Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

ROMAIN

D id I fall in love with him that first night? Possibly. Did some twisted, pathetic part of me love him for leashing me, for tagging me along, for including me in his life, whether it was a movie night with friends or an early night in bed? Yes. Edouard was all-consuming, demanding, arrogant, impossible, dominant, and sexy as sin.

And I fought him tooth and nail to be set free every evening so I could go and sleep in our trailer. She'd left me, had betrayed me, had sold my existence in exchange for her drugs, I knew that. I knew that. But she was fragile, and she was Maman , and she was all I had.

So I fought him. Edouard insisted on me sleeping in his room at night, but it was something I couldn't give. Perhaps it was an argument I was destined to lose considering the circumstances, but it was equally one I was determined to win.

Those first nights when I was brought home, she'd snort at the sight of the golden collar around my neck. "So it is true."

She never said more, but I could practically wipe off the dripping disdain from her voice. She despised me, while all I'd wanted to do was protect her. My shame made me feel guilty and forgive her addiction, even though I knew it was wrong. Cocaine and alcohol were slow killers, and though I didn't want her to use, I'd failed to make her stop.

Meanwhile, I was fighting with my own lethal yearning—Edouard Beamont.

He made that fine line of hatred and love become dangerously blurred.

For his nineteenth birthday, the Dictator offered him a brand new, black Aston Martin. A beauty that cost more than my entire life. They threw a party that lasted until five in the morning and had enough food and drinks to feed an entire orphanage. The mansion was packed with countless uncles, aunts and cousins. With friends of the family, with lackeys of all levels, with entertainment for those lackeys. Maman was invited, but she sniffed herself unconscious and was escorted back to our trailer before the clock struck eleven. Father Beno?t was there, sipping from a clear drink he claimed was water, and looking every bit the pious envoy of God.

It was without a doubt the biggest party I'd ever witnessed, even from my spot behind the transparent glass, where I lay, alone, huddled and collared, in my basket filled with pillows. I was allowed to watch the party, Edouard had said, but no one was allowed to watch me.

We had an unhealthy dynamic, yet our arrangement made me feel safe. I'd always wanted to feel that way. To be looked after, to be taken care of.

I hated that part of myself. Hated that I was waiting for Edouard to come back and cuddle with me. To tell me how good I was and how well he was going to treat me.

I hated that I craved it.

I hated that I was falling for him and that I couldn't stop it.

I hated that with time, I'd become my own addict.

A sudden blaring, low sound of a horn blasts through the speaker and I jump. Alexandre laughs, but when I turn around to scowl at him, I notice that Thurel and Robin are gone.

"I would run if I were you," he juts his chin toward the castle. "That way."

I hesitate. "Why do I get the feeling I'm missing half of what's really going on here? What the hell is the Alpha Fraternarii?"

He tilts his head back and laughs. "If you're too scared, you can always tap out. Remember the option that each participant was offered?"

I nod, recalling the earlier words that were said at the beginning of the games.

"Tonight, dear participants, you have a choice. Reshape your future and make your dreams come true, or refuse the gift we've left you here tonight. Both are valuable, but only one will change your life forever."

"Well, I happen to know what your gift is," Alexandre cocks his head, lips curled into a smirk. "I can tell you, but then I'd need to ask one of my masked brothers to eliminate you."

I eye him warily. How does one get eliminated? "I don't understand," I stammer. "Why is this happening to me?"

Aleandre tips his head back and lets out a laugh. "Oh, sweetheart. I don't know how well you know Edouard, but he is obsessed with you."

That…my mind rattles as I try to see through the mist of my thoughts. After his sudden and shocking arrival to Saint-Laurent last September, Edouard ignored me for the most of the school year. Only… that's not entirely true, is it? Aside from that bloody incident with Pierre, I can recall other moments his presence was tangible. My petition to organize a trip to the local church to celebrate the Armistice didn't get the necessary votes. Still, the trip took place. Last year, my request to add European History to my current study program was declined. This year, it was approved. I got chosen to organize the monthly film nights, despite the competition, and I got… awareness flutters in my chest. I was transferred from a dorm I shared with another student, to one for my own.

