Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

EDOUARD

S ix months after I bought Romain, he started sleeping in my bed. Still collared, because I fucking loved that gold on him, although he now had enough space to head for the bathroom by himself. His grades were improving, and I paid his drunken mom enough to shut her up and keep her out of his life.

He complained about that fact, yes. But I started to learn more about my sweet, submissive pet. I learned that he needed the objections, needed to show himself that he didn’t agree, as if he somehow needed that proof. I didn’t mind. I never minded being the villain, as long as I’d have him right onto his knees for me.

Because there was no way he was going back to Blanche. She had failed him as a mother, and that kind of failure could not be excused.

Romain didn’t speak of his dad, like he’d never existed. Maybe he never had for him. I didn’t insist. He asked me about my relationship with my parents, with my sister, uncles and aunts. Told me he was jealous. I told him I was jealous of the way he fiercely loved his planets and stars. He smiled at that, a tender, secretive smile that kept me out of his true emotions. I was the one who was jealous.

Although we weren’t together during school hours, my friends knew of him. They’d come over to hang in my room, and watch as I’d let Romain slide between my thighs and suck my cock while we played video games. He’d shower with me, draped on the floor, licking at my rim while I washed myself. I’d feel his hum engraving on my skin when I finally turned around and let him lap at my sensitive slit, and I’d watch as he gently sucked my cock all the way in and drank my release.

Romain turned eighteen that spring. Every morning, Manuel would bring us to school, every afternoon he’d bring us back home.

Home.

My black heart loved having him in my home. Tied on a leash, his body mine to play with, his mouth wrapped around my cock. Always, always, I could never get enough of him. I knew it then, and of course…of fucking course, that’s when things started to shift.

First there was Dad and his formation corporel , as he called it.

“I want to retire from the business,” he announced one day during dinner. All eyes went from him straight to me. “And I need you to take over, Edouard.”

So my training started. And as the words implied, it was pretty physical. Manuel had been practising with me ever since I had turned sixteen, but this was nothing like my usual jog and fixed set of exercises. This was fucking brutal.

I loved it. We’d go for runs, increase the work-out and even better, Manuel introduced me to the world of kick-boxing. He brought two of his lackeys into the game, Seb and Karim, and they’d spent hours and hours with me during the day, until I was left a panting mess. I’d crawl back to my room, take a hot shower with my pet already waiting on his knees, only to have his velvety mouth wrapped around my weeping cock in no time.

After that I’d go downstairs to discuss business topics with Dad. He’d explain various situations and ask for my opinion, for my reasoning. Then, by the time we’d finished dinner, I’d go upstairs, feed Romain and take him to my bed, where I’d brush his hair and listen to him talk about his day. Where I’d stroke his cock, excruciatingly slowly, while he spoke of his homework, listened to his thoughts, until he’d beg me for release. He always had so many.

So many questions, I wished I could answer all of them.

So many doubts, I wished I could kiss them away.

I couldn’t. But fuck me, did I love my life.

And then, right when I thought it would always stay this way, Dad pulled the rug from under my feet.

T he corridor is eerily quiet. With each step, the beating of my heart grows fiercer. This is the hunt. I inhale deeply through my nose. The true meaning of the hunt. To know that we’re all here, cornering him further with every step, to know where I’ll take him. Romain is close, I can feel it, like a gentle hum through my veins. He’s close, and he’s afraid, a most enticing fusion. I lick my golden tooth and feel the metal in my hand, where the knife lies warm and tight in my palm. My limbs throb with need. Need to hunt him, need to wrap my hand around his slender neck and feel the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, need to carve him with my knife and brand him for the rest of my life. One mark is not enough. I need more. I need us to know, need the world to know.

That he is mine.

And god knows I’ve been a patient man. Though I know why, can understand why things were done the way they were, can even see the consequences of those decisions, now, two years later, Dad made a mistake setting Romain free. He thought that he’d help my pet by letting him go, but he only made the ache worse. I know it, have seen it in Romain’s eyes. The crave for being owned. For being restrained. For being worshipped.

