Page 44 of Power
The air fills with tension like a fire waiting to be kindled. I try to swallow and feel my pulse pounding in my throat. Archer hears my gulp and turns to me. His eyes are sharp, like blue diamonds. Finn's light brown hair spills over his forehead, and he brushes it back with his hand as he looks over his shoulder at me. Owen is watching me, his body tense, his face serious yet full of desire. I take a deep breath, and my throat tightens even more.
I remain silent, trying to guess what lies ahead. An unexpected wave of excitement washes over me. Whatever happens next, I know it won't be anything like I've imagined. The night is full of possibilities. My pulse quickens as I anticipate the unknown.
Archer speaks first, his voice low and deep. “We do want you, Bailey. Please don’t be afraid of what happens next. You are ours. Do you understand me, baby girl?”
Baby girl.
I nearly moan with the deep-rooted lust shooting through me.
His words aren’t really a question but an affirmation, and my heart skips a beat. I can feel the electricity crackling in the air, and a part of me yearns to surrender to the moment and unburden my fears while another part is filled with trepidation.
Finn moves around in his seat to face me. “You don't have to be scared,” he whispers soothingly. His comforting words give me the courage to look into his eyes, yet I can't help but wonder if there's something more sinister going on that they keep reassuring me that Idon’thave to be afraid. What is there to be afraid of?
Owen places his hand on mine, and it feels comforting like I’m wrapped in a safety net. “We understand why you are hesitant,” he says. “But we need you to trust us. We need you to feel secure.” His words almost overwhelm me, and my rational mind screams for caution, but the wordneedoverwantis something that calms the raging fear inside me. The opposing emotions surging inside me make me realize I must decide whether to embrace or reject the night and trust them to take care of me.
Taking a deep breath, I finally nod reluctantly. “I want to be with you,” I whisper uncertainly.
The atmosphere goes both darker and lighter at the same time as Archer leans in and kisses me for the first time. It is an intimate, lingering kiss that sends a wave of warmth through my body. My lips go soft beneath his. I feel the heat of his body pressing against mine as it flares up with desire. This is the start of something unforgettable, something that will change the course of my life. A thrill of excitement rushes through me when I get lost in his touch, lost to his warmth and the taste of his lips. His arms coil around me, and he squeezes me close to him as his body presses against mine. I open my eyes and see a spark of excitement in his gaze. His fingertips graze my shoulder as I eagerly draw closer, embracing his kiss with fervor. I know this is a big deal for him. If he kissed just anyone, he would’ve kissed me before. He was waiting.
And fuck me, am I glad he did.
His tongue twists around mine in a dance so precise I nearly weep. His lips are bruising mine with the pressure he exerts with this passion. He nips my lips, his hand going to the back of my neck possessively as he deepens it further.
But then he pulls away, and his words are chilling. “Ours,” he growls. “No matter what happens. Remember that, baby girl.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Finn
We drivethrough the city streets, the anticipation rising with each rotation of the wheels. It’s a short drive. We will be there soon. What secrets will she uncover in our world? What mysteries will she solve? I let my imagination soar until we reach our destination. Then, it crashes back down to reality.
This isn’t going to be a pleasant evening for her. She isn’t prepared. We haven’t had time to prepare her. With the abdication of the King, Ethan Jackson, so his son had to replace him, in a shocking move that still reverberates around the Society, we were in no place to recruit Bailey in her final year of university. It was, as they say, a clusterfuck. So here we are, throwing her in at the deep end, but I have no doubt she will thrive after the initial flailing about.
The car pulls up down a quiet alley, and we get out. The entrance to the club, the Rabbit Hole, is hidden from view. It is a very small wooden door in the brick wall behind the dumpsters. Pleasant? No, but necessary.
We make our silent way to the door. “You’ll have to duck,” I murmur to Bailey, who is right behind me, next to Archer, with Owen on her other side.
“Hmm?”
Owen steps forward and opens the tiny door, ducking under the frame and shuffling inside, gesturing for me to send Bailey through. She glares at it and then, with a sigh, ducks her head and disappears through the entrance. Archer follows, and then me. I close the door behind me and walk a few paces forward until I can stand upright again.
“What is this place?” Bailey asks as the low thump of music reaches our ears.
The darkness of the corridor envelops us. Through the shadows, I can see an array of strange and unusual items arranged in neat rows. Candles flicker on the walls, casting an eerie glow through the hallway. We walk slowly past a tall glass cabinet filled with bottles of colored liquids and herbal extracts and on the shelves fitted into the walls on our other side, artfully carved wooden boxes filled with mysterious objects.
I hear Bailey’s breath quicken. I want to reach out and clasp her hand, but I’m not quite ready to do that yet. We reach the end of the corridor, where there is another door. This one is normal sized. Owen opens one of the cabinets and pulls out a large, ornate key. He inserts it into the lock and turns it. The door swings open, revealing a small, dimly lit room within.
On the far wall, a large tapestry is hung, depicting a strange landscape and dreamlike, curious creatures. In the center of the room is a round table surrounded by chairs. On the table rests a large book, open to a page with a quill and empty ink pot lying next to it.
“Welcome to the Inner Sanctum,” Owen murmurs, his voice low and reverent.
“Please,” Bailey whimpers, looking around. “Where am I?”
“Bailey,” Archer says, striding over to the book and lifting the tome to pull out a small, sharp dagger from underneath.
My breath hitches, my eyes focused on the shiny object in his hand, the red stone in the hilt gleaming when the flickering candlelight hits it. I cross over to him and hold my hand out. He knows I want to do this. He had better not take it away from me.
His eyes meet mine, and he holds the dagger out for me to take. I grip it tightly, twirling the point against the tip of my finger.
