Chapter 5

5

THUREL

I nside the barn is surprisingly clean. Garden tools are neatly tucked into a corner and a broom leans against a wall, dust and all kinds of debris swept under its bristles. There's the vague smell of urine, for now the only proof the horse was ever in here.

And he will come back.

The thought has me shivering. With a little over one hour to go, I've already been told that the first participant got eliminated, and witnessed the demise of the second one. Does that mean he was automatically eliminated? And what about the other one, the one hanging in that spiderweb I caught a glimpse of just now?

According to the rules, that's exactly what it means. And if that's indeed the case, that makes me the last one standing in this contorted game of theirs, this hunger for power they call the Wicked Chase.

That would make me a member of their brotherhood.

Is such a membership enough to lift me from my usual, average self?

Do I want it to be?

My heart thrums at the thought, its rate picking up as those thoughts echo through my mind. They distort into something else, something darker. Filthier. A curled smile. A smooth voice. A hint of a touch. Him. The silver stranger, with his intent gaze.

He knows my name…

Does that mean that we know each other?

Pacing through what seems to be the storage shed of the stables, I flick through my options. I'll stay here, hidden in the shadows. Worst case scenario, I wait until tomorrow morning, then walk back to my dorm, where my bag's already waiting for me. I'll be on the train to Paris in no time, and this will all be one, big dream. They won't expect me to be here, and I can be quiet. I can be very quiet.

But the crescendo in my heartbeat is anything but quiet when I hear the faint sound of a whistle coming from outside.

Fuck me. It's him. I know it in my clenching gut. The sound of my breath echoes through my buzzing ears as the whistle becomes more audible, sharper. It must be the idea of being inside this place that has me choking. Because sweat breaks out as I spin around, searching for a place to hide.

He doesn't come in though, Silver Mask. I can hear footsteps on the porch, its heavy thud resonating until it makes me clench my jaw to keep myself from screaming.

It's a prank , I tell myself. A fucking prank , that's all this is. I shrug it off. It would have to be an extremely elaborate prank. But despite my common sense, fear blasts its way through my defenses, and claustrophobia engulfs every common sense.

There's a rattling sound at the door and I clench my fists, nails digging into my skin as I wait. And wait. He still doesn't come in. Instead I hear the unmistakable sound of the door being locked from the outside. He's caged me in, the son of a bitch. And all the while, he's whistling, as if calling out to a pet.

My blood runs cold at the thought.

Pet.

The whistling gets louder and there's the sound of a crashing door. Suddenly he's there, standing in the open space, the division between the shed and the horse stalls, at the other side from where I'm huddled against the wall. His presence catches me off guard, since I expected him to come through the front door, and fuelled by panic I throw all common senses out the window and run for the exit. The very same one I came through. The very same one that he just locked by key.

Despite my brave efforts of ramming my body into the wooden material, it won't budge. My jerky movements become weaker at the realization that I've just signed a death warrant. Silver Mask has me trapped inside.

Slowly turning around, I plaster my back against the cool wall and return his heavy stare.

" Viens ici. " His order comes light as a feather.

I snarl, bristling at myself for the unwanted slither of tingles in my stomach. I— this —I can't possibly want this. "Go away," I sneer, my hands fumbling behind me with the door handle while I keep shooting daggers at him. He doesn't flinch, just stands there. Waiting. He's got me cornered and he knows it.

" Viens ici , petit Thurel." Those words, softly dragged, fill the air with tension. Fill my pants with my stirring cock.

Petit Thurel? It sounds so…sweet.

"Or…would you like me to come and collect you?" He asks.

"N-no." My hands stop bumbling at the lock as I eye my opponent. Yeah, he's taller than I am, that's for sure. And with that rope dangling from his hand and that smug grin on his face, he looks awfully sure of himself. Wish I could say the same thing. I won't win against him in a fight, that's for sure. "I want to?—"

Quit this game. Back out. Go home.

Silver Mask tilts his head in that same gesture as before. He's studying me, those piercing eyes peering right at me, roaming over my body as if stripping me bare and probing what's hidden beneath my flesh. Licking my lips, I force myself to keep my pride intact under that burning stare, even though it leaves my mind scrambling. I have lost my words.

"You know, Thurel, I've seen you before at school," he rumbles with that low, smooth voice.

Nerves swoop through my stomach. I should play it cool, the guy's just riling me up, I know that, but curiosity kills the fucking cat.

"Yeah?" I can't help but ask, then bite my lip when his grin blooms into a full smile. If the rest of his face matches the beauty of his mouth and cheekbones, the guy is damn perfect.

"Hmm." He blinks and lets the rope slide between those long, slender fingers.

Where? I want to ask, but I dig my teeth deeper into my bottom lip to keep myself from spilling the word. Either he knows, or he's in a generous mood, because he adds, "In the canteen, with those guys you always hang around with. One with glasses, the other one looking like he loves to get a good beating."

