Prologue, part II #2
Jack Collins lifts his hand, drawing attention his way.
Like his son, Dallas, the King of the Order has pale green eyes and thick sandy brown hair.
Jack’s hair doesn’t have the hint of curl that Dallas’s does, and despite being twenty-five years older than his son, Jack’s had enough work done that he could pass for Dallas’s older brother instead of his father.
He’s a good-looking man, I have to admit.
He’s just a monstrous asshole as the same time.
“As dictated in the Order of the Owed’s charter, each high-ranking member of the Order is Owed an Offering to stand at his side, keep his home, and bear his children.
Tonight, we give our unmarried members—new and old—the chance to Claim the Offering of their choice.
When your name is called, step forward and make your Claim.
Offerings, you will go to your Owed with the understanding that this is an unbreakable engagement unless you have justifiable cause to reject the Claim.
You must be formally wed by the Owed’s thirtieth birthday or risk losing your membership—for both of you. ”
I wouldn’t be so worried about that if I didn’t know that no one is allowed to leave the Order once they’re in it.
To do so is a death sentence. Loni’s only saving grace is that she got out before the ceremony, and if she comes back?
Jack will either insist she accept an Owed or she’ll have an ‘accident’.
Too many good women in Harmony Heights have had ‘accidents’, and I like how Jack says ‘justifiable reason’ to reject an Owed. As far as I know, incest is the only one—and even that doesn’t count in some cases of cousins so long as they’re not first cousins.
In a town where they mean it when they say ‘til death do you part, there’s no such thing as divorce, either. If I get Claimed and I accept it—which I basically have no choice but to do—then that’s it. I’ll be stuck with the Owed who picks me for the rest of my life.
My hands are trembling. I feel like I’m about to hurl. I’m only eighteen. I don’t want to get married. I sure as hell don’t want to pop out babies anytime soon. If I had my choice, I’d continue in my education, maybe spend more time volunteering at the animal shelter. I don’t want to be a wife.
But it doesn’t matter what I want. It only matters what the thirty or so Owed men on the other side of the fire want.
There are approximately twenty of us Offering. There’s obviously more men in need of a wife. This is the first Claiming ceremony I’ve ever attended, and I expect that each of us will be Claimed by the time this is done.
I couldn’t be more wrong.
For every Owed who picks a worried woman in white out of the line-up, at least two more refuse when it’s their turn.
Logically, that makes sense. Most of the Owed would prefer getting to know an Offering before pledging forever, and as long as they make up their mind before they hit thirty, they’re fine.
There’s no rush, and they can be free to fuck around if that’s what they want.
Of course, there are a couple of situations like mine.
In the upper echelons of Harmony Heights society, true arranged marriages are still a thing.
We’ve always known that Kyle Adams would Claim Maryann Fawkes during their first ceremony, and Francis Harris would Claim Robyn Baker.
Then there’s David Jameson and Priscilla Devers; they’ve been going steady since freshman year and made no secret that they’d be engaged regardless after graduation even if the Order didn’t demand it.
A few girls have to swallow back their disappointment and fear when their name is called. I worry about them, but I’m also scared shitless when it comes to my fate.
Sebastien Reynolds is the first Heir to be called forward. No surprise when the notorious playboy of Harmony Heights High laughs before refusing to Claim any of the remaining Offering.
Same thing with Dallas. He’s scowling as his father calls his name, answering with a succinct ‘no’ before returning to his place beside Adrian.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore Adrian as much as I can.
Just now, I can’t help it, and it annoys the piss out of me that he looks…
bored. Seriously. One hand rests in the pocket of his pants while the other holds another cigarette.
Every now and then, he takes a drag before exhaling on a sigh as though this entire ceremony is inconveniencing him.
You and me both, asshole.
My nerves are only getting worse the longer this goes on. It sucks, and it sucks even more because, for the first time since I understood how this ceremony was supposed to go once I was old enough to attend it, I genuinely have no clue what's going to happen.
Technically, Adrian is supposed to Claim me. That's what everybody expects. It was decided long ago, but after what happened… there’s no way in hell he’s going to pretend like his affair with Loni never existed and tell all of Harmony Heights that he plans on marrying me.
I’m right, too. When Jack Collins calls his name, Adrian drops his cigarette to the grass. I see his shoulders shift and assume he’s putting it out before it adds to the conflagration. Then, with every eye gathered darting from Adrian to me and back, he shrugs.
“No, thanks.”
The gathered crowd goes still. I find myself able to breathe a little easier, though that doesn’t quite last when Jack Collins glares at his nephew.
“Are you sure about that, Adrian?”
“I am, Uncle Jack. I won’t be Claiming anyone here tonight.”
Tonight, I notice. Adrian is exercising his right to wait until the next Claiming ceremony or the ones after that, but because the charter says he has time to take a bride, he’s refusing to Claim me during this one.
Am I glad? Hell, yeah. I didn’t want to marry Adrian Heller, even if his uncle got some crazy idea in his head that I should. Then again, it’s not Adrian I was really worried about…
For a moment, it’s like the King doesn’t want to move on to the next Owed. He finally does, and I don’t think anyone is surprised when Desmond refuses to Claim an Offering. The next four Owed do, and by the time Jack Collins calls out, “Connor Heyward,” half of the Offering pool has been chosen.
Maybe I’m overly sensitive, but as Connor takes a lazy stroll forward, I notice a couple of girls on my side straightening up some, maybe even smoothing their dresses or showing off their tits, anything to catch his attention.
I fold my hands behind my back, not because I’m doing the same, but because I can’t keep myself from shaking—and I’ll be damned if Connor notices.
Two months ago, he kissed me.
Two months ago, he promised that I was his and he was mine.
Two months ago, he told me he'd Claim me.
Me? I told myself not to believe him. I spent the last eight weeks reminding myself that Connor never means half the ridiculous things that come out of his mouth.
And yet… what if he does?
I suck in a breath as his gaze goes from one Offering to the next before landing on me.
“Connor Heyward? Do you Claim an Offering?”
He winks at me. I swear he does. And then, turning toward the King, he says, “Nah. I’m good,” and I don’t know if I want to thank him for not making it so that I’m stuck with him as a joke or fucking throttle him that he played with me over the most important ceremony in the Order charter.
It sucks. His rejection—if that’s what it is—hits even harder than Adrian’s. At least Adrian never acted like I was anything more than another inconvenience in his perfect life. But Connor… that kiss messed with me, and for a moment there, I thought: what if?
I should’ve known better than to believe anything Connor Heyward said.
Next time, I won’t. And when I’m not Claimed—by Connor, by Adrian, by anyone—at this ceremony or any of those that follow, I decide that I’ll never let any of the Heirs get under my skin again.
They already cost me my best friend. I’ll be damned if they cost me my freedom and my future, too.