Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
NOLA
I’m not sure how I’ve been so confident about this whole plan, because right now my nerves are shot, and I hate it.
What if this all goes to shit? What if they don’t pick me and I have to leave here tonight knowing they’re in there with another girl?
How can I get so close to being with them, having them for the first time, getting a taste of what my future is going to be with them, only to have them choose someone else?
“Skittles, what the hell am I doing here?”
I can hear the music playing nearby, the end of summer party in full swing; the party they use as a cover-up for what really happens on these nights.
I chose to come a little later. If I hung around, it caused more of a risk that someone would notice me there.
Skittles lets out a soft caw, flapping his wings as he follows me from above.
“And who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to walk around a graveyard with hardly any clothes on in the middle of the night?” I grumble, feeling a breeze of air stir around me.
It’s going to rain, I can smell it. Just what I need.
A faint boom of thunder confirms my thoughts, and I look up at the sky, wondering when the clouds will break open to rain down on us.
Even with the hoodie I have on, I can still feel the coolness of the pending storm, and it makes my whole body break out into a shiver.
I wrap my arms around myself, seeking any hint of warmth.
“I’m so over tonight already, and it’s just started,” I mutter, squinting as I walk toward the mausoleum. “I swear to god if there's an open grave and I fall in, I’m gonna be really pissed.”
Skittles replies with a squawk.
“You better give me a heads up if there is, or if anyone is coming. I’m sure you can see a hell of a lot better than I can.”
With the clouds hiding the moon, it’s a lot darker than normal. I could use my phone’s flashlight, but that would put me at risk of being caught.
So, I continue to stumble my way, hoping I’m heading in the right direction. I’ve never been to this cemetery before. It’s not the one where they usually hold their parties.
From the footage Skittles got last year, the only thing I could make out was a big hill with a mausoleum on the top of it. The building almost looked like it was a part of the hill, like one of those little hobbit houses.
After a few more minutes, I break into a clearing and stumble to a stop.
“Shit,” I hiss as I duck behind a tombstone.
A few feet before me stand a group of half-naked women, all with different variations of masks. Guess I’ve found where I’m supposed to be.
I watch as Skittles lands on a tombstone closer to the group of girls.
Having him close by settles something inside me, making me a little more relaxed.
Pulling my bunny mask free from the tote bag I brought, I place it on the ground next to me before taking off my sweatpants and hoodie. When I’m only left in the white silk nightgown I chose to wear, I shove my clothes into the bag and place it behind the tombstone.
Grabbing the teal bunny mask, I slip it into place, making sure it’s secure before taking a deep breath.
“I can do this. I got this. Positive thoughts, Nola. They will pick you. It’s your destiny. They’re meant to be yours, you theirs. It’s going to happen.”
It has to happen. Fuck, I really hope this works out in my favor.
Once my pulse is at a relatively normal pace, I throw my shoulders back and stand tall with my head held high, walking over to join the gathering of girls.
Their whispers of excitement die the moment they notice me, a reminder of why I shouldn’t be here.
Gee. Tough crowd.
Even with my identity hidden, it’s like they know I don’t belong and have no business being here.
Maybe the few drinks I had to help build my confidence weren’t the best idea because my stomach is starting to churn, mixing with the nerves that are already eating me alive.
Doing my best to ignore their icy glares, I observe them right back. I couldn’t care less what any of these women think of me.
We all might be here to offer our bodies up for these men, but we’re not the same.
I’m here for a chance to be with my men. The guys I’ve been in love with for years.
They’re here for the chance at an easy payout. While I don’t know the details of what goes on in there, I do know every woman in the past who has been picked has come out of this experience as a different person.
Not literally, but in the sense that their lives have changed. For the better or for the worse, I couldn’t tell you, but their lifestyles sure are different. They leave with more money in their bank accounts than they went in with.
I don’t want the money, I couldn’t care less about it.
As my eyes slowly travel over the group, I notice a few things.
While there’s a mix of different body shapes and sizes, what remains the same are two things: one, we’re all dressed in practically nothing, only bras, underwear, or lingerie, and two, we’re all wearing a different style of mask to cover our faces, hiding our identity.
