Chapter 3

3

ALEXANDRE

I 'm a player. Always have been. I like both men and women, as long as they ooze sex appeal. The idea of attending a boarding college for boys was as thrilling as it was off-putting, the thought of being stuck with dudes for the next undefined number of years a little suffocating. It troubled me those first months, the idea that perhaps I would be the only guy in here who wanted to have my way with another guy.

Until one night, when Dad took me aside and explained the existence of the Alpha Fraternarii. He took me on a journey through the history of time and explained about the creation of the secret brotherhood, which was founded during the French Revolution. I would receive my invitation shortly, he promised, the news sending an inexplicable, enigmatic buzz through my veins. As if my body had already understood all those unspoken words. A promise for an altered and bright future.

Very bright indeed.

My very first Initiations were interesting. A blow to my pride and sense of self-respect for sure, as I was requested to slide down my knees and warm the cock of one of the Elders as he sat preaching to the other participants. My future brothers . The only thing that stopped me from gagging and retching his release all over the dungeon floor, was the knowledge that this would soon be over and done with and that I too, would be a brother. That I too, would be able to take my pick and bring someone else to their knees soon.

The first year I wasn't keen on choosing one special person—I was far more interested in enjoying the pleasure of a warm male mouth or ass. But during my first summer holidays, when I joined my family at our holiday residence in the C?te d'Azur and we sat by the sea, enjoying a cocktail and barbeque, something inside me slowly transformed. Perhaps it had to do with the way my brothers and their partners looked happy together, or the mere sight of my own parents, who have always appeared a strong and happy couple. I couldn't pinpoint the emotion, but I did recognize it as an alien feeling. An unwelcome one initially. My first reaction was to fuck it out of my system. The weeks after, I had more volunteers tied up to my bed than I could count, and though my dick was purring in satisfaction, the strange feeling of emptiness in my mind wouldn't vanish.

I fucking hated it.

Because it lingered, and during moments when I least expected it, made me wonder. What would it be like to have a special person I can call mine ?

The only thing that brought me back to my usual, selfish, cocky self, was the hunting season. My granddad from Mom's side was Argentinian, and had introduced me to old Indian hunting tools when I was a child. The bola had stood out. As a teenager, whenever we'd visit our family in Argentina, he'd take me out hunting, sometimes practicing for weeks in a row. Eventually, after long moments of chiding, tssking and correcting my technique, I became a professional.

I love the hunt. Love to chase an animal down, make it dash away in panic, uncontrolled, panting, with only one wish: to escape me. And though there's nothing better than eating fresh meat that was hunted by your own hand, the thrill for me wasn't necessarily in the kill.

It was in the pursuit. The capture.

It was the first of November, roughly nine months ago, when I came back from Autumn break. Hunting season had been a good one this year, and even though my papi was far away from the south of France, I'd been practicing with my bola every day. We became inseparable, so when school started once more, I took my weapon back to school, where I'd frequently practice with it, right here, in Monterrey forest. One day I was doing that very thing, when something caught my eye.

Or someone, I should say.

The guy from the library.

Blond hair, much like myself, though his was a bit longer, more messy, strands that fell in a slight wave down to where it playfully teased his ears and nape. Something told me his mind would be as dreamy as his light and wispy cascading hair, the soft flow making his presence more suited for fantasy rather than reality.

The guy was seated under a tree, his back supported by the heavy trunk, his knees drawn up to his chest, where it supported an open book. He was reading. Which left me plenty of time to observe him further. He had to be a first year, because I hadn't seen him here before. A diamond-shaped face with a proud forehead, and prominent cheekbones that melted into a narrow chin. Freckles around his nose. His teeth nibbled his full, plush lips, his narrowed gaze fixed on the written words. Whatever he was reading, it had captured his full attention.

He was cute. Very different from the guys I always hung out with, and even more different from those who were my brothers. I wondered what his name was. Where his family came from, and what they did in life for him to have earned this place here in one of the most prestigious colleges in Europe.

