Page 42 of Moonlit Thorns

“Guess she’s missing out then.” Did I just slur a bit?

“I’m starting to think I got lucky that she canceled.” He kisses me, and it’s all I can do to get my tongue to work properly and kiss him back. He pulls away, and though his face is covered in a mask, his eyes look at me seriously. “If anyone asks your name, you need to say it’s Penelope, okay? This is a private party, and they don’t like outsiders. No one will know you’re not her covered like this anyway. Got it?”

I scrunch my forehead under the mask. “I guess.”

He wraps his arm around my waist and walks me toward the large wooden door. “It’s important. Don’t talk to anyone unless you have to, and if you do, you’re Penelope.”

Unease creeps up my spine. As the door creaks open, and a man I’ve never seen before stands there eyeing us, I don’t know what to do.

Preston lifts his mask to show his face. “Penelope’s had a little too much fun already for the night, so I’m going to help her in.”

“No problem, Mr. Wallace.”

The large man steps to the side, and Preston helps me in past the threshold. We’re standing on a large landing with a steep set of stairs ahead. It’s dark at the bottom of the stairs, so I can’t see what’s down there, but I hear the thrumming bass of music.

Do the Vosses have a nightclub in their basement or something?

Preston helps me toward the stairs.

“I don’t think I can make it down those.” Okay, now I’m definitely slurring.

“I got you.” Without warning, Preston picks me up and carries me down the staircase.

My head lolls back and forth because I can’t seem to keep it up in this position. By the time he sets me on my feet at the bottom, I’m nauseated again. He straightens my mask and pulls my hood up farther so it conceals more of my face before wrapping his arm around my waist.

It’s dark here, and as he moves us forward, we step through an archway into a cavernous room that looks as if it’s been carved from stone. Music bleeds through the room, seeming to fill all the crevices and cracks in the stone above us. It overflows my senses with its pulsating, thrumming beat.

My eyes drift shut as I look down from the ceiling at the people surrounding us. They’re all dressed in the same red cloaks, though the masks are different. Some are black, some red, some white—all with different designs.

They’re all standing in a circle, but I can’t see what they’re looking at. Not until Preston clutches my side harder and leads me forward, pushing into the inner circle.

I blink several times to be sure I’m seeing things correctly.

There’s a dais at the far end of the room and the circle starts there. On it is a man—he’s shirtless, that’s the only way I know—standing over a naked woman wearing a black mask who is lying across some kind of riser. Another man is standing off to the side, and he reaches forward with a knife in his hand and passes it to the man with the girl. That’s when I see it—the bear tattoo on his hand.

Asher.

Asher is the man passing the knife on.

My heart rate picks up.

The man with the knife in his hand now brings it to her breast, pressing the tip there until blood pools around the indent. Her back arches, and she moans loudly enough that I hear her over the music. Is she enjoying this?

The man bends down to her breast and runs his tongue along the curve of it until he reaches the place where he cut her, then he laps up the blood with his tongue.

Preston said not to speak, but I can’t help myself, and I turn my head in his direction. “Is this a cult?”

Oh my god, are they going to sacrifice her?

Before he can answer, my head swims, and I feel it loll forward. Then I fall limp to the side. Though Preston is trying his best to keep me upright, I can’t move my limbs, and I’m just so tired all of a sudden.

Preston curses in my ear before the world goes black.

Chapter

Twenty

ASHER

---