I want to ask her what she’s been planning and how she was about to get her revenge before I offered up Addisyn, but there’s no guarantee she’ll tell me. We’ve built no trust, and what’s to stop her from resuming her plans if mine fall through and I can’t prove Addisyn did anything wrong?
As Chase looks on, watching his sister with protective caution and me with more of a sinister respect, I know he will need more convincing. Those diary pages have to be in Addisyn’s room, or else this all falls apart and I’ll gain nothing.
I stare down at my hands, the open palms as empty as they were when Dr. Luke insisted Piper was killed by her sister out of jealousy.
Am I really believing him? Could I take Emma down this haunted road with me, trusting we won’t get lost?
I glance again at Chase, whose features remain inscrutable in the shadows, but the undercurrent of worry is there in his clenched hands and the way his jaw grinds.
“If I can prove Addisyn is involved in Piper’s death,” I say, both their heads turning to me, “then you’ll let me in on your plans for the Virtues. I think it’s a fair trade.”
Emma’s the first to speak. “Show us the goods, and we’ll see.”
She moves to the door. When she notices Chase doesn’t follow, she stops. “You coming?”
“In a minute,” he mutters.
Emma sends a long look my way, but her carefully blank features don’t tell me what she’s thinking. “I’ll be in my room.”
When Emma steps out, Chase stalks over and shuts my bedroom door. He turns back around, and the face he gives me is ferocious.
“I know I have no excuse,” I begin before he can unleash. “But neither do you. You and your sister are planning some kind of coup on your societies while I run around blind. Are you really surprised I stumbled into your lair after being forced to steal your shit? You left me no choice.”
Chase stares at me in silence so long, I cross my arms under his scrutiny. But I don’t lower my chin.
At last, his voice slips through the air like a black, silk ribbon wrapping itself around my neck.
“If you’re going to accuse me, get your facts straight. I’m not out to destroy the Nobles,” he says, his features cloaked in darkness. “I want to control them.”
30
“You … what?” I sit straighter in bed, my duvet, the only softness in this room, becoming a comforting pillow on my lap.
Chase moves closer until he stands at the foot of the bed. “You saw who guided the ceremony tonight.”
That irresistible scent of his, salty, cedar male, drifts its ethereal allure in my direction. To distract myself from his proximity, I bring to mind the three cloaked adults in the ritual room.
“One of them was your father,” I say.
Chase nods. “He’s the current Noble King, and I’m his legacy.”
“Meaning…” I parse through his words. “You’re the next leader?”
“Something like that.”
“And you want to gain control.”
Chase’s sharp profile tips to the ceiling. “You just don’t see it, do you? How hard I’ve worked to keep you out of this.”
I risk laying a hand on his forearm, the ropes under his skin hard and hot. “You can’t keep me away when all I see is secrets and lies.” I wait for Chase to lower his head. “If you want me to step back, try telling me the truth so I can understand the danger.”
Chase snorts. “You’ve seen enough to know you’re in hot water, Callie. Don’t pretend that my telling you more will get you to back off.”
I haven’t removed my hand, so I give a light squeeze. “Then make me smarter. A part of you knows this can’t go on forever. Their power has to bend.”
Chase sighs, staring down at my hand. His profile is so dark, he appears in shades of black, the color of doom enveloping his body, as if he’s already given himself over to the underworld.
I’m tempted to turn on the light, to highlight his angelic beauty instead of sitting in the dark with his devil, but that would require moving. Disconnecting my touch that keeps him here, with me.
“You’re never going to be happy just being normal, are you?”
His question hits hard, and I rub the center of my chest at the phantom pain. “My average life was taken away a year ago. I’ve never tried to get it back.” I squeeze his arm again. “I’ve seen evil leave its mark, and … it’s hard to explain, but I feel like it’s followed me here. And it won’t leave me alone until I defeat it.”
