THE SACRIFICE: Secret Society Romance (4Horsemen Series Book 3) Read online

Birdy stirred, trying to lift her hands to scrap away the tubes and wires. Shooting up I carefully helped her upright so she could see, take everything in the way my animal would need to if they wanted me to behave in her situation.

  Sliding myself behind her I held her carefully to me, “Really trying to show me up with this death pact, huh? I see you.”

  The sedatives were still running through her like a freight train when her hands reached up to my face trying to touch me when I kissed her face in between the oxygen tubes.

  Her strained, dry, even more raspy voice whispered so low I had to put my head down to hear her. “I’m a dead girl now.”

  Tugging the blankets higher up her waist I whispered back, “No babe, life is just like a box of chocolates and this one just wasn’t our flavor.”

  She smiled at my impersonation and tried to lean into me more, mouthing the words I love you up at me.

  Looking up with wide eyes and a full heart I said to Justice and Vic, “We are all pretending that didn’t happen. I’m gonna make her say it again.”

  Vic caught my eyes as I held Grace close, wishing I drank the poison too, when he looked blown over. He was never surprised or caught off guard or even maskless in front of strangers the way he was right now.

  Shrugging his direction, I waited for a reply, “Nothing… I just never thought I’d see you in love again.”

  Justice pinched her toe lightly, “Got out of protesting tomorrow, girl.” Vic’s arm around her, they both stepped out for coffee. He wasn’t leaving until he got to question her, and he found her answers satisfying.

  He should have been a cop or lawyer not stuck as some cult member.

  KHAOS

  After tangling with Dove, both of us, I felt like I was being watched, followed, haunted in a way I didn’t like. I was waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night and replaying the scene in my mind like a child who couldn’t let go of a disappointment.

  There goes that guilt that just loved to fuck my conscience into feeling.

  Birdy had become my new favorite crutch, I leaned on her and expected her to catch me if I fell in a way money didn’t buy.

  She was doing it for free.

  Meanwhile, I was acting like one of those girls at Whole Foods trying to force their free samples onto you. Birdy was going to accept my help one way or another, I was going to be a crutch for her too.

  Once Vic got to question her after surgery and her lips formed a tight line not giving him any of the answers he wanted, she was released a few days later. They wanted her to undergo some therapy in the hospital, but I could tell it was the last thing she wanted when she squeezed my hand tight.

  I hired nurses and physical therapists to come to the house if it meant giving this girl whatever she wanted. She deserved it all just for seeing me instead of my charming smile. I would have done anything for her even before reading the thick and depressing file Vic had pulled, before I knew all the hard truths that formulated Grace...

  Orphaned at birth.

  Five foster homes.

  Three girls’ residents for those unadopted.

  Juvenile detention center at least every other year.

  One gang later.

  And too many pages of injuries- assumed and medically pronounced upon examinations the rare times she sought out treatment.

  No address, phone number, or emergency contact other than Justice Rockefeller.

  She deserved more than seeing me and all the love I had to give. She deserved the world, and the Clave credit card was going to buy all the things that would make her feel like new money instead of the vandalized property her life deemed her as.

  She had solely survived while I coasted by on only a smile. It made me hate myself for only deciding to be genuine now. All these years I could have been more than that, more than what life told me I was. I could have been strong like Grace.

  She couldn’t have looked more at home in my bed even though I knew home was some far-fetched item and she was the kind of girl who wasn’t admitting to needing anyone. Standing in the doorway smiling at her waking up I felt all the stages of a honeymoon romance kick up inside me. She was here and had no way out now... not really.

  Our blood oath made it seem pretty binding.

  I still needed to fill her in on that small detail… once she was off the pain meds.

  I hadn’t touched one pill from the orange tubes on the nightstand even though my body ached for them to smooth over the anxiety that always laid dormant inside me. I was basically sober now and knew I needed to stay that way for Birdy.

