Dark Ties: Broken Saints Society 1

by Thorne, Leia

  Oh, my god.

  Gage thrusts two fingers inside me as his thumb presses hard to my clit, and I cry out. Charged heat courses my body, electric webs spark over my skin, all centered on that one erogenous zone deep inside my core.

  The orgasm takes hold fast and all at once.

  I slow my breathing as the gratifying pressure ebbs, my body drunk on the tranquil feeling.

  Sawyer smoothes my bangs away from my face. “To quote Rush, that was hot,” she says, then kisses my cheek.

  I nod. “That was…” I have no words. It’s fucking addictive. I know the world is consumed with sex—it’s everywhere. And yet, somehow, I never understood the draw, just how intoxicating it can be—like the ultimate drug.

  Gage glides his thumb across my bottom lip. “It was perfect.” Then he pushes the heel of his hand against his crotch, groaning. “All except the mad blue balls I’m going to have soon.”

  “Why don’t you go take care of that?” Sawyer says, ticking her head in the direction of Palmer and the others.

  A severe look passes between them, some silent communication, and Gage says, “I’m fine right here with you two.”

  Sawyer shrugs, and she refocuses her attention on me. “So now you know our secret world.” She twirls a length of my hair around her finger. “The secret society of Broken Saints.”

  Now that the adrenaline has receded, drowsiness creeps over me. Her statement feels more like a question and catches me off-guard. “Is this for real?”

  Other than what Roland revealed to me—which I’m not sure how much of his opinion I can trust—there were whispers at the academy, but…like I considered before, wouldn’t the whole school—hell, the whole town—be talking about it?

  “Do you know anything about the way a secret society works?” Gage asks me.

  “Like, the Illuminati?” I laugh. “I thought that was a myth.”

  “Some are,” he says, bracing his forearms on his knees, “and some are just really good at keeping secrets.” He winks.

  I nod slowly. “So, the gossip is true,” I say. “You’re in some secret sex society.”

  Sawyer laughs. “It’s far more interesting than that. But essentially, yes.” She stands and pulls me up beside her. “Come on.”

  Gage and Sawyer lead me out to the balcony, leaving Rush, Palmer, and Emry still going at it in the middle of the living room…and this all just feels too surreal.

  Sawyer steps toward the railing, and I follow her. Crescent Valley looks different from up here, like a college town, with pathways winding through the park and gothic structures reaching high in competition with the red cedar trees. A thousand lights dot the town like an illuminated star map. The horizon is lined with the inky lake top as it cradles the town in its embrace.

  Sawyer moves behind me and scoops my hair into a ponytail, lifting the weight off my shoulders. “It’s deceiving, isn’t it?” she says. “It’s so quiet and ordinary. No one ever hears about Crescent Valley on the news; I wonder if anyone even knows it exists.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t know it did,” I say.

  She laughs. “Why do you think some of the most powerful and wealthy people in the world live here?”

  It’s a good question. One I never really cared to ask. “The scenery?” I say.

  Gage steps beside me, casting his gaze out over the town. “Refuge,” he says, then looks at me. “This little suburb is a haven for the elite.”

  I have no idea what that means, or how that pertains to me. “I’m not an elite,” I tell him honestly.

  “But you could be,” he says. “Do you know how it feels to control every single aspect of your own life? Not to have to answer to anyone, to make the laws, the rules. To be accepted into any college you desire and obtain any career you set your mind to?”

  My chest prickles with alarm. “I don’t…”

  “I’m inviting you into my world, offering you the golden ticket.” Gage moves closer, his cologne invading my senses.

  “But…why?” I ask. Why me?

  “Because I need you,” he says simply. “Societies aren’t operated by one person. They’re built by a small, select group, and they require trust.” His penetrating blue gaze ensnares me. “Trust is utmost.”

