Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
MAVEN
Lilith is … interesting.
I can understand why Boston said I would like her. She takes absolutely no shit from anyone it seems, and her husband is obsessed with her. He literally can’t keep his hands off of her.
“How much do you know about tonight and what this event is about?” Lilith asks me.
Reon leans down and whispers something in her ear, and she pushes him away. “Shut up. What are they going to do, put me back in the hunt?” She laughs.
I tense at her words, and she notices. I’ve heard something about the hunt before.
“You know what the hunt is?” she asks, to which I shake my head.
“Lilith.” I hear Boston’s voice behind me before I sense him at my back.
“What is it?” I ask her.
Reon leans down again and whispers something else.
“Oh, nothing. I was talking shit. Excuse me while I go and talk to my husband about telling me what I can share and what I cannot.” She pulls at her husband, leaving me standing with Boston. I turn toward the bar, ignoring him as I reach for a drink and then shoot it back.
“You should stop drinking,” he says.
“Why? Embarrassed by me?” I turn to look at him.
“No, not at all. But your liver may need a break.”
“Or maybe it’s you I need the break from. Have you thought of that?”
“Boston,” someone says. “I heard you got married.” I turn to find an impeccably dressed man with black hair, and what appears to be rosary beads wrapped around one of his hands.
“Hi, I’m Arlo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.
” He holds out the hand that doesn’t have beads, and I shake it.
“Have you known Boston for long?” he asks me, ignoring Boston.
“No. Well, honestly, I guess you could say long enough that he likes to break into my apartment, handcuff me to the bed, and remove my clothes with a kitchen knife,” I say, to which someone behind me starts coughing.
“He’s interested, it would seem,” Arlo says.
“If you say so.” I smile at him.
He studies me for a beat before he turns to Boston and says, “Congratulations,” before walking off. We’re quiet as he goes, then I finally turn to look at Boston.
“What?” I ask, expecting him to say something about what I just told his friend. Instead, he slides his hand to my back and proceeds to guide me around the room. He introduces me to everyone as his wife. I shake hands and play nice, hardly talking but listening intently to everything said.
After a few hours roll by, and I have a glass of wine in my hand, he corners me, pushing me against the wall as he towers over me. He takes the glass from my hand and locks eyes with me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re never this quiet for this long,” he says. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.” I stare up at him and wonder how I ended up here. How I got myself married to this man.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
He smiles and leans in. “Who do you want me to be?”
Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the way his body is so close to me, but I find myself pressing against him, touching him in ways that someone who hates their husband wouldn’t normally do. Yet, here I am doing it.
“I don’t—” He doesn’t let me finish before his lips slam onto mine.
They’re soft, despite the force of the initial contact.
Tender in each movement, as if he’s afraid I’ll push him back at any second, which I may very well do.
But right now, I clutch the side of his jacket, and I hold on to him for dear life as he kisses me.
I can hear others mingling behind us, probably even watching us.
Maybe he’s doing this for show.
Then I tell myself, surely not, because when he presses his body to mine, I can feel how much he wants me, not just by his demanding lips, but with what I feel between us.
He tastes minty, but not like peppermint.
I hear the glass he took from me shatter on the floor at our feet before his arms wrap around me.
I pull him closer, unable to help myself, as his tongue takes ownership of mine.
He kisses like he wants to take my breath away, and I kiss him back like I’m willing to give it.
When my lips feel bruised and swollen, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. We both breathe heavily, trying to calm ourselves.
“Fuck,” he says before he stalks off and leaves me standing against the wall to watch him go.
What just happened?
And why did I like it?
The rest of the night goes by quickly, and I get to know some of the wives. I realized about an hour ago that no one actually has girlfriends here.
Is that a thing?
What type of party is this?
And what else do they do?
Boston seems tight-lipped about all aspects of it, hardly speaking now. I highly doubt he’d want to tell me about the inner workings of something I’m not meant to know anything about.
“Sit, sit,” Lilith insists. I glance around to see a few of the women I met earlier staring at me.
