The Society

by Michelle Brown

  “I'll allow her. Hell, I'll even pay for the whole thing,” a soft feminine voice purrs as Adeline Montgomery sashays into the room, followed by four masked people. I recognize Devin Johnson and Gisette Grim, but I can't tell who the others are in this lighting, but I'm not surprised. Randolph always did underestimate his wife, rookie mistake.

  Adeline moves over to Lena and takes the knife gently out of her hand with what I would almost describe as a proud smile, before she places it back on its pedestal.

  Taking a seat on the chaise lounge Lena and I were just making out on, Adeline crosses her leg, revealing a generous amount of skin as she leans forward and addresses her husband. “Lena will do whatever she wants with her life, Randolph. She is eighteen and has the potential to be someone incredible, I won't let you stamp that out for your own failing political gains.”

  “Failing?” Her father sputters as he tries to rise, but one of the masked Society members pushes him back down.

  Looking at the rings on her fingers, Adeline sounds bored and unsympathetic as she explains, “The Society has decided that your reign must come to an end. You will not be participating in the elections this year.”

  “You can't—” Randolph tries to stand again, only to be shoved back down, harder this time.

  Adeline smiles, and it's almost predatory, the woman terrifies me. “Oh, my dear, I can, and I have.” Leaning back, she addresses the masked men, “Devin, please escort the mayor back to his guests. The dancing has already begun, and he's missing all of the fun.”

  Adeline stands with a small sigh, fluffs her hair, and adjusts her mask. “Lena, we'll talk about this later, but I think it would be best if you go with Tristan this evening. Your father doesn't seem to understand the situation, and I feel like I may be up late tonight explaining it to him. In depth.”

  Lena looks to me for a second, hesitant and unsure. I take her hand with a grin. Lena at my house? In my bed? I had no problem with that at all. In fact, seeing her tonight, watching as she claimed her independence, made me love her just that little bit more.

  “Adeline, I want that knife,” I call out to Elena's mother as she leaves. Leaning in towards Lena, I whisper, “It looks so fucking hot in your hands.”

  Turning, Adeline nods with a sinister smile. “I will make sure to put the bid in for you.”

  We’ve not even been in my house for twenty minutes when I get a call from the security at the gate saying that Blythe is demanding to be let onto the property and is causing a scene.

  “I have to go and deal with this, are you okay here on your own for ten minutes?” I ask Lena as I hand her a T-shirt and some shorts to change into.

  She rolls her eyes and whispers ‘manwhore’ under her breath but nods with a small smile. I think it’s still sinking in, tonight’s events and how nothing is going to be the same again. Her father won’t be mayor for much longer, her mother is finally pulling rank, and Lena, well, Lena is free to do what she wants.

  Running down the stairs and out the door, I barely register the two empty wine glasses on my kitchen counter. My father is away until next week again, so thankfully I don’t have to worry about him just yet. The furniture for my apartment was arriving tomorrow, and we could move there without even running into him. I didn't need to be watching my back, worrying about Lena’s safety in my own house.

  When I get to the gate, I can tell straight away that Blythe is off her face, she’s obviously been at a party and hit the drugs a little hard. Her hair is a mess and her makeup is smeared over her face as she sways unsteadily.

  “Tristan! Baby! Why won’t you answer my calls?” she screams as she sees me.

  “Call an ambulance,” I say to the guy on security as I hand him my phone. “And here, this is the number for her parents.”

  “Tristan!” Her hands come up to her face, and she claws at her cheeks. “Why?”

  She throws herself at me, and I hold her for a moment. “Why what?”

  “Why not me?” she sobs as we sit on the kerb. Why were there wine glasses in my kitchen?

  I stroke her hair gently and answer honestly, even though I know it just hurts Blythe more. “Because it’s always been her. Even when we were kids.”

  “So what was I?” Her fingers are pulling at my clothes as she tries to get closer, as if she’s afraid I’m going to vanish.

  “My friend,” I say simply. The house was dark when we arrived.

