Chapter 4: The Meet

KADE

He finally slipped into the solitude of his room, away from his incessant father. It's your birthday in a couple of weeks, his father's voice rang through his mind. It's tradition to receive an Unfortunate on your twenty-fifth birthday. You have no choice but to accept.

Kade dropped into the oversized leather chair behind his desk and exhaled. He didn't want a gift from Michael Sario. He didn't want anything from him.

He sat forward and glanced at the mining documents he'd been prying through for weeks. Something wasn't right. His mines were collapsing, and he had no idea why. He studied the map on the blueprint before him, trying to find a pattern. Nothing.

A creak crept through the room as his door opened, but Kade didn't bother dragging his gaze toward the bodies entering his private space. He already knew who it was and what he brought with him. An eternity of silence passed before Michael scoffed.

"Well," he said. "Here she is."

Kade didn't lift his attention from the blueprint. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact his father went through with the purchase when he knew how Kade felt about it. Kade didn't want an Unfortunate and certainly didn't have the time to train one. Despite his displeasure, images of what she might look like flickered through his mind. She'd have dispassionate eyes, no doubt. He bet she was sickly thin and shaking like a leaf, too.

"I told you—"

"And I told you it's tradition," Michael snapped. "Kill her tomorrow; I don't give a damn, but you will accept her today, and you will thank me for it."

Gritting his teeth, Kade lifted his gaze to the Unfortunate his father picked out. He dragged his stare up her purple gown. The cut of fabric gave shape to her wide hips and narrow waist and accentuated her voluptuous breasts. He dragged his gaze over the milky skin of her chest and onto her pretty, heart-shaped face. The Unfortunate blinked her violet eyes at the floor and pushed her long, damp auburn hair over her shoulder. Something pulled tight in his being. She was beautiful, pure, too pure for his dark gaze to rest on, which made him sick.

"I don't want her," Kade said as he dropped his attention to his blueprint.

"She's a gift. You have to have her. Since we're hosting the event, I expect you to mark her and show her off at the selection." The soles of Michael's shoes tapped the hard floor as he stepped around the Unfortunate and moved toward the exit. "I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted." Kade frowned and lifted his head as his father opened the heavy door and slipped through. He almost closed it, then paused and opened it enough to stick his head through. "Before I forget, her number is nine."

Michael Sario closed the door, leaving him with the last thing he felt comfortable being alone with. He'd changed, though. He was no longer weak and unpredictable. He was a Fortunate of Sario blood, and he was capable of keeping an Unfortunate under his thumb.

Kade looked to the Unfortunate for the second time. She slipped out a tiny sliver of her wet, pink tongue and moistened her lower lip. Something pulled tight in his abdomen at the sight, and he pushed out of his chair.

NINE

My heart races in my chest, battering my ribs, as Master Kade circles his desk and stalks closer to me. My stomach rolls and threatens to upturn the nothing I ate this morning. I've never been alone with a Fortunate before. I've never seen one up close until today. In the dark recesses of my mind, they're hairy, long-fingered beasts with sharp claws and razor-sharp teeth, but the Fortunate in front of me has none of those features. Kaden Sario is the most beautiful man I've ever seen with his glowing olive skin, shiny black hair, and midnight eyes.

My palms begin to sweat, and I fight the urge to rub them over my dress. Instead, I keep them clasped together behind my back in fear for my life.

"Nine," Kade states, trying my name on the tip of his tongue.

His deep, baritone voice plays along my skin, eliciting goosebumps over the surface and lifting the hair on the back of my neck. Surprised by the reaction his voice draws from me, I lift my stare to his chest as he towers above me. The fitted fabric of his white, formal button-up shirt exposes the clothed rises and depressions of his torso and wraps around his broad shoulders. His fresh and crisp scent causes saliva to pool under my tongue. He smells how I imagine dessert to taste.

Kade flicks my hair over my shoulder and touches the tips of his fingers to the nape of my neck. My body jolts to fearful attention at the feel of his smooth, warm skin on mine.

And I hate it.

He pokes and prods me, touching and gripping parts of me that have remained untouched by any hands beside my own. I'm shaken with a gasp as he grips my shoulders and turns me so my back is to him. I attempt to turn around, but his hands grip me tight, prohibiting me from moving.

"Stay," he demands, dropping his hands to my wrists.

I comply as he forces my hands apart, and I rest them idly at my sides. Kade runs the tips of his fingers down my spine, then grasps my hips and squeezes. I gulp as his touch twitches in hesitation before he slides his hands over my backside and down my thighs.

"Do you eat?" he inquires, his voice husky and gruff.

I swallow, desperate to moisten my dry mouth, as he glides his hands down my calves, then up to my inner thighs. I tremble. "Yes, sir."

"When?"

"Usually? Once in the morning and once before bed."

The food we're given as Unfortunates is the same thing it's always been. A small bowl of weird grey porridge, a slice of stale bread, and a cup of water. I've never had the pleasure of tasting something different, something of varying colours.

Kade steps away, and I turn around, clasping my hands behind my back again. He inches forward, this time with purpose. I keep my body steady as he reaches out and pulls at the knot on the shoulder of my dress. My stomach drops as my dress falls from my body and pools at my feet. Instinctively, I reach up to cover my breasts, but he slaps my hands away, making the surface of the back of my hands prickle.