"Ah, looks like it all starts to make sense now?" Alexandre smiles, his dark gaze burning into mine. Then he nudges his chin once more toward the castle. "I guess the real question is, is the affection mutual? Or would you like me to tell you the alternative of what you can have after tonight?"

I bite my lip. He's making it tempting to listen to my brains and be the tough one for once. And yet the promise of Edouard's presence blanketing mine in every sense of the word, warms my insides. "Who were these old men who made me sign that Non-Disclosure Agreement?" I ask.

"They are Elders," Alexandre says.

"Elders of the brotherhood?" That sounds pretty ominous. But then, that night a few weeks ago had been pretty scary. When I'd been summoned in the South Wing and had met with two middle-aged strangers who looked to be as distinguished as the rest of the castle's interior. Yet, I hadn't hesitated signing that NDA, quite frankly assuming that they were part of the Beaumont Family, sent by the Dictator himself. Only, they weren't.

Alexandre's horse lets out a whinny and stamps into the sand, clearly impatient with our lingering conversation. "If you win, he'll explain everything to you."

I blink. "And if I don't?"

He just laughs, squeezing his knees into the horse's flank. The horse rears and lets out another loud whinny. "Come on, pretty boy, play along," he shouts. Then they move toward me. The sudden movement has me spinning around, and I nearly fall over my own feet as I dive forward and away from them, heart thumping in my heart.

Once more tonight, I start running.

Leave the trail!

"Leave the light," I mumble. Jumping into the bushes, I brush the meandering branches from my face and body and let my feet carry me as fast as possible.

I'm scared. The darkness, the foreign noises, the sneaking threat. I'm not alone here, I can feel it. But I have no time to turn over my shoulder, no time to check my side. I can hear the horse following me from the trail, knowing that I can't keep hidden in the bushes. If I want to reach for the castle, I'll need to follow the path back. Back to the bordering football field, back to the inner gardens, back to the reception hall.

The horn blazes again, and I whimper. This is not my life, I wasn't made to be tough. I have always preferred safety, even if it meant destruction. First Maman , who even allowed me to be used as a transaction if it meant for her own financial issues to be solved, even temporarily, and then Edouard.

Edouard, who is, or who is not, waiting for me inside Monterrey Castle.

My gift, that is, or is not, waiting for me inside Monterrey Castle.

Voices shake me out of my revelry. Voices, followed by the sight of dark cloaks walking through the darkness. I can't make out what they're saying, their sounds smothered by the blasting noise of the horn, but I can see they're carrying torches.

Do I know these guys? Are they in my class? And, more disturbingly, how many of my classmates are in this fraternity? During my first year there were rumours of a secret association that was active in necromancy and all that shit, but I never gave it any attention. I was too busy surviving in a world that couldn't have been more different from my own. Gone was the safe spot in my basket that Edouard had created for me. Gone was he who had controlled every single bit of my life ever since that day the transaction was sealed with a collar. The moments I had laid between his thighs, craving every crumb of affection he would give me. I was starved, like the runt Maman used to call me. Perhaps she was right after all. And just as I thought I had it all, everything was taken from me the day Father Beno?t caught me, and disgraced me in front of the entire church community.

In front of me, on the inky-black horizon, booms up the castle like it's some ghost building. Getting there means leaving the bushes, and hopping right back on the trail, which I'd rather not do, but I have no choice. When my feet hit the sandy underground, I nearly trip over again. Steadying myself, I hear the horse snort. My heart thunders in my chest, spreading tension and anxiety through my entire system.

"Come on, sweetheart, run," Alexandre sings.

Allez, court. Court!

I can't run any faster. Following the final meters of the trail, my lungs are burning, and my itch from the dust. Those cloaked guys must have made their round collecting the torches, because there are none left over here, this part of the woods blanketed in heavy darkness. I can't trust my surroundings. Not the uneven forest ground, that now dilates, not the wiggling shrubs, definitely not the horse, and not the… Suddenly a violent push takes my breath away, and I fall onto the ground with a loud thump.

"Fuck!" I cry out. My palms reach out for balance, and the opened skin scratches painfully in the sand, the scratch mingling with cascading forest ground. "What the hell?" I roll onto my back and look at the other guy who's looming over me, his dark gaze twisted into a furious scowl. I have lost my knife in the darkness, and I search for it, blindly, while panic grips my gut in a tight knot.

