Chapter 2

2

OLIVIER

" W here are you?" I call out, panting and shaking as I run deeper and deeper into the forest. I've never been this deep into the woods, because the fact that Monterrey Castle is surrounded by neverending acres and acres of deserted green. Despite the light material, the silk mask is already causing my skin to warm up and start itching, and there's nothing I'd rather do than rip it off my face.

Of course, I won't. It's against the rules.

"Hello?" I ask the silence once more, but no one replies. I don't hear any more screams. The forest is silent except for my ragged pants as my running turns to a sluggish walking pace. I shouldn't be doing this. I should just go home and back to living my summer holidays.

There's something about a dark forest that makes me feel very uncomfortable, especially at night time. It's too dark, too silent, despite having grown up in a middle-sized town in the center of the country. The Maison de Maitre was originally designed and built by my ancestors, approximately twenty years after the French Revolution, and has a vast land and garden. But at least its ours, surrounded by our stone walls. Our gates. The house has always been in the family of my father, where the real money and status come from, so it feels like home. He even has his own private practice there, where he used to receive patients when he wasn't working at the hospital. Being part of the Besnier family, he is a fifth generation neurosurgeon, following the footsteps of our ancestors, that line only being broken by me. It didn't stop him from leaving, on a sunny day six years ago. It didn't stop him from keeping the house in his family, despite letting me and Mom live there, despite letting his family accuse Mom of being a gold digger.

He just left one day. And he never returned.

He's right though, Bronze Mask, and that pisses me the hell off. I came here tonight to see him. I've never believed in love at first sight. But this… I take a deep breath and then release on a jagged exhale. My shoulders slump at the humiliating truth. One glance at Bronze Mask wasn't enough. The silhouette of his frame, his face, those lips, those dark eyes. I am starving.

I have questions, a confused mind and a body that doesn't seem to understand that this guy is nothing like Theo. He's not for me, yet he's haunted my dreams ever since our first meeting in the library.

Foreign sounds catch me off guard and put me on edge as I listen to my surroundings—the light rustle through the plants caused by the wind, the hoot of an owl, the flapping of wings of a god-knows-what, the clippity-clo p of the horse and the muffled sound of… I perk my ears. What's that sound?

It brings me to where the dense forest leads to an opening. To where, in the middle and between the trees, an old piano stands. The wood is split in some places, and the keys are uneven and colored, most likely from the different weather conditions, but it still stands mostly intact. Proud. Mysterious.

"What the hell?" Is all my brain can come up with as I slowly, carefully approach the instrument. "What's this?" My hand reaches out for the sheet of music that still stands in its holder, forcefully held by a metal music rack, the notes smudged into a blur of dark sweeps that colour the white-yellowish paper. Only the title is visible to read: "Moonlight Sonata" by Beethoven.

Tracing my fingers over every single note until I reach the end, careful not to press them and make a sound, I brush past the instrument to look behind the piano and toward the darkness of the thick woods. When I take a few steps forward, the muffled sounds become more distinct. Words are exchanged in a blur of whispers, and my next step swiftly becomes a falter because I catch sight of what lays in front of me. My heart jams in my throat. There, right in front of me, between two trees, lays a participant. He has lost the jacket of his school uniform, and his white shirt is stained with red splotches on his back and nape. He's sprawled out onto his stomach, thighs spread, pants pulled down, giving me a full view of his naked ass. His arms are above his head, tightly pressed together and tied against the tree with what looks like white, though blood-stained cloth, that keeps his wrists firmly pulled together. In the middle of the trunk, keeping the material taut, a golden knife sticks out. He's facing me, though his head touches the forest ground, and the only thing visible are parts of his covered face and his hair—a messy mop of auburn strands.

"Look who's there," sings that familiar voice. Golden Mask appears from the darkness and slowly swaggers to where the guy is spread out, kneeling between his widened legs. Facing me, he gives me a wide grin that shows off his flamboyant golden tooth, ignoring how his captive pants and murmurs unintelligible words. From the looks of it, the participant has put up quite the fight, but there's no winning when your opponent comes with knives. "Want to watch?" Golden Mask strokes a big hand over the other man's exposed ass cheek, a slow, loving gesture as he waits for my reply.

Of course not, you fucker. That's what I should say. That's what regular people would do, yet here I stand, mouth dry, throat locked, eyes undoubtedly wide. I don't recognize myself. I've never been into kinky stuff. Me and Theo, we enjoyed vanilla sex where he would top and I would bottom. It was convenient and tender.