I’m staring down at my hand on his skin, and jolt at the brush of feeling down my cheek. Raising my eyes, I realize it’s him, tracing my profile with a wishful, tentative dance of fingers across my jaw.
“If I tell you what you want to know, will you stop with the sneaking around where you don’t belong? The stealing?”
His tone sounds so lost, his touch so forlorn, that I’m desperate for a joke. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy the exchange of sex for a keycard?”
As soon as it’s out, I wince at the crassness.
But Chase responds with a lupine smile. “I’ll always enjoy sex with you, sweet possum.”
I catch my lower lip with my teeth.
“But,” he continues, “that was a low fucking blow.”
“You ran with it,” I retort. “And let me keep your key, so who’s using who?”
Chase acknowledges my point, leaning back.
We sit in the quiet, the lateness of the night silencing the rest of the floor. Even Emma doesn’t make a sound. I start to think Chase has second-guessed sharing anything else with me, then the shadows shift, skittering back when his voice cuts through the room. “Thorne Briar created the Nobles for competition and manipulation. He didn’t understand why grooming for influential positions in government or the global economy started in college. He wanted to mold minds when they were at their most pliable. That way, older members could maintain their dominance and power through the strict regimen they inflicted on young boys, who would have no choice, no aggression, toward their leaders.” He pauses. “Not even when that boy turns into a man and is seated in office.”
My brows ache with my pensive frown, but my heart feels light with revelation. “Is that why Rose created the Virtues? Because she wanted to protect the kids?”
Chase rubs his jaw. “She wanted to show her husband that children could be guided instead of manipulated, and she chose to prove it by tapping girls who excelled in their classrooms. It was around the time women were granted the right to education beyond homemaking, and she advanced that learning with secret teachings, first at the boathouse, then, once the membership expanded and women came into power, in their own hidden rooms around campus. She died young, but her teachings lived on through the students who loved her and swore to keep the Virtues alive, despite Thorne’s multiple attempts to silence them. Some of these women were at the forefront of gaining the right to vote, the Civil Rights movement, LGBTQ rights, key swing votes in the Supreme Court, all because of Rose’s determination to thwart her husband’s maxim that the only way to win is through terror and destruction.”
The implications of what those boys went through—what Chase might’ve gone through—sits heavy between us, and I’m afraid to move and break the spell, conscious of Chase’s ability to withhold as much as he tells.
“In the fifties, the Nobles changed under my grandfather’s leadership,” Chase continues. “He admired what the Virtues accomplished and their quiet dominance in a man-centric world. The Nobles vetted kids in middle school, sure, but the goals were to enlist the clear leaders of the class, in sports, academics, debate, any kid who showed an uncanny talent for domination. But my grandfather … he wanted to inspire them, not corrupt. He wanted our members to go on to do great things for this country, and to use our influence to make a positive difference in the world. He was less about politics and more about mass improvements through power. And with that, came great relationships with the Ivy League Societies, and a brotherh
ood within the Nobles that hasn’t been seen since. Those boys would’ve given their lives for each other. For my grandfather, too, before he passed on.”
“What happened when your grandfather died?” I ask, though the trepidation within me knows the answer.
“My father took over.”
Chase punctuates the sentence by sharply cutting off and staring at my closet door across the room.
“And he’s rather fond of the Nobles’ origins, so he’s gone back to the traditional way of tapping initiates.”
I swallow, unsure of how far I should take this, so I choose a safer route, away from his personal memories. “And the Virtues?”
“Poisoned.” Chase answers without hesitation. “The Nobles use demanding, sometimes vicious, rituals, starting off in middle school but really pushing the boundaries in freshman year, when we’re robed. But the Virtues … they don’t bother with the excuse of molding future minds for the good of humanity anymore. They’re comfortable with their power, hedonistic, even. They pursue decadence, not control. They feed off popularity, insecurity, beauty, sexual power. So, my dad’s done one thing right, I guess. He’s tried to gain control of them through the soulmate rite, same as what Thorne tried to do to leash them when he witnessed, firsthand, how women used their accessory status to manipulate the men. And it’s what we do now, to ensure the Virtues aren’t completely independent, but they keep a lot of their rituals to themselves, as we do to them.”