I want that. I want to do it all. I have missed the way he licks and nibbles my skin when I talk about my day, and the way he muses about his thoughts when he’s snuggled against my chest.

Son choix. Dad said. It needs to be his choice. You , Edouard, need to be his choice.

I want it so much, that I don’t care about that detail anymore, nor about my promise to give him space. The knife searches for freedom, scratching its tip against the wall. In my wake, it leaves a hollow, scratchy sound and possibly sliced wallpaper.

I could use a cigarette.

But I don’t have any, nor can I find my man Jeff who’s out there somewhere, hunting Romain down, dressed up identically to me.

Speaking of… where the fuck is everybody?

Reaching for the double spiral staircase I wait at the top and look outside through the massive, diamond-shaped windows. There’s movement outside. Is that the teacher they were talking off before? And is that…

A whiff of air passes behind me and I whirl around, taken by surprise, right in time to see the black cloak passing from one corridor to the other in a hurry. I don’t hesitate, but give chase.

It’s him , I think. It’s him!

My knife reaches out in an attempt to slice through the black hood, but the disguised stranger disappears right in time around the corner. He doesn’t look around, but keeps on running. He’s fast, the fucker, I can tell him that. We reach the next corner, this one leading toward the reception hall on the first floor.

It can’t be Romain, logically I know that. He’s not wearing a cloak. But my pent-up adrenaline needs an outlet and… ha! I can beat him here. My hand jerks out again, but movement in the corner of my eye steals my concentration. There’s someone else. I miss, and also fail to see whoever disturbed me once more. Until the other stranger grabs both hands around my shoulder and pulls me in, making me nearly stumble over my own feet. Very dangerous, considering I’m still carrying the knife. Holding me up, he moves around me until he’s in front of me. His mask is put up and I catch the cold stare of that weird cutie Robin.

“What’s up, baby boy? Was your man too tired to play with you?” I smirk. “Need me to help you out?”

He scoffs, but ignores my questions. “We’ve come out to give him some support,” he says. When he sees the knife in my hand he gives me a snarl of his upper lip and a shake of his head. “You’re crazy, Edouard.”

He pushes me away and I land with a twack against the wall, groaning like a caged animal, the tip of my knife pressed against wood.

“He’s going to pay you back for this, you know that,” I growl.

“Oh, I know. It was his idea. He told us we could play with the both of you a little tonight.” He giggles at his own words, and I swear, I’m going to have a word with Arsène if Robin is right. They’re all the same, these preppy rich kids. Horny for sensation. Oh, I’ll give them plenty of sensation.

But before I can give Robin a taste of his own medicine, he has darted away, following his anonymous friend as they run toward the party on an obnoxious, lingering chortle. Shaking my head, my own lip ticks up in amusement. They’re right, we all love the game. As long as we win.

“I set him free.” Those were the exact words Dad used, a little over two years ago. And then Romain was just gone, poof…disappeared from my room as if he hadn’t spent the last two and a half years under my control. The golden leash was gone, like it had never been there in the first place. But his scent remained, the fresh smell of lavender wash we used combined with his own, woodsy scent. It wasn’t perfume, because I knew he didn’t own any. No, it was all unique. All Romain.

The toys were still there. Golden cuffs with plush sewed insides, plugs of different sizes, the cat ears and tail, the body harness that made the dips and valleys of his lean body come out so perfectly, the mouth gag, and of course, the silken, golden strings.

But he was fucking gone and I lost it.

I spent the next months boxing even harder, playing nasty, wearing myself out. Cuts and bruises, I didn’t give a damn, until Dad told me to lay off Seb and Karim. When that didn’t work, he gave me less time for physical training in my tight schedule. Said he needed me in the field. The first few times we went together. I remember feeling so confused. Here I sat, together with the man I loved so much, the man who’d been my example for as long as I lived, yet I felt empty inside.

