Insatiable (Inferno Games #3)

11. Hardly A Vestal Virgin

11

HARDLY A VESTAL VIRGIN

JULIETTE

A week has passed since the first trial and though I ate enough food to fill the entire army, navy and air force, the hunger pangs are back with a vengeance. I’m starving, miserable and ready to bite the head off the next person that crosses me. As if he heard my thoughts, I hear the familiar voice of my ex-husband behind me. My heart flutters involuntarily, betraying my attempts at keeping a distance which I’ve managed all week, mainly by staying in my room and saying no to Rowena’s many offers of starting up night classes again. "There you are, my love," Tomas says, taking a seat on the bench opposite me.

"You never did respect boundaries," I mutter, feeling irritated by his presence. "I'm waiting for my friends."

“Oh? Breakfast with them?” he asks, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. Even with his slight paunch and thinning hair, he remains the most attractive man I’ve ever known. He doesn’t possess Hades' god-like allure or Felix's billionaire charm, but there’s a warmth and a twinkle in his eye that nobody else can quite pull off. It’s infuriating.

“Clearly not in this circle,” I retort, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “We were supposed to discuss the next trial.”

“They’re not here yet,” Tomas points out, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Why not talk to me instead?”

My frustration mounts. “Are you intentionally trying to get under my skin, Tomas? Why don’t you go back to your new little slut?”

Rowena joins us on the bench, sliding in next to Tomas and nudging him over. “Who are you slut-shaming now?” she challenges, arching an eyebrow.

I stifle a groan, knowing Rowena will undoubtedly lecture me on my choice of words. “Tomas has a new girlfriend who’s younger than our own daughter.”

“That’s not true!” Tomas bursts out defensively. “She just sat next to me once. That’s it—totally innocent!”

"And proceeded to drape herself all over you and call you gorgeous," I retort bitterly, remembering how Tate’s long silvery white hair cascaded over his shoulder as she leaned into him. “Innocent, my ass.”

Rowena lifts an eyebrow in disbelief and I can almost see a smirk forming on her lips. Traitor!

“Aren’t you going to lecture me for slut shaming?” I snap, irritated with the pair of them, which is exacerbated by the lack of food.

“You already know my thoughts on that, but,” she turns to Tomas, “I am intrigued as to who your new girlfriend is. We’ve only been in this circle a couple of weeks. You worked fast.”

“He always did.” I grumble.

Tomas gives me a look that has my heart squeezing. “If you don’t mind, Rowena, I just remembered something.”

Rowena steps out of the bench seat to allow Tomas to pass her.

“What’s the deal with you two?” she asks when he’s out of earshot.

I sigh. “He’s only been here two weeks and already he’s fucking some young sl… woman. It’s gross! And have you seen her? Every time I’ve seen her, she’s wearing a low cut top with her tits nearly hanging out.”

Rowena raises an eyebrow and casts her eyes down to my own low cut top.

Annoyed, I pull my top up and cross my arms. “It’s different on me. That’s décolletage. It’s tasteful.”

Rowena sits back. “Why do you care? It’s been years. You’ve had other lives since the two of you were married. Hell, you’ve had whole deaths and, let’s be honest, you’ve hardly been a vestal virgin yourself.”

“That’s different,” I say, pouting. “I was single when I got my fun times with other men.”

Rowena shrugs. “And isn’t Tomas single now?”

“I hate when you throw logic at me when I want to rant. You usually love a good rant about men and here I am, giving you the perfect opportunity.”

“And you usually love to tell me how amazing they are. This is different. It’s personal. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think that you still have a thing for Tomas.” She raises an eyebrow as if she’s challenging me to deny it.

Damn her and her logic and the fact she does know me well.

“Tomas Perez was the love of my life,” I admit with a sigh. “He’s also the biggest asshole, cheating liar, that I’ve ever met. I’d rather stick a fork in my eyeballs than do anything with that man ever again!”

Both our Hell Cells beep before she has a chance to hit me with another grain of truth that I don’t want to hear.

My heart drops when I read the message from George

SURPRISE! YOU ARE ALL INVITED TO A MANDATORY PARTY. MEET UP IN THE DOWNSTAIRS CLASSROOM AREA IN TEN MINUTES.

Normally, the word "party" would fill me with excitement, but I sense that George doesn't quite grasp the idea that parties should be enjoyable for everyone—not just himself. Still, a flicker of hope ignites within me that he’ll whip up some delicious food again.