“So, you’re allies … and competitors,” I surmise.
“We’re a breeding ground for war.”
I hug myself, calming the shudders over my heart and the goosebumps over my skin. I’m getting what I wanted, aren’t I? Inside access into the Nobles and Virtues, first witness to their brewing destruction.
Chase twists until he faces me on the bed. “If it turns out Addy has nothing to do with Piper’s death, I can’t help you anymore, do you understand?”
Slowly, I nod. “My credibility will be shot to shit at that point, so yeah, I won’t fight you.”
Chase takes both my hands, clenching them tight. “I’m not doing this solely to avenge Piper. I’m doing it for you, too. And for me. We’re out of control, because now we’re killing ourselves and making it look like an accident. As their future king, I can’t let this continue.”
I pull my hands from his hold, but not to retreat. I cup his face, and he searches my eyes, waiting for my reply. “Thank you,” I whisper.
For telling me. For trusting me. For letting me in.
With my entire being, I’m wishing his heart has opened to me, but I don’t dare mix up wishes with hopes. Not when the fragile thread that’s connecting us could be shredded at any moment.
Chase lingers in his search, his stare grazing across my cheekbones, my eyes, before landing on my lips.
Threading my fingers at the back of his neck, I lean in.
He meets me halfway, and while our lips meet delicately, our tongues are unscrupulous in their demand.
Chase pushes me back until I’m lying down, and he’s pressed on top of me, our kiss becoming so deep, we’re lighting a fire in ourselves. Our hands scrape against each other faster, our clothes lifted, then ripped off, our underwear cast aside.
We break apart only to remove everything that barricades us from ecstasy, until we’re naked and my legs are spread, my folds wet, and he hasn’t even touched me.
Chase anchors my waist, then spins until he’s on the bottom and I’m on top of him, and I take delicious control, lining him up until his tip is inside me, and I make slow, lazy circles in complete contradiction to the raging inferno at my core that wants all of him, right now, his thickness the perfect size to fill me whole.
Chase groans, his hips begging where his mouth refuses, attempting to thrust, but I keep lifting away.
I smile in the light of the breaking dawn, acquiring more power over a guy than I’ve ever had, and totally taking advantage.
“Callie…” he grunts, his upper lip curling. “Goddamnit. Fuck me.”
My next grin shows my teeth. “Ask me nicely.”
Air whistles out of his clenched lips. “Don’t make me beg, sweet possum, because my answering torture will be so much longer. I’ll take my fill, through your mouth, your pussy, and your ass, while you plead for yours.”
My smile doesn’t falter. “That’s big talk for somebody who isn’t allowed to come at the moment.”
He growls. “Neither can you.”
Damn it. Chase has a point. How much longer can I withhold both our orgasms? I’m throbbing, hot with desperation, so swollen and ready for his dick that it’s making it easier for him to slip farther in, taking more territory.
I grab my breasts, flicking my hard, piqued nipples to try and redirect the pleasure to myself.
Chase notices, but I’m so deep in my own, desperate escape, that I fail to take his widened eyes as a warning sign.
“Fuck this,” he snaps, then rears up at the same time he thrusts in, yanking on my hair to pull my head back and keep me at the perfect angle.
I cry out, but he covers my mouth with his other hand, so each time he pounds, my moans are muffled for just the two of us.
He takes, and takes, fucking so hard there will be bruises on my inner thighs, but I meet each pound by burying him to the hilt and clenching around him so tightly, I feel the pulsing of his cock inside me.
Soon, I’m riding him, and he releases his hold so he can lean back on his forearms. I press on his shoulders for balance, bouncing, circling, our thighs damp with sweat and the scent of lust, building until we’re at that perfect, painful precipice of release and desire.
