Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Lucas

I declared her as my consort in front of everyone and now she wears my pendant. The rush I get from seeing my symbol around her neck is like hit straight to the vein. It's the most intense high I've ever felt.

I've denied myself this for so long—for Gabriel. I'd already taken so much from him, so when he made his move on Wyn, I just sat back and let him. Watching that shit was torture, but it's what I deserved, so I didn't say shit to anyone.

But Wyn was right about one thing. Gabriel is gone now.

I'm holding her in my arms when her head falls back and her eyes drift closed. She moans, then settles back into the warm slumber induced by the drugs I slipped into her champagne. It was a small dose, just enough to take the fight out of her for the next hour or so.

Dipping my head, I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and bite down hard, drawing a little blood. She stirs in my arms, her brows pinching together, but the drug has done its work, and she doesn't wake.

With a flick of my tongue, I clean the blood off her plump bottom lip, the metallic tang feeding that deep gnawing hunger inside me.

I pull back to look down at her face, her lashes resting on her curved cheek. The whole room is listening, but I'm speaking only to her. "Now you're bound to me in blood."

My cock stirs to life, and I have the sudden urge to take her here, right now, solidifying my claim. But I'm not sharing her again. I had to fuck her in front of everyone at her initiation, but now she's mine, and no one but me will hear her little moans of pleasure when he comes. Not unless they have a death wish.

Silently, I lift her dead weight over my shoulder and turn to my brothers. They all look more annoyed than shocked by what just happened. I didn't give them a heads-up about any of it. "Close it out for me," I say to Christian.

He looks at me like, what the fuck?

Whatever. He'll do what needs to be done. Leaving the room, I move quickly up the main staircase, and head straight to my room, kicking the door open with my foot. She rouses a little as I lay her down on my mattress. Then I go back to shut and lock the door and set my camera up.

I've never recorded a girl before. I've never wanted to. I mean, once I come, who gives a fuck? But with Wyn, damn, I want to savor her.

When I'm done setting everything up, I look down at her, lying in a puddle of velvet created by her robe. She looks so innocent, vulnerable, and my cock twitches behind the zipper of my black slacks.

Her mouth is open slightly, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed. I take my time removing her robe, opening it up like a package on Christmas day.

"Goddamn," I whisper, awestruck, my gaze settling on the pendant that has settled into the hallow between her collarbones. My pendant. "You are so fucking perfect. What have you done to me?"

She's wearing a short dress, and the skirt is pulled up slightly, revealing her white lacy underwear. Through the lace, I can see the trimmed patch of dark hair between her thighs and it makes my mouth water.

With the tip of my finger, I smooth the thin strap off her shoulder. She's not wearing a bra, so when the bodice sags, it reveals the swell of her breast and one petal-pink nipple. It puckers under my scrutiny, and my cock twitches.

She's laid out in front of me like a fucking buffet.

I can't even wait until she's fully undressed. Pushing her thighs wide, I tug the crotch of her panties aside and spread her pussy lips open, touching my tongue to her clit. She moans faintly and that sound fuels the sickness inside me. I push my face deeper and stroke her soft channel with my tongue. Her hips lift up a fraction like she's fighting the drug, her body instinctively responding to me.

For the last year, I've jerked off to thoughts of her so many damn times, I can't even count. Only after Gabriel's death did I act on the fantasies of her that ran inside my head like a fucking film reel. And now that I have her, I'm making those fantasies a reality.

That's where the drug comes in. I knew she'd fight me initially, so I gave her just enough to keep her pliant, but not enough to completely knock her out. I want her aware of whose cock is buried inside her, making her scream.

Wyn has convinced herself that she's a good girl, someone who doesn't enjoy the pain that comes with pleasure. But I wasn't lying earlier when I told her we were one and the same. I saw it in her that first night I fucked her, at her initiation.

As I eat her out, devouring her sweet honey, she moans again, and the muscles in her thighs tense. I slide my hand under her ass to bring her closer to me, my face drenched in her juices.

If I could eat just one thing for the rest of my godforsaken life, it would be this pussy. But it's more than just wanting her body. It's a profound and confusing need to devour her spirit. To break her and hollow her out until there's no hatred left for me, only a hunger to be mine…

Squeezing her ass, I pull my tongue back and suck on her clit. Even drugged, she responds to that, her body twisting beneath me. Lifting myself up, my body curves over her as I replace my tongue with two fingers. Her pussy is so wet, I can barely get enough traction.

