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Twenty hours. That’s how long Val has been hanging around me since Killian left cold turkey this morning. She has not let go. I think of Val as a Great White Shark. Once she has a taste of your blood, she doesn’t let go.
“So, I think you should wear this.” Val holds up a lacy red bra. “Underneath your robe.”
The robe steals my focus again. The Cornelii robe. Something deep inside of me twists and turns. It doesn’t feel right wearing it, and I can’t pinpoint why I feel that way.
“Just the bra?” I ask, my eyebrows turning in. “That’s—”
“—Kiznitch,” Val chuckles just as there’s a knock on the door.
Delila opens it up, a distant look on her face. She hands me a robe. “You will be wearing this one tonight, Saskia. I’m sorry for the confusion.” I take it from her, eyeing it skeptically.
Delila clears her throat as I open it up wide.
I pause.
The back has the words Dragavei with a large angry dragon wrapped around a red gemstone. I recognize the emblem instantly as the very same necklace that Hope had me swear to protect.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “That’s intense.” I don’t want to show my cards by letting them know that I have the necklace, but there’s a reason as to why she wants me to wear this. “What does it mean?”
Delila’s eyes come to mine as she searches her pockets. Finally, she pulls out her pack of smokes and bangs it onto the palm of her hand. “Really hoped I wouldn’t be the one to have to tell you this, but here we go.” She sucks in smoke and then turns to Val. “Leave.”
Val shifts from one foot to the other before she darts out the door. As soon as it’s closed, Delila tosses the pack of smokes at me.
I take one out, bringing it to my lips. Grabbing my Zippo that’s in the bedside drawer, I flick it open and blaze the tip. Inhaling, I sigh when I exhale the nicotine.
“First thing I’m going to tell you is that I can only tell you what I know, do you understand that?”
I lean over and flick my ash into an empty wine glass. “Yes.”
Delila paces back and forth in front of me. “Your last name isn’t Royal.”
I open my mouth to talk.
She cuts me a glare.
I snap my mouth closed.
She continues. “It is Dragavei. Saskia Dragavei. That is your family robe.”
When I know that she’s finished talking, I stand from the bed and make my way to the doors, pulling them open to allow some fresh air in. “Why do I not know this? My memories haven’t been touched. I remember everything there is to know about my childhood, so why have I never heard that name before?”
Delila sighs, flicking her smoke butt over the patio. “You must wear that tonight during your official initiation.” She ignores my question. “Perse will be going through with you, as well as Callan and Kenan. We have the Four Fathers who have just arrived as well as the Four Wicked Witches.” Delila snickers, and I know for a fact that that’s not what they’re called. Under different circumstances, I might have found her jab fu
Confusion floats around me like a shield, blocking everything out. I don’t remember Delila leaving my room until I’m sitting still on my bed with the cigarette now burning through the butt.
I drop it into the glass and pick up my phone, scrolling through my contact list until I find Hope.
I press dial.
If Delila can’t give me anything else, I know Hope will.
After three failed attempts of trying to reach her, I make my way into the bathroom and start getting ready for tonight.
“Sass!” Perse hooks her arm in mine as she leads me down the dirt path through the large shrubs of the forest. “You’re late.”
“I am?” I ask, surprised. “I thought we didn’t have to be here until midnight!”
Perse looks around us until she suddenly stops, her hands coming to my face. “I have to talk to you later. After we’ve been initiated. Okay? Don’t go far.”
“Why not just tell me now?” I whisper-yell.
Perse shakes her head. “I can’t. Too many…” She waves her hands in the air and I look around us.
“We’re in the middle of a path. No one is here. They’re all there.” I point to the end of the tu
She takes my hand. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”
I could’ve said the same about her. Shouldn’t it be me who is saying that to her since she’s the one that didn’t remember her childhood for so long.
“You look hot, by the way.” Perse leans into me. “The red bra looks good under the robe.”
On cue, I notice she’s wearing the same, only white. “White?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“Long story,” she mumbles. “Okay, come on. Have you decided where you’re getting your tattoo?”
I shake my head. “No.” Once we reach the end of the path, I grab her hand until she spins around to face me. “Have you seen Killian?” I get that we’re not together, but this is the longest he has gone without either a
Perse winces, the lines around her eyes sharpening. “I—”
“Baby girl.” Kenan pulls me under his arm. “Let’s get this over with so we can get you out of here.”
I search Kenan’s expression, his dark irises peering back at mine. He looks good. With dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes and wearing nothing but his robe over his jeans. “Why?”
“There you are…” King grabs Perse from around the waist, but she digs her heels into the grass.
“No!” Her hands fly out to his chest. Shit. I wonder what King did to deserve her wrath. It’s not like Perse to fly off over anything. “You! You didn’t even say anything!”
King’s face softens when he looks at her but hardens when he comes to me. “Because it’s not my place.”
Perse storms off, heading straight for Keaton who is sitting on one of the many stone seats that surround one massive bonfire.
King stares at me blankly before turning around to chase her.
“What was that about?” I ask Kenan. King has never been outwardly cold toward me before.
He sighs. “I’ll come out and tell you right now. Callan and Killian were together all day today. I’m guessing that’s what Perse is pissed about.”
I swallow the goblet of fire that threatens to set fire to every single organ in my body. “We’re not together. I don’t know why everyone tiptoes around us.”
Kenan directs me toward the small Tiki theme bar behind the fire. “Maybe because the way he looks at you makes people think that you are.” My throat tightens again as Kenan orders us a couple of drinks. “The man is feral with you.”
The barman is easy to pick out. His chest is bare, his abs on display. He tenses as his eyes meet mine.
“Thanks.” I take the drink from him and ignore the zap that passes as our fingers touch. When we’re walking away, I crank my head over my shoulder to have one last look at him. His eyes are bright blue, his facial structure in perfect symmetrical balance. His blonde hair is floppy and rugged, and the eyeliner beneath his eyes only adds to his obvious good looks. His face remains passive.
“Did you hear me?” Kenan asks, snapping me out of the trance.
“What?” I ask, bringing my glass up to my mouth and tilting my head back.