  His reaction to my trust issues the night of the game suddenly makes sense…if this is what his whole world revolves around. I nod once. “I get it, Gage. But I just don’t understand what I can offer you. Or anyone.” I shake my head. “I’m not old money. My grandfather got lucky in the stock market, and now my father suddenly gets this inheritance. I wasn’t raised like you or Sawyer, or anyone else at Brighton.” I frown. “I don’t belong here.”

  Sawyer settles on the railing beside me. “You can belong to us, and that’s all that will matter. This new world you’ve entered into…” She trails off. “It can eat you alive. The game of money is a dangerous one if you don’t know the rules, and I like you. I really do. You’re a fresh breath of air in this stifling community, and I feel like I need that. We need that.”

  Gage sinks his hands in his pockets. “We both need someone we can trust,” he stresses. “Here’s the thing. It’s my belief that rules stifle innovation and the pursuit of greatness. I have a theory about the truly great leaders, and it’s my mission to prove it. I don’t want to go through this life like my parents. Chained to a company and its investors. Miserable by the age of forty, drinking my misery away and summering in the Hamptons with a mistress.” He cocks his head. “That shit is lame, and I refuse to be just another Astor in a long line of redundancy.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “Okay…”

  “I’m offering you knowledge, power, unlimited resources,” Gage forces the subject. “To do whatever you want this year with no repercussions. But if you think you can’t handle that, then… You’re not who I thought you were.”

  Sawyer speaks up. “We can still be friends,” she says.

  But I feel like that’s not the case. If I say no right here, now, what will happen tomorrow? I have sailed through my first month at Brighton Saints. But that was because I was the lucky chosen. Even the teachers look at me with awe.

  And didn’t I say I wanted to coast through this year?

  How demanding can it be to become a Broken Saint? Money, cars, shopping, sex. I want to laugh; it sounds so insane. Who would turn down the chance to live the high life for senior year?

  “Can I think about it?” I ask.

  Sawyer studies me through a thick fringe of lashes. “One week.” She touches my arm. “By this Saturday, you’ll have to decide.”

  I squint at her. “Why a week?”

  “Because that’s all the time I’ll need to convince you.” Her smile is sultry.

  “All right. Fair enough.”

  “Come on,” she says. “I’ll take you home.”

  This is their society—their own little culture, with no restrictions, solely devoted to gratification and indulgence. But where’s the catch?

  From what this life has taught me thus far, when it comes to me, pleasure is always accompanied with pain. Unless their prestigious wealth and power can control the universe itself, there is always a tradeoff.

  Chapter 17

  Remi

  The thing about absolutely anything in today’s time is, there is Google. Abundant knowledge all in your phone. I spent a few hours this past weekend searching websites and reading Wiki pages about secret societies. I also shamelessly rented a couple of movies.

  It all feels very pretentious. And honestly, like secret societies are for the ridiculously rich to feel they have one more privileged thing over regular people. Similar to golf clubs and yacht clubs…but with salacious sex and secrets. There’s not much factual information on the Internet, and I wonder if I asked Gage about it, he’d claim that’s because the societies make sure there’s not.

  I smile to myself at the thought as I push through the doors of A hall on my way toward the gray and dismal morning in the courty
ard.

  After my second week, I was schooled on where everyone “hangs out” before first block. Even the elite Broken Saints have their own station amid the students of Brighton, centered right in the middle of the stone wall crawling with ivy.

  They’re lined up like some beautiful modern artwork along the wall now. Gage in the middle, his crooked smile with the pop of dimples, his dirty-blond hair kempt and gelled in stylish disarray, his glasses that, no matter how hard he tries to effect smart, makes him look sexy as sin.

  As I walk toward them, I understand why Gage chose the members he did. I can reason what Palmer, with her beauty and talent for ballet, can offer. Even Rush, though he’s mostly crass and wild, has a place. He’s attending Harvard. He’s going to be a household name in sports. Emry is a genius, and one day might cure cancer, or win a Nobel Prize.

  Sawyer… She’s the epitome is refined taste and wealth. I can see her consulting politicians—maybe the first woman president—in her future consulting firm.

