either you’re dating or you’re not, right?”
She shrugs and glances down. “I’m his Consort.”
His Consort? Before coming here, I read everything I could about the Burning Crown, which was, admittedly, not much, but I never ran across that term.
“Is that, like…a girlfriend or something?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you anything,” she says, hesitating. “But, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you what a Consort is. It’s not exactly a secret.”
Actually, if I couldn’t find any mention of it on the dark web, then I would consider that a secret, but whatever. If she wants to tell me, I’m going to let her.
“At the start of every academic year, the Sacred Sons host something called a Preference Ceremony, and at that ceremony, they choose their Consorts for that academic year. It’s like a girlfriend, I guess, except…more. She’s his queen. She gets all the privileges of his power and influence during that year.”
“Oh.” How fucking archaic. “Cool. What’s the downside?”
She blinks at me, her threaded brows pulled together in confusion. “There’s no downside, which is why every Deb wants to be a Consort.”
My God, she’s drunk the Kool-Aid. Nothing in this world comes for free. Nothing. There has to be a downside—especially if we’re talking about the Sacred Sons.
I shove a handful of fries into my face, no salt, ketchup, nothing. I’m so hungry. “So, who was Christian’s Consort last year?” I ask between bites.
Sara sinks into the chair beside the bed. “Becca.” She scrunches her nose. “I have no idea why he picked her. She was so wrong for him.”
I can tell by the animation in Sara’s voice that I’ve stumbled on a topic that she’s eager to dish about. Pursing my lips, I tilt my head to the side and try to act interested.
“Huh,” I say. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck less about Christian’s love life, but information is information and who knows what might end up being useful. “Really? Wrong for him, how?”
Sara pulls her legs up under her, settling in. “I don’t know,” she says, relaxed and open. “He’s usually a pretty chill guy, but lately he’s been really intense. He needs someone who can care for him, cater to him, and Becca was just too flighty.” She scrunches her nose again. “She gave him far too much freedom, if you ask me.”
Her comment confuses me. “Wait, ‘too much freedom?’ I thought the Sacred Sons called the shots around here? They don’t seem like the type to take orders from anyone.”
“Oh, they do call the shots,” she rushes to correct. “I just mean that Becca had a certain amount of pull as his consort, but she just let Christian fuck around with any girl. Don’t get me wrong, it ended up being good for me, because I was one of those girls, but—” She scoffs. “No way am I letting him get away with that…”
I nod, like sure, yeah. I get the sense that Sara talks a big game, but in the end, she’d bow and scrape to Christian just like every other person here. And I can’t even blame her, either. That’s the culture here. The Sacred Sons are venerated. It’s in their titles, for God’s sake. The Sacred Sons? That mind-fuck coupled with obscene wealth and freakishly good looks…yeah, it’s no wonder the girls around here worship them like gods.
But me? I’m not worshiping anyone. I’m here to pay for my brother’s stupidity and grab some blackmail as insurance while I’m at it. Then I’m out.
“So, what’s your story?” Sara asks. “Christian hasn’t told us much.”
Grabbing the burger from the paper bag, I climb up onto the bed and cross my legs in front of me. “Honestly, my story isn’t that interesting,” I answer vaguely. I’m not sure what people around here have been told about me, or my ties to Shadow and Ash, so I decide to play it safe.
“No offense, but why are you here, then?” She tilts her head to the side, and her gaze flicks over me like she’s trying to suss out my motivation for showing up out of nowhere.
I guess that answers my question. The membership hasn’t been told about my background. Interesting. I wonder why.
“I…have a debt to the Burning Crown,” I answer, picking my way through the truth without giving away too much. “And the Sacred Sons have agreed to let me work it off…”
Hopefully, she doesn’t glean too much from that lame answer.
She nods slowly. “What kind of debt?”
Jesus. She’s not shy about getting into personal details, is she?
“I don’t think I can say,” I answer.
“Hmmm.” She nods again, accepting that, thank God. “How long are you here for?”
“Three months.”
She sucks in a breath. “Oh, damn. That’s a long-ass-time to work off a debt in this house.”
My stomach flips. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “The guys at Rush House are horny, rabid beasts on a good day. Continue to walk around here naked like you were earlier, and sooner or later, one of the guys is going to claim you. There’s no leaving after that.”
“ Claim me?” I stiffen at her statement. No one has assaulted me so far, but it’s come close a couple of times. Usually, one of the Sacred Sons is there to put a stop to it. “I thought guys in the Burning Crown had to adhere to a strict code of conduct?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Listen, I don’t want to freak you out, but you really have no idea what you’re in for. If I were you, I’d try to back out of this whole thing. It’s not safe for you here.”
Um…yeah, I don’t even know if that’s an option. And even if it were, the Sacred Sons would still have a vendetta against my brother. If I walk out of here today, then Sin will be killed. No question. And I’d have to live with the fact that I could have stopped it, but chose to walk away.
Sara stands up. “If Christian is gearing up for a hunt, then you might want to get some rest. It could be the last decent sleep you get in a while…”
Great. She’s the second person to give me that same advice today.
She leaves the door ajar, and I stare at it, her words on autoplay inside my head. You really have no idea what you’re in for.
Sara’s right. I don’t. The last two weeks have been relatively tame, but I have a sense that tensions are ramping up. The whispers in the hallways are growing louder, the curious stares becoming more suspicious. Even the air feels charged, like the house itself is holding its breath, just waiting for something to happen.
And now with this mysterious Fox Hunt tomorrow, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing at the edge of something dangerous, something I don’t fully understand…
But what other choice do I have?