Page 48 of Pretty Secrets

I tilt my head, believing it was Alaric who spoke. It’s confirmed when he says, “We have to get out there. Now.”

A hand leads me away, but my knees are practically Jell-O. I want to rewind what just happened and do it all over again, leaving me time to lie there and enjoy it afterward. Or for a round two where I get to watch them.

“You were a good girl,” Leo’s rough voice growls in my ear as I step out onto the hard ground next to him.

Warmth spreads through me. Instead of being repulsed by his words, I bask in them. If that’s what being a good girl takes, I proudly volunteer for next time.

21

Leo

Iache for pretty things that hurt. For as tough as Eden tries to be, she doesn’t fool me. The tension radiating off her after they blindfolded her brushed against my skin like sandpaper. It made me want to do things. To help her.

I stay back at the last second, forcing Barclay to escort both Eden and Oliver across the torch-lit path. I’m no good at feelings. Every time I’ve ever felt something for someone, it’s wilted and died.

I’m self-aware enough to know why I am the way I am. Why I can’t stand the Knights who’ve fucked me over since I was a kid. Honestly, I’d love to be as far away from here as possible, but I’m also—when you get to the heart of it—weak.

It’s the thing I hate most about myself. My pathetic need to come crawling back to my grandfather like a lost puppy.

It’s no wonder why people have left me time and time again. I’m unworthy.

She called my name, though. The lilt of her voice, all wrapped up in pleasure as it cried out for Leo, shot straight to my dick. Many girls have done something similar, but with their porn star voice. Like, if they cry out loud enough and perfect enough, they’ll cement a husband in no time.

But Eden lost in pleasure? It was so raw, so electric. I wanted to shove Barclay out of the way and ram my cock so far inside her pussy it’d take a pry bar to get me out.

My stomach tightens at the thought. If I’m getting close to her, I need distance. Grandfather hasn’t ordered me here just to help her through Trials. If I get too friendly, I won’t be able to detach when Grandfather makes his move. It’ll be just like my dad all over again.

I pull my hoodie on over my head, hands fisting at my sides while I search for our fucked-up little group. I feel the caged monster inside me come alive, even if I had to force it to the front this time. No friends. No feelings. I work on a primal level, and that’s the way I like it.

Soon, Grandfather will have me at his beck and call again. I won’t be holing up in the nice warmth of Jarvis Hall. I’ll be off on some mission he believes is necessary for the greater good. Which usually just means for the strength of the Jarvis line.

I almost wonder if he made me like this on purpose. As if from birth he knew exactly what was going to happen. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s the greatest mastermind I’ve ever seen.

Today, I’m watching over Eden Astor, but tomorrow? I might be expelling her from this life based on his tactical play.

Maybe he did get rid of Delilah. I never gave it too much thought before. It seemed like an endeavor that was beneath him. She was only a girl.

But so is Eden, and he’s had me watching her ass since the moment she got into town.

I don’t know what his play is—and it’s not my job to know, either.

Following the flames takes me on a rocky path into the woods. I hadn’t really been paying attention on the bus ride here, but sniffing the air brings me the fresh, cool scent of the river.

My heart stampedes forward, but I tamp that shit down. It’s up to Eden to get through this, and I sure as fuck don’t care what happens either way. If she fails, I might be able to get back to some semblance of normalcy. If she passes, I can keep using her as my toy, like my grandfather said. Win-win if you ask me.

The flames from the torches end at the edge of the trees, but in the distance are circles of burning embers littering the ground. Barclay and Eden stand near one. Oliver just adjacent to them near another.

I’m jealous as fuck of the professor, who has Eden’s pleasure all over his lips. In the heat of the moment, I wanted to ask him what she tasted like, but she would’ve figured out who was between her legs then. Most of all, I’m hoping it was picturing me that drove her over the edge.

I start toward Oliver. He must sense me when I walk by because he swivels his head to follow me as I take the place next to him. To my left is the riverbank. The water laps against the barrier wall, illuminated by the soft moonlight. My gaze darts to Eden to see how she’s doing, and I spot Barclay zeroing in on me. I shrug. Cool and aloof is easy. Concerned is something I haven’t quite mastered in a long time. In fact, it was beaten out of me by the man who now starts talking.

After a brief introduction, my grandfather says, “You may remove the blindfolds.”

He leers at me, and I’m certain he thinks I should be beside Eden during this. I’ve wondered whether Barclay is a plant too. He’s such a Knights enthusiast that I’ve almost asked him dozens of times who sent him here, but that would be giving myself away.

I untie Oliver’s blindfold and clench it in my grip. Immediately, he turns to find Eden, his jaw hard when he spots her behind us. I don’t let myself look again. Not yet. He shoots a glance toward the water next, and I can read the thoughts on his face because they’re the same as my own. Is it me or is everything we’ve been putting the Pledges through have something to do with breaking Eden Astor? And not in the fun way.

Why her? She’s just another rich girl.

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