Rowena lets out a long sigh. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

We make our way to the elevator, where we find Quinn waiting for us. George, Anthura, and Moloch are already gathered in classroom one. In the corner, Cerby, the three-headed hound, lounges lazily, its three sets of lips eerily synchronized as it laps at the air. Quinn, unfazed by the disgusting thing, immediately runs over to pat each of the heads.

Anthura leans in, whispering something to George. Her cold, flickering gaze lands on us, her lips curving into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Welcome. Come and take a seat while we wait for the others," she says, her voice sickly sweet. But I can sense the malice lurking beneath it, like poison dipped in honey.

The room is laid out with rows of small tables, each with a single chair on either side. The sight of the empty tables makes my stomach clench—no food, not even a crumb. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. I start to sit opposite Rowena, but Anthura’s sharp voice cuts through the air, freezing me in my tracks.

"You," she says, her eyes boring into mine. "Sit at a table on your own. I don’t want any of you three together."

Her words hang in the air like a commandment, and the temperature in the room seems to drop. I glance at Rowena, who gives me a tight nod, before reluctantly moving to a table on her own.

“Some party!” I mumble under my breath, frustration bubbling up as I plop down at the next table over. My gaze flickers to Rowena, and I see the same irritation mirrored in her eyes.

Dade comes in next, his presence like a dark storm cloud. He moves straight towards Quinn, but Anthura intercepts him with a sly smile, guiding him to a table at the other side of the room. I can practically feel the annoyance radiating off of him.

My heart sinks further when Tate walks through the door looking the exact definition of perfection. I’ve not said two words to the woman since meeting her, but something about her fills me with hate. Maybe it’s because she’s a little too perfect, a little too much like the women Tomas would go for. She’s alone, but the mere sight of her makes me clench my fists. Anthura points her to the chair opposite Dade, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Quinn. I stifle a groan, knowing exactly what Anthura is up to.

Tomas saunters in next, and my heart lurches. So soon after Tate? I don’t want my mind to go there, but the thought gnaws at me. He gives me a cheery smile, and I feel a wave of disgust wash over me. Anthura must have caught my expression because she guides him right to my table. Of course she does. This is Anthura we’re talking about, always putting people who don’t get along together. And in Tate’s case, pairing her with Dade to irritate Quinn. Not that Quinn looks particularly irritated, which surprises me. Dade is fiercely into Quinn, but Tate is the type of woman that won’t care and would try her luck, anyway. And Dade, well, he’s a man at the end of the day. Tate is good looking enough to turn any man’s head.

When Felix walks in, I half-expect her to send him straight to Rowena. Instead, she places him near Dade and Tate. I sit back in my chair with folded arms, ignoring the grin that I know is plastered on Tomas’s face. Despite the years and years without seeing him, I know him so well. That fact alone irritates me to no end.

“I think that’s everyone?” George flicks his eyes to Anthura who nods her head. She has a sly smile on her face telling me that whatever this “party” is about, it’s not going to be anything good.

“Wonderful. Welcome everyone. I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you for coming to my party at such short notice. So this isn’t a party like you are used to.”

“No shit,” I whisper. Opposite me, Tomas snorts, sending the eyes of the contest leaders our way.

“Sorry,” Tomas musters. “Cough.”

The corners of my mouth turn up almost automatically and I hate myself for it.

Anthura sneers, but doesn’t say anything, allowing George to continue. “This party is for talking. I want you to get to know the person in front of you.”

I flick my eyes over at Tomas to find him staring back at me. We both know each other a little too well. This is going to be a pointless task.

“Moloch is going to hand out some sheets of paper with some questions on for you. I’d like you to look into the eyes of the person you are sitting with and ask them the questions.”

Well, shit!

Moloch ambles around the tables slowly, depositing the questions. It’s like being back at middle school. Ironically, middle school is where I first met Tomas. For a second I wonder if this isn’t a ploy to take us back to our pasts, but then remember, I didn’t meet any of the others in school. It’s just bad luck that this task brings back so many memories. Great memories, damn it. I wish I could remember the bad things Tomas did while we were at school together, but he was amazing back then. He was the handsomest boy in school and a bit of a bad boy, which, of course, appealed to me. By high school we were ditching lessons together to make out or drink the vodka he’d stolen from his parents’ liquor cabinet. They were amazing times. It’s such a shame he turned into such a toad.