  She still hadn’t even told me the details of her stepdad or what happened that night - that alone kept me on edge. I already felt the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up randomly and I wondered if that was my poison, my turn to fake my death.

  “Awake? The nurse will be here soon for physical therapy.”

  Birdy yawned completely covered by the fluffy blankets when she tried to get up by herself but was unable to bear the weight without her walker.

  Trust me, I wanted to make a joke about the spry girl needing a walker, but it was a sore subject I learned quickly when her strong as fuck fist drove into my arm.

  Rushing over to help, I pushed the walker over to her and watched her glare at me. I spent the night, after I woke up in a sweaty panic unable to fall back to sleep, attaching child size skateboards where the wheels used to be. I tricked out her ride and she clearly didn’t appreciate it.

  The walker was only more chains when she preferred wings.

  “Your mom is coming to distract you, right? I can’t see you in a school cheerleading uniform if you ever want me to fuck you again.”

  She was referring to the costume I wore to her last therapy session when I cheered her on and even brought a whiteboard so I could score her efforts.

  Visitors lost, the team with home field advantage won by a landslide.

  The doorbell camera I got at Target stuck to one of the iron rods on my gate that was always locked anyways, chimed in my pocket but I didn’t see any movement. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  “Why are you so jumpy?” Grace demanded in her stern voice that made me cringe.

  Tucking my phone in my pocket I leaned down to eye level, “Because a certain young lady still won’t tell me why she got shot or if anyone is looking for her. Makes me jumpy knowing your stepdad knows where I live.”

  Hitting my foot with her walker I watched her gain some speed when she casually said, “They think I’m dead, okay? That’s all I’m talking about. The rest is in the past now.”

  “Does Jus know more or less than I do?” My arms folded, I felt that out of the loop sensation that only fed my anxiety and paranoia.

  Her eyes averted mine, looking down like there would be a good lie laying around, she just had to find it.

  Thank god my mom was about to smudge and sage all the bad shit away.

  I practically raced Grace downstairs floating on the sheer smell of maple syrup and pancakes I made in preparation of her therapy. I was taking it more seriously than any one of my therapies for my own broken bones.

  Grace was bestowing a jealous look in my direction as she practically kicked the walker forward like it was the worst accessory she has ever had. Pulling a chair out I fell to the one at the head of the small table in the nook of the kitchen smiling ear to ear as I pushed the plate of pancakes her direction.

  Her ass kissed the chair for a moment before I watched her slither down to the floor when my eyes intensified at her disappearing out of view until I felt her hands smooth up my thighs under my red satin robe. “Grace… what are you doing?”

  She was using a walker and would still be stiff if she sat or stood for too long, but now she was on her knees under the table making it hard to say yes or no to her beautiful mouth.

  “I have to do my stretches…” pushing my chair back ever so slightly I looked down at her biting her lip through a mischievous smile.

 
; Smoothing my palm down my waking ridge in my boxer briefs I tried to stay strong, but she was already all set up and my girl’s ego couldn’t take me rejecting her again followed by the same spiel of how she's fragile right now.

  If I called her fragile one more time, she was going to drive her fist into my face next. She’s already clipped my Achilles in the store for clearing a path for her. “So, I’m helping you then?”

  Pulling down the band on my underwear, Grace nodded, not waiting for me to spring out when her hand dipped inside massaging my length before bringing her lips to my tip. Her mouth plunged down my length, not stopping until her lips were firmly around my base and I was wrapped around her little finger.

  My hand automatically combed through her short blonde hair moving it out of the way so I could see her lips hugging my width. Leaning back into the chair I took a deep breath and held it there until her mouth left me with a pop. She was tormenting me with her tongue, licking and sucking around my tip, bringing me right to the edge.

  She always feels like a pro. How many times has she done this?

  Lifting my hips to meet her lips still teasing the tip of me, I felt my hand push her head down and swallow me whole until I felt myself hit the back of her throat again. Her fingers dug into my legs while she adjusted, her wet lips dragging back up and down, picking up her pace.

