A hand gripped my shoulder—and suddenly I was shoved against the wall, pinned by a man in a smooth white mask, his mouth pulled back into an expression of rage.
“Who told you to put your clothes back on?” His voice was ragged, like he was speaking through a mouthful of glass. “Who said you could leave?”
Panic blanked my mind. “No one. I’m not—”
He snaked his other hand up my chest, finding my throat. “Stop,” I said. If this community played by the rules, that word should be enough.
But the man’s hand didn’t stop; it squeezed. I clawed at it, desperate. It was too much pressure for kink between strangers. He was going to crush my windpipe. I pulled, scratching at him, but found no purchase in the silky fabric of his suit. His arm was a vise.
“You think you’re above the others, that you can just watch?” He pressed closer, searching my face from beneath his mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pleasure when I tried to suck in air but couldn’t.
It was the sensory memory: the warm, dry hand around my neck, the stinging pain in my lungs, the deep voice, urging: You like it, don’t you? The man’s hand became Don’s, his mask Don’s face. My body went limp, knees weakening.
“Wait until the Philosopher gets you,” the masked man whispered. “There’s nothing he hates more than entitled women.”
There was less and less oxygen. I could feel my thoughts graying, my body resigning to the pain.
“Pater.” The sharp word pried the man’s hand loose. He turned, and I didn’t hesitate. I scrambled across the wall, hitting a column but still moving, sucking in air.
“She’s new,” said the woman, and only then did I stop and jerk back around. It was the redhead from Tongue-Cut Sparrow, standing in her underwear in the hallway, facing the man with her palms up in supplication. “She doesn’t know better.” When she spoke, I saw her teeth were rust-colored, blood edging the gums.
She’d been hit across the mouth, hard.
The man took a menacing step toward her. “If she’s new, she belongs to the Lieutenant.”
“You’re right.” She lunged around him and pulled me off the wall. “I’m taking her there now. Forgive us.” She hurried me forward.
“Nicole.” The name echoed over the marble. The woman stiffened and turned.
“It’s not your place to command me,” he said. “Watch yourself.”
“Yes, Pater.” She turned and tugged me quicker now, until we were practically running, her heels clipping on the marble. As soon as we were out of sight, she let go of my arm and hissed, “What are you doing?”
“You invited me.” I rasped the words, touching my throat. A column of fire.
“You were supposed to go to the front door. How did you get in? And what did you do to piss off a Pater?”
“What is this? And what’s a Pater? I said stop, but that man ignored me. I would’ve blacked out.”
“I told you this was real.” Nicole paced, hand rising to her bloody mouth. “And not to come unless you were sure.” Her voice was ice. “Do you know what they would have done if I hadn’t shown up?”
“What kind of game is this?” I murmured.
“Not a fucking game.” Her eyes slanted down the hall. “I need to take you to the Lieutenant. He has to approve you, then you have to be initiated. You can’t be here unless you go through him.”
“The man in black?”
“Yes.” Nicole grabbed my arm again. “Get moving. I’m not getting in trouble for you.”