Chapter 8
NOVA
“Before you dig in, I’d like to make a brief toast,” Jayne announced. She stood from the table and placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch soft and warm.
Flames danced wildly from the pillar candles, and soft, ambient music drifted through the room as the attendees fell silent.
“We live in a world of diminishing earnestness. Technological and cultural advancements have created so much good and yet inflict so much suffering. We can no longer believe what we see on our screens. The people on our feeds are paid to speak—if they are truly people at all. Inflammatory content is manufactured. Digital realities have been flooded with AI pretending to be flesh and soul. Faces blur together; bodies are increasingly seen as a liability.”
I looked up at Jayne, helplessly captivated by the enticing spell of her melodic voice.
“Authenticity. That’s the only currency we have left that means anything at all. I may not be able to believe what I see on my phone ever again, but I can always believe what I see with my own eyes, in the real world, immersed in a community of people I adore.”
I watched Maisy lift a hand to her heart from across the table, brows drawing close as her eyes teemed with emotion.
“Authenticity is resistance to the new world order. Letting flesh be flesh, spirit be spirit—these are radical acts that cannot be taken from us. Blood and marrow and sex and soil, the impregnation of both the body and soul—these things are real. Creation and communion are what we can always return to when the world goes dark. We weather the storm together. By conquering our fears, freeing ourselves from all limitation imposed upon us by outside forces, and embracing our innermost selves.”
As her rich imagery washed over me, I thought of blue light time. Sitting with my roommates in the dark, our faces illuminated by our screens. Laughing but not explaining why. Physically close yet worlds apart.
I frowned and looked down at my plate.
“This world wants us as lonely as possible. Our salvation comes from opposite action. They want us to put up distance. We will come as close as possible instead.”
Archer stood, grabbed his wife, and kissed her as if in the heat of passion. Their lips collided, and his teeth tugged on her bottom lip as he grabbed her ass and finished with a playful smile.
When he finally pulled away, his voice was a low growl. “Let’s eat.”
The table clapped for them. Other servers milled about, refilling drinks and catering to the attendees still mingling on the other side of the room.
Some of the servers were dressed normally, others in various states of undress.
A few had collars around their necks, and the split was about seventy-thirty, women to men.
“My wife is so fucking hot,” Archer said, taking his first bite of meat.
“What—other than co-owning a BDSM dungeon—keeps the spark alive?” I asked.
Jayne glanced at me with an amused curve of her lips. “Polarity.”
I tilted my head. I had a general understanding of the word, but I assumed there was a deeper, cultier meaning she was referencing.
“It’s not about biological sex,” Archer said, sipping his whiskey. “It’s about energy. Jayne’s natural state is unapologetically feminine, and it’s my responsibility to keep her there by embodying my truest divine masculine.”
“Together, we’re magic,” Jayne added. “Two expressions of divinity coming together in perfect wholeness.”
I swallowed a bite of beef and suppressed a moan. Unfortunately, their primal, bloody sex meat was actually really good.
The divine masculine and divine feminine spiritual babble was not nearly as convincing, but I smiled and nodded anyway. I could only assume the pregnant women were connected to all of this, and that really freaked me out.
Jayne and Archer were seductive, that was for sure.
I could see how Lorelei, someone who yearned for novelty and connection above all else, would’ve easily been pulled into Jayne’s magnetic orbit.
I’d noticed the same language I was hearing now from The Circle coming from Lorelei’s VidWave content long before she started withdrawing.
It was inevitable that her social media algorithms would eventually lead her here, but why in the hell had mine?
I’d managed to fight the urge to find Wes for an impressively long time, but I caved the moment I saw the nude servant girl beelining for him.
Our eyes locked. He smirked, and I swore I could read his sarcasm from across the table. Like me, he was skeptical of every word Jayne said. I could almost hear him making witty commentary in that low, warm tone of his, the same tone that sent tingles down my spine when his body was close.
The woman with the paddled ass bent to whisper in his ear.
Wes’s gaze on me never wavered. His lips moved, but I couldn’t read them or hear what he said over the table’s chatter.
Nor did I want to know. I quickly averted my eyes and focused on the conversation happening closest to me.
