Unhinged Obsession (Saints of the Black Crown Society #1)

CHAPTER ONE

Ireceived my letter from The Black Crown Society, and I’m almost certain that’s why dread is consuming me.

The feeling that something terrible is going to happen overwhelms me, and I can’t say anything about it because we’re all going through the same thing.

It’s a rite of passage, something we can’t outrun.

I would if I thought I’d make it out alive.

The water crashes against the cliffs beneath us with enough force that I can feel the vibration through the soles of my shoes every time another wave slams into the rocks below.

Salt hangs heavy in the warm summer air, mingling with the smell of sunscreen and cedar from the sprawling estates tucked behind us.

Every family that matters seems to own a summer home along this stretch of coastline.

The enormous houses are perched above the water like they belong to another world entirely.

For as long as I can remember, our summers have always consisted of the same things: the country club, beach days, and sneaking out to the cliffs after our parents fall asleep.

Every summer, without fail, the seven of us would end up in the same place again, as if the ocean itself is beckoning us.

It doesn’t matter how much time passes or how different we’ve become in the months apart; the moment Spring semester rolls around, we fall back into the same rhythm like nothing ever changed.

This summer is a little different because Ivy isn’t here.

None of us know where she is or why her parents aren’t talking about her absence.

The Morettis. The Winthrops. The Davenports.

The Kershaws. Our families are tied together by something much more powerful than old money and summer homes.

Our fathers and their fathers before them are all Saints of the Black Crown Society, and our mothers and grandmothers for generations are their Chosen Ones.

It’s the end of the summer before our senior year at St. Augustine University, and that means one thing.

There will be three choosing ceremonies, and if the letter I received from The Society is any indication, I’ve been selected to be paired with a Saint in the first ceremony of the year.

It could be worse, I suppose. I could have been paired with a Sinner, and they’re known for being absolutely ruthless.

At the end of every summer, we somehow end up wandering farther than we're supposed to, climbing over weathered rocks while the adults assume we're fast asleep. That’s the nice thing about our little summer reprieve. We have freedom, even if it’s for a fleeting little while.

Back at St. Augustine, surveillance is everywhere, aside from the cathedral.

That’s exactly why Society meetings are held there.

"I am not going out there." Jonathan Kershaw plants both feet firmly on the flat stretch of rock, folding his arms across his chest while he stares at the narrow ledge stretching toward the water.

The tide has come in higher than usual, leaving the stone slick beneath our feet.

The more time that passes, the waves seem to smash harder against the cliff face below.

Annabell Davenport throws her head back dramatically, letting out an exaggerated laugh that carries across the water.

I wince because the last thing we need is for one of our parents to hear her and go looking for us.

She looks entirely unbothered, which doesn’t surprise me.

Summer nights on the cape are literally the only times I see or talk to her.

She avoids us at school, and she makes it known that she hates anything regarding The Black Crown Society.

"Oh my God, Jonathan, you're such a chicken,” she tells him, reaching out to slap him on his ass. I’ve been in my head all day since my letter arrived, and it’s literally in this moment that I realize she’s drunk, or at the very least tipsy.

Jonathan barely even turns his head toward her.

He keeps his feet planted exactly where they are, arms folded tightly across his chest as he stares down the narrow, uneven ledge that stretches toward the edge of the cliff.

"That’s not what you were saying last night when you were climbing me like a tree. "

“Was that before or after you tried climbing in my bed and I almost punched you?” Noah Moretti snickers.

“You all fucking know I don’t like to be surprised.

Why the fuck would you approach me in the dark?

” Noah is one of the Moretti triplets, and I haven’t really figured him out.

He gives major good boy vibes–well, as much as a pampered mafia heir can, I suppose.

But I’ve never been super close to him. He hides a lot of his life, and I’m happy to let him do that.

What he does in the dark is none of my business.

His brother, Elijah, has always been my business, though.

Annabell scoffs immediately, stepping a little closer to him with a grin that makes it very clear she is enjoying this far too much. "The only Moretti that isn’t a sniveling virgin. I thought you’d be a fun time, but I guess only my sister would know."

“Annabell, don’t,” Noah starts, but Annabell doesn’t listen.

“Don’t be shy. Share with the group.” Annabell’s voice is hard with anger I don’t really understand, but wobbly with alcohol, which makes it sound like she’s been crying.

Noah’s easy-going mask drops when he grits out, “Leave your sister out of this.”

Jonathan finally glances at her, unimpressed, as if all this drama doesn’t faze him. "I'm sure it’s huge, and Ivy had a good time. Can we go back to the bonfire now or what?."

“Shut up, bobblehead,” Elijah chimes in, and my eyes flutter closed trying to compose myself.

Elijah Moretti is a hothead when he’s annoyed, and unfortunately, most things people do annoy him.

I also, for as long as I can remember, have been the only one who can calm him down so he doesn’t hurt anyone’s feelings.

That earns him a look from her—slow, deliberate, and I’m not sure what has her so angry tonight, but I suspect it has something to do with getting a letter from The Society too. It’s easy to lash out when you feel like your whole future has been decided, but you have no choice in the matter.

"Swing your dick at someone else, Elijah," she says, shaking her head as her grin widens. "You're just in a bad mood because you’re going to have to stand at an altar in your stupid little mask and robe and watch the only girl you can stand kiss someone else."

