“How?” My vision swam, hope trying to fire in my breast but unsure if this was some trick by Cal.
“Are you okay?” His embrace crushed me to the point I had to push away just to breathe.
“I am now. But how are you here?” I searched his eyes, willing it all to be real.
“Because, Stella,” Cal interrupted, “the Devereauxs have long been a family in the upper echelons of society.” He gave Dylan’s mother a respectful nod. “But in just this past month, the lovely Marguerite expressed an interest in finally joining our particular party—the very pinnacle of all society. And we are more than happy to have her and her son, of course.” Cal smiled like a toothy shark.
I wondered how much Marguerite had to pay to be accepted into this den of monsters. We had never been close when she was briefly married to my father. She saw me as more of an inconvenience than anything else. This must have been Dylan’s doing.
Dylan smoothed a hand across my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just don’t understand—”
“And you never will, Stella. Because we’re different breeds.” Cal looked down at me, as if I were an unruly child who needed to learn her manners. “Dylan here has an affection for you, clearly, but how much affection can a lion truly have for a lamb? He doesn’t realize it, but you’re beneath him, just like you’re beneath everyone else in this room. It doesn’t matter if we dress you up, put jewels on you, or whatever else.”
“You don’t have to talk to her like that.” Dylan’s voice was gruff, though he still palmed my cheek tenderly.
“I’m just stating the facts, Dylan. That’s all. No need for unpleasantness. Marguerite, may I show you my particular favorite orchid here in the solarium? Give these two a chance to catch up?”
Marguerite stared at me and then her son before shaking her head and taking Cal’s arm. She’d studied me the same way the entire time I’d known her, like I was a curious animal or insect. Interesting enough to examine, but too low to approach or engage. Without a word, she walked away as Cal began waxing poetic about plants.
Dylan hugged me again just as fiercely before holding me away from him. “It worked. I can’t believe we’re in and I’m here with you.” He smiled, youth beaming from his tanned skin and light brown eyes.
“Can you get me out?”
His face soured, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “I don’t know. Cal hasn’t been very forthcoming about the whole process you’re caught up in.”
“The Acquisition?”
He nodded. “Right. He says there’s going to be a big Christmas party next weekend where we’ll get the idea of what it’s all about.”
“Next weekend?” I thought I had more time. I thought I had at least two more weeks. But no, Christmas was coming early. A wave of nausea washed over me, but I had to focus. I needed information.
“Yeah, he says it’s a big to-do out at someone’s house in a forest up north of here. Two-day party. I have no idea. I’m not much of an outdoorsman, but Cal assured me I’d enjoy the hunting.” He shrugged, completely oblivious.
My heart sank and tears burned in my eyes. “So you’re coming to the Christmas trial?”
“Yeah, we kind of have to. It’s part of the whole joining the club thing. And maybe once I get more in with them, I can get you out. You’ll be there, right?”
“Yes.” I stared at the floor.
“Stella, what?” He gripped my hands. “And what do you mean by trial?”
“Christmas. It’s a trial.”
“Like with your dad?”
I shook my head and looked at him again, my tears barely held at bay. “I’ve already been through one trial.”
“I’m not following.” He held my hands tighter, as if the pressure would somehow make him understand. But there was only one way he would comprehend what I was talking about. I had to show him.
I twisted my body so I faced away from him. The gasp when he saw my back and the touch of his fingers along my skin made two tears fall—perfect, transitory drops that were lost in the black fabric of my dress.
“Who did this to you?” Dylan’s voice was a strangled whisper.
“They all did.”
“Cal?” His fingertips stroked across each mark.
“No, but it doesn’t matter who did it. It’s them. All of them. They all do it.” Why didn’t I want to tell him Vinemont had inflicted the wounds? I could have said, could have named him, but I didn’t.
I looked up and caught Lucius staring at me, his eyes burning even as Brianne was pliant under his touch. She was straddling him now, her skirt hiked up and her hands in his hair. He palmed one of her tits, his other hand on her ass, as she kissed his neck. Even so, his direct gaze was on me, pinning me to the spot. My mind spun out of the conversation with Dylan even as his fingers still traced the memory of the tortures written on my skin.