Page 37 of Call It What You Want
A loudthumpreverberates off the tile floor, and the chanting abruptly stops. The guy in the center exchanges the smoking ball for a chalice. I notice a second chalice is making its way around the circle, everyone taking a sip before passing it along to the next person.
Weird, but okay. Could be worse.
It’s dim, the only light coming from candles flickering in sconces around the room. So when the masked man approaches me, I can’t quite make out the color of his eyes. He drinks from the chalice, then holds it out to me.
“No, thanks,” I say softly, not wanting to offend. But I’m just observing, so…
“Everyone must drink,” he says, his voice deep and husky, but I don’t recognize it. But that could be because my pulse is thundering so loud in my ears that it drowns out everything else.
Is this Jackson? And why does the answer suddenly feel like it could change everything?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ava
Everyone must drink.
Ugh.I have the distinct feeling I’m going to regret this, but I take the chalice anyway, drinking deeply to prove I can be a team player. The liquid is sweet—too sweet—and God only knows what it is, but if everyone else is drinking it, then it can’t be that bad, right?
The orange flavor lingers on my tongue as I hand the chalice back. But, wait. Immediately, something feels wrong. A wave of dizziness hits me so suddenly, I waver a little. The guy just stares at me from behind his mask. No reaction. No offer to help. Just a cold, detached gaze that sends fear tripping down my spine.
“What’s…” I rock back, but manage to catch myself, my vision blurring. I blink rapidly to clear the haze, but it only seems to get worse. “What’d you put…in that…dri…?” That last word trails off for no reason, but he gets what I’m trying to say, right?
“Something to relax you.”
All the anger and confusion from seconds ago is gone, replaced with a warm, floaty sensation that wraps around me like a warm towel freshly pulled from the dryer.
“Mmm,” I moan, my eyes drifting closed. “Nice.”
A pair of strong hands grip my upper arms to hold me steady.
“Ava Baldwin,” he intones, and the more he speaks, the more I’m convinced it’s Jackson. Who else here would know my last name?
“Yes?” My full weight shifts forward as I sink against him.
“Do you come here of your own free will?”
God, he smells so good. He’s always smelled absolutely delish, but this must be a new soap or something. I inhale, then suddenly remember he asked me a question. “Yes.” Not a lie. I was invited to observe, and I did come here willingly.
He drags me into the center of the circle and removes his mask, tossing it somewhere off in the darkness. It’s Jackson’s beautiful face staring back at me, his expression serious. Solemn.Dark.
God, I’m good. Iknewit was him.
He leans in, the tips of his fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw until they reach my chin. He tilts my face up, and captures me with those intense green eyes—sharp, unreadable, completely devastating. My thoughts scatter. The room spins, soft and slow, but all I can focus on is him. The way he looks at me, like he’s about to ruin me, but I’m too far gone to stop it.
“Do you agree to serve the order, to do whatever it requires of you without question or hesitation?” he whispers.
Those lips.Damn.They’ve always held some kind of spell over me—full and smooth, the kind that looks like they’ve whispered a thousand lies to a thousand different girls and never once begged for forgiveness. There’s a faint curve to them, and I already know the havoc they’re capable of inflicting on my body.
“Ava…”
Oh, right. He asked me something. But for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was. Something about the society. I think. Maybe?
“Um, yes,” I reply quickly, hoping that’s the right answer, because, honestly…I don’t know.
His hand strokes my cheek as he says…something. I don’t know. I’m so distracted by the way his voice snakes through my veins, I can barely focus on anything else. The meaning of his words slips right past me. My brain scrambles to catch just one word, to pin it down, but the second it lands, it vanishes in a haze of warmth and dizziness.
His fingers drift down to the collar of my robe, slow and deliberate, then tug it open just enough to expose my bra—the one I’m not supposed to be wearing.