"You feel that, baby?" I whisper harshly in her ear as I finger-fuck her. She moans and moves her head from side to side. "I fucking own you. I own your body." Her brows scrunch like she's trying to claw her way back to lucidity. My little fighter. "Say my name," I coach, using my thumb to tease her clit. Her hips lift off the mattress, hungry for that release only I can give her. "Say it, baby…"

"Mmm," she moans, fighting through the drug. "Lucas, pl?—"

"That's it," I say, taking the lobe of her ear between my teeth and biting down. She needs a little pain with her orgasm, I know that about her now.

Pushing deeper into her pussy, I apply more pressure to her clit. Her back arches, pushing those beautiful tits into the air. Her channel clenches tightly around my fingers as she comes. The walls of her channel pulse as the orgasm takes over her body, and when it's over, she melts back into the mattress.

With my fingers still inside her, I pull back and look at her face—her flushed cheeks, her pink lips, the dew-like sweat gathering on her temples. Her breathing is labored, but her eyes are still closed. And am I imagining it, or is there a faint smile on her lips?

Lifting off the mattress, I walk to the bathroom to clean up. I'm washing my face, the water running, when I hear a knock on my door. "Yo!" I call out. "Just a minute."

I dry my hands and toss a blanket over Wyn before pulling my bedroom door open. It's my brother. He's leaning against the doorframe, looking annoyed, as usual.

"Yo." His gaze flicks over my shoulder to Wyn on the bed. "The meeting is over. You're wanted downstairs."

"I'm busy," I say. "That should be fucking obvious."

He pushes off the doorframe and is already walking away when he says, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what this shit is about. Come on, pussy, let's go."

Fucking asshole.

Turning off the camera, I grab my keys off my desk, my gaze lingering on Wyn a second before I shut the door, lock it, and then follow Lucas downstairs to the study. Jackson and Ash are waiting for us, and they've already removed their robes. They're the only ones in the room, which means they've kicked everyone else out.

Shit. This must be serious.

"What do you guys want?" I say, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone. "I'm fucking busy."

Jackson pushes off the desk. "What the fuck was all that shit with Wyn?"

I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest. "Does it matter? Wyn is my business."

We're five seconds into this fucking conversation, and I can already feel my anger rising. Not because I'm being questioned—I don't give a fuck about that—but because the topic is Wyn. And when it comes to Wyn, I'm guarded as fuck, even with the guys I'd give my damn life for.

Ash steps forward, glancing between Jackson and me. "I have a question—can we just switch our consorts randomly like that?"

My gaze narrows at Ash. "You don't even have a fucking consort yet," I point out. He's been a Sacred Son for several weeks now and still hasn't chosen one.

He flashes me a look. "Yeah, but when I do, can I just…swap her out?"

"No," Christian quickly. "I mean, well, yes, technically. It's not encouraged, because it ends up causing friction with the Debs."

Jackson flicks his chin at me. "Which brings us back to the reason we're here. Ava is pretty upset about what just went down. You should have given her a heads up at the very fuckin' least."

Tilting my head back, I sigh heavily. "When I chose Ava as my consort, I made it very clear to her that a) I won't be faithful, and b) this consort shit is temporary. So whatever disappointment she's feeling is on her."

Jackson pushes out a breath. "I just don't want shit getting complicated with the Debs. With the police following you around like a pack of wolves, we have enough to deal with."

"Any updates on all that?" Ash asks.

I shake my head. "When I know something, you'll know something."

They're just worried about me. I know that. We're bros and what happens to one of us happens to all of us. But I can't tell them what I don't know, and I wish they'd stop asking.

"No news is good news, right?" Ash offers.

"I've tried to check in with my uncle at the Sheriff's station," Jackson says, "but I have a feeling Nawar is deliberately keeping him out of the loop. He must know my uncle has a connection to the Burning Crown."

The Burning Crown is a secret society, but it's not so underground that the police don't know we exist. And it's definitely no secret who the founding families are. We've been around for over a century, so keeping that shit under wraps would be nearly impossible. But by some miracle, we've been able to maintain secrecy surrounding our rituals and bylaws.