I wondered…

He looked up. Green eyes stared at me, widening a little before his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. His teeth disappeared from his bottom lip as his mouth opened on a gasp. I'd caught him off guard, and despite the moment lasting no longer than a few seconds before he schooled his expression back into a neutral glare, I loved what I saw.

I fucking loved it.

The bola suddenly itched my skin, my palm begging to feel those stones rolling before they were thrown away, the leather slung heavy on my shoulder, begging to be used. Sudden anticipation rolled through my stomach.

After a few seconds of staring, he cleared his throat, shifted his ass a little closer to the tree and slid his gaze back to his book, effectively blocking me out.

Unaware, ladies and gentlemen, that one look had been enough. I just knew that from now on, I would make it my life's mission to occupy every facet of his life. His mind would be devoured by thoughts of me. This guy, whom I baptized in my head that day as the "timid librarian", was about to become mine.

I liked that thought. That erradical, random thought. I liked it a lot. And the more I thought of it, the more I liked it. Yes, he would be perfect. So when the brotherhood announced the Wicked Chase months later, I knew that was my call. Brothers put down large sums to insure their participation in the chase, mine not counting any less. My timid librarian deserved all the euros in the world. And my check was a fat one. Because I wanted to bend the rules.

Four colours. Gold, silver, copper and bronze.

I'd be bronze.

Four participants. But only one of them can win the games.

Tonight I'd bring my prey in, chase him down, use my bola on his unblemished skin, before soothing him, and claiming him in front of the world to see before setting him free.

The Elders accepted my donation and so my timid librarian would be mine.

My own parents had been young when they met, so were my brothers when they met their partners and it was the same for most of the people I grew up with. Quite a few members of the Alpha Fraternarii tended to find their partner when they were still pretty young at college.

And so I couldn't help but wonder if my librarian could be mine for the rest of my life. I obsessed over his name, his voice, his mind. I started wondering about his hopes and fears, about his wishes for the future. I started wondering if he had noticed me like I had noticed him.

Being part of the elite comes with as many perks as it does inconveniences. Our wish is your command, is definitely one of the perks. Most of the other students are terrified of us. It's usually kind of funny, but not with my timid librarian.

It didn't take me long to find out all about him. Olivier Besnier is his name. Barely nineteen, his background check confirmed that he was from Tours, lived with his mom who is some highly-sought after medical specialist and comes from a famous line of brain surgeons. He'd had a boyfriend over the past four years, and god damn, did I not like that. I tracked down that little bitch, Theo something, some asshole who'd decided to study business and leave Olivier alone at Saint-Laurent.

If Olivier was mine, I'd never let him go. And that is precisely how it will be once he becomes my guy.

Never.

That first time, when The Wicked Chase started, he proved to me that he really was everything I'd ever wanted. Boy…the way he ran from me, the way he went crazy with fear? That hit all my fucking buttons. I craved more, more, more . I wanted to hunt him down and hurt him, soothe his pain and make him feel better. I wanted to fuck him and claim his very existence.

After that time, when we all went home for Easter, I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself anymore and confided in Dad. With him, nothing is off the table. His guidance has kept me on the right path all these years. An advantage in business, since I'll be working under him after graduation in our large export firm, and in my personal life too.

I told him it felt special, leaving out the part that the guy in question, hadn't met me yet. He said that he was happy for me.

But nothing like I am. I am fucking thrilled, have been ever since I had the privilege of testing my precious bola on real flesh. Beautiful. The way it made him go down on a loud crash, his beautiful face distorted into a cocktail of agony and pain.

Fucckkk…yeah, that made me hard.

The second Wicked Chase was a repetition of the first one. Short, thorough, satisfying, though it left me craving for more. Plenty more. With merely the hint of a promise, my appetite only increased over the past weeks, and the knowledge that tonight is showtime, that we have already entered the scene and are about to perform the star roles, makes me feral with need.