  I get it—I really do. These are the future movers and shakers of the world. They’ll all have this secret, this inside joke, when they run into each other at benefits and parties. Oh, remember that time we banged on the floor of the penthouse?

  For regular people, for the rest of us, we can’t fathom that sense of humor. But for people who already have everything, sex might just be the ultimate trade and currency.

  What the hell do I know?

  For me, my choice is based on how the cheerleaders look at me when I’m alone. Like the queen bee Sadie; she’s just waiting for Sawyer to use me up and toss me aside, so she can pour Nair in my shampoo bottle after gym.

  Judge me if you want, but I like the feeling of being accepted. I like that these rare, beautiful creatures have plucked me out of a sea of students and believe that I really could be one of them.

  According to Sawyer, all I have to do is pledge to Gage.

  Looking at him now, his blue eyes trained on me as I approach him…knowing what his hands feel like on my body…I can’t imagine I’ll have any issue pledging my soul to his hotness.

  I’m not shallow; I’m human.

  “Hey, beautiful,” Gage says, giving me a soft kiss. “Ready for tomorrow?”

  I take a deep breath and nod. “I am.”

  He drapes an arm around my shoulder, easing me between him and Rush. “This is for you.” Gage slips something into my backpack. “It’s a credit card.”

  I stare up at him. “For what?”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “For anything you want,” he says, “within reason. We have homecoming soon. I’d like you to go with me. Be my date.” He winks. “So, you’ll need a dress.”

  The burn of indigent pride rears inside my chest. “Gage, I can buy my own dress.”

  He faces me fully. “I know. This isn’t about money. This is about belonging.” He lowers his voice. “You have to learn to trust me, Remi. Completely. If I give you a credit card, use it. Don’t question it or me.”

  I bite my lip, nodding. “Sorry.”

  His lips twist into a smile. “And you’re never sorry. To anyone.” He kisses my forehead, then motions for the group to start toward the B hall entrance.

  The bell rings, and Sawyer waves as she and Palmer head off toward their class. Gage walks me to my locker, and I can feel the probing looks. The question started floating through the halls and cliques last week: are they a couple?

  I’m not really sure… What does it mean to be with Gage Astor?

  He waits for me as I take out books from my locker, his gaze inspecting the sparse decorations on the inside locker panel. “No pictures?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I was going to put up a couple from back home…” I trail off. Since I’ve been falling out more and more with Aubrey and Piper, the thought of staring at their faces between classes kind of hurts.

  “We’ll take pics this weekend,” Gage says, reassuring. “You can pin those.”

  I smile up at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

  New life. New friends. New pictures to replace memories.

  “You don’t have to wait for me,” I say. We have first block together, but he’s never waited at my locker before, unless this is his way of stating that yes, we’re an item. I raise an eyebrow.

  “I want to,” he says, and his smile crooks up into his alluring grin, until he spots Roland. His features adopt a hard mask.

  Roland approaches us with a mirrored, sever expression. “Astor,” he says curtly.

  “Masters,” Gage replies.

  A thick tension vibrates between them, and I try to move faster.

  “Remi is off-limits now,” Gage tells him. “You got that? Don’t fill her head with your loser, conspiracy bullshit.” He pushes off the locker and heads around me, stepping close to Roland. “If you have something to say, you say it to me.”

  Roland sneers at Gage. “I have plenty to say.” He pushes closer to Gage, knocking into his chest.

  I glance between them, noticing the stares as students walk by. “Guys…” I grab Gage’s arm, trying to pull him toward me. “Stop.”

  Gage takes a step back and cocks his chin. “See you around, Masters.”

  Roland looks at me, his gaze fliting to my hand locked around Gage’s bicep. He shakes his head, then storms off.

  Gage hands me a slip of paper. “Here’s your new locker number.”

  I blow out a breath. “What was that about?” But I already know, don’t I? Just last week, Roland told me that Lesley de Pont didn’t commit suicide. Does Gage know that? Has Roland been telling others his crazy theory?

