Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

ROMAIN

P et . I’ve hated the word ever since Edouard used it for me all these years ago.

“You’ll be my pet,” he said that day, nearly four years ago, when I finally had the balls to enter the lion’s den and claim freedom for Maman .

It had taken courage. A lot of it. I’m not typically a daredevil, and we simply had too much to lose for me to play Batman. But when I came home from school that day and had caught her completely wrecked on our worn-out couch, something had stirred inside of me. Looking back, I’d needed another four years for that bubble of anger and sorrow to finally burst and transform me into someone less pathetic. A night like this. But back then, seeing her like that, had deeply hurt. She wasn’t just her usual tired and depressed self, no. She had been agitated and anxious at the same time.

She needed cocaine. The way she’d glazed up at me when I entered the living room, grunting in disappointment. It was the dealer she’d been waiting for, the dealer she’d wanted there at that moment, not me, her son.

And her words…

“You worthless piece of shit.” Her eyes had turned to slits, and flashed with anger. Her words had left my mind stuttering with sudden shards of agony.

“ Maman .”

They’d hurt me deeply.

She let out a tired huff. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Per usual? I need it, chéri . I need it to feel better.” Looking up, her lips had ticked up maliciously. “Don’t you want me to feel better?”

“Of course I do.” I hesitated, but the accusation settled in my chest, making it constrict with sadness. With resilience. It was time to end this craze. This…this necessity that was about to destroy our tiny family of two. She was all I had.

I remember barging out of the trailer, pumped-up energy building in my gut with every step I took. I was going to settle this for once and for all. No one could treat my mother like this, not even the most notorious family in our town. I’d find a way to pay off the debts, perhaps take on those extra shifts at the petrol station to help making ends meet.

“Let’s get things sorted then,” I decided. “ On y va .” We left, and though I didn’t own a drivers licence, I took our Renault 4, an ancient car—since Maman was in no condition to drive—and headed straight for the Beaumonts’ residence.

They owned the entire street at the other part of town. Two large mansions and some flats they had supposedly built for their loyal lackeys. I didn’t know if that rumour was true and I didn’t care. I wanted to pay back Maman ’s debt and be rid of it. Of him. Edouard Beaumont. The son of the Dictator , as they whisper-called him in the streets, and the most handsome guy I’d ever laid eyes on. Thick, strawberry blond strands styled into perfection, with his sides shaved short, leaving the top of his head untouched. His face was a mixture of arrogance and pure, dripping sex appeal, with a cool, calculated look in those grey eyes that were framed by thick brows and curvy lashes. He looked down upon the world and wanted to remind us of that fact every, fucking day.

I hated him. Hated how I worked myself in a frenzy every morning with my hand, while my mind remembered his plush, arched lips. Hated how it left me imagining what they’d feel like on my flesh during those most vulnerable moments. Hated how I was poor and he was rich, and how life was unfair like that.

“Be nice to them, Romain,” Maman warned, unaware of my burning rage. She’d joined me, and though I wish it had been for support, I feared that she might beg them for her dose once we got there. “They pay me well.”

How the outcome of that day was so different from what I had in mind. I imagined myself being strong for once. In the name of family, I was going to protect Maman .

I ended up paying off her debt with my own physical self.

I imagined telling them to keep their shit away from her, because she was vulnerable.

I ended up going on my knees for the only boy who made my heart race and my cock thicken in my pants.

“And just exactly how many cars do you need to wash to be paid thirteen thousand euros?”

“Uhm..” I stammered as I stared into Edouard’s glare of superiority, begging for Maman to step into this weird situation and drag me out, but no words would come. We both knew the answer.

“You remember how you always wanted to have a pet?”

“Kneel, boy.” Someone grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me down.

“ Non !” I wanted to yell, but it had already happened. Somehow here I was, terrified, alone, with Maman behind me. She couldn’t have been further away right then.

“Look at that.” Edouard looked up at the massive right-hand of his dad, Manuel something, then slowly made his way toward me, making my heart rattle in my ribcage. He kneeled in front of me and smiled, then reached out a hand, adorned with rings on each and every finger, and traced them over my burning cheek. His eyes shot up. “You’re right. I have always wanted a pet.” Then they met with mine. “Why don’t you fetch him a nice collar and a leash?”

“ What ?” Bristling at those words, I tried to get back up my feet, spurted on by an embarrassment so scorching it threatened to overtake any normal sense of sensibility. “ Maman, aide-moi .” The plea didn’t leave my throat, because it got stuck, forming bile I couldn’t swallow away.

Edouard clicked his tongue and pushed me down by my shoulders as he got up himself, shielding me. “That’s a bad boy. You stay down for now.” Behind me, Maman gasped on a verbal protest, and I winced inwardly at her capability of reacting so god-damn late. But then, if she realized it this late, why was she still not speaking up? Telling them to go and screw themselves, but that she would take her son back home?

She didn’t. She left me there.