“Jules!” Tomas stares at me as though he’s waiting for something. He holds up the piece of paper that Moloch has just deposited on our desk and reads the first question aloud. “What’s your favorite food? No, don’t tell me. Bacon!”

“No, actually,” I lie, crossing my arms and trying to sound indifferent. “My tastes have become far more refined since you left me.”

His expression hardens. “You left me,” he corrects, his voice tight.

“Only because you were cheating on me... again,” I shoot back, my words laced with bitterness.

George walks past, chortling, and scribbles something on a pad of paper he's holding. I narrow my eyes at him, irritation bubbling up, but he’s already jotting down something that Quinn has said to Orlin, who she's been sat with.

“What is your favorite food?” I say through gritted teeth, already knowing the answer but needing to fill the silence.

“Key lime pie,” Tomas replies, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Another core memory unlocks, making me hate him even more. I used to make him key lime pie every Friday. One Friday, he didn’t come home. He was fucking some hussy and forgot the time. Then I remember where that particular pie ended up—right in his face. It was quite amusing, actually.

A smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. I was so angry at the time, but now the memory of the pie filling dripping down his nose is funny. God, we used to hurt one another. The thought is bittersweet, a sharp pang of the love and betrayal that used to define us.

Tomas looks at me, confusion flickering in his eyes as he notices my smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Just remembering something,” I say, the smirk widening. “Like the time you wore a key lime pie.”

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm. “I deserved that.”

“You deserved worse,” I snap, but there's no real venom in my voice. Just a weary resignation.

“Maybe,” he agrees, looking down at the table. “But I’m trying to make things right.”

We carry on asking each other questions about food, which is excruciating.

Tomas tries to keep the conversation going, his voice soft and careful. “Do you remember that chocolate lava cake you made for my birthday?”

I glare at him, but the memory slips through the cracks of my anger. “Yeah. You almost burned down the kitchen trying to make it yourself.”

He laughs, a genuine sound that catches me off guard. “True. You saved it, though. Best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Doesn’t mean anything now,” I retort, but there’s less bite in my words.

“Maybe not,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “But I still remember it.”

We continue the questions, the air between us thick with unresolved tension. Each answer is a reminder of what we had and what we lost. My stomach growls loudly, and I can hear similar sounds from the others. It’s almost comical, the way we’re all sitting here, starving and talking about food.

"Trust demons to come up with a party where we talk about food after not eating for seven days," I mutter under my breath.

Tomas smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You know, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I stare at him, the words hanging in the air. “Sorry doesn’t change anything.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s a start.”

I shake my head, trying to keep the walls around my heart intact. I’ve heard him say he’s sorry countless times in the past. The word has become meaningless when he says it. “Let’s just get through this.”

“Okay!” George claps his hands as his huge voice fills the room. “I want to mix you up a bit.” He points at Tate. “You come here and take the place of… er… Tomas. Tomas, you can sit with Quinn, Orlin, can you sit with Dade?”

The sound of chair legs being pulled across the floor fills the air as everyone moves around to George’s satisfaction. He moves a few more before deciding he’s happy with his choices. Rowena looks bereft as Felix is forced to sit at her table. The only good point is that Anthura also looks pissed off with the situation. I have no idea if Felix and her are still fucking, but I’ve seen them arguing together more than once in the past week, so something is going on with them.

I turn my attention to the impossibly beautiful Tate. In Hell, I look the best I have in years, but I can’t compete with Tate. She’s stunning. Bitch!

I sit at the table, arms crossed, staring daggers at the woman across from me. Tate. Even her name sounds too perfect. She's sitting there, smiling like she hasn’t a care in the world, while I’m practically vibrating with anger. She looks calm, cool—like nothing could ruffle her. God, I hate her already.

I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. "So, how long have you and Tomas been fucking?" If Tomas won’t admit to screwing her, maybe she will.

Tate raises an eyebrow and glances at me. Her eyes, a startling shade of blue, flicker with something amused. “He’s your ex husband, right?” Like she doesn’t already know. “What happened between the two of you?”

“Tomas has a habit of finding new distractions when he gets bored."

Tate leans back in her chair, her gaze never leaving mine. There's something about the way she looks at me that makes me feel exposed, like she can see right through the mask I’m trying to keep in place. "I’m not one of his distractions," she says calmly. "Trust me, he’s not my type."

