Chapter 8

8

OLIVIER

A s disoriented as I am, my thoughts flutter around freely, unable to be stopped and collected quietly. My wrists and ankles burn from the tight leather straps, an outlandish contrast to the way my back is pressed against Alexandre's hardened chest. The touch brings a misplaced sentiment of safety, yet it makes my limbs sluggish and even docile when we're being surrounded by strangers huddled in red silk. They're waiting, not watching, adding an eerily perfect detail to the ominous picture that tonight paints, here in the forest that surrounds Monterrey Castle.

My mood swings from embarrassment to something else. Something darker that has my skin flushing and my stomach coiling with a hunger I can't place.

There's disbelief, that's for sure. Because I simply can't believe that Alexandre planned this entire night. That he actually went as far as asking his real brothers, his blood , to be present. To hunt me down like prey. It's… hot. Nasty. Arrogant . It makes me feel wanted, like I was carefully and deliberately selected.

You've been chosen.

I should have tried harder to find my pot of gold. Or is this…is this my destiny?

"I'm going to lay you down here," Alexandre purrs in my ear. Instead of grabbing me by my tied wrists that hang forlorn in front of my stomach, he digs his fingers in the tender skin of my nape, squeezing a little as he leads me forward and toward the rectangular table, dressed with silk cloth and neckroll pillows. Its wooden legs have carvings of all kinds of shapes and a baluster leg table that I recognize from history books. That's not all. Approaching, I realize that the fire does not come from the same torches as were placed on the trails. No, these are candles, placed in fine golden chandeliers. Furniture I have seen before.

"Did you take this from the castle?" I gasp.

Alexandre breathes out a soft laugh that tickles my insides. He ruffles my hair slowly, playfully. "Where else should this come from?"

"I don't know. I thought that maybe—" His growl is the only warning I get before he spins me around, facing him, and plants a chase kiss onto my lips. Then he lowers me backwards, one hand still on my neck, the other wrapped around my waist. He drops me. Freefalling, I let out a muffled yelp, and time seems to slow down as gravity takes over, sending me down and into another pair of hands. I wince, and my quivering eyes flutter closed, but not before I catch sight of Alexandre. He follows my line of submergence, stepping in to stay close, one hand already on his mask. The moment those foreign hands secure my back onto the table, he slides off his mask gracefully, his molten gaze penetrant and heady as he takes me in.

"It's for you, Olivier. That's why the altar is here. For you and me. For tonight."

Altar? I swallow heavily, unable to look away, though heavily aware of prying eyes around us. It makes me feel even more vulnerable, though strangely powerful at the same time. Because—"I still can't believe you actually organized all of this," I utter in lingering disbelief.

Alexandre's lips tick up slowly. "I did," is all he says. He doesn't need to say more. The heaviness of that confession is enough and it takes me a moment to digest.

"The Alpha Fraternarii welcomes you, Olivier," the Elder with the golden cane rumbles. He's standing in front of me, of us all, on a platform, surrounded by two other dark cloaks with bird masks that disguise all facial features apart from their mouths. I roll the back of my head against the soft tissue of the altar to look up at him, trying my hardest to ignore those foreign hands that have now moved to brushing my hair. "Finally, I can say," The elder continues, his voice the only sound in the silent forest. "Tonight's not your first time participating at the Wicked Chase. Nor is it the second time. But before, it wasn't your moment. Tonight, it is. You did not find the money, instead you were found by the brother who has claimed you. We are happy to have you here. At last." He looks back up to where the crowd is now slowly gathering, then crooks his finger to one of the red cloaks. Approaching, the cloak is discarded with an elegant oscillation, exposing a willowy guy with endless, sculpted legs and dark hair, that would probably fall down to his shoulders had it not been tied in a loose bun. With a bashful smile he gracefully drops down to his knees, exposing his round ass to the crowd, and looks up to the Elder. Waiting.

"I'm Elder Jacques." He clarifies, his eyes still trained on me. "I'll be here to guide you the next month, during the Initiations." He claws a hand around the guy's neck and pulls him forward, pushing his own cloak aside for access to his crotch. He's naked beneath the black velvet, a disturbing thought when I catch sight of the large, erect cock as it juts up between the sides of his robe. Wasting no time, the kneeling boy opens his mouth, accepting him in with a lewd moan, audible for everyone. Elder Jacques' hand cups his head, playing with the silky, bound hair. He stays like this for a moment, staring hard at me with his hand tangled in the boy's hair. And then, as if finally giving in, he tilts his head back, facing the stars and lets out a guttural moan.

My stomach recoils.

"By now, I'm sure that Alexandre has told you about the existence of the Alpha Fraternarii?" Elder Jacques asks, undisturbed by the open display. From my position on the altar, I nod. My hands nestle on top of my stomach, fingers grazing the tip of my concealed, yet straining erection. Why this makes me hard, I can't quite grasp. It feels wrong. But the way I can feel Alexandre's scorching stare on me, challenging and reassuring at the same time, those digits brushing through my blond strands down my back, and the rest of the group staring, watching, enjoying their role as bystanders, gives me a defined tickle in my stomach. In my balls. It turns me on, this little show.

