Chapter 1

“ I hope you know how reckless this is.”

Ignoring the head of the house and our inside spy, Mrs. Jones, when she whispers in my ear, I reach for another glass to polish on the large table. It gleams by the time I’m done. Mrs. Jones means well, but I won’t rest until I’ve exacted my revenge on the Exodus for the death of my father. If I had my way, I’d burn the entire secret society to the ground—that’s how deep my hatred runs—but Rome wasn’t built in a day. I need to pick my battles carefully, and the Elders are a good starting point. Tomorrow is the Reckoning. A ten-hour period once every ten years where all crimes are legal in Vale for Exodus members. Nothing is off the table. Not even murder. And it’s happening here, in this extravagant cottage. Naturally, I needed to scope out the place beforehand. Mrs. Jones was kind enough to sneak me in under the pretense that I’m part of the hired staff responsible for prepping the cottage before tomorrow’s event, which is why I’m polishing glasses, dressed in a maid’s outfit, feeling ridiculous.

“You’re on your own,” Mrs. Jones says, moving away from me when voices drift from the hallway. “If Mr. Sinclair or Delacroix asks, I’ve never seen you before.”

“Relax,” I reassure her as I reach for another glass. It soon sparkles. “They’re too self-absorbed to pay attention to the paid staff.”

Unimpressed, Mrs. Jones huffs. “You underestimate Mr. Delacroix. He’s observant, not to mention dangerous, and I dare say, out of all the Elders, he’s the cruelest. There’s not a kind bone in that man.” She straightens when two men in pristine suits enter the room.

My eyes lift without consent, and I’m caught in the frostiest, bluest eyes I’ve ever witnessed. While I’ve seen photographs of Mr. Delacroix, they don’t do him justice. But don’t let his good looks fool you. Mr. Delacroix is a monster. A cold-hearted, evil monster incapable of empathy.

For all of five seconds, I allow myself to admire his sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and broad shoulders inside that expensive suit that probably cost more than the average mortgage payment. A blush creeps up my neck as I squash any sexual attraction I feel for the man involved with the secret society responsible for my father’s disappearance.

I’m mortified at finding him even remotely attractive—a man old enough to be my father. I drop my gaze and spend the next few minutes polishing champagne glasses like my life depends on it. Mr. Delacroix and another Elder, Nathaniel Sinclair, retreat to the study across the room. Much to my pleasant surprise, the door is left ajar, and I feel Delacroix’s eyes on me the entire time, but I don’t lift my gaze. Not once.

Earlier, I mapped out the cottage, trying to be as inconspicuous as I could while pretending to vacuum pristine carpets and dust antique gold-framed mirrors. There are security cameras everywhere, but some are more obvious than others, like the one currently aimed in my direction. The Exodus takes security seriously, but I already know that. I also know that Mr. Delacroix is seated behind his desk, watching the security cameras on his monitors while Sinclair discusses business. My ears strain to listen. Why does the table have to be so far away from the study? If only I could get closer.

Sinclair’s rich laughter drifts through the doorway. Delacroix mutters something before he rises from his seat, rounds the desk, and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. His imposing presence instantly suffocates the room, and I feel his eyes burning into me like molten lava against my skin.

I keep my head lowered as I place the glass on the table, careful not to let the tremble in my fingers show. Heart pounding, I pick up another glass by its fragile stem.

Why is he staring? Maybe it was na?ve of me to think I could go unnoticed, because no man has ever ogled me so openly before. I feel naked beneath that hard stare.

“I’d like a word in my office, miss.” He pushes off the doorframe, expecting me to follow.

I finally look up. Delacroix is back behind his desk, sans his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows to reveal tanned, corded forearms.

Sinclair eyes me curiously. I’m in deep shit. This is not how I planned today to pan out. I was meant to scope the place, learn as much as possible about the layout, and then report to the others. I was not meant to catch the attention of Darian Delacroix himself. This is bad news.

After placing the glass and cloth back down, I enter the office with my nerves on edge. Two sets of eyes study me from head to toe. One with curiosity and one with suspicion. Sinclair clears his throat. “I’ve got business to attend to.” He brushes past me in a cloud of bergamot and vanilla cologne, adjusting his circular glasses on his way out.

Delacroix watches me coolly without a change of expression. His eyes rake down my body and then return to my face. “I haven’t seen you here before. What’s your name.”