“ D’accord , Blanche.” The Dictator said. “Your debt has been cleared, and if you still want the cleaning job, it’s yours.”

“ Merci. ” Her hesitation was short, and though she stood behind me, I felt it. Her hand on my head. A soft brush, nothing more, but it made me close my eyes in defeat. “ Je suis désolée, mon chat. ” The words came out in a whisper, but I heard every single one of them. They hurt me more than anything else.

As I sat there, kneeling in front of Edouard Beamont, I realized how naive I’d been. I couldn’t save her, because she couldn’t be saved.

Instead, I’d dug my own grave. The question was, how deep was I going to be buried?

“ W hat did you—” Edouard looks down to where his cloak has been slit open. The hood covers his head, smoothly intertwining with the glorious, golden mask he’s wearing tonight, but even disguised like that, he has the power to control my entire range of emotions. I worked so hard over the past two years to become strong and self-assured, to avoid getting anyone close, yet here he is. In his full glory. And here I am. Thumping chest, shaking legs, and a heart that wants nothing more than to submit— submit! —and belong. Belong to the strong, warm, kind Edouard Beaumont. The one who still holds my heart after these years.

But my brain does not agree. I don’t agree. I’m an independent being who makes my own choices. And he is not my choice.

That doesn’t stop my heart from thundering in my throat, and my hands from sweating in anticipation. He’s angry, and that’s not good. It takes me a few seconds to drag my gaze from his beautiful face down to where his cloak has been sliced open around his waist. I don’t know what to expect. Ropes and ropes of clear red blood? It’s not there. Aside from the cut through fabric, I can’t see anything. “You fool,” Edouard hisses. He might be right, but at this moment, I’m too proud to admit that I may be a fool. When he opens the cloak with his knife, my chest clenches even further.

There.

Edouard’s dark eyes turn to slits as he gazes up at me, his lips pursed together in a disapproving snarl. “You cut me.”

“Well—” My voice shakes and I fucking hate myself for it. I clear my throat, swallow the rattling beating of my heart down. “You deserved it,” I whisper.

It’s true. He deserved that and he knows it. He deserves so much more for having looked after me during the rest of my teenage years, only to let me go when he was tired of me.

That’s not true, a small voice whispers. A small voice that has no right to be loud right now.

Edouard huffs theatrically. “I deserve that?” His finger slides over the black fabric of his tank top, where a visible slash has been made. There’s blood there, but only a little, the cut not deep. Edouard traces it carefully with the flat of his own knife, then brings it to his mouth. The Damascus pocket knife with its rosewood handle was a gift from his dad, and he always carries it with him. The glistening tip points my way as he parts his lips, swiping off the blood with his tongue. “So you have become a little ballsy over the past years? Hmm, I do love a bit of blood, as I’m sure you recall.” Oh, I do. My eyes take in the view, veins pumping with arousal, and I realize I’m panting when I hear my own puffy, rapid breaths. I look down to ensure I have tucked away my cock and have zipped up and closed my belt. That was a mistake, despite the toxic reaction my body has to his. Shame curls over me, blanketing me, protecting me from the reality of retribution. After what feels like forever, Edouard chuckles, relieving some of the tension. “And no, Romain, I did not deserve that.”

He takes a step toward me and I lift my knife. “Yes, you did. You always think that you can just do what you feel like doing, without looking at the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Edouard echoes. His voice has dropped to a rumbling tenor and he grabbles inside his pocket to retrieve a pack of tissues. Grabbing out a few, he cleans his hand from my release and the blood, then uses another one to dab at the wound. With the blood removed, it’s clear I didn’t cut him deep. In fact, it turns out to be nothing more than a scratch, damn it. “Which consequences? You mean expressing my wish to claim you as my pet by making you orgasm?”

I clench my teeth at the words. “That shouldn’t have happened. But yes, exactly that.”

Edouard takes another step forward. “And what exactly was the consequence?”

The knife trembles in my grip, but that doesn’t stop me from pointing it even higher. I want to threaten him, scare him away, I crave to defend myself from him. He’s my drug. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And he…I shake my head, and wish for the thoughts to vanish.

“I won’t give in to you.” My voice sounds strained, much like my chest. So much tension. So much fear. “When your dad sent me to Saint-Laurent, he promised to keep you away from me.”

It’s true. The Dictator knew. He knew about my feelings for Edouard, knew how much it killed me to be stuck in my own desire and disgrace. And he had given me a choice. “I chose my future,” I voice my thoughts out loud, liking the sound of them, and repeat them once more, louder this time.

I had chosen to be separated from Edouard after two years of being inseparable, because after that day in church, I just couldn’t, anymore.

“And I would choose it again, if I had to.”

“You’re screaming.”

I huff out an exasperated laugh. “I’m not.”

“You so are.” He smiles then, one of those stunning smiles that makes him so irresistible and my chest tightens.

“That’s because you’re not listening!”