"You aren't going to win tonight," he hisses. Then he slaps me in the face. Hard. Wincing, I try to crawl away backwards, but he lifts his foot and plants it on my stomach. Pain blooms into my system. Abandoning the search of my knife, I grab his foot with both my hands and push him away. He lands on his back, his momentarily fall giving me the break I need to clamber up and onto my knees. Searching blindly, I hear him approach from behind. A turn over my shoulder is enough to see he's back in my peripheral vision. " Ecoute . Listen!" I call out. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I just want to make it out of here."

"If you don't want to win, then let yourself be eliminated. Because I want to win. I need to win." His snarl and accusation bring back my own doubt. Through wincing eyes, I stare up at him. He's wearing an identical school uniform and that black, lace mask. He's the other participant, the one who's still standing in this Wicked Chase. Although at this stage, Sick Chase would be a better fit. And he's got a point. Now that I know who's wearing that golden mask, who has come out here tonight supposedly claiming his chosen one, there's no better argument than to show Edouard I'm no longer his. By stepping out of the game. I guess I carry more pride than I've given myself credit for. "How do you get eliminated?" I ask him.

He snorts, and his face contorts into a grimace. "Have you not been listening? You simply accept the other gift they have for you."

I blink lick my lips, while my heart rattles in my chest. Could it really be that easy? Could something ever be that easy? Alexandre knows what gift is waiting for me. But…I hesitate.

Those first months here in college were absolutely dreadful. I felt alone and afraid. I missed Edouard with every fibre in my system. Sorrow flooded through different phases. First there was pain, then there was sadness. Questions, so many of them. Why didn't he come back for me? Even if it was his dad who sent me here, surely he'd miss me too? Then came anger. It was that anger that helped me to survive in this world of the ultra rich. With time, I mentally buried Maman , and the trailer park, and the drugs, and the misery. Mentally tore myself from Edouard and his safety, his iron control over me and my needs.

Over the past two years, I had left it all behind.

And now… right when I'm about to graduate in less than twelve months, I am getting caught up in the web of the privileged. I can't afford that. Maybe Maman was right and I'm too needy, too fragile, but then, I'm no longer my mother's child. I have become a lonely warrior, beating life like the battle it is. Starting with…

"Come on," the other participant taunts, approaching me with those fisted hands once more. "I know you want to just give in. Go home, man. Enjoy a good summer."

I strike before my brain catches up, and punch him in the jaw. He backs off, eyes large with surprise, before they morph into something else. Something more sinister. He strikes again. And again. Fiercely, brutally, he punches his fist into my stomach, making me leap forward on a howl. He doesn't stop. Fed by desperation, he pulls on my hair and tilts my head up, until we're facing each other once more. We're both panting, pain and exhaustion filling my system.

"Have you fucking lost your mind?" I ask. "It's just a game, you're taking this way too seriously." I don't recognize him, this student, but I can scent his despair. It's an odor I have carried along for so long.

"You can't win." he snarls in return.

I huff out a pained laugh. "I don't want to win."

"Liar!" He shoves me away with a disdained curl of his lips. "You're still here, aren't you? You could have left so many times before, but you didn't. You want to win. But I know who you are, what you are." For the shortest of seconds I fear that he might know of my past, of what I was to Edouard. "You're nothing but a poor kid who has come here with the support of a sugar daddy," he spits, much to my relief, although his words make my chest tighten with hurt. And with determination. "What did you do to be paid a ticket of gold, hmm? You're not one of us. You'll never be one of us!"

"Yet here I am," I snarl. "And if what you say is true, then by winning this game, I will change my future. And no one will ever talk about my past anymore."

The horn blows once more, followed by the distorted sound of laughter. Their voices, everywhere around us through the amplifier in the obsidian shades. It's enraging that I have somehow become the main attraction of their amusement.

Life isn't fucking fair. I never chose to be born in a one-parent family with a mom who loved her drugs more than she loved me. Who so easily gave me away rather than going to the police and reporting her problem.

"So maybe you are right, after all. Maybe it's people like you who make me determined to win a stupid game such as this one." I sneer, surprising myself with those truthful words. It's true though. I remember wondering, after I signed that NDA, who would have chosen me.

