Page 7 of Heir of the Beast

I swallow and shrug, glancing around the beautiful sitting room. “This is getting weirder by the second,” I whisper back.

Redhead speaks to the other girls. “Hi.” She clears her throat. “My name is Cherie. Did you all receive a letter this morning?” Her name is Cherie—noted.

They all nod and murmur something inaudible.

A snobby, blond-haired girl sniffs and stands up to look around, her rose heels clicking on the marble. I say snobby because she has that mean-girl look about her.

Perfect blond hair, Barbie body, pink sundress, and a perfected resting-bitch-face that is even better than mine. She must have had years of practice. Bravo.

“My name is Laura Rogers. I’m sure you heard of my brother. Luke Rogers? He’s the pitcher for the Red Sox,” She beams, looking way too smug.

Laura examines her manicure and walks around the room, listening to everyone’s praise. “I hope this is something to do with TV.”

“I don’t watch baseball. So boring,” I blurt before my faulty filter kicks in. I feel Cherie shoot me a glance, then a grin, covering her smile with her hand.

Laura’s gaze pins me and she takes her time to look me up and down. She raises a thin brow and walks over to me, lips pinched. She has very thin lips, I notice, that flatten out into a line.

“And who are you? Madame Darkness?” She laughs lightly.

I resist an eye roll. “My name is Viola Spearrrr, andddd I’m here out of pure curiosity,” I answer with my chin raised.

Not sure why I just gave her a bogus last name.

Maybe I’m subconsciously embarrassed to be here.

“Whatever,” she shoots back. “Aren’t we all?”

A Black girl who sits on the couch opposite of me leans forward. “Hi, I’m Destiny. This place gives me the creeps—too sterile. Anyone else feelin’ this way?”

She adjusts her jeans and white tank top. She has on cute silver pumps. I take note.

The girl next to Destiny, with short platinum hair, nods in agreement. She raises her hand.

“I’m April. I am a little nervous about this setup. I hope there is no auditioning or anything like that. I’m not good in front of crowds—like, I will have a panic attack.”

“We are in a documentary or movie set,” Laura chimes in, sounding annoyed by everyone’s incompetence.

A tall brunette laughs. “Let’s not forget how hot Mr. Charming is,” she whispers, loud enough for all of us to hear, and looks around the corner. “Oh, and I’m Ivy, a former Marine.”

We all murmur something about her exceptional service to our country.

The last girl with caramel skin and a Cuban bun raises her hand to introduce herself, but Mr. Charming comes in. Everyone’s mouths shut and eyes widen.

My heart pulses to life like a drunken tap dancer who just pounded five Red Bulls.

He grins and places a hand in his white suit pants.

“Ladies, we are ready for you all to move into the arena, where all of your questions will be answered. We are a little bit behind schedule, so please, let’s not let the Fairy Godmother wait another second.”

I hear a muffled giggle to my left.

He glances at all of us. A severe look crosses his handsome features as he studies us.

“Please take this seriously. What you are about to see is real. You all are chosen for a reason by Fate’s hand, and before you enter, you must take a deep breath and find your inner calm.”

I frown, not liking the sound of that at all.

If we walk into a sex dungeon like that girl from ~50 Shades~, I’m tripping Laura and running. Not even kidding—the survival of the fittest. I can fight like a wildcat if need be.

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