Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SLADE
I exit the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist. Droplets of shower water still cling to my bare chest, but I can’t be bothered to swipe them off. Not when I’m about to fall into bed after a terrible day.
Thunder roars, and I swear someone’s pounding against the front of the house; however, I ignore it in favor of staggering toward my bed. After wiping my glasses clean with the edge of my terry towel, I put them on, my gaze seeking the new painting above my bed that is impossible to ignore.
It’s become my ritual every night before bed, lingering on the side she used to sleep and staring up at the replica of her tattoo.
The black and white painting stretches across the vertical canvas.
The lines wafting between bold, almost reckless, too thin and soft.
The entire thing looks caught in motion, like the seeds in her tattoo do.
I had the piece commissioned from memory, so there are a few discrepancies, but the petals stand proud and full of life, while some surrender into the void.
It reminds me of Thea. Gentle and soft, yet willing to scatter and drift, carrying forward and not breaking.
I hold my breath, willing the emotion to abate as I slide my comforter down. I reach for the sweatpants folded at the edge of the bed and step into them. They settle low on my hips, loose, and I draw the drawstring tight, finger lingering on the knot.
The door crashes open, and I jump, dumping my towel on the floor beside my bed.
Thea fills the doorframe, her hair wild, wet ringlets still dripping to the floorboards.
Her eyes gut me—red rimmed, wide, and untamed, but they dart past me before I can even take a step to rectify the tears in her eyes.
She snaps her gaze to the shelves lining the wall, the empty shelves.
Chest rising and falling, she lingers, staring, and then drifts toward them.
She says nothing, and my throat tightens as she drags her fingertips across the empty space where my comic books had been.
I brace for something: questions, anger, more tears.
But the silence that presses between us is eerie.
The room is dim, apart from the random flashes of lightning and the bookshelf backlights permanently on. Something festers inside me, seeing her here. In my room. And she’s … wet and shaking. Hell. “Thea,” I whisper, but she holds up a hand, still walking the length of the shelves to peer at them.
I take a few steps forward but pause when she whispers back. “No.”
My brow furrows, but I say nothing as she continues.
The sharp lines of her striped pajamas cling to every curve, and the shorts stick to her thighs in a way that’s impossible to look away from.
Seeing her is like finally taking a deep breath.
The obsessive pull that’s always raging in the back of my mind relaxes in her presence, and I let out an overdue sigh.
“Why?” she asks, spinning toward me. She narrows her eyes on mine, and her scent floods my nostrils as she takes two steps forward. “Why?” she asks again.
“Why what?”
“I saw him. I saw that Swedish man get off the plane on the news. And that book. Your comic book. Slade … why?”
“Does that really require an answer, Thea?” I move toward the door quickly to shut it before she can second-guess her decision to barge into my room. An adrenaline shot of pure thrill spreads through my veins at the idea that she’s here. Back in my sight.
Her shoulders roll back and stiffen as if she’s trying to remain strong, but her tears tell a different story. “You sold them? You sold them all!” Her sobs flow, and the moment her shoulders shake and face crumples into her hand, I’m undone.
I move, closing the distance and pulling her to me. The top of her wet hair brushes across my clenched jaw, her sobs dripping onto my bare chest.
“How could you? That was your collection, your escape. I can’t believe—Why did you make me leave you? Why can’t you love me enough to be with me?”
Never in a million years will I tell her I had to sell most of my collection for her. Never. Her fingers splay over my chest, over the scars. I hate that she’s upset, and I hate it’s because I did something. I wanted her safe and free, but she isn’t free if she’s trapped waiting for me.
I tilt her face up, my thumbs grazing her cheekbones and sweeping the tears away.
Her eyes pierce me. “Listen to me,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“What is the point of escape if it doesn’t lead me to you?
I’d sell every single piece of that collection, strip the shelves bare.
You’re the only thing that makes this world bearable.
You are my escape, my home, my obsession, my everything. It’s not in those comics—it’s you.”
She trembles, face contorting into a snarl. “You pushed me away!” She emphasizes her words with a shove of her own.
I almost don’t recognize her growl, and it breaks me. “I had to. It guts me. Every day I followed you, watched you. I hated seeing you in the outside world without me, but loved seeing you in the outside world, Thea. I couldn’t barter for your freedom only to tie you down.”
“I thought you didn’t want me …”
“Want you? I’ve only ever wanted you.” It’s the only truth I have left. It was instant when I saw her. I’ve always wanted her.
Her eyes wander downward, and she slumps against me, as if the emotion has crippled and wrung her dry. I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her to look at me. It’s not rough, but I’m desperate for her eyes and to keep her from trying to hide.
Her skin is damp beneath my touch, and her pulse is wild. I force her to look at me, to see the truth in my words. She belongs to me, and I need her.
“Be with me.” There’s a note of cruelty in my tone. It’s slight, in fear she may decide I’m not worth her trouble, but I can’t be without her. It’s torment, and now that she’s in front of me, there’s no way I can let her go.
Her breath hitches, and she leans her head back, exposing the delicate column of her neck.
I lean down, mouth a breath’s width away from her thrumming pulse.
She trembles but tilts even farther, and it unravels the sliver of control I have left.
I press my lips to her neck, and a tiny broken gasp greets me.
Her scent—rain mixed with sweet vanilla—wraps around me until I’m swept into a frenzy.
I kiss again, slower, nipping at the spot hammering wildly. She clutches my biceps, and her soft whimper turns into a moan.
“Be with me,” I say again, in between where I lap at her skin, tasting her. Starved. I was starved for her.
“I’m trying,” she answers, and I chuckle against her, pulling away enough to make out the flush dusted over her porcelain cheeks.