"Well?" He urges, waving a hand in the air, a proof of his impatience.

"He told me how the brotherhood was formed during the Revolution," I stammer. Alexandre takes a step forward, sliding his hands over my calves and knees, up to my waist, where he slowly starts unbuckling my belt. My heart pounds in my throat, cock thickening even more.

"What else?" Elder Jacques asks.

"Uhm—" Alexandre pats at my thigh and I lift my hips, mindlessly obeying because my thoughts are completely consumed by the question and by my own memories. By this unexplainable need to please the older man and be a good pupil. My thoughts are all over the place, fogged by heat from Alexandre's grazing touch as he loosens the rope that's still swung around my ankles, followed by my pants and boxer briefs. I shudder when I feel the cool air whisk against my hot skin, against my rigid shaft and flushed tip, wet and eager to be given some attention.

"You're a secret organization," I squeak, watching how Alex deftly tightens the rope around my ankles once more, only to throw them over his own shoulders like a hoop before he leans in from between them. My tongue peeks out, licking my bottom lip as my eyes dart to Alexandre, who's moved to rubbing his hands over my naked thighs, flaring eyes on my exposed hole as he greedily takes me in. "Membership is upon invitation," I stutter, voice going up in the end because of the warm, wet tongue that laps at my entrance.

Oh. God.

Alexandre's leaning forward, rubbing his veiny hands over my thighs, his blond hair shining in the darkness as he looks up from his lashes, a wicked grin curving his handsome face. With his eyes still on me, he sticks out his tongue once more, only to…

"Aah," I gasp at the wet, soft sensation, hips bucking off the altar in desperation for more. A chuckle, followed by fingers threading my hair, pulling at the strands, keeping the back of my head firmly in place and against the silk cloth of the table. My eyes lift up to the stars above, as they glow brightly in the night, surrounded by treetops and flapping bats as they shriek and dart through the air around us.

Bound by restraints, I can only feel.

The sensations burst free in my trembling core, and though I'm vaguely aware of the audience and their leery glares, I feel myself fading into a void of tingling pleasure. That unfamiliar hand now rubs my scalp while Alexandre eats my ass, licking and nipping, probing his tongue inside and through my tight channel while he lets his hands slide down my calves to the back of my knees, up to my thighs, where he finally lets them rest on my ass cheeks. He squeezes, spreading them apart. Hard. It stings. In a good way. Fuck yeah, in a good way.

I groan, bucking as I lean into the touch, writhing my head restlessly in the unfamiliar hold, while my hips gyrate on their own, fucking Alexandre's tongue with my ass.

The tingles cause gooseflesh and make my toes curl. My vision dances behind my closed eyes, flickers of obscurity lighting up before they turn to ashes, only to disappear again into the darkness.

Hands pull on my shirt, opening it and dragging the sides to my waist, exposing me even further. I moan, and my eyes open slowly, only to meet Alexandre's dark stare. His lips, wet and shiny, tip up in an amused smirk.

"You got me so hungry, petit loup , and your taste is divine." Leaning in, his teeth nip at my bottom lip and he pulls softly, toying with it while humming in approval. A cool, wet finger slips between my crease, sinking into my loosened, wet hole. I still flinch. It has been so long since Theo last made love to me.

It was never like this.

Heat unfurls deep inside my stomach at the touch of his probing finger. He smoothly adds another one, sliding them further inside, working me open while leaving a trace of discomfort and arousal. Of hot, thick desire. When he touches my most sensitive spot, I nearly bounce off the table, pushing my head against the palm that's still cupping my head. A taunting chuckle.

Low, melancholic tones resonate from the piano, the emerging melody one I hang on to, climb into as if in search of some hidden chamber inside my mind. The need to hide makes me tremble, my vulnerability threatening to drown me when reality courses through the fog of pleasure.

The Alpha Fraternarii.

Alexandre Arnault.

My eyes drift open, only to flit right to his. Dark meets light, predator captures prey.

"I'm going to feast on you, petit loup ," he muses. "And you're going to take everything I give you." Lifting my thighs, he smoothly unfastens his cloak with one hand, keeping my gaze hostage with his smoldering gaze. In the corner of my eye I recognize the now familiar tank top and black briefs he's wearing underneath the heavy garment, and then he pulls them down, freeing his solid length. It's hard, like my own, and flops against his stomach before he grabs it tight, giving it a few slow pumps.

He smirks. "I'm going to taste you bare, beautiful. And there's nothing you can do to stop me." Lining up against my loosened hole, he raises a brow. I can feel the pressure of his tip, can feel him eager to breach my tightness and devour my heat. " Oui? " He finally asks, when I just stare at him, swallowing.