  Letting my head fall back, my eyes closed, and I muttered, “Fuckkk. Grace… I’m gonna...” Trying to warn her I felt the tension in the bottom of my spine while her tongue chased the strong jerks of my dick.

  My mom came flooding into the kitchen dressed head to toe in LuLuLemon with some kind of beaded shall hanging over her hips. She was a hippie, witchy, love child but she still had style.

  With her arms open she ate the distance between us, wrapping me in her arms while Grace swallowed parts of me, trying to quickly tuck my dick back inside my briefs. Smoothing down my hair she spoke low, “How are you ma chérie?”

  Grace was caught off guard, not realizing my mom was right behind me as she hit her head on the table trying to escape quickly before she tossed out, “Morning, Grace.” I saw her discomfort melt away the way it did with everyone when they were around my mom as she crawled back up to her seat.

  “I was just... stretching…” she said in a whisper when my eyes widened at her terrible excuse.

  Rounding the table, she wrapped her arms around Grace from behind and kissed her head without any attention to the fact that she was just on her knees for me.

  There was no way to subdue my mother, she was a force of nature and Grace would recognize the same storm inside of her. I was witnessing a perfect storm with them together.

  After soaking up Grace she finally turned her attention back to me when she started speaking French: why didn’t I tell her what happened, why didn’t I call her sooner, is Grace living with me, am I in love, etc. Full mom mode and with all the helicoptering around me I felt dizzy.

  My phone chimed again like a doorbell when I didn’t even have to look, even though I did just to be sure it was who I was expecting. She may have given me a nugget of truth this morning, but it didn’t mean Dove was done with me.

  Opening the door, I ignored my mom’s smooth French that used to lull me to sleep when Grace’s lips found my like routine, “Therapist is here.” I was going to answer my mom, but I wasn’t about to respond in French to questions about Grace like she wasn’t even here, it could wait until we were alone.

  I waited for the door to close behind her when she headed out to the yard with the therapist, who was setting up the balls and mats, while I stalked the window making sure she was okay.

  “What is this? There is toxic energy happening here. Are you sleeping?” My mom was unapologetic when it came to reading energy so leave yours at home.

  Difficult when you are home.

  “It’s not a big deal, don’t get all witchy on me. It’s just some bad dreams or something.”

  “Or you’re still scared and stuck on her gang ties…” her hand squeezed mine when I scrubbed my face of being so transparent. “No one is more powerful than the Clave. You have to remember that. She’s Clave now.”

  She’s DuPonte now. Not Clave, she’s part of me, not all of them.

  Vic drew my blood only to make sure she was protected not because our blood types match.

  “Can you please just do your voodoo magic? The melatonin and sleepy tea aren’t working, and this sober shit is brutal.”

  “Nothing scrubs those worries from your soul. You need to meditate and fix your issues instead of ignoring them.”

  Fishing out the Pop-Tarts from the cabinet, I decided to eat them raw lately because the toaster was bullying me. Loud and surprising sounds were off the table until I apparently just meditated.

  I watched my mom expertly remove the smudge sticks and homemade cleansing items. All of them smelled like a commune and it tickled my nose hairs in a way that I let myself believe this could work.

  I took a big inhale hoping my mom could fix anything.

  French women, they’ll teach you a thing or two.

  Walking around my house speaking French, I stayed in the kitchen where she purified the air already. I knew Grace and I needed to talk about everything, but I could only push so far until she shut down.

  Once my mom was done she let the items burn on a ceramic plate between us at the table I never used. “Did you smudge her too?”

  “Mon chou, what is your plan now? If you’re claiming her as yours…”

  “Truly unfeminist, Mom, fuck. She’s barely living here willingly. I’m basically living out Misery.”

  The movie, not my girlfriend, let’s be clear.

  Smiling softly at me like she knew something I didn’t. “Secret is out now and by the way she looks at you… that’s obvious. You are free to marry whomever you want and she is Clave… when will it be safe to announce the engagement?”