“Cecilia,” I reply. It takes tremendous willpower to keep my tone friendly. There’s a letter opener beside his tumbler of whiskey on the desk, and I try not to eye it while entertaining fantasizes of ramming it into his throat.

“Cecilia?” he mirrors, waiting for me to follow it up. When he waves an impatient hand, I blurt the first lie that enters my head.

“Cecilia Taylor.”

One of his dark brows rises. “Cecilia Taylor?” His tone is cold enough to rival the Arctic’s temperatures, and judging by the slight tic in his jaw, he knows I’m lying. He spins the letter opener with a finger. “You look very familiar, Cecilia. How old are you?”

I swallow hard, clasping my hands behind my back to hide my tremble. “I’m twenty-five, sir.”

His eyes penetrate through my lies. I’m burning up beneath that glacial stare. “You don’t look old enough to be twenty-five. How long have you worked here?”

“Today’s my first day.” It’s best to stick close to the truth. Mother taught me that. Though I’m only twenty. But I must not, under any circumstances, let Delacroix know my real age.

“Is that so?” He rises from his chair, unfolding like a predatory lion, his long, powerful legs eating up the distance between us. Delacroix moves with purpose, every shift of muscle highlighting his impressive physique, a work of art created by a vengeful god. I try to swallow my fear when he stops before me and openly sweeps his eyes over my face with an indifferent look. A smattering of a beard covers his sharp jaw, and the crow’s feet around his eyes add to his allure. He also smells good, with hints of warm cardamom and tonka bean.

Reaching out, he fingers the white lace collar on my dress. “You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Mr. Sinclair, were you not?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but he takes hold of my jaw in a firm, unforgiving grip, reminding me yet again of how dangerous he truly is. I’ve heard the rumors. Darian Delacroix enjoys instilling fear in people.

“Were you not, Miss Taylor?”

“Yes,” I whisper. There’s no point lying to him about this. Something tells me he could smell it a mile away if I tried.

He hums, his touch softening. “You’re an exquisite, curious little thing, aren’t you? Tell me, why are you here?”

I can’t think when he trails his fingertips over my jaw. “I was hired to clean…sir.”

His lightened touch never falters, even when he warns, “If I find out you lied, Miss Taylor, I’ll destroy everyone you’ve ever loved. And it will be my pleasure.”

To my utmost horror, my lashes flutter when his fingers trail the curve of my neck. How can I be so affected by a man I hate? A man belonging to the secret society I’m here to destroy.

Delacroix slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Take off your clothes.”

My eyes flare as I choke on air. Did I hear him correctly? Surely, he didn’t say what I think he said. “Excuse me?” I blurt.

“Strip.”

A one-word command.

He watches me with unveiled disinterest. I get the distinct sense this is a test of loyalty. Delacroix, one of the most feared Elders of the Exodus, has killed for less. No one says no to him if they want to live to see another day.

My heart pounds harder as I reach for the zipper at my side and slowly lower it. The door is open, but not for long. Delacroix leans into me and pushes it shut. Then he steps back and waits for me to strip out of the dress. His heady scent is everywhere, like a spell cast by an evil sorcerer.

When the zipper is down, I slide the dress off my freckled shoulders. A shiver raises the hairs on my arms as the slight chill in the air licks my bare skin.

Delacroix keeps his attention on my face, scouting for weaknesses or a hint of betrayal. Anything that’ll give me away. The dress pools at my feet, and I stand before the monster of Vale in only my white lace panties and bra. I’m shivering, but not from the chill in the air or the freezing temperature in his eyes. I wet my lips, and Delacroix slips his hand from his pocket to finger my bra strap.

“You look so familiar,” he muses, the backs of his fingers brushing against my goosepimpled skin before he rips the strap with a hard yank.

A gasp escapes my lips. My tits bounce free, achy and heavy. I whimper when he palms a full breast. “My staff is carefully vetted, Miss Taylor, by none other than myself.” He tweaks my pearled nipple, and heat swirls low in my core.

My pussy clenches with my need for this dangerous man, whom I’ve vowed to kill tomorrow when the law is on my side. I don’t have a weapon at my disposal, so it would be foolish to try until I’m prepared.

My gaze slides past him to the letter opener on his desk. If only I could sink it deep into his side and watch him bleed out, but I can’t kill him now unless I want to face a hefty jail sentence. This time tomorrow night, however, he and any other fucker in this building is fair game. It’ll be my own funeral, too, but at least I’ll die knowing I tasted revenge.