The participant makes a carnal sound, bucking his hips as if to offer his ass to Golden Mask, who continues to stroke both his cheeks now while still gazing right at me. Most of his face is hidden under his glorious mask, aside from his lips, ticked up in a cruel challenge, and his eyes, dark and taunting.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. He seems to think that's hilarious, Golden Mask, because he tilts his head back and barks out a laugh. Suddenly he whacks the participant's naked cheek, the loud slap on trembling skin causing me to flinch, possibly even more so than the actual participant.

"You like?" Golden Mask asks, and although he has dipped his chin to admire his rough treatment of the boy's skin, the question is unmistakably directed to me. I don't reply. My thoughts are all over the place, my dick hardening in my tight school pants, which causes a friction I don't want to stimulate more than is necessary. Why on earth is this affecting me?

"You are hurting him," I snarl in an attempt to distract my wandering thoughts. Golden Mask laughs again, then moves back on his haunches for me to see how he brings his fingers toward the guy's crease. After a few caresses, he dips them inside his hole. The guy lets out a pleasured wail and I gasp, my hand suspiciously close to my own groin. I'm fully erect now, my stomach fluttering with desire.

"Does that look like I'm hurting him?" Golden Mask asks. I hear the sound of a zipper, a sharp contrast to the squishing melody of fingerfucking in a lubed ass. The participant writhes in his restraints, panting and moaning, as he pushes back against Golden Mask's fingers in an attempt to try to get off. He's rewarded with another slap on his cheeks that makes him howl in pain, or something else. "Tell me something, boy toy." Golden Mask grumbles, lining up, then sliding his dick slowly into the stretched out hole. He pushes his hips forward until they are flush against the participant's thighs. As he reaches out a finger and traces the bloody stains on the guy's back, he murmurs, "Have you ever been fucked by a guy before?"

He starts pumping, hips thrusting back and forth in a private rhythm only they seem to be able to move to. At the sound of their moans I swear I can feel my own cock leaking inside my boxer briefs, and I clench my hands into fists as embarrassment sweeps through me.

"I—I—" I stammer, unsure of what to say. I've never seen two other people having sex, that's for sure. I've never seen someone being hunted down, getting injured, and tied up at knife point with his own clothes, all while loving being fucked.

"Well?" Golden Mask taunts, turning once more over his shoulder as he fucks the participant hard. His mask shines, the shape of that lion unmistakable despite the pitch-dark.

"That's enough."

Bronze Mask approaches me from behind, the horse by his side, kept on his lead. It's the first time that he's not sitting on the animal's back. From this close, I look up to catch sight of his inky-black eyes, despite the bronze decorations of his mask making it more difficult. I'd recognize that shape, that colour, the expression, anywhere by now.

Golden Mask howls playfully, then makes a show of throwing his cloak over the huddled form in front of him, who he is still ruthlessly fucking.

"It seems like someone's out there to be next in line to be eliminated. I'd run if I were you, boy toy."

Ignoring that asshole, I turn to face Bronze Mask. He's nearly a head taller than I am, and despite the shapeless, dark cloak he's wearing, I know he's fit. Bulkier than my own lean build, the result of years of jumping on the volleyball field. The background is filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping skin, of murmurs of praise and unhinged mewls, but all we do is stare at each other.

"Three times lucky, they say," Bronze Mask finally says cryptically.

"What do you need luck for?" I ask, nudging around us. "You already own the world."

He tilts his head back and laughs at that, a low, rumbling sound. "Who says I was talking about myself?" He gives me a salacious wink that has my cock throbbing in my pants, and embarrassment hits me once more.

"Here," he says, surprising me once more as he offers me the reins. "Hold her for a moment." He walks away, toward the piano. "Her name is Nova."

"Nova?" I stammer, and the horse snorts and looks right at me. "Yeah," I mumble. "I know."

Bronze Mask starts playing the piano with short, staccato notes. The instrument is completely off key, making the sound shrill and off-putting.

"Cut it out, fucker," Golden Mask grumbles, still fiercely fucking. I can't help but huff out a laugh, despite the lack of amusement.

"There once was a boy named Olivier," Bronze Mask starts with a playful tone and my smile freezes on my lips as my chest tightens with anxiety. "He lived in a beautiful mansion in the middle of nowhere, and had a sweet, sweet boyfriend." He drops his voice to a whisper.