Liar . Deep inside, I always knew it would be him. My core yearned for him, begged for him to come back to me. To scoop me back into his arms and cage me, nurture me, and keep me.

"You heard the man. There's only a party for one of us. So if you want it to be yours, I suggest you fight me for it." A flicker in the forest ground makes me bend forward to…there! I grab hold of the knife, relief washing over me. The cool metal feels fucking amazing in my warm, sweaty hand. Clambering back to my feet, I know I'm going to win. I can feel it. Maybe a stranger could have put me down all those years ago, but not here. Not now. Only…he doesn't come closer. "Nothing?" I taunt. "You've got nothing to say now? Well, in that case—" I point with the knife toward the castle. "I'm going that way."

The moment I turn him my back he shoves me to the ground and we both go down in a wrestling mess of grunts and slaps. He's strong, but despair makes his movements sloppy. I deliver one cheap kick between his legs and he howls, hands grabbing his junk, and I get up, forcing myself not to take pity but to leave him with another kick to his leg, a move that doesn't win a beauty prize, but immobilizes him regardless. Then I turn and run away.

"You're as crazy as he is!" He calls out after me, and despite the fatigue and my throbbing muscles, a hysterical grin forms on my lips. Yes, I guess I am. We were always a good pair. A match made in paradise.

"Well done!" Someone calls out, and in the shadows I swear I see the flicker of a copper mask. I ignore it, my body too tense with adrenaline, and instead run over to the path where the wooden barriers welcome me back to the official land of Monterrey Castle. Passing the football fields, I head for the internal courtyard. Out there, in the forest, I felt disoriented. This here is my safe haven, the gardens, a place I often hang out in between classes. I leave my favorite bench a flitting touch of the tips of my fingers as I urge past, then run toward the reception hall, its door usually guarded by Claude, the porter. He, too, has left for the summer. Only when I close the door shut and press my back against glass, locking out the outside darkness, I can breathe in relief. In, and out.

"I've made it," I heave. Which is not entirely true. Because the Wicked Chase has changed its rules tonight, and is now continuing inside the castle walls. Scanning the familiar, though empty surroundings—the large hall with its glorious ceilings and heavily adorned walls. On my left, the door that leads toward the canteen, with its spectacular view over the gardens. On my right, the impressive double spiral staircases. A dim light spreads through the entire open space, making it eerily dramatic. This castle is filled with so much history, has so many tales to tell. While I stand there, waiting for my breathing to even out and the pain in my waist to decrease, I wonder how much of the rumours are true. I wonder why I showed up here tonight in the first place. I wonder how life would be if I could have accepted my cravings. Would that have been enough to turn down the Dictator's offer to get me out of there after Father Benoit turned me into a public disgrace? My need for submission, the desire to put all my trust in the hands of my owner.

Even the thought makes me wince. I won't ever give in to this again. Jamais . I was raised a good, Catholic boy. This is not written in the bible. It's not allowed.

I am not allowed.

Somewhere inside the castle, a door bangs shut, its echo creating a wave of tremor that I even feel inside my core. My back melds against the back door as my pulse picks up. I swear I can smell the waft of a cigarette. Once more, my grip on the knife tightens. Dimmed voices. Someone's coming. My gaze shoots left and I stare into the darkness. My gaze shoots right and as I stare into the darkness, I want to believe it's nothing. But there?—

I squeeze my eyes to slit as I zoom in on the stairs, but still come up empty. If there's nothing, then why do I hear something? A loud rap on the door behind me makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I turn and stare right at a group of cloaked boys that carry torches. They're the same ones from before. Jerking away from the door, I grab for the knob immediately, and start pulling like a maniac, keeping it shut, the knife handle biting in my skin.

" Tranquille, tranquille, " I try to tell myself. But I can't relax. I'm going fucking crazy. I feel hot with anxiety and am losing all common sense. "It's a game. A game ." But it doesn't look like one when from the other side, they start pulling on the handle as well. We're fighting for balance, a strife I won't win, because there are four and I am tired, and not so alone as I thought I was…I jerk my gaze to the right at the slightest movement in the corner of my eye. There, right by the door to the canteen, and too close already from me, stands a tall, black cloaked frame. On his face, a treasure made of gold that has my eyes burning in awe, even though my hands won't stop pulling, won't stop giving up. The tip of his burning cigarette floats through the air as he quietly smokes.