My best friend since childhood exhales sharply through his nose, like the very idea of seeing me with someone else is offensive.

It’s the calm way he moves closer to me that tells me he’s about to blow up in a catastrophic way.

Elijah is the epitome of a spoiled, rich mafia heir who is used to getting his way in most scenarios.

He looks like one too. Messy black hair that falls across his forehead and only accentuates his moody blue eyes.

My father says that he has no empathy, but he’s also always been fiercely protective of me for reasons I don’t understand.

I don’t need an explanation. We have a bond and connection that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Because I protect Elijah too, mostly from himself.

Silently, I reach over and tuck my hand under his t-shirt.

My fingers splay out over the smooth skin of Elijah’s abdomen.

It’s a plea for him to calm down that only the two of us can hear.

Even with only the crescent moon and starry sky offering light in the midnight sky, I see Elijah peer down at me.

His full lips are pulled into a pout, but his usually icy eyes are soft just for me.

I mouth the words, “Thank you,” when he doesn’t go after Annabell again, but instead leans into my touch.

I stroke my fingers across his lower stomach, placating him.

He’s such a good boy for me.

I almost giggle at the thoughts that sentence brings to my mind.

Elijah and I have never hooked up. It’s against Society rules, and the punishment is severe if caught.

There’s an underground faction of The Black Crown Society called Onyx Dominion, and a death sentence would be more humane than the things they do to people who disobey orders.

Elijah and I haven’t so much as kissed, but I’d be lying if I said the tension wasn’t astronomical when I touch his warm skin.

I realize that Annabell is still going on about the impending Choosing Ceremony when Johnathan says, “I’ve got it on good authority that Blair is going to be my Chosen One.

I won’t be letting her stick her hand up your shirt when she’s my wife.

Sorry, E.” I think Johnathan is joking, because leaking pairings before the ceremony goes against everything I know about this process.

I feel Elijah tense, and I grab him by the bottom of his t-shirt before he can move.

I quickly grab his hand, interlocking our fingers.

This has always worked for me when I can see he’s at his boiling point.

I stroke my thumb across the top of his hand because I can feel that his body is practically vibrating with rage at Johnathan’s comment.

We might not talk about it, but I belong to Elijah Moretti. He proves my point when he says, “Have you ever had your head bounced off a jagged rock, Kershaw?”

My thumb moves slowly, stroking his hand. Butterflies erupt in my stomach when Elijah’s head snaps toward our linked hands and then up to my face. He’s an entire foot taller than me, but the way he’s peering into my eyes right now feels like our mouths are a breath away from one another.

Noah, usually one to defuse situations like this, chooses violence for some reason and claps Jonathan hard enough on the shoulder to nearly knock him off balance.

The nicest Moretti triplet, as their grandmother has dubbed him, flashes the most condescending smirk.

"You know," he says thoughtfully, "if you fall, they'll probably name the rock after you that breaks your fall.

" Noah looks around in mock confusion before adding, “Here lies the dumbest motherfucker alive. Johnathan Kershaw said Blair’s name in earshot of Elijah Moretti.”

Jonathan glares at him.

“You’re an asshole,” Jonathan snaps, wobbling, leaning forward and then back, trying not to lose his balance.

Noah doesn’t even look offended. If anything, he looks pleased with himself, like he’s been waiting all day to be cursed.

“I’ve actually been told I’m delightful,” he says brightly, completely unbothered as he rocks back on his heels and shoves his hands into his pockets.

Jonathan stares at him like he’s seriously reconsidering every life choice that led him to this moment. I don’t particularly care for Johnathan, especially now that we’re older, but I feel it. How did we all end up here?

“Will all of you annoying wastes of space please stop screaming? We could hear you all the way over in the yard with music playing,” Benjamin, the final Moretti triplet, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his arm wrapping around Paris.

Even in his annoyance with us, he’s worried his stepsister might slip on the rocks.

I feel Elijah’s fingers flex, his thumb sliding over the sensitive spot on my wrist. It feels like an electric jolt between my thighs, and I realize I’m being beaten at my own game.

Annabell groans under her breath while Paris giggles, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and giving me a smile. Aside from Elijah, Paris Hastings is my only friend, the only other person I trust with my whole heart.

“We’re literally just talking,” Annabell slurs, and her legs shake as she tries to cross over to my side of the rocky foundation.

“You don’t have to be such a buzzkill just because you want to fuck your sister and no one will let you.

At least your mommy isn’t around to see what’s become of her baby boy. ”

Benjamin’s stare turns to ice, and I watch as Paris moves to stand in front of him. She knows he won’t put her in danger, even if he’s livid. Benjamin found Mrs. Moretti when she was murdered. He was only seven, and he hasn’t recovered from what he saw that day.

If he shoved Annabell into the water, I wouldn’t blame him. What she said was cruel, even for her.

“You need to watch your mouth,” Paris says, and her voice is so sweet, it doesn’t sound like a threat. “Leave him alone, or I’ll ruin your fucking life more than you already have.”

I know Paris almost as well as Benjamin does, and she’s not lying. She’s the sweetest girl if you’re a good person and she likes you. But if you cross someone she cares about? She’ll make Regina George look like Polly Pocket.

“Come talk to me,” Elijah’s deep voice startles me, and I look up at him. Before I can answer him, he’s carefully leading me away from the group, my hand still tightly clasped in his.