“As a hooker, I doubt that, but I must warn you. He doesn’t have much money. Anything he did have when he died was left to our kids.”

Her perfect face falters for just a second before she smiles again, flashing those dimples in her pink cheeks. "I like Tomas. He’s a good guy. I think you’re still in love with him."

God, she’s a condescending cow. "I’m not in love with him," I snap, my voice coming out louder than intended. Across the room, George's eyes light up as he glances at me, furiously scribbling something down in his notepad.

"I’d believe that if you didn’t shout it so loudly," she replies, her tone dripping with smugness.

"I’m not shouting," I mutter, quieter now, but the irritation is bubbling just beneath the surface. She’s really starting to get under my skin, and I hate it. This is none of her damn business. "I was in love with him. I’m not now. I just don’t like the thought of him with?—"

"Me?" she interrupts, her eyes gleaming as if she’s won some twisted little game. “Other women,” I say, even though she’s hit the nail on the head. It is her specifically. If Tomas had started dating Quinn or Ro or Twila, I’d be fine with it, or at least not as incensed as I am about him dating this woman. So what is it about her that riles me up? It’s because she’s exactly the type of woman I wanted to be and never was. She’s the pin-up that graced Tomas’s teenage wall, the supermodel that he drooled over in magazine spreads, the woman that always had it together as I was falling apart with three kids to look after. She’s the woman that I always thought Tomas secretly wanted to be with. She’s not got a single flaw and I hate her for it.

"What's your favorite food?" I ask through gritted teeth, my grip on the paper tightening until it crinkles beneath my fingers.

"I enjoy licking whipped cream off of..." she starts to say, but I quickly raise my hand to cut her off before she can finish with the word "cock."

It's a phrase that would normally make me laugh if one of my friends said it, but from her lips, it sounds disgusting and offensive. I struggle to maintain composure and hide the inner turmoil this conversation is causing me. As George steps forward to write in his book, I try to focus on anything but the gnawing irritation inside me. I need to keep my head clear and not let people like Tate get under my skin. But when I look down, instead of one piece of paper, there is a small pile of pieces on the table in front of me.

The next hour goes by in a blur as George swaps us around to ask the same stupid questions. Finally, he stops everyone with a clearing of his thick throat.

“Well done, everyone. I told you in my message this morning that I had a surprise. Well, this is actually the start of the second trial.”

Murmurs fill the room, but I’m not even surprised. I sigh, feeling a familiar sense of dread settle in my stomach.

“Together, we will head to the Earthery now. Come, follow me,” George announces with a smug smile.

I stand up, following George and everyone else out of the classroom and to the Earthery doors where we gather. The air feels thick with anticipation and anxiety.

“This trial is going to be surprisingly easy,” George continues, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m going to send you in pairs. You will find a delicious meal inside. Only one of you can eat it. If you share the meal, you will be disqualified. The person who chooses to eat the meal must eat the whole meal and leave nothing left.”

A collective gasp ripples through the group. I glance at Rowena, her face pale and eyes wide. She looks at Felix, who gives her a reassuring nod. My stomach twists with unease.

“What kind of meal?” Quinn asks, her voice laced with skepticism.

“An exquisite, mouth-watering feast,” George replies, almost licking his lips. “But remember, only one of you can eat it. Choose wisely.”

I feel a knot tighten in my chest. This isn’t just a test of willpower; it’s a test of loyalty and trust. I steal a glance at Tomas, who looks back at me with an unreadable expression.

George starts calling out pairs, and the tension in the room heightens. “Quinn and Dade, you’re first,” he says, motioning for them to step forward.

Quinn exchanges a worried look with Dade, then they step through the Earthery doors together. My heart pounds as I watch them disappear inside.

“Juliette and Tomas,” George calls next.

I swallow hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. Tomas steps up beside me, his presence both comforting and infuriating. We walk to the Earthery doors, the tension between us palpable.

As the doors close behind us, the sight of the feast laid out on the table hits me like a punch to the gut. One plate with a mountain of bacon and another with a key lime pie. My stomach growls loudly, betraying my hunger.

“Remember the rules,” George’s voice echoes through the room. “Only one can eat.”

Tomas and I exchange a long, charged look. I can see the conflict in his eyes, mirroring my own. We both know what’s at stake here.