Beautiful Lies (Dark Secret Society 2)

“And you think what is happening is right?” he asked.

“It’s not for me to judge. But I will say this… it’s your ancestry. It’s your lineage. It’s your job to figure out how to adapt and overcome both. You can’t run from who you are. You can’t hide. I know you think running off to play surfer boy in California was a good way to do so. But you have responsibilities. You have a sister and a mother who need you now more than ever before.”

My ears perked up. Sully had briefly mentioned having a sister but gave very little details about her. Was she older or younger than him? He was always so closed off with me about his personal life or anything before he showed up at the Oleander.

“It’s time you step up and be a man. This Initiation in The Order of the Silver Ghost is about that. Being a man. It’s time.”

The door to the bedroom opened and then shut. Mrs. H had left.

I waited a few moments and then walked out of the bathroom not sure what kind of mood I would find Sully in. He struck me as the kind of man who didn’t appreciate being lectured by anyone, but I was pleasantly surprised to find him standing in his tuxedo, a hand in his pocket and a smile on his face when he saw me.

“You look amazing,” he said. “Really pretty.”

I looked down at my short dress and silver heels and smirked. “At least I’m not wearing a collar, a fox tail, or some other kinky costume.”

“Yet,” he countered with a wink. “The night is young.”

He extended the crook of his arm for me to take and led us out of the bedroom and to the ballroom. Even though I had done this walk many times, I still felt nervous. It was the unknowing. The surprise. I couldn’t prepare.

Sully was the first to speak when we entered the room. “Fuck.” His entire posture went stiff as a board.

I followed his gaze to a man sitting down next to a leather chair with a tattoo gun ready. The Elders stood around the tattoo station with canes in hands as if they were prepared to beat us if we said no to what was to come. The chandelier lights were dim and a fire burned in the large fireplace on the right side of the room that had yet to be lit since being here. It was like a scene from some fucked up black and white gothic movie.

“Are they going to tattoo us?” I asked, mentally preparing myself for it.

Sully released a deep breath and led us to the chair.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the Elders. “Is this where I get a pink butterfly tattooed on my ass?”

“Sully VanDoren,” an Elder spoke. “You are first.”

I expected Sully to put up a fight, but he surprised me when he sat down, pulled up his sleeve, and rested his wrist in front of the tattoo artist. It was clear he knew what was going to happen and had already accepted his fate. He knew what was coming, and even knew where the tattoo was to be given. Then again, the man did grow up in this twisted world.

I, however, still had no idea what was going to happen. I took a step closer to Sully so I could see as the artist began the tattoo with the buzzing of the gun echoing off the walls of the ballroom. The Elders stood in place, eyes on Sully, as the tattoo of two crossed sabers marred his wrist.

Sully didn’t even flinch. He sat so stoic I silently questioned if it would actually hurt when it was my turn. I was pretty sure there was no way it wouldn’t hurt to have a needle jammed repeatedly into my wrist at a million points, but at least Sully didn’t seem to be in agony.

He kept his eyes on me. I wasn’t sure if it was so he wouldn’t have to look at the Elders who I knew made him sick to his stomach, or if I somehow kept him calm, but I liked it. If I was his focus point, then I would dutifully stand next to him and appear strong for his sake—even though I was internally shaking.

Here I was about to get my first tattoo in front of a bunch of old dudes in cloaks, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

I think I would have preferred a pink butterfly on my ass to what Sully was being given, but I was pretty sure I could somehow cover the tattoo with bracelets until I could get it removed or altered to be something less nightmarish.

When the crossed sabers tattoo on his inner wrist was finished, and the gun turned off, the sound of canes hitting the floor rattled my bones.