Chapter 4

4

ARSèNE

E ven in his current state, Robin is still snappy. Confused, yet furious. Wobbly, yet surprisingly lithe as he makes his feet move — thump, thump — onto the soft ground on the sand trail. The drugs are kicking in, the effects on Robin pleasing me. Apparently it doesn't take more than my magic cocktail of Tizanidine, Antihistamines and a tiny bit of LSD for him to stagger and hallucinate. Freaking delectable, is how he looks, the way he slowly but steadily unravels in front of me.

The background check confirmed what I already thought of him. An unfettered soul born into the wrong family, with a dad desperate to force him into the iron fist of Saint-Laurent. But my little butterfly wants to flutter his wings and fly.

That's not going to happen. Although I won't let anyone else but me wrap him in silk after I've come and claimed him. After all, that's what this game is for.

The Wicked Games.

Me and my brothers like to hunt our prey. We like to chase them down and claim them as ours. Just because we can. And if you think that's unethical, just look around you and inside this world. We live in a hierarchical society, fighting in our own corner every day.

Ahead of me, Zin, one of my two bodyguards out here tonight, gestures for Robin to head to his left. Who says I can't play a little before I get to devour my snack? My chosen one.

When I watch him obey with pathetic, sluggish movement, I chuckle under my breath. I wasn't lying when I told him that we'd soon be there. Soon he'll run into the finest threads I spun especially for him. Glistening with Thor, the best superglue I could find, to make it strong enough to catch a human. For the most fascinating, snappiest guy I've ever met.

Become mine, and with that, the artist you want to be.

Under my proverbial wings. Yeah, my cock likes that idea, already swelling inside my boxer briefs, pretty much the only garment I'm wearing under my cloak tonight, per the rules. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket I call Elder Jacques, who confirms what I want to know: two participants are already eliminated. And with one more hour to go, it's showtime.

"How's he doing?" I ask when I pass Zin, who dips his chin like the endless professional he is.

"He is out of his mind, sir."

"Good. Get him some real water for later. I want him clear enough to understand his own official ritual once we get inside the castle."

Robin Pinault will become my brother . My lover. My own, personal artist. More blood travels south. I've played this game before during the first round of the Wicked Games, but since Ma?l brought in the fattest check, I was wise enough to use that round as a rehearsal. A satisfying one, I must say, that involved a terrified, sweet boy with a tight ass.

Will Robin tremble for me? Or will he hiss and riot, tear and beg when my silk lures him in and melds itself with his searing flesh?

Fuck, I guess we're going to find out.

Leaving the trail, I get up and take on a leisurely pace and start whistling some tune I heard Dominique play the other day in the Atrium when Thurel officially became a brother, and Ma?l's lover.

I approach Enzo, my other bodyguard, who pulls the shrubs aside, pointing his finger to where my trap is waiting. "I sent him the right way, sir," he says. "I believe he has started fighting it."

My heart rate picks up, and I can barely manage a ‘thank you' before my feet start walking faster. Sure enough, a little further into the woods, I catch a glimpse of a staggering Robin. His troubled vision has picked up on the shimmer of the copper-colored silk threads, just like I knew it would.

Prey.

" Qu'est-ce que c'est ?a? " He murmurs to himself, the question making me smile. Oh, my little butterfly, you're about to find out. I touch the bottle of lube in the pocket of my cloak, needing to make sure that it's there. Nothing will spoil our moment.

Carefully approaching from behind, I eagerly watch him taking those fatal, last steps until he's fully facing my silk web.

"What's that?" He asks himself again, before he reaches out his hand, and…I swallow my growl before it can escape from between my lips. His fingers stick to the thread and he hisses in surprise, before trying to pull back. "What the…" He tugs and complains, his movements jerky and uncontrolled, and fuck me, if it isn't the most delicious thing I've ever seen. So very different from my first prey, Robin is still prickly, still defying every single obstacle he's facing. I can't wait for him to tell me all about his mind. Though we might have to wait for the drugs to wear off before that.

I chuckle at the thought, the sound making Robin look up and over his shoulder. "You!" He roars when he sees me. "What the hell is this?"

I smirk. "My web."

"Your what? " His eyes widen, and then he gazes back in front of him again, and starts trying to jerk free his hand with renewed energy.

Taking a step in his direction, I add, "I'm sure you've noticed some of the other brothers. Four different colors, four different arms. There's Golden Mask, who carries a knife." Robin lets out a pained grunt, then turns back over his shoulder. When he sees me approaching, he lifts his free arm, jabbing his finger my way.

"Stay away from me."

I take another step forward. "Then there's Silver Mask with his rope and collar."

"I told you before, I can't be chosen. And I won't — " He sputters, head lolling to one side, and I watch him clenching a fist, trying to fight the drugs. It's a lost battle without any real water.

"Then there's Bronze Mask, who rides a horse," I continue.

"I've seen him." Robin sighs, facing the web once more. His hand is still plastered tight against the soft and glittery thread, the superglue visibly doing an outstanding job. I take another step, then drop to my knees behind him like I did before. This is what a spider must feel…

The gesture catches him off guard, and his flight instinct kicks in. Only…that makes him tumble forward and into the web.

For the sweetest of seconds, time passes at the slowest possible pace, and with mouth agape I watch as Robin's hands and feet get stuck to the thread as he topples right into my trap. I watch him fight, his delirious state causing his visions to play tricks on him as he swears and yanks in an attempt to free himself. The more he jerks, the tighter the material will stick against his clothes and bare flesh.