“Learn the tricks first,” he said. I didn’t understand their meaning, but I was a fast learner. And though I hated to admit it at first, I loved working with Dad. Loved the interrogations, the torturing, the beating. I discovered that our family worked for the ultra rich, solving quarrels the old-fashioned way. I also discovered the drugs. There was so much more than just coke. So. Much. More.

“You tell him that I’ve come to collect what’s mine !” I growl after Robin. The words linger in the quiet hall. Rolling my tongue over smooth gold, I scan the other side of the hall. “I’ve fucking had enough.”

In the distance, I pick up on the vague sounds of the piano and the gong. Someone cries out. Over there, they are continuing the party. But over here, I can feel the air densing with anticipation. Something’s here.

Someone.

He walks by himself, a lost, dark frame with navy-blue pants and a shirt that was white before the night started. Black silk blankets the upper part of his face. It’s the knife that gives him away though. That small, silver pocket knife that he still has clutched in his palm.

Is he afraid? I wonder. Is he as captivated as I am by this gothic, dark evening? By the capabilities of this group of privileged students and their peers to organize these powerful, sensual nights filled with carnal pleasure?

Romain hasn’t seen me. He’s walking through a narrow hall, approaching me, having left the North Wing and the dorms. I wonder if he hid in his room, under the warm blankets of his bed. The thought is strangely endearing.

Then, right as he’s about to access the open space from where I’m watching him, he halts. His face tips to the side and he purses his lips. “Hello?”

Footsteps. They’re approaching fast. My own heart rate picks up, only to create that delicious buzzing deep in my stomach when I see who it is. Jeff, right on fucking time.

“Edouard,” Romain whispers to my man as he changes his rapid steps to a slow, calculating approach. He’s been caught, my pet, like a deer in headlights. Lifting his hands to shield himself, Romain takes a step back. His back bumps against the wall. “I—I want to explain,” he stammers. Jeff cocks his head and I fist my hands as I peer at Romain, eyes turned to slits. I’m curious too, for fuck’s sake. And a little apprehensive.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I haven’t changed. But it’s just not possible,” he blurts. His gaze is a pleading one, as if he begs Jeff to understand. The poor guy has no idea what Romain is on about, and if it’s up to me, he’ll never know, thank you very much. But patience is nothing but an important pawn in any game. So I let him speak. “I missed you so much. I was afraid, here, by myself. I wanted to be back with you, which was fucking sick, if you think about it—” Romain looks away as he clears his throat. His throat bobs and my desire itches, itches to carve his delicate, pale skin and to watch it bleed. To mark it with my words.

Possess you. I possess you. I need to possess you.

“I mean, I shouldn’t love those things so much. But I did. I needed your attention. I don’t really know if you ever really cared about me, you know?” Romain’s words blast through my own thoughts, making my chest clench with a strange sense of hurt. He’s staring back at my man, who is weary now, I can see it in his stance. “When you bought me that basket and those pillows. They felt softer than my own bed, and I loved them so much—” Romain chuckles softly, “even though you held me by a leash on your bed.”

Way too much information, I inwardly grumble. But then, he is talking about this for the very first time and I’m drinking up his thoughts. No, I’m not going to interrupt him.

“And when you plugged my ass with that cat tail and showed me to your friends?—”

Uhm, maybe I am.

My hand is on my knife before I can think straight, and I’ve already taken three strides before I realize it. Before anyone realizes, as it seems, because they haven’t moved and are still staring at each other.

“I—I liked it,” Romain stammers. “You made me feel?—”

“You fucking needed it, mon chat ,” I growl. Romain jumps, widened eyes going from Jeff back to me.

“You!” He barks.

“Me.” With the knife, I gesture my man for action. “Come on.”

“No!” Romain shouts. His knife comes up, and for the shortest of seconds I fear he might throw it right at me. But then he turns around and runs.

“Take that way and meet us around the corner.” I watch Jeff get into position while I gaze down the corridor at Romain’s fleeting frame. “The Chase is over. Time to get to the wicked stuff.”