Page 15 of Savage Hunter

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you are questioning if my daughter is still a virgin.”

“And is she?”

“I’ve seen to it.”

The longer my mother talks the sicker I feel. She conceived me for what? This Society? As what? Some modern day virgin sacrifice? I clamp a hand over my mouth and force myself to swallow the rising bile. Could she be arranging my marriage? Knots form in the pit of my stomach. My breath hitches in my chest. Desperate for more answers and a face to put to the voice, I press into the doorframe and slowly ease it open an inch at a time. Still nothing. From this angle, all I get is a black suit and a shoulder. Black hair.

There’s a pause. “Did your brothers take care of the Italian?” my mother asks.

“We promised a body and an empty throne,malyshka.”

I hear the creak of hinges and a heavy thump.

“As you can see, the Italian is no longer a problem. The throne is open for the taking. There is no one standing in your way, Lorelai. Once you pay your due, the Society is yours for a period of twenty-five years or death. Whichever comes first.”

Did someone just drop a body? I angle this way and that but still can’t see shit.

But what I hear hits me like a punch to the gut.

There’s another long pause. My brain still hasn’t caught up with my racing heart. She’s using me to pay her way into this Society. But what Society? What does it matter? I step back from the door, but my feet are cemented in place. Wolfe. I need to get to Wolfe. Whatever this is, I want no part of it. We’ll leave tonight and not look back. I don’t have a cent to my name, but none of that matters.

I take another step and then my whole trajectory changes. A heavy set of hands clamp around my bare shoulders. One good shove and I slam through the door.

Gleaming marble rushes up to meet my face and there’s nothing that breaks my fall but the hard floor.

“Umph.” It’s more of a harsh, painful sound than a word. I grit my teeth and push my tumbling hair from my face as I look up and meet my mother’s judgemental gaze.

Pain shoots up my arms and settles in the black hole where my heart should be. Nothing but cold seeps out and chills me to the bone. I slowly look behind me to see a large, hulking asshole pinning me to the floor with a hard stare. His feet are spread wide, and he’s clasping his hands in front of him.

“Brutus.”

Fitting name for a brainless brute.

“You asked me to find her. She was outside the office listening.”

“If I find a single bruise on the package, I’ll have your balls on my desk in a jar.”

I’m hearing them speak about me as if I am not in the room. But honestly, my eyes are on the body thrown on the floor like yesterday’s trash. The Italian, I presume.

“Understood, Madam. I apologize, Madam Primrose.”

I angle my head around.

Muscle poured into an expensive tuxedo doesn’t mean that brains are included in the package. Case in point. Brutus. The lights are on, but the dull sheen in his eyes says he does nothing without input from the controller.

That has me turning my attention to my mother. If she were to see the bruises I feel on my hips, she wouldn’t be worried about the ones I got from Brutus. Pride forces me slowly to my feet. My shoes fell and skittered across the floor, but I don’t give them a second look.

“Mother.” I run my hands down the front of my dress out of nerves and hoping she doesn’t see the tremble in my fingers. “I knew tonight was about secrets, but I thought it was all about the red door. Not you marry me off or whatever it is you have planned. So what do you get for the price of your only daughter?” Acid washes against my insides.

I keep my eyes pinned to the floor. I wish I could raise them, but years of training are hard wired into the brain.

“Mother gets what Mother wants, right? Money? Power. That much is obvious.” I don’t want to sound wounded, but I know I do. I straighten my shoulders and fight against the submissive in me and raise my chin high. If I can’t force myself to sound strong, I can look it.

My eyes finally find their way off a point on the floor to meet hers.

Ice-blue eyes cut me deeply as my mother takes in my crumpled dress, loose hair and smeared lipstick. She steps around the desk and comes to stand in front of me. Her shoulder length hair hangs in perfectly polished sheets of gleaming gold to frame her delicate features. She’s beautiful and I have the same slim nose and shade of eyes. Just by looking at her, it would be easy to mistake her for a kept woman without a care in the world. Not…I don’t know what she is. All I see are her petite shoulders and icy demeanor held in place by a steel spine.

She crosses the office stand in front of me, chin held in a position of judgment. Red velvet clings to her hourglass figure. Millions of dollars worth of work and a rigorous diet keep age at bay. Men fall at her feet. She snaps her fingers and her bidding is done. Until five minutes ago, I marveled at her power.

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