  “In the great words of Grace, let's pump the breaks. She likes things slow so you aren’t announcing shit. When she knows, I’ll know, then you’ll know. Last to know... see how that works?” Rifling through her Mary Poppins bag she dug out a green folder which I recognized as Clave.

  Sliding the folder over to me with a pen sitting on top, her happiness I inherited faded some, “I know that’s how life should be but that’s not how it is for you, mon chou. After everything that has happened the Clave wants some insurance. I need you to read these over and sign them tonight.”

  She got up from the table I used to throw Mad Hatter tea parties at and walked away without much else to go on. She was forcing me to open the folder that I’m sure was a magic ball telling me exactly what was happening next.

  Rules.

  Regulations.

  Order.

  All the things I’m not.

  Opening the folder, I pulled the red satin robe tighter around my waist not sure what else I should be carrying with me when you finally kneel the way you shouldn’t ever have to. The folder was thin but the writing small, Georgia in 11 point, and started with the sub header of marriage. Once you got past the part of marriage, I saw heirs, commitment to the Clave, spouse directives (like you could tell her shit), and more details outlining my new babysitter - these four pages.

  I hadn’t so much ever been grounded and now I was imprisoned.

  Combing through every detail I wanted to hack their system the way I knew how just to erase every trace of Grace, so she wasn’t suffering too.

  Closing the file and leaving the pen behind I tried to slam it down on the kitchen island now taken over by my mother who managed to find ingredients for lunch in my pantries that were basically cereal wranglers. “What the fuck is this?”

  Still stirring and chopping like I wasn’t angry, “Mon chou, language. We tried very hard to give you all the freedom we never got but maybe it was too much.”

  “You can’t have enough freedom just like you can’t buy it.”

  Her hand caressed my face in a way I
knew no matter how large the tantrum nothing was going to change this. The Clave didn’t like my decisions and they were done putting themselves at risk by giving me bottomless get out of jail free cards.

  “Don’t confuse freedom with love, mon chou. Freedom is the opposite of love. When you love someone it can feel binding, caging, trapping in ways freedom doesn’t know.”

  “If I sign this, I’m not naming my son Krosby and I’m adopting-” I couldn’t finish my thought when Grace ambled through the door with the physical therapist cheering her on.

  My mom smirked and continued cooking, “You aren’t the only one to agree. Tell her the truth.”

  Pulling out the chair to the smaller table in the window of my kitchen I stopped myself from guiding her. I hated when people did that to me. I couldn’t turn into what I hated. “We should talk… there’s been developments.”

  I saw her face pale to a color I’ve never seen, without the surfing and boarding her tauny skin refused to lose its color.

  Catching her inner thoughts in midair, I backtracked over my words, “No, no Dove developments, Clave ones…”

  “I told you it’s okay to go back to work. I’m doing fine, Khaos.” Her voice sounded slightly annoyed with her own progress. She was doing fine for only being a few weeks post op. She wanted to be independent again and that was taking too long for her.

  Shifting my attention to the therapist before she bolted, I got my status update the way I always did. “Help her stretch her hips later, she’s very tight and it’ll help.”

  Wagging my eyebrows up and down towards Grace I puckered my lips, kissing the air, “Oh I’ll help her stretch her hips…”

  Grace rolled her eyes and sat there trying to ignore me when I saw her finger on the edge of the folder before I rushed the therapist out. I needed to example that folder before she freaked out.

  Practically slamming the door on the physical therapist, I jogged back to the table where I left Grace with my mom and that folder - alone.

  Fuck.

  “Don’t freak out,” I pushed the pads of my fingers into the green folder, pinning it to the table, not letting her open it. “So, the Clave is like your gang… only worse. There are rules we have to follow and let’s say I broke a lot of them. Well, I guess they’re all set letting me off the hook so now I have to sign this…” Pushing the folder towards her I sat down further in the seat trying to disappear.