"Hello again, mon chat ," Edouard purrs. "Looks like you've found your way inside." He gazes toward the other side of the door. "It was so hot to watch you wrestling outside. On the ground, kicking and snarling. Did you stain your suit?"

I hate that I look down at my clothes on instinct. Hate that my stomach fills with flutters at the picture he draws, the reality swirled into one of his many naughty deviants of what truly happened. I don't reply.

"Do we need to clean you up for the party?" He takes another drag of his cigarette. Outside, the pull becomes stronger, and I am dragged forward, flat against the window, my nose pressed against the cool glass as I pull with all my might. My muscles ripple from the effort. "You're still far off from the location by the way. I've seen it. It looks all pretty for you tonight. Do you want me to escort you there safely? You never know with these hungry brothers." I turn my head, face flushed from the effort, the soft mask sticking against my skin. Edouard gives me his wicked smile, then slowly takes out a silk, golden thong, and the equally golden harness I used to wear from his pocket. "You'd be very safe in my hands, mon chat ." My gaze drops at the familiar items that stand for safety, for sweet, sweet memories. Everything around me falls still, except for the cacophony in my mind. My thoughts are rioting.

Non. I want to say, but the word doesn't leave my mouth.

Jamais . My legs tremble as I need to fight the urge to let go of the door, to surrender in the game and just give in. Give in to my urges, to my need for this bad, bad boy who has played me before, and surely will again.

"Because I want to," he says, flicking his cigarette carelessly away before squeezing it with his shoe. He moves toward me. His footsteps echo through the dimmed castle. The master of ensnarement, taking his time to close the distance, leaving me to battle between the decision to let go of the door and choose him, or to hang on to the door and be chosen by him. Right now, I can't decide. Every bit of common sense has left my mind.

You have been chosen .

"I have changed," I whisper.

"No, you haven't," Edouard rumbles, pressing his chest against my back. I can feel his nose in my nape, where he inhales deeply. "You're still mine. You have always been, and you always will be."

Claimed.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I can't," I say. It's pathetic. It's the truth. I can't be who I so deeply crave to be.

"Romain," he orders, and the need to slide onto my knees and crawl back to him blazes through me.

Keep me, keep me. Garde-moi pendant toujours.

"The wait is over. Come back to me now."

I think of the words spoken by the old man with his golden cane. "Don't trust each other, don't make any friends. You're on your own here. Keep your mask on at any time, and stay put, even if you're wondering if you're the only one left in the game."

"Now."

"Fight back, if you have to. For only one of you can win."

"Romain."

"You are here for our entertainment. And entertained we shall be."

" Mon amour. "

My chest clenches at those words. Those sweet, heady words. In my mind, I glide down gracefully, offering him the fragile skin right above my heart where he has left his mark of property. He's right. He does own me. Has from the moment the Dictator allowed him to exchange Maman 's debt for my freedom. Or maybe even before, when the vision of those lush, blond strands and his dark, brilliant eyes started invading my mind. When his voice, smooth and taunting as it commanded all his lackeys at school, was the only melody I heard.

Did I really think I could escape him the day he set foot in our college here at Monterrey Castle? Did I really believe that he would let me go after his father freed me from disgrace and bought me my ticket to Saint-Laurent? To freedom?

My thoughts are overcrowding my brain, the cacophony of whispers and recollections not enough to break my habit, my primitive need to comply and be the pet he wants me to be. The pet I need to be.

Edouard brushes his lips over the dark hair on my nape, humming as he does so. "Why are you running from me?" He whispers. "Do you think I can't catch you?"

If you see darkness…

My sweaty hands lose the grip on the knob, and slowly start to glide back, giving way to the boys outside to increase their hold, pushing and pushing until I make up my mind. There's only one way out. The moment I let go of the door, the outside roar is an instant reply as it pushes open with a violent swing. My direct opponent falls inside with the knob still clutched in his hand. It takes him a few seconds to realize he's won.

Look away…

I yank myself free from Edouard's hold, regret slipping through the cracks of my defences. And then I run.