“I’m almost there,” I breathe out, my voice hitched and tight. “I’m … almost … oh God—”
Chase snarls and pulls me against him until we’re molded together, our orgasms in tandem, but my release so much louder than his, since he’s buried his face in my neck and bitten down.
The sharp indents of his teeth mix with the swirling orgasm that tightens my core and sends my limbs sparkling, and I fall against him, covered in a cloudy haze, the weight of the world lifted far above my shoulders.
Chase trails his fingers up the length of my spine, then cups the back of my neck. He turns his head, murmuring into my ear, “You’re going to be the end of me.”
I inhale his cologne, and the underlayer of him surrounding my naked body like a needed blanket against the chill. My response flows to the back of my lips but won’t go any further. I’m afraid, if I say it out loud, it’ll be akin to cursing the hearts of our twisted fate.
And so, I mouth it silently into his shoulder, the salted tang of his skin a seal to my terrified vow. You’re my beginning.
31
Monday evening comes too fast, despite Emma and Chase’s assurances on Sunday that they had a failsafe plan to give me time to search Addisyn’s room. I explained to them my thoughts on timing the emptying of Addisyn’s floor to the housekeeper’s cigarette break, dropping anything I was doing (and any floor I was on) to sprint up to Addisyn’s room and do as thorough a search as I can before Emma, guarding the front, or Chase, watching the side of the building, texts me the moment Moira stubs out her cigarette.
With them involved, my chances of success are that much higher, but their presence doesn’t lessen the nerves. I’ve been so good up until this point, receiving texts from Dad and Ahmar, and phone calls from Lynda, that they’re so proud of me for focusing on school and keeping out of trouble.
If they caught word of what I was up to while I pretended to be the perfect daughter…
The guilt is worse than the betrayal I’d cause them.
My patchwork family wants nothing but the best for me—even my stepdad, who I think I’ve come to terms with—and who’s making an honest, genuine man out of himself, sobering up and taking care of his pregnant wife. They’ve been so focused on me, and my excuses have been so tunneled to them, my incoming newborn sister has taken a backseat. And yea
h, my efforts at proving a twisted sister relationship with Piper and Addisyn aren’t exactly helping with that.
When this is done, I’m resolved to repairing my remaining relationships. Forgiving as much as I can. And … moving forward without a black cloud of grief, if that’s even possible.
It occurs to me just how much I’m putting the solving of Piper’s murder into solving me.
Monday starts off innocuous enough, with classes and lunch with Ivy and her other friends. Ivy’s part of crew, but for reasons I’ve yet to dig into, she never sits with her rowing team at lunch or even acknowledges them much during the day. I’ve stopped myself from asking her why a million times—because I’m turning a new leaf once I prove Addisyn killed Piper and the Virtues’ involvement. An unassuming, non-nosy, bright, fresh, green leaf, that will finish her senior year quietly.
If Ivy doesn’t want to sit with the mean girls more than she has to, why should I question it?
Because she’s on their team.
I shake off the thought as quickly as it comes. This is exactly what I’m worried about—paranoia taking over reality, ruining people who care about me.
I say goodbye to Ivy at the top of the hill, me starting the last week of punishment, and her heading to crew practice at the boathouse before the dinner bell.
I’m glad for their insane training schedule, because it means Addisyn, their new captain, will also be down there for the near future and unlikely to trek back through the forest path and to the dorms for a few hours.
My features are tight as I take the walkway to Thorne House, so immersed in the logistics of our plan and where I need to search in her room first (under the mattress. Like sister, like sister, right?) that I don’t count the three figures idling by the dorms until I’m practically on top of them.
“Shit—” I blurt, then come to a stop, screwing up my brows. I’m standing with Chase, Emma, and … Eden?
“Hey,” Eden mumbles under her blanket of black hair. She keeps close to Emma while Chase steps forward, hands spread and prepared to argue their case.
Virtue (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 2) Page 20