“I was just—”
“Sit. We won’t bite,” she says again. She has hard eyes, like she can see through what others try to hide.
“She may bite,” the one with black hair says with a shrug. “Just a risk you’ll have to take.” If I remember correctly, her name is Cressida. She’s married to Soren, who seems to be in a position of power among the gathered men.
“We want all the gossip about your wedding. Tell us all the details,” a lady with honey-blonde hair says. “I’m Cora, by the way. I’m with Arlo.”
“Hi.” I rest my hands on the table and look at each of them.
Cressida smiles and asks me, “How does it feel to be a part of a secret society? This is the wives’ only party, in case you weren’t aware.” At first, I think she’s joking, but when none of the others laugh, I stare at her in confusion.
“They also have girlfriend parties. I don’t recommend going to one of those. They try to fuck everything with a pulse,” Lilith says. “But if my husband goes to one, I’ll stab anyone who touches him,” she adds with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Is the Forsaken actually a real thing?” I ask.
“Yes. Maybe you should ask your husband what he does for the society,” Cressida says. I turn to look at her as she sits back and eyes me. Changing the subject, she asks, “What is it you do for work?”
“Freelancer. You?”
“Reporter.” She winks.
“They allow a reporter in here? Isn’t all this supposed to be a secret?”
“Oh, Cressida was sneaking in even before she was with Soren,” Cora says, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“What type of freelance work do you do?” Lilith asks.
The women seem friendly enough, I’ll give them that. But telling them what I do for work? I don’t trust them that much.
“I get hired to do jobs that others don’t want to do. It pays extremely well,” I reply.
“Interesting,” she says, nodding.
“The wedding. Tell us all about it,” Cora chirps. “Did you wear white? Lilith wore red.”
“That’s because during our first marriage, I wasn’t conscious for the ceremony,” Lilith explains.
“What do you mean?” I turn to her.
“One of the rules of the Forsaken is that wives are off-limits. So Reon married me without my knowledge to protect me. He knew I never wanted to be married again since my first husband cheated on me.”
Before I can utter another word, Arlo stops behind Cora’s chair. He sets his hand on her shoulder, then leans down and kisses her cheek. He has the beads wrapped around his hand, and she reaches up and touches them.
“Ladies, if you don’t mind, I may have to pull my wife away soon.” He glances at all of us and then locks eyes with me. “Maven, if you ever need to talk, ask Boston for my number.” I stare at him, confused.
“He’s a therapist. The best,” Lilith says.
“I don’t need a therapist, though it seems Boston does. So you should offer your services to him,” I say, to which he smirks, then kisses his wife’s cheek again before he tells me the offer is always there and walks away.
“He’s actually very good. One of the hardest in the country to get a booking with.
But I guess since you’re married to Boston now, you’ll have access to things like that,” Lilith tells me.
I turn and see him speaking with Boston, who looks back at me.
Our eyes meet and hold for several beats before he looks away.
“Nice to meet you all. If my husband asks where I am, tell him in the bathroom,” I say to the women as I stand.
“Are you leaving?” Lilith asks. I’m not sure if I should tell her the truth. But she stands anyway. “I know the back way. Let me walk you out.” She winks.
“Lilith,” Cora warns.
“What? I always love a good chase,” she says with such enthusiasm that I don’t think she’s lying.
“Let’s go. Don’t make eye contact with anyone, especially my husband.
” I take her word for it, and we walk side by side through the middle of the floor until we reach a set of doors that appear to lead to the catering area.
When she pushes one side open, I see waitstaff and chefs.
She pulls me along, my heels clicking on the tiled floor, until we reach the back door.
Pushing the door open, she gives me a serious look.
“It won’t take him long to find you,” she warns.
“That’s fine. I just need a few hours by myself.”
“I can tell. And, Maven?” I glance at her as I step outside. “Ask him about the hunt.” Then she closes the door.
The hunt?
Yes, I do wonder what that actually means.