  “But I love you!” she cries, snot and tears soaking into my shirt.

  “And I told you not to. I warned you, Blythe.” Where did the glasses come from?

  Swallowing hard, she looks up at me with unfocused eyes. “I’m going to kill her. You’ll have to love me then.”

  “If you touch a hair on her head, I will gut you. Then I will tear out your entrails and use them as garden fertilizer before grinding up your remains and pulverizing them into a paint for my latest piece,” I say softly as I rock her. I’m aware that I sound like my father. My father.

  She stiffens in my arms, and looks up, finally realizing who I am. I’m not her prince, and while usually I am happy to take a step back and let the others do the dirty work, I am still a member of The Society.

  “Did my father arrive home early?” I ask the security guard, and when he nods, it feels like the bottom has dropped out of my world. Elena.

  I race back up to the house, which feels like it's miles away as my heart hammers in my chest. Maybe he's gone to bed. Maybe he hasn't seen her. No, I know better. Two wine glasses means he had a guest over. Having a guest over means he's in a bloodthirsty mood. Fucking and killing go hand in hand for my father, and if he's so much as laid a finger on Lena, I'm going to choke him with his own intestines.

  “Lena,” I call out as I burst through the front door, sweat beading on my forehead. “Lena!” I'm shouting now. I rush to the bottom of the stairs, ready to run up to my room, praying that she's still sitting on my bed, when I notice a movement in the kitchen.

  I approach slowly, not sure what I'm about to find as it feels like a ton of rocks have settled in the pit of my stomach. The kitchen is mostly in darkness, only the spotlights are on as I move around the breakfast bar and over to where the dining table is.

  I exhale with relief when I see Elena in the shadows. I inhale, confused, when I see that her gold dress is now soaked in blood, the ruby liquid soaking up the silk as she hovers over my father's body, frying pan in hand.

  “What happened?” I whisper as I bend down and check for a pulse. There isn’t one.

  “I heard him down here,” she whispers. “I thought he was you.”

  “And then?” His face is caved in, barely recognizable, she really did a number on him.

  She tilts her head as she processes, still clutching the pan. “He was washing blood off his hands...He...he tried to...I grabbed the pan. I didn't know what else to do.”

  She isn't crying, but I wonder if she's in shock as she grabs the fabric of her dress and lifts it, to avoid trailing blood through my kitchen as she dumps the dented, deformed pan in the sink.

  “You did what you had to.” I try to reassure her as guilt stabs at me. I knew he had a thing for Lena, I knew it, and I brought her here anyway. I should've just taken us to a hotel.

  Shrugging, she gently moves her fingers over a tear in her dress. “I lost control.”

  My fists ball up as I think of him trying to rip her clothes off. Fucker. “Do you feel out of control?”

  “No.” She sounds confused, and it makes me want to hold her, so I do.

  I pull her head to my chest as I wrap my arms around her back. “That's because you didn't lose control. You wanted to kill him, and you did. That's progress, not losing it.”

  Lena was beautiful and deadly, she was power and dedication all wrapped up in a sinfully gorgeous package, and I had always known that the sooner she embraced both sides of herself, the happier she'd be. The way she disposed of my father without so much as a tear told me that she was one step
closer to being the queen I knew she could be. Hell, even her mother recognized her potential.

  “He's your father…”

  I scoff, I didn't care for the man, and The Society wouldn't mourn his loss either. Especially not with the attention his proclivities were beginning to garner. "The Society won't care as long as his businesses keep making them money."

  Lena looks up at me, confusion swirling in her big green eyes. “How can they? He's dead.”

  Laughing, I squeeze her tighter. “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Look, we'll worry about this later, but for now, maybe we should bury him? And clean this up?”

  We both look over the pulpy, bloody mess for a moment. My hands cup her blood-smeared face as I kiss the tip of her nose. “I kinda dig you all bloody and wet though.”

  She frowns and looks down at herself. “I'm sticky, for all the wrong reasons, and it's not a nice feeling.”