The rest of my frozen smile drops and I suck in my bottom lip, heart thumping in my chest.

"Oh. So. Sweet." Bronze Mask taunts with venom in his voice, then plunges onto the keys and continues singing.

"If you want to spend daddy's money you need to get a degree, so here you are, little wolf, in the playfield of our brotherhood." His voice lingers a beat while his fingers continue stabbing. High notes, low notes, fast and piercing, the sound is making my ears ring. "Rumours are made to be true, and between the walls of Monterrey Castle the shadows of the past rule."

Behind me, with a loud, satisfying rumble, Golden Mask climaxes, but I'm too pent-up to care. Too tense to move, I can only stare as Bronze Mask continues this little charade.

"In he walked, through the doors of Saint-Laurent and right into the belly of the beast, Olivier Besnier. Where's your boyfriend now?" Bronze Mask leans back onto the stool and turns to watch me, a wicked grin on his face. "Gone. Poof! Right up into the air. Like he never existed in the first place."

In my hold, Nova whinnies, and I click my tongue on instinct, calming her down. A bit further down, I watch Golden Mask ruffle the participant's hair as he lets him slowly lick his spent cock clean.

I swallow, unsure of why these words hit home so fiercely. Every single event Bronze Mask brought up so far was part of a mutual decision. A decision that has, nevertheless, made me who I am today. A gray mouse, a side-character. Shy. Introverted. Though I won't let him make me feel inferior. After all, I didn't want to leave home, but the trust fund is worth too much to ignore. It secures my future, and despite not knowing what I want to do after graduation, I do know that I'm going to need that money regardless. Besides, Mom is too busy being miserable with life to really miss me, and she encouraged me to go, spread my wings and fly. And with regards to Theo… yeah, that was mutual as well.

"Stop taking me for a fool," I growl, annoyed.

Bronze Mask's finger lashes out on two notes, high and accusatory, all amusement gone in a blink of an eye. "You are a fool," he sneers, no longer singing but hissing instead. "Right now, I see no difference between you and him." He jabs a finger toward where the other participant has moved down to licking Golden Mask's balls. "Pliable. Obedient. Don't get me wrong, I'd love for you to be all those things with me," another one of those filthy winks. "But for the right reason. Look at you, holding my horse." He plays another set of false, fast-following notes. "Even though you know what will happen next." He looks up. "You do know what will happen next, right?"

And just like that, it feels like oxygen is being sucked out of the air. Bronze Mask is hot and cold, ironic and sarcastic, out there to strike.

I carefully nod, ignoring the way my heart hammers in my ribcage.

Do I, though?

"Tell me. Tell me what's about to happen to my little wolf." Bronze Mask rolls up a dark glove until it reveals an obnoxiously bright watch. Then, without waiting for my answer, he says, "It's nearly one o'clock, bravo. This is the longest you have lasted. Now, let's get to the fun part, shall we?" He rustles his fingers over the notes in one fluent motion, causing the instrument to tilt. "Can't believe how Dominique used to play that thing," he mutters.

"He never uses this piano anymore, dick," Golden Mask huffs.

"Hmm, very well." Bronze Mask looks back at me. "Now? Tell me, what's going to happen now?"

My mind stutters. "You're going to ride after me." I rasp. Why the fuck does that thought make me hard? It does though, my cock hot and throbbing once more in my pants. I want to cover it up with my hand, but I'm afraid he'll see. "You're going to make me run."

" Voila, mon petit loup ." He smirks. "You see? You are a clever one." When he sweeps himself up from his stool,I flinch, then pull on the rein while briefly contemplating if I should swing my legs over the animal and just take off. I totally should. But the idea of him hunting me down… Oh, god, what the hell's wrong with me? "Got any questions?" Bronze Mask asks. He's approaching me once more, his swaying hips full with that swagger that all the elite apparently carry.

"Your name?" I croak, before clearing my throat, feeling my cheeks flush.

"My name?" His lips tick up, though he looks properly baffled. "Of all the things you wish to know, such as what will happen to you if you get eliminated—" He gives the guy at Golden Mask a meaningful once-over— "Or if you win this actual game, you decide to ask me for my name ?"

"Uhm—yes?"

Bronze Mask drags his lips up to a devilish smirk, then takes over the reins from the horse, leaving me feeling strangely vulnerable. For a moment I think he will just ignore my question, but then he says, " D'accord . My name is Alexandre." He mounts the horse with a single smooth movement, then looks down at me. "Alexandre Arnault."