  “I’m okay here,” I tell Gage. “Really. He doesn’t bother me.”

  He tilts his head. “He’s not safe, Remi. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

  “I get that, but I really can take care of myself.”

  He smiles. “I have no doubt. Come on.”

  On the way to science block, Gage laces his fingers through mine, officially announcing to the school that we are, in fact, an item.

  If I thought my first month at Brighton was interesting, I was wrong, so dead wrong. Gage just kicked things up a notch, and I’m about to be put through trial by fire the elite way.

  * * *

  Friday evening, and Palmer is the one who picks me up after school in her cherry-red Porsche. I just shake my head as I slide into the passenger seat.

  This is not my life.

  I did a quick job cleaning my room, for some reason feeling the need to keep my dad at bay. Not that he’s paid much attention lately—but just in case he decides to suddenly give a damn.

  I put the credit card in my underwear drawer, then moved it to my closet. I’m not comfortable spending Gage’s money, or whoever’s money that account is linked to. At least, not yet. Not until I understand exactly what I’m getting myself into.

  My mom always used to say: nothing in life is free. It still hurts to think about her, so I try not to most days, but the moment Gage slipped the card into my pack it was as if I heard her voice whispering to me.

  I brush my hands over my arms, chasing away the sudden chill, and Palmer peeks over at me. “Cold?”

  I shake my head. “No, just… Honestly?”

  “Sure,” she says, gripping the wheel.

  “Nervous. What the hell is going to happen tonight?”

  She giggles. “Don’t worry so much. You’ll do fine.”

  That’s not very reassuring. “What did you have to do to join?”

  “It wasn’t like that for me,” she says, more contemplative than I’ve ever seen her. “I was broken, Remi. I was in pain.” She glances at me, her eyes serious. “I fell in love with Sawyer and Gage, and the freedom they offered me to just be myself. I practically begged Sawyer to accept me…I needed a place of my own, away from my mother and her insanity.”

  “How did you know about it?”

  She smiles ruefully. “Everyone knows about it. Just no one talks about it. That is, if they’re wise.”<
br />
  She pulls into the parking garage at Leighton Tower, and says a sweet “hello” to the security guard. After she parks in the designated spot, she waves me over.

  “Listen,” she says, her voice lowered. “You have to give something up.”

  I shake my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Gage requires a pledge,” she explains. “You’ll only be asked this once, so I want you to be prepared. If you say no—which is totally your right—then you can’t join.”

  Realization dawns. “I’m a virgin,” I say, my chest tightening.

  She touches a length of my hair, pushing it over my shoulder. “It’s a part of the initiation process,” she confirms. “You have to pick someone.”

  “To…have sex with?” I ask for clarity.

  “Yes. There’s a lot that Sawyer and Gage leave out… You haven’t even scratched the surface.” She looks around quickly. “But you can’t know any of that until you’re in. Trust me. Your virginity isn’t that precious. You’re lucky you get the choice to give it away.”

  Her smile is sad, dejected, and I want to ask her more…but I’m afraid to know at the same time. “Thank you,” is all I manage to say.

  As we enter the elevator, my stomach knots, and I’m more than curious as to what the society has hidden beneath its veneer of money and sex—but I’m also a bit terrified.

  This is high school. Fucking high school. It doesn’t feel real. But when the elevator doors open, and the cultured atmosphere surrounds me, it’s like I’m stepping into the unknown…swathed in Armani.

  I take a breath and walk inside, determined to earn my place. Despite what Palmer said, I don’t want to go back to my old life. To the pain. The fear. The anxiety. The shame…

  For nearly a month, I’ve been someone else—a girl without a past. And I can’t lose that. I can’t face every day with the same reminders, the same punishing thoughts. I need to take the risk.

  Sawyer and Gage are seated on the white sofa sharing a drink, casual, calm. When Sawyer looks up at me, she smiles. She stands and motions me over toward her as she heads to the wet bar.