I have a bit more of an advantage.
My men have been around me a few times throughout the years, not long enough to really know what I look like underneath my clothes. The only thing they’ve really seen is my hair and my face.
Blonde is common, and my face is hidden, so I shouldn’t be easily recognizable.
I don’t have any distinct markings like tattoos or piercings.
If I bite my tongue and try not to make a sound, they won’t be able to pick me out of the crowd. All it takes is a simple change of clothes to hide my identity.
And tonight, I plan on using it to my advantage.
These girls, on the other hand, I can name each and every one of them by their voice, the tattoos on their bodies, or the way they carry themselves.
They are some of the very girls who have spent years throwing nasty words my way and talking down to me because I wasn’t what they deemed normal. I wasn’t up to their standards.
As it turns out, money alone doesn’t mean much in our little society. In their eyes, you need to show that you have it by flaunting it with cars, clothes, and accessories. You need to look the part for them to treat you with any amount of respect.
I’ve never been one to worry about my appearance; not caring about my braces back when I had them, how my hair could be wild and unkempt, or the blemishes that marred my face when I hit puberty. I am who I am, and no one can change the way I see myself. No matter how hard they tried.
If I were to ever change, it would be for me, and me only.
That's why, standing here in a white silk nightgown with my hair down in long beach waves and a mask concealing half my face, has me feeling open and exposed.
I’m missing my go-to oversized hoodie and sweats right about now. I’m debating on turning around and leaving to go back to the warm comfort of my home.
But I can’t. I came here for a reason, and I’m going to follow through.
All of those doubtful thoughts drift away the moment three figures appear out of the shadows.
The whispers die just like they did when I arrived, and the reality of what is about to happen sets in.
A breath gets caught in my throat, the nervous flutters morphing into a heavy warmth in my lower belly. With each passing second, I let my eyes soak more of them in. My breathing begins to grow shallow, skin pebbling with arousal as a dull pulse starts in my clit.
There they are.
Seeing them like this, standing tall, dressed in the traditional attire of the Brotherhood of Blood and Death with long black coats concealing their bodies, the plague doctor masks hiding their faces, has something inside me shifting.
My core tightens, and my nipples harden into stiff peaks.
They’ve always given off this powerful energy. One that screams don’t fuck with me, that they could destroy everything you know and love just because they could.
But now, there’s a different side of them. They radiate not just power, but this sense of immortality.
All laws, morals, and humanity are gone.
They are the gods, the ones you should fear.
Even though they wear the same attire as everyone else, I know for a fact that these are my men. My three monsters.
The ones who run this city. The three that live by power, money, and death.
These are the three sons of some of the most powerful families in not only the country, but the world.
And they’re mine, even if they aren’t exactly aware of that yet. Baby steps. We’re working up to that.
Another advantage of mine is that they would never suspect me being here tonight. To stand among the girls who are willingly offering their bodies, their virginity.
To them, I’m just some naive little girl who needs to be protected.
If they only knew the dark and depraved thoughts that run through my head. I’m not the one who needs protection. I’m the one people need to be protected from.
Maybe I’m a monster too.
This is why I’m a perfect fit for them. I can match their crazy. Just you fucking wait.
These men aren’t men of words, but of action. That's why I need to prove myself worthy. I can’t just simply tell them they’ve got me all wrong, I know that. I have no proof that I can offer them that would show otherwise.
Yet.
That's another reason why I’m here tonight. To get a glimpse of what these men are really about and prove to not only them, but myself, that I can handle them.
Yes, I’ve been watching them for years, I know more about them than most do, but I don’t know everything. I don’t have access to a big part of their lives.
There’s still a lot I need to learn. I don’t want to be blindsided, to make myself look like a fool by growing my confidence only to be shown just how little I know.
The events that will go down tonight have only been whispered about over the years, telltale signs of what people believe goes on within the Brotherhood, and down inside the catacombs of New Orleans.
Never voiced, never detailed, never confirmed.
I need to see it firsthand, to experience it for myself.