Inherited Malice: A Dark Secret Society Romance - Page 5

The clock struck midnight, and the Elders banged their canes against the white marble floor in a ceremonial ritual I had witnessed three times now with my friends who were lucky enough to go before me. We all rid ourselves of our drinks and readied for the next phase of the night.

The chime of the clock met the same cadence with the canes, and the deafening staccato became the only sound in the room. No one spoke. No one moved. The Elders held the room captive.

“Bring in the belles,” one of the Elders demanded after the twelfth punch of his cane.

And so we began…

Emmett and Walker lined up with me in the center of the room. We stood at attention and waited. We had done this dance before, so I didn’t feel like I was going into this evening blind which helped things a lot. It’s how I worked. I planned every move I made in life and knowing what would occur allowed me to be able to know what I was going to do one step ahead.

I wondered if Emmett and Walker were just as anxious to get their Initiation over with. I think that was the worst part of all this. Watching Montgomery, Sully, and Rafe get to start before me. I was never a patient man, and this entire process had been slow and painful. I wanted to get on with my life and building Radcliffe Jewelers and Imports to become more successful than it had ever been before.

When the canes stopped and the hour fully reached midnight, the room went silent until the sound of heels broke the hushed and toxic air.

Twenty young women entered in a single line. I took in each one as they paraded into the room that would swallow them up whole if they allowed it. The white ballroom was anything but pure. This grand room held secrets of debauchery, evil deeds, fears come to life, and dripped with lust. On the surface it appeared opulent and full of class. But in the shadows of every crack lurked the hidden truth.

I knew I had 109 days to discover all the truths that lay masked in wealthy disguise.

As the belles flooded the room, one tiny step at a time, they stood in a line before us. They were beautiful as I knew they would be. Ballgowns of every color and fabric draped their delicate frames, and it reminded me of princesses about to meet their prince.

Although I was far from a prince.

Many wore tiaras or earrings made of priceless stones. And each one wore a Radcliffe pearl necklace. It had been my family’s gift for generations. We provided the white pearls to be the centerpiece of tonight’s ceremony.

I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before I would be expected to choose a belle, so I studied each one as quickly as I could. The poor things were terrified—I could see it in their eyes or their quivering lips. I couldn’t blame them, and frankly, I had the upper hand because I knew exactly what was coming next. These unfortunate souls had no idea.

They thought they were about to have a chance of achieving their biggest dream, when in fact they were about to engage in their worst nightmare. Or at least… for the belle I chose.

And then I saw her.

I knew right away who I would choose and the reason behind it.

Red hair. My own personal fire that I so loved to play with. Red. I had a type, and my type was her. I was a sucker for a redheaded beauty, and since she was the only belle who had such a feature… she would be mine.

“Display the belles,” the Elder demanded with a beat of the cane.

Another Elder began the procession of the belles by leading their single-file line through the ballroom. He walked them in front of the cloaked Elders first as a sign of respect, then the members, and then to us. They repeated the act three times, circling the room in an odd repetition symbolic to me of the never-ending madness of these rituals. Over and over, we conducted the same one.

I had only attended three and wondered how the members felt witnessing the exact same displaying of the belles like a broken record. Over and over again.

I tried to steal a glance of my father to see if I could read his thoughts. Was he bored? He was a lot like me—or I was a lot like him. His patience was always thin, and when he wanted something completed, he wanted it yesterday. Time was precious for the Radcliffes. We didn’t have a lot of it to spare, and yet, he never once missed a member event. He attended as a dutiful man would. Maybe he felt each Trial was worth his time, and I just hoped I felt the same.

Tags: Stasia Black, Alta Hensley Erotic
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