Maxime wears glasses. And… "Xavier doesn't look like he wants to be beaten up," I snarl in indignation. He barks out a laugh, a pleasant melody that drips under my skin and makes my skin hum. I fist my hands and press a little closer against the door, hoping that it will miraculously unlock itself. "We share a dorm and they are some of my best friends."

He lets out another hum, then brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. My cock takes immediate notice, swiftly followed by my annoyed brain. Scoffing at myself, I order my eyes to look away and instead focus on the empty horse stalls, that will soon no longer be empty.

"Every afternoon from four to six you're in the library, though your grades are pretty average." Dipping his gaze, he murmurs, "Is that why you accepted tonight's invitation?"

Ouch. How can a stranger see my motives so easily? Am I that obvious?

He takes a step toward me and I recoil back against the wooden door, flinching when I do so, because my back's already hit the unrelenting, cool material. I take a side-step to create more distance.

"Because you want to stand out and be someone else? Is that why you are here tonight, petit Thurel?"

"Fuck off, you don't know anything about me."

He snorts. "If that's what you think, you really didn't read that NDA." He leans in the slightest. "Perhaps my cousin's prey was telling the truth? Did you not read the document before signing?"

My cousin's prey.

"You know nothing."

"Perhaps. Though there's something I do know." He chimes, clearly ignoring my sarcasm. The rope dangles in his hand, revealing the dark collar and those shiny studs. Blood floods south at the sight of the collar and I roll my dry and nibbled lip to soothe it with my tongue, inwardly begging myself to keep cool.

"You want this." He takes another step forward and I immediately take a side-step. " Oui ." I can hear him smile as he takes another step forward, twirling the rope. "You do. Admit it."

"Stop it."

He lets out a breathy chuckle. "So well organized. Disciplined. Homework, practice, a few friends here and there. The epitome of an average guy." I inwardly cringe at his accurate description. He takes another step and we continue our little dance of step and slide. "But your body is practically begging to make you mine." My arm hits the other wall. Fuck, I'm cornered.

"That's not true."

"Your body is thrumming with need, petit Thurel."

" Ta gueule . It's not." I lick my dry lips while keeping my body firmly tucked between both walls. I need to focus, but I can't do that because my head is swimming. My treacherous body deserted my side a long time ago.

"It's nearly two in the morning," I blurt. "That means I have won."

" C'est vrai ," he replies, much to my surprise.

"So b—back off."

"Don't you want to know why?" He asks. My gaze drops to where his fingers stroke the dark, suede material of the collar, adorned with diamonds.

He can't be right. My body can't be thrumming with need, I am not a sexual being, never have been. But there's something about this guy?—

I jerk my chin his way. "Why what?"

"Why you?" He takes another step forward and my stomach flutters, cock slowly hardening, but my mind balks as I fist my hands. I shuffle against the other wall, but I won't be able to go much further because of stacked brooms and other garden tools.

You've been chosen.

The words rattle my brain, making my mind stutter and sending insecurity flooding through my warring emotions. "Why me?" My voice is thin.

He gives me a casual shrug, looking every bit the arrogant ass he apparently is, and lets his fingers trail the glimmering jewels on the collar. "You caught my eye, angel. The first time I saw you, was when I came to look for my cousin. He's with you on the football team."

I narrow my gaze while I inwardly tap through all the familiar faces on the field. I don't know them that well though, because like with everything else I do, I tend to enjoy painting the background rather than making it on the front row. "You're lying," I bluff. "No one has a cousin who'd be crazy enough to hunt me down with a rope and a— and a—" My face flushes as I make a careless gesture to his hands.

He just laughs. The sound is husky, and oh so seductive. My cock is begging to be taken care of, and when I dare lowering a hand to adjust myself, I feel a wet spot that's making my face burn with humiliation.

I'm leaking for him. Is that even possible?

"What's your name?" I squeak, begging that he hasn't noticed my hard dick, or the spot in my pants. Silver Mask takes another step forward, and another one, and then his chest skims against mine. Butterflies erupt all over, and my skin becomes hypersensitive to his presence. Inclining my head, I force myself to look him in the eye. Into his blue eyes, though darkened by the mask. From up close, I can see the refined details in the material. Silvery threads are carefully woven around silver gems, making it a piece of delicate art. It's pretty. The thought makes me furious.

"My name is Ma?l." He watches me intently as I, apparently visibly, put the pieces together.

I've heard of Ma?l. He's one of the super rich, the elite, part of that one group I don't interact with.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of you," I mumble weakly. He chuckles, the sound from this close even raspier and challenging, and his hand reaches out to touch my mask. I flinch, suddenly afraid that he'll try and pull it off, or hurt me, or some ridiculous shit.

"Sshh," he soothes, and my body catches fire when he leans in even further and lets his fingertips caress the smooth material.