  “Fine,” I groan, at her innuendo. I was desperate to be buried inside Lena Montgomery but sex was going to have to wait. Again. “There's a spot I know of.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elena

  Tristan grumbles as he carries his father's body out into the woods at the back of his property. He moans as he finds two shovels from the gardener's shed, and then he whines when a spider runs up his arm. Part of me wants him to be quiet and the other part is glad that he's being his usual irritating self. It makes me feel a little calmer, like I haven't lost the plot and turned into some sort of bloodthirsty murderer.

  “Just dig,” I groan as I catch Tristan looking over at me, his appreciative gaze taking in my cleavage as I lean over and roll his father's body closer to the edge of the hole we were digging. I'd cut my dress shorter in the kitchen, but I hadn't changed completely yet because it was already ruined, I may as well bury a body in the remains of the dress before burning it.

  He sighs, making a face. “Elena...what does it look like I’m doing?”

  Chuckling, I shove Malcolm over once more. “Moaning? Complaining? Whining? Staring at my tits?”

  Again, I can't get over how normal I feel. Maybe it's because my parents never hid The Society from me. I had always known its reach, the power of wealth, but the last few weeks were the first time I'd felt like I was part of it.

  “So, you want me to pretend that I want to be here instead of in my bed with you?” He teases as he throws more dirt over his shoulder. "Like it’s a date or something?”

  The hole he's digging isn't very big, but it's deep. I guess that's why he also grabbed an axe from the shed. I knew Tristan had no love for his father, but chopping the man up like parsley felt a little harsh.

  I take a deep breath and embrace the anger simmering away beneath my skin. The man tried to attack me, his hands were all over me, his mouth on my skin, he doesn't deserve my pity. Fuck it, grind him up like pepper and sprinkle him in the mud for all I care.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. We'd never been on a date, so I'm not sure that I want to call this our first one. Especially since the evening has been a giant shit-show, first with my father catching us in The Marble Hall, then my mother being a surprise badass, Tristan's crazy ex showing up, and ending with Malcolm Radcliffe trying to take something that wasn't his. Now we were in the woods, in the middle of the night, cutting up a body and burying it like it was nothing. In the morning, we'd ring my mother and then The Society would know what we'd done. This was definitely not your standard first-date scenario.

  Tristan climbs out of the hole and takes my bloodstained hand in his muddy one. “Lena, there is no one I’d rather be burying this body with than you. But I'd still rather be kissing you in my room. Better?”

  “No," I laugh. “Well, a little.”

  He gives me a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Now, grab a shovel and help.”

  By the time we're finished, I feel beyond grimy, there is dried blood caking my skin, sweat making me feel slick, and mud in places I didn't know existed. I feel like I'm the one who's been buried, and I've had to claw my way out of the earth as I watch Tristan pat down the soil with the back of his shovel.

  “Christ, let's not do this again,” he groans, finally happy with his father's burial spot.

  “The burying or the murder?” I chuckle as I brush my hair out of my face and stretch my back. I am sore and achy in a way that usually only ballet does for me, and I don't mind. I feel calm.

  "The digging. Let's just hire someone next time, The Reapers can take care of it." At the mention of The Reapers, I shiver, it was what some people in The Society called members of the Grim family, and even though my mother was a Grim, the others still made me nervous.

  “Let's just avoid there being a next time.” I raise an eyebrow at him as I take both shovels and head towards the shed.

  “Be realistic, Lena.” He gives me a look, swinging the axe casually as he follows.

  “I know.” There was no escaping our way of life, not if we wanted to escape with our lives.

  Once everything is back where it should be, Tristan texts Atlas, who arranges a clean-up crew to come tomorrow, and we head upstairs. On the bed are the clothes Tristan gave me earlier, and I almost groan when I see them. I can't wait to get out of this stupid fucking corset and shower. I wriggle, trying to unlace myself but not getting very far when I feel Tristan's warm hands on skin.

  “Here, let me help.” He tugs at the ribbons and struggles with the tiny hooks, cursing as he frees me. “What did they have to do to stuff you in this fucking thing? Lena, the skin on your ribs is raw.”

