Page 6 of Devotion

The dark robe slips from my shoulders. Darwin walks closely enough that, even without slowing my pace, he catches it before it hits the floor. It’s dreadful and fucking heavy, but the Circle of Six recommends that it be worn while addressing the people. It’s to serve as a symbol of my authority, a means of dispelling any perceived weakness due to my only being twenty-seven.

However, being seen as weak isn’t something that’s ever been a concern.

Maybe I’m a bit old-fashioned in my thinking, but my authority can be conveyed just as easily by making an example of those who step out of line. If a few broken bones don’t serve as a deterrent, nothing fucking will. But I’m reminded of this year’s collective goal among the flock:lean into love, not violence.

Or some shit like that.

I’m exhausted and have another full day tomorrow. That’s always the case when we have newcomers. The vetting and induction process can be delicate, so I never entrust the task to anyone else. The newest members of our family must grasp the full understanding of how important loyalty and balance are among us.

After all, their lives now officially depend on it.

“I’d consider tonight a success,” Darwin says, his round face lighting up with the words. “The woman… what was her name?”

Cole’s got the memory of an elephant, so he rambles an answer without missing a beat. “Esther.”

“Yes, that’s right. Esther. She’s well-educated. I think she’d make a fine teacher.”

Darwin’s right. We’re in need of someone to oversee a few night classes.

“I’ll consider your suggestion when it’s time to place them.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he says with a nod, always pleased when we agree on something. “And perhaps the men can be added to the Maintenance Team.”

We reach my bedroom, and I place my thumb over the sensor on the knob. It beeps once in recognition of my fingerprint, then Darwin and Cole follow me inside. The others know to remain out in the hallway unless they’re invited in. As expected, the room’s been prepared. The lights are dimmed to twenty-five percent brightness, soft classical piano lulls from hidden speakers, and the temperature’s been adjusted to a chilled sixty-seven degrees.

The door closes behind us, and I lock eyes with Aria. She’s on her post, standing beside my bed, waiting to dress me for the night. A change of clothes rests in the bend of her elbow, and her expression brightens, making her far too easy to read.

She wants to be told to stay, with hopes that I’ll fuck her tonight.

A smile curves my lips, and then fades when Darwin’s voice cuts in again.

“Sir? Thoughts on assigning the men to the maintenance team?”

“I heard you the first time, and I’m considering it.” My tone is sharp, prompting Darwin to lower his head.

“My apologies, Sir.” His cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and I turn from him as Aria steps forward to unbutton my shirt. She finishes and her focus lingers on the scars over my heart for a moment. Scars she’s tried to get me to open up about, but her attempts have all been fruitless. Realizing I’ve caught her staring, she quickly redirects her eyes to mine.

“We’ll worry about placement later. Not sure I have the mental capacity to make a sound decision tonight. I’m exhausted.”

A loaded silence fills the room after I speak, and I can feel tension emanating from both Darwin and Cole.

“Sir, I actually hoped we could speak to you about that. About your… burning the wick at both ends.” It’s Cole who’s spoken up this time, which is a bit of a rarity.

“I’m listening.”

He clears his throat and without turning to face him, I know he’s forcing his posture straighter, searching for confidence that seems to drain right out of him when I’m near.

“There are concerns regarding how often you’ve left the property lately. Concerns about your… nightly activities… and what might happen if the police are somehow able to trace the incidents back to the community.”

My jaw ticks when he finishes, wondering what business it is ofanyone’swhat I do with my time. Be it morning, noon, or night.

“Tell me, Cole. What areyourthoughts on mynightly activities,as you call them?”

He clears his throat again, which I’ve noticed he does to control his nerves, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Well, Sir, I—I don’t give it much thought, personally. I’m simply a vessel for you, a resource. Whatever you require, I’ll do my best to provide it.”

“You don’t give it much thought,” I repeat, seeing if that sounds any more believable whenIsay it than it did whenhesaid it. “I find it interesting that people are comfortable sharing these thoughts with you, in particular, Cole. Don’t you agree that this is fascinating?”

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