Oh fuck, despite his words, filthy and hot, dominant as he takes what he wishes, he still asked for my permission. And that's…I clear my throat. " Oui ." It might be the sweetest thing someone has done to me for quite some time.

"Good boy," he purrs, then slides inside with one fierce, smooth thrust.

The intrusion is abrupt, overstimulating my senses. My lips part on a silent cry and my heart throbs as it battles between pain and raw need, need to feel Alexandre so close to me.

Someone bangs a gong, while the piano continues to play, and my eyes open in surprise, but the only thing I can see is him. My Bronze Mask. He is leaning forward, weight resting on his elbows, where he lets me rest my legs over his shoulders as he slowly fucks me. His uncovered face is glorious—an exotic contradiction of light and dark. Eyes as dark as the night, large and glimmering, with thick, curvy lashes and perfectly arched brows. An arrogant, Nubian nose and those wet, full lips that always seem to mock and taunt. But not right now.

No. Right now, those lips are parted as if forming a silent question, his inquisitive gaze seared into mine.

Concentration.

Asphyxiation.

There are so many questions I want to ask, but words are formed in my brain, only to evaporate before they make it through my throat, my entire being absorbed by our coupling, by the outside ceremony, meticulously prepared for tonight.

For our desire.

Edouard appears from my left side, only to dip his head and drop a soft kiss on my forehead. He gives me a filthy smile, before he does the same thing to Alexandre, brushing his lips over his cheek, trailing them up to leave a lingering peck on his temple. My cock pulses at the sight. Their noses barely brush, eyes idling just those few seconds, before they both look down at me.

Edouard, still wearing his golden mask, reaches out for my own black silk that's still securely tight against my face and slides it up and in my hair. He smiles, then ghosts a digit from my cheek to my mouth, finger lingering, never touching.

"How does he feel?" He rasps.

Alexandre lets out a long, satisfying hum that makes my balls tingle. "Like perfection," he drawls.

Unable to draw it out any longer, and about to be consumed by this feral hunger, I drop a hand and reach for my exposed cock. It leaks in my palm, thumping when my fingers graze the wet slit. Heat licks my insides at the urgent touch, and I let out an unhinged moan while I arch my head back, exposing my neck, in a blind attempt to reach for Alexandre.

He looks down with a smirk, then pats my hand away from my own dick with a nasty slap that makes me yelp. Curling his own hand around my shaft, he brushes his lips past my ear. "From now on, that's mine to touch, and mine only, you understand?" He squeezes, painfully so, and I let out a whimper as I nod wildly, relieved when he lets go.

Without pulling out of me, Alexandre carefully lets my legs slide off his shoulders. Then, before I realize what's happening, Golden Mask yanks me up from behind, his hands on my sides as he lifts me by my waist, while Alexandre moves to straddle the altar, cock still buried in my ass that they now have lifted in the air, before he presses me closer and onto his widened thighs. .

"Come on little wolf, ride me," he groans, voice low and husky. "Ride my fat cock, beautiful."

I can feel Golden Masks' hot breath on my shoulder, the illusion of his featherlight touch on my nape, my shoulder blades, my spine as he ghosts kisses on my smoldering skin. I'm on fire.

Inhaling deeply, I pick up the unmistakable scent of incense, a mild floral scent. Lavender? Rosemary?

My head lolls back and onto Golden Mask's shoulder, their hands both skimming my flesh, groping my ass and cock as they gyrate my hips onto Alexandre's crotch.

I moan, hearing my own ragged breath and raspy voice, nearing my breaking point.

They've got me shivering, enraptured by desire, captured after tonight's chase.

" Je t'ai chassé, " Alexandre murmurs, his mouth hot against the trembling flesh of my neck. I shudder at the touch, at those words. " Et je t'ai trouvé. "

I hunted you. And I found you.

"Welcome to the Alpha Fraternarii, Olivier," Elder Jacques booms out of nowhere. I jump, though my desperate body has nowhere to escape to. Both Edouard and Alexandre chuckle, and their sound is contagious, making me laugh too— a little sheepishly— a giggle that turns into a desperate gasp when a hand wraps around my cock and starts stroking.

"Oh God," I choke. "Yes, yes, please—" The hand builds up a rhythm and my hips adjust, chasing to match, to circle and push, to be driven to madness by desire.

"Not yet," Alexandre tuts. The hand stops.

"No, no," I whine, rolling my hips sluggishly in an attempt to bring the sensation back.

"You seem grateful, brother," the Elder continues. When our eyes meet, his are filled with a leering glare.

Alexandre slaps my naked ass cheek and lets out a bark of laughter when I flinch in humiliation. "Oh, he is. Aren't you, little wolf?" He leans in, brushing my ear with his mouth. "Just play the game."

I swallow. "Yes, I am." My voice sounds too loud.

Behind us, the piano still plays, a blindfolded Dominique still like a statue except for his dancing hands.

"You look beautiful like this," Alexandre muses. "Sitting on my cock, riding me sweetly. Hold on tight, beautiful, because the journey's long and the night is still early."