I'll get to have my chosen one, get to claim him here in Monterrey forest during a sweet summer night, surrounded by all our brothers.

Right after I mount Nova, Olivier tips his head back over his shoulder as if to inspect our surroundings. Inky-black with rustling leaves cast in shadows, a little further the hint of the torches that light up the sand trail. The reflection of my shiny mask.

"Alexandre Arnault," he repeats on a thoughtful mumble, looking back at the horse, simultaneously taking a step backwards when she takes one forward, nickering.

He's cautious, but he's not fleeing. It's like he wants me to tell him to start this chase.

"At your service, petit loup ," I murmur and his eyes flick up to mine. He looks perfect like this in the moonlight, the softest of delicate glitters decorating his dark mask. His nostrils flare at the pet name, and my pants tighten even more. Fuck me, he likes this. Could there be a whole different persona hidden behind the sweet demeanour of this timid librarian? Some raw, unedited version of Olivier that he's only exposing after he's been caught? "I think it's time for the both of us to get fed, what do you say?"

His mouth parts in surprise, bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Leaning in slowly, making sure to give him enough time to pull back—which he doesn't—I brush my fingertip over the soft flesh, once more surprised, though thrilled, that he lets me. He must have been surprised too, because a moment later, he takes a step back, bristling. But still not leaving.

My cock thickens even further.

Yeah, he enjoys this, no matter what he says.

"You like a little pain, don't you?" I rasp. Olivier shakes his head on a jerk, green eyes wide, lips quivering. His response makes me smirk. "I know you do. So what about this?" I check my watch once more, pretending I don't know the exact time it is, before I roll my black glove back in place. Then I look at where Edouard is still standing, arms crossed, his golden mask perfectly in place as he watches his prey being escorted by our bodyguards now that he has been eliminated. Tonight's Initiations will take place outside, upon my request, so Edouard doesn't have to walk far. He will, however, call my cousin, former Silver Mask, Ma?l, who will most likely want to be present with his chosen one. The same goes for Arsène and Robin.

And then…after tonight…it will be Edouard's call and game over for the poor fucker who has been avoiding my brother for months now. I am curious to see what will happen during the next chase. Not that I'll be there.

Non . I'm about to claim what's mine, and by the way Olivier is watching me breathlessly, he fucking knows it too.

"Are you going to hurt me?" He asks.

Clicking my tongue for Nova to start walking, we slowly circle Olivier as he stares up, watching me, turning around on his heels so he can follow my rotations. "Uh uhh," I tssk, reveling in taunting him. "You already had your question."

"No! I mean, last time…" His voice falters, but we both know what he's referring to. Last time I did hurt him, and I didn't like it one bit. It's because he ended up running toward me, unexpectedly, on the trail, rather than away from me. Nova could only avoid his sudden presence in front of us last-minute, but my bola couldn't. I hit him in the back and he went crashing down. Okay…I did like that part, and that includes the tears streaming down his face. God, they made that sweet, puffy face look even more vulnerable as I held him in my hands and brought him back to security. But I didn't like the next morning, when Elder Jacques told me that Olivier had a bruised rib and that I needed to be more careful next time.

"I truly apologize for what happened last time, and I hope you received my flowers? Tonight won't have the same outcome."

Olivier's gaze narrows as he makes the connection. Yes, baby boy, those were my flowers. And my cards. And my sweets by your bed. "Wh—wh?—"

I don't let him finish his stammering, instead call out to Nova to make a move. We'll have time later to talk. Now I'm starving and in need of my proverbial dinner—a stammering, blushing, little wolf who's about to be tamed.

Nova throws her front legs in the air and Olivier lets out a yelp before he takes a few quick steps back. Grabbing him by his shoulder, I lean in as far as I can without losing my balance, reach for his ears with my lips, and give him a teasing lick. "Run, petit loup ."