“I recognize that look in your eyes.” His smoky, dark voice—like whiskey and cigars—warms me from the inside. “You’re plotting my death.”

A yelp escapes me when he lifts me by the waist as though I weigh nothing and carries me to his desk. My back meets the paperwork and Delacroix tears my lace panties from my body and stuffs them in his back pocket. Without hesitation, he wrenches my legs apart and stares at my shaven pussy. I can’t believe I came here in disguise with the sole intention of scoping out the place before tomorrow night, yet now I’m splayed naked on Mr. Delacroix’s desk like a buffet. Even if I want to say no, I can’t. It would blow my cover. Sure, Delacroix is suspicious, but he doesn’t consider me a threat—yet. I’d be dead if he did.

A hint of heat enters his eyes as he rakes them over my body. And then he reaches for the letter opener and uses it to trace my parted lips. “I saw you eye this up.”

My chest is heaving by the time he drags the letter opener down the curve of my chin and over my throat, pausing at my racing pulse point. “Were you planning on using it, by any chance?”

I hold my breath as he digs the sharp tip into the skin.

“You’d be dead before you could reach for it.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, sir.” It takes everything in me to speak steadily.

A hint of a smile touches his lips, almost like my response amuses him.

The letter opener continues its journey down my body, and he asks, “What’s your real name, Cecilia?”

“I told you my real name,” I croak, and he pauses, but I don’t dare look away from his intense stare.

Something darkens his expression before he places the sharp tip between my breastbones. A shiver takes over my body as he slides the blade to my navel and threatens with a whisper, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gutted someone alive, miss. Word of advice: don’t lie.” Tossing the letter opener to the floor, he spears my slit with his tongue and grips me by the hips to hold me in place.

I throw my head back with such a loud moan that it borders on a scream. I have no shame. Since I’m here, in the enemy’s lair, I might as well enjoy his brand of poison. Delacroix’s skilled mouth and tongue feel divine. Not that I have a lot of experience to compare. I’ve only had sex once, and it was over before it started. Sex has never been something I’ve been interested in until now. Always too busy planning my revenge on the Exodus to waste time on bodily pleasure. But now that Delacroix fucks me with his tongue—owning me in ways I never knew possible—I can’t stop the embarrassing sounds escaping my parted lips. He licks and sucks and nibbles until my thighs shake. Rocking my pussy on his face, I chase my orgasm.

I’m just about to come all over his tongue when he rips himself away and plops down on the desk chair. The way he sits, with his elbows on either armrest, makes him look like a regal, bored king. “What’s your name, Cecilia?”

“Wha-at?” I stutter, barely able to lift my head. My clit pulsates almost painfully. Delacroix’s lips and chin are wet with my arousal, but he makes no move to wipe himself clean. Instead, he gestures to me, impatient. “What’s your name? Your real name.”

“Taylor,” I insist, closing my legs.

“Did I say I was done with you yet, Miss Taylor?”

When I stare at him blankly, he lifts his stubbled chin. “Spread them. Let me look at your greedy cunt.”

Christ… I knew he was a dangerous man, but I never realized what a filthy mouth he possessed. It shouldn’t surprise me. A man like him at the top of the food chain has no shortage of willing pussy. I open my legs and place my bare heels on the table’s edge.

As he looks down at my cunt, I fight the urge to hide. I can see the outline of his big cock through his pants, and my parched mouth waters in response.

One thing is for certain: I will never tell the others about this. I hate this man. At least, that’s what I’ve always told myself because it’s true. Though, when he licks me off his lips, I can’t stop myself from whimpering.

“Tell me your real name, sweetheart, and I promise to ruin you for all other men. I can see how much you want to come. How needy you are.” To prove his point, he leans in and swipes his finger through my slit. And then he sucks it clean and hums with masculine pleasure. “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.”

When I remain quiet, he stands up, slides open the desk drawer, and removes a gun. My eyes widen as he puts my ankle on his shoulder and nips the skin with his teeth while trailing the gun down the length of my leg all the way to my soaked cunt. His eyes bore into me the entire time, daring me to beg him to stop. When he bites me again, I gasp at the sharp pain. “You’re a brave, stubborn little slut, aren’t you? Either that or a fool.” He darts his tongue out and swirls it over my ankle. The gun presses against my opening, but if anything, it arouses me more. I feel empty.