"What the… you're crazy!" He wheezes. But he's already too late. Robin's entire body is glued to the silk web that I carefully spread out for him between two large evergreens. If only he knew how long it took me to stretch the delicate, lustrous material that matches the color of my mask, all the while respecting the fractal shape—the never-ending pattern that spiders use. All that hard work has paid off, judging the eye candy my vision is filled with.

It's perfect. Just fucking perfect. During the previous Wicked Chase, I had to practically throw my prey into the net since his mind was clear enough to see the bronze finery for what it is — danger. But tonight, with the right dose of tranquillizers, with the right guidance by my men, with the right guy , everything falls into place.

Literally.

"Fuck, baby, you're so pretty," I mumble in awe, looking at his back and round ass. At those long, trembling legs. Robin mutters something in reply, but his voice sounds out of breath. He's getting tired of fighting, the earlier, forceful yanking of his limbs turning once more into sluggish movements. Dropping once more onto my knees, I crawl up behind him, reveling in the way his body tenses when I lay my hands on his calves, before slowly sliding them up to his thighs. Not giving three fucks that he's still dressed, I press my lips on the rough material of his pants, enjoying this first connection with my little butterfly. Skidding my face over his hips and toward the center of his body, his firm and plump ass, Robin winces. He yanks at the thread once more, but the movement has become desperate.

With my nose between his crack, I inhale deeply, making sure to squeeze his meaty, clothed ass cheeks.

"You can't…I'm not…" Robin whimpers.

"I can and I will, papillon ," I murmur, enjoying the way his pleas cause shivers of desire. "You know what spiders do when prey gets caught into their web?" Robin lets out a wheezing sound. "They watch them getting trapped, reveling in the sensation of them getting stuck." I leave one final caress on his back, then retreat, only to slowly make my way to the front, suddenly impatient to devour his panic with my greedy tongue and hungry eyes.

Fuck, the sight doesn't disappoint.

"Hey there, butterfly." I smile fondly at his glazy scowl and watch him shiver as I trace the lines of his mask with a digit. Perfection. "I could let you hang there for hours."

Tonight's all about showing Robin my true colour. After all, copper symbolizes positivity and goodness, and is the bringer of good luck. With its tarnished glow, it stands for fire and pride. I may not have shown those traits yet today, but I will as the night goes on. I can be exactly who Robin needs, if my sweet, flapping butterfly can give in, let me blanket his wings and take him home.

To me.

His hands are no longer balled into fists, like before, when we stood across from each other at the start of the chase. Brothers versus participants. Fine laced masks versus plain, dark camouflage. Hunters versus prey.

"And I might just do that," I decide, trailing my finger through his light-caramel hair, gingerly brushing it out of his face. "Let you hang in here for a bit. Let you think about — " Cocking my head, I pretend to think my carefully prepared repertoire through. Robin doesn't take long to sputter.

"You can't leave me hanging in here, man," he wheezes, leaning in a little so I can brush his hair behind his ear. I don't think he notices. My dark eyes collide with his wide, gray eyes. Wiggling once more, he tries to wrap his fingers around the glittering thread. When it glues against his palm, he swears under his breath.

"I can, and I will, pretty prey." Letting my tips tease the exposed, flushed skin of his cheek, I drag them all the way down to his lips. I'd die to feel the pillowy wet treat of his mouth, but knowing Robin, he'd probably bite my finger off. The thought brings a smile to my face and instead I let my digits linger on his chin, dipping my nails just a little into his skin.

"Wh — what are you doing?" Robin shivers, the sound making a flutter brush through the pit of my stomach.

"Getting to know you," I hum. If it was up to me, I'd stay here, cut him out of his uniform and devour his skin centimeter by centimer, relishing his scent and the texture of his flesh. Fuck, I'm hungry for him.

But a spider isn't anything if not patient. So with a final brush over his warm, smooth skin, I pull my fingers back and slowly get up until I'm once more standing tall. Since his wriggling has caught him entirely into my web, Robin needs to crane his neck to glare up at me, which he does. Then slowly, he unfurls his fingers, the only part aside his face that is not captured by the thread, as if he's trying to reach for me. His thumb and index finger end up being glued to copper silk, rendering the rest of his hand useless. His full, curvy lips quiver and his eyes blink a few times though that doesn't diminish the way his gorgeous, wide eyes stare into the world with a weird emptiness, proof that he's still pretty drugged up.

"I'll see you later, papillon ," I chirp, dropping my hands by my side. I catch his desperate gaze and this time my cock jerks inside my briefs. Fuckkk… to see him this way, so lost and completely in my clutches, is the hottest thing I've ever seen.

Turning around, I grin when I hear him mutter swear words, no doubt pointed directly at me.

"Hey! Come back you!" He shouts, sounding exasperated, right before I'm about to hide into the bushes.

Halting, I contemplate his order for the tiniest of devilish seconds. It's not part of the plan I wrote out for tonight, but it sounds like a fun game. But no… noooo … honour comes to those who are patient. Fuck, isn't that partially why I love spiders so much?

"I'm stuck here," Robin wheezes, panting. The fight must have left him, because his voice is void of the usual sharpness. It actually sounds pretty…sweet. Soft, with a touch of smoothness to it, the tone a little higher pitched than when he utters his usual, one-syllable barks. No, there's a fragility to this side of Robin and so far, I have only caught a glimpse of how beautifully I will make him fall apart for me. Right down to every delicate crack, before I'll put him back together, then wreck him for fucking life. Until he understands that he belongs to me.