“My dance card is almost full, but find me at the end of the night, and we can negotiate something,” Archer said to a woman across the table.
The woman was Indian, with a glossy, shoulder-length haircut and big bright eyes entirely absorbed in Archer’s charm. Her delicate features were demure as she nodded and sipped her red wine.
“Of course,” she said. “Lucky dancers.”
She was clearly flirting, but I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Swing dancing, maybe? I glanced at Jayne.
She wasn’t bothered. In fact, she radiated as much vibrant, sensual energy as when Archer had kissed her. Her attention swept from the woman to her husband before landing decisively on me.
“You don’t drink, Nova?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not sober or anything, I just… don’t.”
Lorelei had drunk enough for the both of us when she was around, and watching what that much drinking and consumption of other substances had done to her sucked the fun out of it for me.
Not that partying had ever done much for me to begin with.
A part of me was always put off by the idea of not being fully in control.
I was terrified of what I might let slip, who I might reach for, or what I might ask them to do.
I cleared my throat. I wanted to ask Jayne about Lorelei, but after Maisy’s warning, I knew it was too risky. They were already assessing me. My weaknesses, my dreams, my secrets.
“What happens after dinner?” I asked her instead.
“Whatever you desire,” she said. She leaned closer. “Has someone told you about the Midsummer party, Nova?”
I nodded. “Only that everyone goes. I’m still unclear as to what the party entails.”
“Entails,” Jayne laughed, repeating my word. “You speak like such a writer. I love it.” She pulled away and focused on someone at the opposite end of the table. “Marty, Rebecca is going to be at Midsummer, correct?”
A man in his fifties nodded, a lazy grin on his face. “Won’t everyone?”
“I’ve been thinking about your career,” Jayne said to me when she turned back. “I know several people who would be dazzled by a young author building her own brand. Do you have any mentors? Coaches? An agent?”
I shook my head, lost for words. I didn’t want these people to know about my career, let alone put their hands on it.
My writing had nothing to do with any of this.
It was sweet, cozy romance set in small towns where everyone knew everyone else.
They were emotional but never dark. The men were strong and protective, never domineering or crass.
I’d built worlds where everyone was safe, the tension and drama were contained, and everything always worked out and could easily be tied up in a neat little bow.
No loose ends. No religion or politics or addiction or excessive violence.
No wounds that couldn’t be healed by true love.
Safe.
“Don’t be bashful,” Jayne said, giving me a playful nudge. “They’re all going to love you. Promise.”
I ignored the urge to bolt, choosing to smile instead. “Does this mean I’m ascending?”
Jayne mirrored my smile. “Of course you are, silly.”
Relief washed over me, and I released a breath. I could find Lorelei, and then I could get out of here. Easy. Done. Everything tied up in a neat little bow.
Jayne lifted her glass and tapped it with a small spoon until the room fell silent once more.
“Next week, our gathering will be much larger, as it will be our last celebration together before Midsummer. We will offer several classes to hone last minute skills and brush up on proper etiquette before the big affair. And to kick the evening off, the lovely Nova will be delivering a sermon at the pulpit.”
My heart stopped. I froze, skin paling and palms suddenly ice cold and clammy.
Jayne grinned at me. “She will remind us all what it means to let go of fear and step into the transformative unknown. It won’t be something to miss.”
Everyone was staring at me. I needed to vomit.
A cold sweat broke out across my neck. I couldn’t move, couldn’t react.
I felt myself nod on autopilot, as if I was in on Jayne’s plan.
Because the only thing more humiliating than being forced to overcome my worst fear would be for everyone to know I was being forced into it.
I imagined a room of a hundred pitying faces, whispering to each other about how awkward I was, how much secondhand embarrassment I was giving everyone.
The chatter slowly resumed. It felt like I was half inside my body and half floating above it, observing.
I heard the words I’ll be right back leave my lips, but I couldn’t remember deciding to say them.
“You’re going to be great,” Jayne said as I stood from the table.
She placed a hand on my forearm to stop me from scurrying away.
“You don’t need to prepare anything. You’re going to speak from the heart, as Spirit directs you.
You’ll have all the help you’ll need.” She winked—yet another clue I was supposed to understand but didn’t.