Chapter 8

M y jaw drops as we step into the open, leaving the dark forest behind us.

I knew the lodge would be of significant size, but I never imagined this. Stacked cedar logs form a magnificent cabin, oversized and grand, as is to be expected from The Exodus. Glass windows stretch at least thirty feet high, adding to the magnitude of it all. Beyond the lodge lies a lake, and the waves are softly lapping at the shore. Very few people linger outside, and through the windows I can see most have made their way inside.

Greyson pulls his hand from mine and wraps my hand around his arm so that we're walking more closely. He tugs me to him, and our bodies are no more than an inch apart. Glancing down at me, Greyson's eyes search mine, scanning them as he tries to read me.

"What do you think?" he asks, gesturing to the lodge.

"It's more than I thought it'd be. I suppose I was imagining an underground bunker of sorts, but this… this is exquisite. "

He gives me a small smile, satisfied with my answer, then begins leading us toward the doors. Two men dressed in black stand outside, using a device to scan people as they approach.

I stop, swallowing hard. My palms are sweating, and the nervous feeling returns to my stomach. Anything could be waiting for me inside.

"I can't do this," I whisper, trying to avoid drawing attention to us. "I don't know what's in there or what you're going to do to me."

There's a hint of hurt in his eyes, like I've suddenly betrayed him. He blinks, and the emotion is gone when his eyelids open. "You don't have a choice."

"Why won't you tell me what we're doing? Do you get off on being secretive?" My words come out louder than I intend, and a couple turn away from the man with the scanning device to glance at us.

Greyson easily ignores them, turning his body to mine. "Yes."

My brows arch, and I almost take a step backwards. "Yes?"

"Yes," he repeats.

My lips part as my jaw opens slightly, and I'm speechless. He just fucked me in the woods like I've never been fucked. Is it me he's into, or is it the thrill of fucking with me? This whole thing is beginning to feel like a thoroughly planned ploy to get his revenge on me.

I let him fuck me in the woods. I doubt he would have stopped if I'd said no, but we both wanted it. My stomach churns as I realize what a fucking idiot I am. He has no intention of letting me live to see tomorrow. His plan is to get my hopes up, to make me feel like I have some significance to him, and then he's going to kill me when I least expect it.

The contents of my stomach begin to rise as the truth of it all hits me. I bend over, covering my mouth as I try to keep it down.

Greyson's hand falls to my lower back, resting there as I hold back heaves. "Don't let them see you like this."

Strained tears fall down my cheeks, and I force myself to swallow. "What does it matter?" I snap, glaring up at him.

"If the elders or bishop see you like this, they'll think you're weak. Show them you're not the unsuspecting gazelle I've portrayed you as. Surprise them. Give them a show tonight."

I scoff, nearly laughing at him. "Give them a show? What the fuck does that even mean?" I roll my eyes as I repeat to him, " Give them a show ."

Greyson's face is flat and he's clearly not amused with my mockery. "You'll do what you're told if you want to live."

My back straightens as I force myself upright, widening my stance. "You keep saying that, but I'm not sure I believe you."

His brows furrow and then he ends the conversation, pulling me toward the lodge. "Let's go."

"I look like a fucking mess," I spit, annoyed with him and this stupid fucking game.

When he fucked me, I felt something for the first time in a very long time. It's been years since I've let anyone see me like that. Raw and undone, desperate to be filled.

Such a fucking idiot.

How could I let myself do this? How could I let myself feel something for the man who's made it his life mission to end me? The man stalked me every day for a year, for fuck's sake. I tricked myself into thinking this could be something, and now the betrayal will feel exponentially worse when he exposes his true intentions. When he kills me.

"You look fine," Greyson grumbles, pulling me toward the entrance.

The men in black watch us as we approach, and I decide now isn't the time to open my mouth. They're tall, muscular men. In a way, I'd suppose they're the bouncers for the Reckoning.

Greyson stops at the men as we reach them, and he says, "Evening, gentlemen."

The man to my right responds, "Good evening, Elder."

He clicks several buttons on the device before holding it up, motioning for Greyson's neck. Complying immediately, Greyson bows slightly, exposing the back of his neck to the bouncer. The device scans a red line of light over his skin, then the line turns green as it beeps.

"Enjoy the Reckoning, Elder Grey," he says as he reads the words that popped up on the device after scanning Greyson's neck.

They're chipped?

I cringe, wondering what the process of chipping someone feels like. Can he feel it under his skin? Can they track him at all times?

Neither of the men give me a second glance, giving me indication that it's normal to bring an outsider to the Reckoning. Greyson gives them a final nod, then leads me up the stairs and into the lodge.

Two more men stand at the top of the stairs, and they silently open the grand doors for us as we approach. Greyson doesn't give them as much as a glance when we pass, keeping his head forward and poker face on.