There’s a distinct click, and I know he’s removed the safety. Fear pumps through my pounding heart.

“Your name.” His deepening voice is both a seductive purr and a threat.

I push up onto my elbows. “Pull the trigger, and you’ll never find out, sir.”

Where is this bravery coming from? Darian Delacroix is a ruthless Elder known for his savagery. He didn’t become an Elder by being a good guy or an outstanding citizen. Underneath his pristine suit and expensive Rolex is a man without a heart.

His eyes lock on mine, and he bites down hard on my ankle. When he speaks, his soft lips ghost my abused skin. “Careful with that attitude, or I might want to keep you. And that, sweetheart, would be a fate far worse than death. I like to break pretty things like you.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of lovers you can torment. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to cleaning glasses.” Or run far away.

His devastating hint of a smile is back. I almost whimper again—almost. Fuck me, this man is perfection. I watch, mesmerized, as his tanned hand and long fingers dig into my thighs, bruising my skin and leaving marks I know will last for days.

“Drop the act. We both know you’re not part of the hired staff. You snuck in here to snoop around. I saw the security footage. Naughty girl. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to return here to spread you naked on my desk. Such perfection needs to be tarnished.” He peppers kisses on the inside of my leg, devouring me with his eyes on his journey to my throbbing pussy.

I watch him suck on each pussy lip with such devotion that by the time he finally grazes my clit with his teeth, my entire body trembles.

Releasing a moan, my tits quiver with my next heaving inhale. It feels so good I almost forget the barrel pressing against my entrance.

“I have two options,” he says, dragging his tongue from my pussy, all the way to my left breast. His warm, skillful mouth envelops my nipple, and he pulls the rosy bud away with his teeth while watching me from beneath his dark lashes. It hurts, but the pain is laced with pleasure, too. “I can either kill you now,” he says, “and let it be over with, or feast on your dripping cunt until you’re coming all over my face, before I put a bullet between your brows.” Sucking on my tit, he palms the underside with his big hand. “Either way, you’re dying tonight for your insolence.”

I yelp when he flips me over and digs the gun into the back of my head, but I’m not able to process my options before he’s giving me another order. “Spread your ass cheeks for me.”

Shame heats my skin as I dig my fingers into each cheek. Behind me, Delacroix unbuckles his belt and pulls down his zipper one-handed. I’m insanely curious, but with the gun digging into my skull and his threats hanging in the air, there’s not much I can do but keep my eyes locked on the closed door.

“What was your plan, Miss Taylor, when you snuck in? Were you going to kill me today or tomorrow during The Reckoning? I’m an Elder, sweetheart. You’d get yourself tortured and murdered.”

He’s jacking off. I can hear the sound of skin-on-skin behind me. Now, I really want to peek.

He chuckles breathily and digs the gun farther into my skull. When he grunts, I almost whimper with increasing desire. I shouldn’t be this turned on by his threat and carnal urges. He’s a sick monster. A devil in human skin. But my body has other ideas.

“I can’t decide if I should be impressed or enraged.”

“Maybe both,” I bite back, glancing over my shoulder, seeing his arm move rapidly. I face forward again as a shot of liquid desire shoots straight to my core. I’ve never known arousal like this, never been this consumed by it. My pussy has its own heartbeat.

Just then, warm cum covers my back hole in quick spurts, and Delacroix groans as he milks his dick. The next squirt of cum rains over my lower back, hot and sticky. I’m still holding my ass cheeks apart, obedient to a fault, as his release drips between my legs.

I slam my eyes shut when he smacks my hand away and squeezes a handful of my pale cheek.

“I like seeing this ass covered in me. Such perfection.” He rains three hard slaps in quick succession before flipping me over and hauling me to my feet. Gripping my chin with his full palm, he digs the gun into my temple, forcing me to look at him. “Here’s what will happen. You have ten seconds to get your shit and leave the property. And you better run far fucking away, sweetheart, because when the hour strikes ten tomorrow night, I’m going to hunt you down, fuck every hole you have to offer, and then finally kill you so fucking slowly that you’ll be begging for death.”

He shoves me away, pocketing the gun and collecting the letter opener off the floor.

I slump in relief, albeit on shaky legs.

He checks his Rolex before reaching for his suit jacket draped over the back of the desk chair and sliding it on. “Nine and counting.”

I don’t wait around. I grab my shit and bolt.