  I push the remains of my gown all the way off, not caring that I’m standing in front of him naked as he runs his fingers over my back carefully. Shrugging, I look down and see the marks. “Yeah, the boning has been cutting in all night.”

  “Why didn't you say something?” he demands, turning me to face him.

  “Because I had other things going on,” I reply nonchalantly, or did he forget the whole drama of this evening?

  He cups my face, and I should be annoyed, but I love it. “This stops now. Your health comes first. What you want comes first. No more stupid diets or hobbies that, honestly, you suck at. The violin, for Christ’s sake.”

  I snort at the way he hisses ‘violin’, I wasn’t as bad as he made out. Looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes, I whisper, “Does that include college?”

  Placing a hand under my chin, he tilts my head up and looks at me as if I was asking a stupid question. “Of course it does. What a waste of your big brain otherwise.”

  Taking a step back, he strips off his own filthy shirt and pants, he’d already disposed of his jacket and vest earlier. “And besides, I wouldn't mind being a stay-at-home parent while my wife is out, busy making money using her expensive education.”

  I almost gag. “Parent and wife are not words I am ready for tonight, so please, shut up.”

  Grabbing my hip, he pulls me back flush against his naked body. I can feel his erection against my stomach as he leans down and whispers, “Make me, Princess.”

  I murmur against his mouth, “Why are you such a brat, Tris?”

  “Because you love it.” And he’s right. I do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tristan

  Lena gets off on being in charge, and I get off on seeing her get off, so it’s a win for me no matter what happens. No other girl has dared to pull my hair, bite me, or tell me that I’m being a fucking douchebag, but Lena does, and that’s why I love her.

  I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist as I move us into the bathroom. The waiting is killing me as I turn on the water and move her under the warm jets. If I’d had my way, I would’ve thrown her on the bed and we would be fucking already, but I know she’s feeling shitty, and I don’t want our first time to be rushed and dirty, and not in a good way.

  She unwraps herself from me as I grab a cloth. Slowly, I move down her body, washing away the blood and dirt. Cupping one of her tits, I pretend to
wash the other one as she laughs. Taking her nipple in my mouth, I suck before flicking my tongue over the nub roughly. I move the washcloth down over her stomach, before sliding it between her legs. She moans softly at the friction as I drag the material over her skin and down her thighs, her nipple still between my teeth. The water running down her body makes everything slippery and silky as I drop the cloth and replace it with my fingers. She gasps as I slide two fingers inside her for the second time that night. My thumb trails lazy circles over her clit as my fingers slip in and out of her tight cunt. Fuck, I think I could come just from watching as her hips roll, her tight stomach muscles rippling as her tits bounce and her body shudders. Her dancer's body is perfection. Teasing her nipple, I can’t get over the noises she makes, her moan is like a drug, and I want that shit recorded and played on repeat.

  Hand in my hair, Lena yanks my head back, but it isn’t to chastise me for being rough.

  She pulls me up, the sting of my scalp making it all the more delicious as she claims my mouth. I may have to grow my hair a little longer if she’s going to keep tugging on me like this. I can feel she’s close to orgasm, but this time when she comes undone I want to be buried deep inside her.

  “If you don’t fuck me now, I’m sleeping in the spare room,” she growls against my neck before sinking her teeth into my skin, and I grin.

  Grabbing her legs and lifting her again, I place my cock against her, much to her frustration as she moves her hips, rubbing herself over my hardness.

  “This is not fucking, Tris,” she groans as I place one hand against the tiles to steady us, my other around her waist as she moves. She bites down on my bottom lip, drawing blood, and I know it’s a warning as her fingers dig into my shoulders.

  “Just remember, you wanted this,” I whisper as I slam into her. My thrusts are unrelenting and unforgiving as she shatters, pinned against my bathroom tiles. I can feel her pussy clenching around me like a fucking vice, and as much as I want to come, I’m not done yet.