The lodge is filled with people of all kinds. Just as Greyson had said, there are naked people everywhere. Some half-clothed, some completely nude. Others wear the finest attire, accompanied by the most expensive jewelry money can buy.

Above us are men and women dancing in ribbons and silky fabrics attached to the vaulted ceilings. Most are dressed in the skimpiest outfits, but some wear nothing at all as they bend and stretch for the party-goers below. I get a full view of one woman's crotch when she does the splits, opening herself wide for her spectators.

I'm surprised to find Greyson's attention isn't on them when I avert my eyes, focusing on him. He's still leading us through the crowd, not saying a word as he walks.

Masks of all kinds sit upon the faces of the people. I don't know who's part of the society and who's not, but every single person wears a mask. Black and gold seem to be the primary colors, but several people stand out in vibrant colors.

"What do the colors of the masks mean?" I finally ask as we break through the crowd. "Why are some masks colorful while others are not? Who are they?"

Greyson exhales, then looks down at me through his mask, leaning into my ear as he speaks, "White is the bishop, gold are elders, black is the lower ranking members, or in your case, an initiate, and everyone else will die tonight."

I jerk my head back, looking in his eyes for the truth. "Die?" I mouth.

He nods, seemingly unphased.

I spin around, surveying the room. Hundreds of people are here, and at least a quarter of them are wearing vibrant masks.

"Do they know?" I ask.

Greyson shakes his head softly. "No," he pauses for a second before meeting my eyes. "They don't. They were invited to help fulfill the games. Most of them only came because they knew there would be a significant number of wealthy individuals here this evening, and you'll find most of them flocked around whoever appears to have the most money."

It feels like now would be a good time to have tears welling in my eyes, but I'm in such disbelief that I can't find it inside myself to have sympathy for these people. I've always hated most of the people in Vail. If they don't have money, they spend most of their time trying to get in with someone who does. I lost count of the number of fake friends I had growing up. None of them cared enough to ask about my bruises or why I disappeared for months at a time. They only ever wanted to exploit my family's money and go on shopping sprees. One girl went as far as asking me if I'd purchase her a new car she'd had her eye on, and that was the last time we spoke. The money is great and has bought me a lot of happiness regardless of whether or not people think it can, and it's been there for me more than any human has in the years following my mother's death.

I find myself wondering if I know any of the faces behind the masks.

Greyson picks up on my thoughts immediately, and he warns me, "Don't look too hard. They don't want you to know who they are. You'll end up dead if you cross paths with the wrong person."

Chills run down my spine, making me shiver. "I don't know why you're so intent on protecting me when you're the one who brought me here."

A smile tips Greyson's lips upward. "Your life was in danger long before I brought you here. The society has had their eyes on you since the moment your father died. You're a liability. If I hadn't stepped in and taken responsibility for you, you'd already be ten feet under, rotting into the ground as maggots feast upon your flesh."

"But I haven't done anything," I say, growing impatient. "I've never done anything."

Greyson doesn't miss a beat. "You know too much. The society is well aware that the majority of your father's doings were done within your home, where you live. Regardless of if you think you've done anything, you're guilty by association. It's as simple as that."

My lips remain closed as I process his words. Is this why he never let me leave? Because I was a liability?

"Your father knew what he was doing when he brought his business home. From the very first day, he sentenced you to life with The Exodus or death. Your fate has been sealed for far longer than you think." Greyson extends his arm to me, encouraging me to take it once more. "Come, we have much to see and do."

Slowly, I slip my hand around his thick, muscular arm. I can feel him flexing beneath his black button-up. He's warm against my cold fingers.

We round a corner to another open living room, and my face drains of color when I see the centerpiece.

A fountain of champagne flutes sits in the center of the room, composed of the exact same flute my father kept in our kitchen cabinets. Most fountains flow with water or perhaps even chocolate to fondue if it's a large gathering, but not this one.

No, not this one.

Fresh blood fills each glass, then overflows into the next, descending down the tall tower of flutes in a thick crimson river. Bodies hang in the air above them, and their wrists have been cut. They're bleeding out, draining into the glasses. I almost lose it right then and there when I watch a short, round man approach the table. He's nude from the waist down, fully exposed. Disbelief is all I can feel when he pulls a full flute from the table, then brings it to his lips, tipping the glass back and swallowing a large mouthful of the liquid.

I try to turn away, but Greyson forces me to stay in place. He forces me to watch as this fucked up man guzzles down not one, but two flutes of blood. His lips are bright red, stained with blood. A napkin does next to nothing when he tries to wipe it away.

"The glasses are dipped in a psychedelic liquid. He's getting high," Greyson explains in a low voice as we watch. "Help yourself to one if you'd like. It may help you get through your next trial."

"No," I blurt, drawing a few sets of eyes to us. I repeat myself more quietly, leaning into him, "No."