"Ah, don't worry about it. All they're going to find is a shit ton of porn on my computer, anyway, so it's whatever." I sigh, propping my asscheek on the back of the leather sofa. "While we're on the topic, I do have a question for you guys, though. Wyn went to see Gabriel's mom, and she said the witness was someone with the last name Pendleton. Does that name sound familiar to any of you?"

We might be in the middle of Southern California, but Malibu is small, and ExU is even smaller. Between the four of us, there's no one we don't know in this town. I've personally never encountered anyone with that last name, though.

Christian shakes his head but says nothing.

"I've never met anyone with that last name," Jackson says. "But I can ask around."

Hm. My gaze shifts to Ash, who hasn't said anything.

"Ash? What's good?" I ask, already mentally up in that bedroom with Wyn. As soon as I get back upstairs, I'm peeling that dress off her, and paying my respects to every dip and curve on her body. Saliva already coats my mouth, ready to worship.

Ash glances up at me, then looks around at the other guys, like he's wondering if he should say anything.

Oh, shit. Here we go.

"Just spit it out," I say. "I have a chick upstairs waiting for my cock."

" Ugh, dude," Christian says, disgusted. "Why'd you have to go and mention your cock? No one in this room wants that."

I roll my eyes at him, but my focus is on Ash, who's acting a little too squirrely for my liking. He shifts and pulls in a deep breath. "Yeah, I've heard that name before."

"Cool," I say impatiently. "Then tell us who it is so we can all go on with our fucking day."

Jezus.

He rubs a hand over his face, suddenly uncomfortable. "Fine, but listen, when I tell you, you've got to swear you guys won't do anything rash."

Rash? I flash him a look. "Dude, get the fuck on with it."

"He's from a rival secret society known as The Order of Shadow and Ash."

I blink at him. "A rival secret society? Are you fucking with us?"

"Nah, that's impossible," Christian says. "We're the only secret society in the area and it's been that way for over a hundred years."

"Has it, though?" Ash makes a face and lifts his hands. "Listen, I'm just telling you what I know. Some guy approached me last year about becoming a member. He didn't tell me his name, but I took a photo of his license plate and had someone look into him. His name is August Pendleton."

I'm so fucking confused, and the only thing that occurs to me is that Ash is indeed fucking with us. If there were a secret society around here, we'd know about it. No question.

"Why would he try to recruit you?" Jackson's gaze is stoic. Out of all of us, he's the hardest to read. I'm sure it has to do with his fucked-up childhood, but he's always been that way.

Ash shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know, he seemed to know who I was, and said something about my being rejected by the Burning Crown."

"Rejected?" I laugh. That shit's funny as hell.

"Yeah, I don't know. I guess he thought I'd been cast out of the Sacred Sons or something. He mentioned Shadow and Ash as being formed from the Burning Crown's cast-offs."

"Wow," Christian says, leaning against the desk. He pulls a blunt and a lighter from his pocket and lights up. "Another secret society. That shit is crazy."

"How many members do they have?" I ask.

"No idea. I told him I wasn't interested, and the conversation ended there," Ash answers. "But while we were talking, I was getting vendetta vibes."

I laugh. "A vendetta for what? Five minutes ago, we didn't even know they fucking existed."

Ash shrugs again. "Just the vibe I got."

Jackson looks at me. "If they're approaching people, you think we should be worried?"

"I'm not sure what to think…" The Burning Crown is incredibly powerful, and it wouldn't be the first time some obscure group has tried to get a piece of that power. But every one of those attempts has failed.

I flick my chin at Jackson. "Can you ask our PI to check into August Pendleton, and see what he can find?"

Jackson nods once.

"And you guys," I say to Ash and Christian. "Ask around— discreetly –and see if anyone has even heard of this Shadow and Ash shit."

Christian solutes casually. "Aye, aye."

I push off the sofa and head for the door. "I'm going upstairs," I say without even turning around, "and the next person to disturb me gets his balls split open and roasted like fucking chestnuts."

A collective groan follows me out the door, but I don't give a fuck. My thoughts are on Wyn, and all the fun ways I'm going to break her…