"Ouc—"

Growling, he snatches my lips in his fingers, forcing them closed with a pinch. He tsks at me. His irises darken like the night does when a cloud blocks the moon's light.

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

My breathing turns shallow, but I hold still despite the urge to grab my dress and run. Kade releases my lips, and I rub them together.

"I can do better."

"I know you can, and you will. My Unfortunate needs to be perfect to represent me and my house appropriately."

He touches his index finger to the underside of my breast. Electricity jolts through me as he drags it along, feeling my soft curves. I don't know why my body is acting this way. I'm not aroused. I feel panicked, yet my nipple strains hard against the tip of his thumb as he flicks it over my sensitive tip.

"You will eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner in my house." He removes his touch from my breast. "If you hope to keep up with me, you'll need to be healthy and well rested. Like my father said, you are a gift, and I intend to keep you as long as possible."

Oh. Something inside me deflates.

"You're scared," he states, as a matter of fact.

"No, sir."

"Gather your dress." He clicks his fingers at me. "We have a ceremony to attend."

I dip low and gather the purple fabric. I pull it up to cover my naked body, my hands trembling. I cover my breasts from view and bunch the material on my shoulder. Kade watches, working his jaw tight as I struggle with the knot, unable to get my fingers to work in unison. Knowing I'm taking far too long, I blow frustrated air out of my lips, and tears sting my eyes.

Kade curses and snatches the fabric from my hands. "If you calm down, you won't struggle so much."

I dip my head as he ties my fabric together, then lift my gaze to his full lips. I frown, confused. Irritation is written all over his face, but his movements are gentle. He doesn't tug too hard nor jolts me about in anger. When he's done, he takes a minute step back, and our stares lock.

He blinks at me. Was he being nice to me? As if I've asked the question aloud, disgust spreads across his face, and he scowls. Making an angry sound in his chest, he shoves past me and exits the room.

Twenty minutes later, after following him down countless hallways and through a million doors, I end up on a stage in the middle of a field. I stand on a chunk of smooth marble with the Sario lion carved into the front of it.

To my left, Thirteen, Seven, and another redhead stand on their own marble blocks, lining the elegant stage.

The late morning sun is unbearable on my pale skin but not as unbearable as the gaze of the hundred Fortunates before me. They dissect us, every physical detail picked part and feasted on, their gaze like the sharp beak of a vulture, as they sip on thin flutes filled with a golden liquid.

I keep my head straight, chin high, shoulders back, and stare into the beautiful blue sky. Hints of wet wood and freshly mowed grass whip by my nose on the tail end of a zephyr, and I inhale it deep into my lungs.

The distinct sound of metal clashing with metal demands my attention, and I risk a glance over my shoulder. A rather large man, dressed head to toe in black deerskin, jams the shapely ends of three metal poles into a pot of lava. He waits a few minutes, scratching his bald head to kill time. Then, he grasps one of the poles in his chubby knuckle-less hand. He pulls it from the pot, and I watch the small flames dance on the end. Pulling it toward his face, he blows off the fire. I gasp at the sight of the angry, glowing red Sario lion and grab fistfuls of my dress as my stomach is wrung out by dread. Beside me, Thirteen whimpers and I look at her. She's peering over her shoulder, too. She flicks her blue stare to mine, and I swallow hard.

"It will only hurt for a second," I tell her. "Then it'll be over—"

A high-pitched horn sound pierces the air, cutting me off. The bright hymn silences the quiet gossip of the Fortunates in front of us, and they turn in their chairs, looking over at the Sario manor. I know I should drop my gaze to the ground, but I don't. I scan ahead and watch as the enormous double doors at the rear of the manor are pulled open, and four men in fitted black suits saunter out. The crowd claps as the men make their way down the pretty stone path where green bushes grow in abundance alongside it.

The Fortunate men pass by the beautiful shrubbery without a glance at the cream flowers sprouting proudly through the green. Then, my eyes lock with Kaden's. I freeze as air from my lungs catches in my throat. He wraps his long, thick fingers around his tie and adjusts it. There's no expression on his face, but the warning is clear in his eyes.

I drop my gaze to the wooden stage floor in front of me. I don't dare look up again until Kade slips his large, warm hand under my chin and grips my jaw. He tilts my head up, then turns it from side to side for the crowd to acknowledge. I grit my jaw and feel Kade's touch twitch as they ooh and ahh at me. I hate it. I've never felt so worthless in my entire life.

I drop my attention to the varnished stage floor when he releases me. Clangs of metal behind me make my skin crawl and choked sobs leave Thirteen in a rush as if she can't possibly hold them back another second. I look at her and am met with a nip at the back of my wrist as Kade squeezes my skin. I hiss.

"Don't look at her," he demands in a harsh whisper. The warmth from his body envelopes me. He's standing so close; I'm sure if I push back, I'll feel him against me. "You said you can do better. Prove it."

My throat thickens. I take a deep breath and push my concern for Thirteen deep down.

"Turn," Master Kade orders. I turn on my small block of marble, careful not to lose my balance. The man in the deerskin clothes hands Kade an iron stick. He weighs it in his large hand and lifts his intense gaze to mine. "Walk to the table and lower your dress."

I flick my attention to the table at the front of the stage and lift my eyebrows. That's what it's for? I ponder his demand for a few seconds. He wouldn't hurt me unnecessarily…

...would he?