Lust (The Elite Seven #1)(30)

“You hit me,” I say, unsure what the hell is happening myself. I thought he was dead. In my panic, I didn’t even check his pulse.

“My head hurts,” he groans.

“You fell and hit your head,” God tells him.

“Why are we out here, and who are these people?” he questions, wary.

Stepping forward, Pride towers over my dad’s hunched over form, his build alone intimidating as shit. “We’re his brothers, and we’re willing to do whatever necessary to protect him, and his future, even if that means you gotta lose yours,” Pride warns, his threat razor sharp.

“What happened tonight?” God asks him. The other’s crowd in around him like serpents ready to strike.

Stuttering and gasping for air, my dad scans the pack surrounding him and nods in understanding. “I fell and hit my head. Rhett took me to hospital. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Pride repeats, the warning as loud as a lion’s roar.





God’s always had my back, but knowing the lengths others are willing to go for me gives me a sense of invincibility and the feeling of family I’ve been missing lately.

My dad has given me a wide berth since that night. And the bond between the seven of us feels like a lifetime of friendships, not a week.

Pride is already at the convent when I arrive. Lit candles surround him as he reads over a card in his hands.

“Just us?” he asks as I make my presence known.

“God,” I call out, and my best friend steps out from behind the door.

Standing, Pride nods and holds the card between his finger and thumb.

“I’ve been given your task.” His lips slice into a thin line.

Anticipation shudders through me. This is it—what it’s going to cost for my membership.

“You want me to read it out loud, or…?” I take the card from his hand and swallow.

“You should know,” he says, serious and firm.

“The coin given to you by The Elite offers you one trade or future favor. If you cash it in, to forfeit your task, you won’t be given a choice of the second task chosen for you. You will need to follow it through or be expelled as a candidate. Using your coin now leaves you no future favors, shall you ever need something not given freely by The Elite,” he urges with a firm grip to my shoulder. “Think carefully about this choice. You only get one.”

“Noted.” I open the card and read the ink elegantly swirled on the paper.



Lust,

Your task is sin of the flesh.

Miss. C. Griffins.

Academic protégé.

Heir to her family fortune.

Daughter to the Dean of St. Augustine.

Seduce the forbidden fruit.

Document the sin.

Bribery shall The Elite ever need it.



It’s signed with the stamp, same logo as on the coin.

“She sounds like a perfect candidate for The Elite,” I scoff.

“Maybe she was.” Pride quirks a brow, a wicked grin curling up his lip.

Hands bare down on my shoulders from behind, God squeezing. “Romeo, Romeo,” he mocks in a playful manner.

Taking the card from my hand, Pride holds it up. “You got it?”

“Easy,” I offer him a grin of my own, but it’s all bravado. Seducing women out of their panties isn’t an issue for me, I’ve been a pro at it ever since my balls dropped, but filming her without her knowledge and giving it over so fuck knows how many people can view it doesn’t sit well with me.

I’m an asshole, but that much of one?

Pulling a silver lighter from his pocket, Pride lights the card, the flame taking hold, consuming my task.

Dropping it to the floor, we all watch transfixed as the amber flame dies out and ash is the only thing remaining.

Now, all I need to do is find out who Miss Griffin is.

Arriving back at the house, I’m met on the driveway by an electrician’s truck and my dad hurrying out the house.

“You’ll need to order dinner in,” he tells me, rushing to his car.

“What’s with the workmen?” I call after him.

“That’s your best friend’s doing, not mine,” he calls back.

God offers me a wicked smile and lets himself into the house, taking the stairs two at a time.

I follow him to my room and find him in the attached bathroom.

“What the…?”

The light in my bathroom is now a black light.

“You’re going to want to see your tattoo once you smash this task,” he informs me.

“The tattoos only show under these lights. It’s why I’ve never seen my dads.”

I snort. “That, and his is probably lost in his rolls,” I jest.

Ignoring my insult, he says, “At the club, I saw one on the thigh of a woman.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Do you think it’s wrong to film me fucking her?” I ask, changing the subject and finally letting some of my apprehension filter out.

“Since when do you have morals?” He jabs me in the arm. “You’ll get this done in no time. Don’t let yourself think about her, this is about you.”

About me.

“No matter what the task is, remember,” he reminds me of my own words.