4

Asher

Present

Blair fucking Bennett.

It hits me like a lightning bolt, ghosts of the past erupt instantly in my mind. Visions of Blair wriggling underneath me. Half-laughing, half-moaning as I ink a black pattern onto her smooth, soft skin—

Fuck. Stop.

I’ve worked long and hard to slice those memories out of my head.

So when I see her face across the room, for a second I think I’m tripping. But then I remember: no drugs, no liquor. I need to be sharp and sober tonight. I clench my fists to ward off the spike of dread that hits me. The other reason why I might be seeing shit that’s not really there. My mom saw things that weren’t real before she died, and sometimes I think that same sickness is lying in wait for me.

But I blink, open my eyes, and she’s still there.

This is no fuckin’ hallucination. It’s Blair Bennett, here, in the flesh.

I’d expect to see her on the fucking moon before I saw her here tonight.

But there she is, her silky chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail, a stupid pink bow fixed in place just like she used to wear. She’s in some white athleisure t-shirt and a matching tennis skirt, sneakers glinting bright against the dirty floor.

I hate that the first thing I think is that she looks more fucking beautiful than I even remember. More delicate, more of a woman, more fuckable. All of the above.

Too bad she’s a heartless, soulless liar underneath it all.

She looks up, and our eyes meet for the first time in years. She freezes, eyes widening, caught like a deer in headlights. Fitting, given those soft brown eyes, big like a baby deer’s. It’s all the same. The smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, freckles I used to count while she slept. The body that would drive stronger men than me fucking insane.

Every guy in the room must be thinking the same thing.

When I’m over the shock, the anger spews in like dirty floodwater. It’s easy to drown out my dick’s opinions when all my fucking hatred for this girl—this woman —is surging through me like it’s brand new. Like freshly torn skin.

I leave my conversation, crossing the room. I feel the eyes of the rest of the group on me, but I wave my hand in a command. They turn back and continue their conversations, still half watching Blair.

“Asher,” she murmurs when I reach her, shrinking against the door. She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself I’m really standing in front of her. “I—”

I cut her off, leaning an arm against the door above her head. “You’re lost, Blair Bennett.”

She frowns. “No, I’m not.”

“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. I’m telling you that you’re lost. Because if you’re actually here by choice, then you’re in big fucking trouble.”

Her stare hardens. Click. She opens the pink purse she’s clutching by her side. It has some fancy-ass designer logo on it. My gut burns thinking how much it probably cost.

Slowly, she plucks something out of it and raises it in front of me.

The invitation. I scan the words.

The Mortalis Society… Blair Bennett… Player.

Player?

What the fuck?

Mortalis Society invites are like gold dust. To the outside world, we don’t exist. Rumors of it travel among the craziest of thrill-seekers and the dark parts of the wealthy elites who fund the whole thing, so they get to spectate. Even then, only a few people each year get invited as players. You have to earn it, prove yourself.

There’s no way Blair is supposed to be here.

“Where did you get that?” I demand.

She shrugs. “It came in the mail a few weeks ago. No name, just an invitation.”

I bark a laugh. “Right. Like the Collective would invite you of all people here tonight.”

“Well, that’s the truth.”

“Cut the shit, Blair. Who got you this?”

She tilts her head. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

My jaw clenches. “You think I invited you?”

“This creepy invitation turns up at my house. I arrive and immediately see someone who I used to…” She trails off and restarts. “I see you . Who else would want me here?”

My tone darkens, dropping to a rumble. “I don’t want you here.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t mean—”

I let out a dark laugh. “Typical. You think the whole world revolves around you. Of course, I’m just hanging around waiting for you to show up. Of course, I’ve been thinking about you this whole time.”

Truth is, I have been thinking about her. Doing more than just that. Only now, it’s not because I worship the ground she walks on. Now, it’s because I can’t seem to slice her out of my mind, even if I took a blade directly to my brain. Even after I’m dead, my ghost would still be thinking about her.

And how much it makes me fucking hate her for it.

This is the girl I once believed to be the center of the universe. Now, I don’t believe the universe has a center. We’re all just floating in space. Once in a while you collide into someone else and one of you shatters into pieces, but that’s it.

But Blair doesn’t need to know any of that.

She shifts, glancing at the door. “Then I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t even know what the Mortalis Society is.”

The surprise in her voice is real, and it throws me. “You seriously don’t know what this is?”

Her blush tinges a little darker behind her freckles. “If it’s so shocking that I don’t, then why don’t you enlighten me?”

“It’s simple. We’re here to play. The Collective who runs it all sets up the challenges. They dare you. If you fail, you’re out. The winner gets the prize.”

Her lips part. “A million dollars.”

“That’s right.”

A million fucking dollars—the biggest they’ve ever offered. And tonight, I’m walking away with it. I’m not letting Blair Bennett or anything else throw me off track.

But the mention of the prize makes me wonder.

“Why are you even here, Blair? This ain’t exactly your scene.”

The Bennetts are rich by even Bel Air standards. That snobby, snuck up old money type of rich. Blair’s never wanted for a damn thing in her life.

She purses her lips. “None of your business.”

I smirk. “You still a secret little adrenaline junkie? Maybe you’re just here for the thrill of it.”

She glances up in surprise. I surprised myself too. I didn’t mean to bring up those days in the past. The days and nights we shared. The days when we used to chase the adrenaline high together.

Those days are just burned-up ashes now.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze.

My jaw ticks. So she’s going to pretend it never happened. A-fuckin’-OK with me.

“So, you’re here for the money.” I let my voice curl with sarcasm. “Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t write a check?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you, Asher. Actually, I don’t think we should be talking at all.”

So she does need the money? I start wondering why the hell she would, but I stop myself going down that path. I’ve wasted enough hours of my life so far thinking about Blair Bennett.

“Fine. But I’ll give you one warning.” I lean a little closer. “This is your last chance. Go back to Bel Air. This isn’t the fucking ballet, Blair. You don’t belong here.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why not? Because I’m a girl?”

“No.” My mouth is bitter with venom, dripping from each word. “Because you’re a spoiled little rich girl. And you have no idea what kind of shit is going to go down here tonight.”

A flicker of fear cuts through her stubborn expression. “I… I know what you’re doing, Asher. You’re trying to scare me.”

“Stay if you want. Just don’t come crying when it all goes wrong.”

“No. I have to be here.”

Blair has no idea what she’s gotten into. One thing’s for damn sure: if she plays tonight, she’s going to end up dead.

“If you don’t walk out now,” I say, “you’re not leaving this building alive.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but the door clicks, swinging open. A guard shouts, “Everybody out. Players, follow the line into the main room. Initiation begins in three minutes.”

Here we fucking go.

I flash a grin, watching the fear shadow Blair’s face as she stares at the exit.

“Too late now,” I murmur in her ear as I brush past her, knocking her back as I push through the door.