Page 12 of Beloved Sacrifice

Weston shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing the wet front of his slacks away from his crotch.

“I’m hungry,” he blurted out.

Rose took a deep breath, let it out, then smiled up at him. “Gina made some salads and stuff.”

He returned her smile, relieved. “Meet you in the kitchen?”

She arrived fifteen minutes later, wearing a white mesh bathing suit cover up and a black bikini. She’d changed out of her one-piece suit into a bikini? Wait, had she done that for him? He fumbled the piece of bread in his hand and it dropped to the floor. They’d been kissing and stuff since last summer. She’d been a bit weird at winter break—going to bed early, getting up late, and spending most of her time curled up on the couch reading books. He’d thought maybe she was missing her mom, though that was the second Christmas since she’d gone missing.

Rose hopped onto the counter and swung her legs, her heels tapping together when they met in the center.

He went back to making a chicken salad sandwich. He hadn’t been kidding about being hungry—he’d already made and eaten one.

“Caden’s at some coding camp,” she said. “He’s not coming up for two more weeks.”

“Just us, then.”

She bit her lip. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I am, too. But I thought you were going to go abroad for the summer?”

Her expression melted away, leaving her face blank. “I tried, but nothing…nothing worked out.”

Rose’s remaining parents—the Hancocks—were total assholes. They were a big deal in New England, and they were married. Their third, Rose’s biological mother, had raised Rose as a single mom. The Hancocks might be Rose’s parents in the eyes of the Trinity Masters, but they didn’t seem to want anything to do with her.

When she’d been alive, Rose’s mom—a famous anthropologist and professor at the University of Washington—had traveled so much that most of the time Rose spent the holidays with Weston’s family. The Hancocks wouldn’t let her stay with them—that might raise questions and damage their reputation.

Just before Rose’s fifteenth birthday, her mother disappeared. She’d been declared dead last year, and the Hancocks had kept right on ignoring Rose, who was officially an emancipated minor, but unofficially his adopted sister.

Even thinking the term made him wince. He did not have brotherly feelings toward Rose.

He only saw her for a few weeks of the year—Christmas, summer, and, if he was lucky, the occasional long weekend. Berkeley had a different spring break than her school, so he hadn’t been able to see her then. The “residential school”—aka boarding school—she went to was one of the best in the country and lots of legacy kids went there.

That fuck Devon Asher went there.

Weston smushed another spoonful of chicken salad onto the bread, imaging he was shoving it into Devon’s stupid face.

Devon would marry Rose. The Grand Master had already decided that. He, Rose, and Caden would all be members of the Trinity Masters, like their parents, and that meant they didn’t get to fall in love. They would marry who they were told, when they were told. But until they were called to the altar, they were free.

“If you needed someone to pull some strings, you should have asked my parents,” he said.

“I’d rather not.”

“Stubborn.” He finished the sandwich, cut it in half, then passed her one half.

“No thanks, too many calories.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No one wants a fat woman,” she said, staring at her knees.

Weston put down his sandwich very slowly. “Did Devon say that to you?”

Her head jerked up. “Devon? No.”

“Who said that?”

Rose shook her head. “I shouldn’t have repeated it.” There was something haunted in her eyes.

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