A woman dressed in a tight gold dress approaches the table next. Her identity is concealed by a matching gold mask. We make eye contact as she picks up a glass. Long, black hair cascades down her back in soft curls. The gold fabric of her dress hugs her athletic form tightly, elevating her features. Her breasts are perky, pushed together and snug between the low-cut front. She's absolutely stunning, easily the sexiest woman I've ever seen. The mask hides her face just enough to make me wish I could see more. She's mysterious as she watches me through hazel eyes, and she's confident enough in herself that she maintains eye contact easily.

I wet my lips with my tongue, completely consumed by her presence. A smirk crosses her face when she notices how intently I'm watching her. Greyson's hand reaches for my ass as he watches me. His eyes are on me, completely ignoring the woman in front of us.

She raises the flute to her lips, tipping it back in slow motion. Long, slow, swallows keep my eyes trained on her. A drop of blood slips around the glass, landing on top of her breasts.

"Hmm," she hums, sucking her wet bottom lip between her teeth as she looks down at the mess she's made.

Taking her thumb, she swipes it across the blood, dragging it over her skin. Once she's coated it in red, she brings it to her mouth, closing her lips around it in the same way I wrapped my lips around Greyson's fingers in the forest. I'm reminded of the metallic tang, mixed with my own sweet arousal. My clit begins to pulse as I watch her suck on her fingers, cleaning them thoroughly with her tongue. She lets out a moan, letting her eyes flutter closed. She's doing this on purpose. It's a show, and I'm her captivated audience.

Greyson's hand travels lower, hiking up the back of my dress to give himself access to my pussy from behind. He slides two fingers through my wetness, then brings them to my mouth.

"Open," he commands, pressing them to my lips.

She's still sucking on herself, but she's so turned on now that she's reaching for herself, raising her dress and swirling her fingers over her clit. I moan in response to her movements, to how fucking sexy she looks right now. As my mouth opens, Greyson slides his fingers into my mouth, giving me a taste of myself.

"Suck," he says, using his thumb to press against my cheek, keeping my face on her.

Closing my lips around his fingers, I swirl my tongue around them, lapping at my wetness and tasting every drop. I moan around him, letting my eyes flutter as I fall into ecstasy, intoxicated by both the show she's putting on, and the intense way Greyson is watching me.

He pulls his fingers out when he's decided I've cleaned them enough, dragging my bottom lip down and forcing my mouth open as he uses his other hand to reach for my clit. The woman moans louder as she plays with herself, and it's obvious she's close. Greyson's fingers press against my clit, moving in small, slow circles. He's using the perfect amount of pressure, drawing an orgasm to the surface immediately.

Her head drops back, and she's spread her legs wider by resting one leg on the table. She's so loud I can feel her orgasm when it begins, and I come with her, driven over the edge by Greyson's fingers. I explode, crying out against his fingers as I come. I'm not sure if I'm coming for her or for Greyson, but it feels fucking incredible.

The woman and I are left panting as our orgasms come to an end and we break eye contact for the first time. She immediately straightens herself, pushing her dress back down, and takes a champagne flute to-go. I come back to reality, glancing around us.

We've gathered quite the crowd. Greyson wasn't the only one watching us. At least a couple dozen people had been watching us, most of them holding the blood flutes while it was happening. My face flushes with embarrassment, and I turn into Greyson, trying to hide myself.

"Don't hide from them," he says as he brushes his fingers through my hair, drawing my forehead to his so that he can plant a kiss on it. "You put on quite the show."

"I didn't mean to," I whisper.

"You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, and there's no shame in that. The people here loved watching you come all over my fingers while the two of you eye-fucked each other."

I pull back, risking a look around us. The people are already dissipating, moving onto the next grand show. There are plenty of people fucking around the room to watch while drinking psychedelic-laced blood.

"If you liked that, you're going to love what I have planned for you," Greyson purrs against the shell of my ear. "You're already proving yourself to the society. Your confidence is apparent. There was no hesitancy as you took what you wanted."

"I don't know what I'm doing," I sigh, frustrated with myself.

Greyson pulls me into him, pressing his body against mine. His erection is immediately apparent as he pushes into me. I inhale through an open mouth, lost in the thought of how good his dick felt inside me. He laughs, smiling down at me as he grabs my hand, pressing it to his dick.

I rub my hand over it, feeling the entire length of it. My mouth is watering, craving the taste of him. Greyson groans into my hand as I work him over his pants, giving him just enough friction to drive him crazy.

"You keep doing that and we're not going to make it to your next trial," he breathes, panting over my lips. "As much as I'd like to take you right now, in front of all of these people, you've got another show to put on, and I'm nothing more than a spectator."

My hand stops, and I purse my lips as I take in his words. "Another show?"

He nods, showing me his pearly white teeth as he grins. "Another show, and then your grand finale ."