Page 56 of Inconvenient Marriage
Loni leans back again. Lifting her hand, she ticks them off on her fingers. “Yeah. That’s what I used to call their group of five when we were in school together because we all knew they’d lead the Order one day. There’s Adrian, Dallas, Connor, Bas, and Desmond.”
Desmond. I know him—orofhim. “Desmond St. James, right? I know him. He worked with…” I stop short before I can say Eric’s name, replacing it instead with a gulp, and, “He was killed?—”
Loni doesn’t notice my near slip. Her hazel eyes going dark, she cuts me off. “At my wedding.”
Oh. “I… I thought I heard something about that. He was supposed to get married to an Offering.”
Eric told me. About how Jack had thought about demoting an Offering for having sex before marriage, but that I shouldn’t get any idea… he only did so because the St. Jameses paid him to reinstate the Offering so that Desmond could Claim her.
It didn’t work out too well for the son of one of Eric’s partners. Someone shot him dead, taking his place, all because of… “Didn’t it have something to do with blood?”
Loni looks surprised that I would know that. “Yeah. You’re right. Adrian had a blood oath.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t know?” Loni cocks her head slightly. “I thought you were an Offering.”
I was supposed to be.
“We were first generation,” I say instead, explaining myself. “My dad got invited to join the Order when I was in middle school.”
Now she nods. “So you didn’t go through Offering training.” A wistful look crosses her pretty face. “Lucky.”
I guess. The way I see it, I went from being an average Harmony Heights citizen to one ofthemat a pivotal time in my life. Miranda was only four. She grew up knowing what was expected of her. Not me. When I hit eighteen, it was no surprise that I wasn’t chosen—wasn’t Claimed—since no one knew who I was… and that’s when Eric came along and I never had a chance to be the Offering they wanted me to be.
I don’t want to tell her that, though. I just… I’m not ready.
But I am curious.
“So… blood oath?”
“It’s something one of the Owed does,” Loni says. “Just to make sure that they can Claim their bride before the Claiming ceremony in August. It’s really only done when an Owed is afraid that more than one of them might try to Claim the same Offering. It’s a promise made in blood, a promise they make to protect you to the death—yours or theirs. If the King seals it, nothing can come between you.”
That’s good to know. I mean, I’ll never have that with Sebastien, but maybe if Eric tries to threaten my sister’s standing again, I can tell her about it. Colt loves Randa. I’m sure he’ll sign some blood oath thing to make sure that he gets to Claim her this August?—
Hang on.
“Loni? Are you okay?”
Her features are twisted in a look of pure jealousy. She’s not peering in my direction, though. Instead, she’s glaring at the dance floor.
I follow the direction of her stare.
Adrian is shaking off one of the Used; it’s easy to pick them out now, from the heavily made-up faces to the classy yet skimpy dresses they wear. She pouts as he stalks away from her, making a beeline for our table.
“Goddamn Used,” he mutters, throwing himself into the booth. “They’re on the hunt tonight, their desperation stinking like cheap perfume.” He reaches for Loni. “Come here, princess. I need something to get that taste out of my mouth.”
Now that he husband is back, that he got rid of the Used targeting him, Loni relaxes. No. She actually giggles, sliding her arms around his neck, the two of them falling into a kiss like they’re the only two in the club.
I look away, suddenly uncomfortable at how obviously they love each other, and that’s when I realize that Adrian is here.
Sebastien isn’t.
I wait until Adrian stops trying to devour his wife before I clear my throat. “Um. Sebastien. What happened to him?”
“He said he needed to take a piss,” Adrian tells me, pulling his wife across his lap. “Said he’d be right back.”
A flicker of unease skitters down my spine. I don’t know why it does, but as though I can’t resist the urge to make sure he’s okay, I slip out of the booth, climbing to my feet.