Though the moment sours when I remember my new role and the Severing that’s approaching. I step back, tugging her toward me and the bed.
“Slade?”
“It’s not that easy, Thea. I accepted the position. I’ll be doing the Severing to sit as one of the Eight. It gives me leverage and way to further my plan to destroy them from the inside. I won’t lie to you, they will come for you as the—”
“Offering.” She swallows, mouth twitching at the corner. “I know. If you can give away so much for me, let me give this to you. I am your Offering. I’m not afraid.” Her hands move to the top button of her shirt, fingers whittling open the buttons one by one. I stare transfixed as she undoes it.
I knew it when I accepted the position. It’s her. It was always going to be her. This time, though, she knows, and she’ll endure it.
“You don’t get to do this alone. Whatever it costs, Slade.
You’re the man I choose. This is my purpose.
” She shrugs off her top, letting the wet fabric flop to the floor and leaving her utterly bare.
With a slight tilt of her chin toward the dandelion painting above my bed, she says, “Do you remember the saying? Bloom where you aren’t meant to grow.
Well, we’ll do that. We’ll bring EV down together. ”
If there were a fabric I had an aversion to, it’d be velvet.
The cape around my shoulder is heavy, and it pools around my feet.
It doesn’t sway so much as flow like a liquid along the floor as I approach the stone.
The hood casts a shadow over my eyes and those staring back at me, and I roll my shoulders, adjusting the silver clasp holding the garment closed at my throat.
I can’t help but cast glances down the pathway I know she’ll be escorted down.
Having her out of my sight, even if only for a little while, makes me anxious.
It’s been a week and a half of bliss, pure bliss that I can’t quite explain.
In a way, it feels as if I’ve lived a lifetime.
I can still hear her laughter, feel her skin burning underneath my touch, soft and alive in ways I don’t deserve.
Heat, breaths, and whispers in the dark each night, her body pressed to mine.
Then, living life with her during the day—she saw my congressional office for the first time, and put her childhood home up for rent because she couldn’t bring herself to sell it just yet, and then went grocery shopping solely for Frosted Flakes.
The way she’s loved me in these past weeks has been fierce and bold, and I’m so proud to call her mine.
Now, the time has come, and I’d be lying if I didn’t want to sweep Thea away from this place, take off, and never look back. It’s she who has ushered in the reminders every morning when we’re tangled naked in the sheets of how important this is.
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth, and I scan the crowd. Kenji’s the only one not paying attention as the quota for the ritual is met, and I watch as he studies his phone, jaw tight.
Graves wanders over and stands beside me, offering me a nod. I acknowledge him but quickly turn my attention back down the hall. Let them believe I’ve bent. Let them see the obedient grandson taking up the DuPont name within the Eight, smiling through it.
What they can’t see is the fire in my chest that burns where I’ve been carved, for myself and for Thea.
I’ll play the part for a while, but really, I’ve manipulated my way into the heart of their empire, and I’m ready to cut out the rot. First step: No more Market girls. I won’t let it happen.
The chamber lights lower, and the chatter of voices among the members fades. Flameless candles invade the darkness, their shadows swaying with the shifting of bodies as everyone tries to get a better look.
It won’t be a surprise who the Offering is. Not to the members who saw me lose my mind over her. Smoke curls upward toward the vaulted ceilings, the scent of incense and wax potent.
The LED lights gleam around the stone platform, and for a moment I’m scared for Thea.
For what they will ask of her. What she will have to endure as I stand idly by.
Her instructions last night were not to interfere, that she would smile through it.
I think she’s stronger than I am. The difference with her as the Offering is that there’s nothing that could be said or done that would tear us apart.
Graves steps closer to me, the rustle of his robe echoing in the silence.
“Please direct your attention toward the rite doors. Thank you,” the feminine EV voice announces.
I swallow as the doors open and the six remaining leaders, dressed in their red robes, walk in toward the marble platform.
Graves speaks. “To rise into leadership, a member must prove he is willing to sever empathy, identity, and personal morality. An Offering, male or female, is selected by the current leadership as a symbol of weakness. The initiate must sever all compassion during the Severing.
“Will the initiate, Slade DuPont, please step forward.”
I shuffle forward, eyes still locked on where I know she’ll come through.
“The initiate has been stripped of all symbols of personal identity that connects him to the outside world. He wears the robe of the Eight and the society’s black cloth around his chest to cover his heart.
To lead, we must not flinch. To rise, one must sever.
Mercy is the vice of the weak. Obedience is forged in pain of the heart. Bring forth the Offering.”
My heart pounds and my knees grow weak as Thea strides in, chin lifted, steps unhurried. Her copper hair flows free, the whites of her eyes crystal clear around her wild blue irises that remind me of the lake back at the house.
The rest of what Graves says is underwater as I watch as she allows them to pluck and pull her into chains on the marble stone ring. I work another swallow, eyes darting to Kenji. He forgoes his phone, offering me a chin dip that gives me strength.
Thea stands, peering over the quota of members. She doesn’t shy away from their gawking; she meets them head-on.
Hell, I love her. I want so much for her, and this isn’t it. Someday, when this chapter of EV is behind us, I’ll whisk her away. But right now, she’s braver than I’ve ever seen her before. Willing to go through this, not only for me, but to save others.
“Slade,” Graves interrupts my thoughts. “Please say the words that will usher in the beginning of the Severing.”
My mouth is dry, and for a moment I don’t want to, but then her face finds mine. Her eyes probe me, and I say the very words that will change our lives forever.
“I sever the connection I have to you in favor of the Eight.”
Then Thea smiles at me, and I … I grin at her.