“Oh, I’m listening, already.” He takes another step toward me, and I hit my back against a tree trunk. Panic flutters through my stomach like a flock of flapping butterflies. “I just don’t agree with you.”

“But your dad?—”

“He gave me a choice as well, mon chat . That’s why I’m here.” He gives me a smile that’s all flashing teeth. “You’re my chosen one, Romain.”

I swallow at those words. Hard. My brain flutters in circles while I try to make out his words. “Why tonight?” Is all that comes out. I clear my throat and the self-loathing away. I shouldn’t be asking these kind of things. I shouldn’t care.

He lifts his free hand to adjust his mask and I can’t help but look at the shape of his veiny fingers and shiny rings. How I always loved their cool material on my heated skin. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?” I bite the inside of my mouth to fight the need to grab his hand, because I want it so badly, want this chase to end before it has even started. But he’ll make me kneel again, collar me, use me as his pet. Breath catches in my throat, and I swallow, and swallow. I locked that door. I will not open it again.

Shaking my head, I want to tell him non . No, I won’t give him the satisfaction of asking him why he has come back for me. Wondering if he too has felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest after we were separated. But it’s not relevant, because I have only one more year to go and I will graduate. I don’t need some old man with a golden cane to tell me how tonight might alter my future. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself. By working harder than all the other ones.

“ A quoi tu penses ?” Edouard asks. What are you thinking of? He used to ask me that all the time.

Rather than cowering away, I will tell him exactly what’s on my mind. “I was thinking of how this evening is weird,” I snap, feeling the tree press into my back. The ache helps me to clear my head and spit it all out. “How this is crazy, to all run around in a cloak and eliminate each other.”

“Ahh, don’t tell me you don’t like a bit of craze?” Edouard cocks his head and smiles, showing off his obnoxious golden tooth. “Because we both know that that’s not true.”

Ignoring the malicious poke, I touch my own silk mask that covers most of my upper face. This conversation is going nowhere and I didn’t come out here tonight to lose the game. “Alright. Tell me about this fraternity.”

“Please.” Edouard adds, cocking his head. “You seem to have forgotten all your manners.”

I snort, but don’t rephrase my question. Fuck him.

He waits a beat, but when it’s clear that I won’t obey, he simply shrugs. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Oh, come on,” I snarl impatiently. “What will happen after two hours?”

Edouard says nothing, just stares at me.

“How do you eliminate me?” My eyes involuntarily dip to where he’s still holding the knife, his hand cupping the small cut I inflicted on his stomach. He’s armed, and I do well in not forgetting that. After all, Edouard learned from the best how to wield that thing. The death of Father Beno?t had been all over the news back then.

He still doesn’t speak, but his golden tooth shines when he approaches me with a smile, and he lifts the knife to reach for my collarbone.

He’s going to kill me. The thought flashes by on a whim. I need to clench my jaw so tight it hurts, anything to keep from spilling the words. He’s going to kill me, while I still have so many questions. Like, why did he come to Saint-Laurent? Why did he come here and ignore me for the entire school year? Why did he choose this moment, even though wer’re on our summer break, to bring me back to Monterrey Castle and chase me, cloaked, masked and knifed? Why tonight? What choice did the Dictator give him? Does he need to take me out? Did Maman build up a new debt? Do they need to erase all traces of my existence for god knows what reason?

Anything could set off Edouard’s wrath, and he has an entire collection of accidents to back up that statement.

“Are you scared now?” He murmurs, while bringing his mouth closer to mine. From up close, his lips are painfully delectable. How I remember them pressed on my skin. Inhaling deeply and through the ache of recollections, I look away, forcing myself to think clearly through the scent of mint and citrus that is so him .

When I do, my eyes involuntarily land on a pair of gesturing hands behind another tree a little less than twenty meters from me, trying to get my attention. Someone’s waving one of the torches that have been placed in the woods. Another participant? I can’t be sure from this close. It’s definitely not one of the other terrifying masks. Whoever it is, wildly gestures for me to try and come their way.

“There’s no need to be, petit amour ,” Edouard moans into my ear, and I shiver, warming from the inside as my gaze never leaves the other participant. “Scared, I mean. I’ve waited this entire year, played this game three rounds to perfection, before it finally was my turn. But now you’re here, Romain, looking all tough and sweet at the same time. Mon chat. Clawing and slicing and hissing and fighting. And I simply can’t let you go, amour , I—” His phone buzzes in the pocket of his cloak, killing the moment.

Oh, Edouard. My chest aches at his words. If only he knew how they affected me.

I allow myself one final glimpse of his glorious golden mask with that snake and the perfectly aligned embroideries. At those lips I have dreamt of ever since I left his bed and entered Saint-Laurent.

Edouard makes me whole. He makes me crave things I shouldn’t crave. He makes me love things I shouldn’t love. He’s lethal, he is pitch-black.

The hands gesture at me again, and this time I don’t hesitate. I think of that song we used to love.

If you see darkness, run away. It’s so true. And so I run.