Fuck you , I want to spit out, but my tongue has dried up, nothing more than a useless muscle kept in my sealed-shut mouth.

"I thought you might have heard of me," he murmurs, watching as he traces lines onto my face.

"I mean, I don't know you," I slam my mouth back shut, eyes rolling inwardly at my stupid, fucking nerves.

He smiles, and then his fingers linger on my lips and fire licks at my insides. I am shaking with need and he has barely even touched me.

"Why did you accept tonight's invitation?" He muses, dragging his gaze up to meet my eyes again. "I can keep on guessing, but I'd like it from your mouth." His digits crawl down to my chin, where they angle my face as he keeps on brushing my skin. I shrug, mouth firmly pressed shut.

"Answer me." He digs his nails deeper, in a silent command, and I flinch. There's no use denying the truth anyway, I guess. Plus, why do I even care?

Because he's one of the most popular guys in college.

"It's as you thought," I admit. "I needed something else in life."

He hums, replacing his nails for the blunt tips of his fingers once more. Heat swoops in my stomach. "So you want to become a brother."

"I don't know," I drawl, choosing my words carefully. "I'm not sure what that means. But…I guess?"

"Hmm." He spreads his fingers to grasp more of my chin and squeezes me firmer against the wall. That's the only warning I get before he uses his other hand to lift the collar. I flinch, then wince in an attempt to avoid his touch.

"No," I snarl, pushing both hands against his chest, the material of his cloak surprisingly thin. My fingers grasp a fit body, a well-developed chest, and I feel his muscles straining against my palms when he fights me in return. He presses a thigh between my legs. I gasp, temporarily freezing from the realization that he can now feel me—feel my erection—and potentially the wet spot, and I?—

Click .

"There." His thumbs brush over the delicate skin of my throat and I swallow around the collar, letting him trace my Adam's apple with his digit. "You look perfect, ange ." His thigh presses a little firmer against my groin, and he smiles when I groan in humiliation and arousal at the same time.

"Now what ," I snarl in an attempt to hide my discomfort. "You're going to walk me back like this to your brothers and show them your trophy?"

He watches me intently, the smile still spread on his ridiculously plush lips. "I will. But first I want to claim my prize. After all, I managed to catch you during our very first Wicked Chase."

Panic surges through me like a blizzard, roaring anger to life. "What? No. I won, I'm the final participant standing."

Right?

I expect him to fight me, mock me, anything. But instead, Ma?l just shrugs. "You know, we fuck each other, Thurel, that's what we do. We're a friendly brotherhood." This time he lets out a grin. "You should have read the fine print," he sings in a whisper.

"You've got to be kidding me," I sneer, trying to play the ignorant one. Perhaps there's still a possibility to end this now, despite my treacherous body wanting more. My brain will protect me, will kick me back into the shadows, like it has done for the past years.

Ignoring me, Ma?l simply tugs on the collar, bringing my face forward while he leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. "Tell me, angel, do you want me to fuck you?" Goosebumps erupt on my skin and I can't help but shiver at those words. My scorching insides beg for me to say yes, but my pride and insecurity fight back with tooth and nail, and I flinch, trying, and failing, to push him away. His tight grip on the leash is strong and he keeps me close as he takes his time exploring the skin of my face with his nose. He runs it over the dark material of the mask, then dips it under and against my heated skin, and I can feel the hint of his smile, of his breath, of his lips, when he presses them against the dip in the corner of my mouth. It sends a shiver of pleasure through my body, and I shy away, desperately thinking of something nasty to say. Something, anything , will do, if it means distracting him.

"No," I blurt.

"I think you do," he muses against my lips, and our breaths intermingle. "I think you want me to lay you down, let you straddle my thighs and ride my fat cock, sweet Thurel."

My nails dig into the skin of my palms as I clench my hands even tighter, needing to feel the pain, needing to feel the distraction. Because my body is failing me, falling into this merciless hole Ma?l has dug for me, despite its absurdity.

"I think you don't know what you're talking about," I scoff.

"Don't be embarrassed, angel." His tongue darts out to slowly paint my trembling lips, then probe at the seam in a silent request to be accepted. I shake my head, clenching my jaw, ignoring my throbbing cock, willing away the tightness around my neck and the way he pulls me in closer on the whisper of a chuckle, and then I give up.

Feeling my defeat before I acknowledge it, he spears his tongue inside my mouth with a low grunt that has me wobbling on my knees. He tastes good. Of coffee and gum, and something sweet like chocolate, and as his tongue curls around mine, one of his hands clasps the back of my neck and laces his fingers through the already mussed, chestnut strands of my hair.

It feels incredible. His touch, his self assuredness, even the collar around my neck and his possessive hand in charge of the rope, has me giving in and wanting more. I love the way he slants my face anywhere he wants to get deeper inside, to get more of me. To get more of us. He lets my tongue explore his mouth, lick inside, revel in its heat, before he uses his grip on my hair to pull me back. I can't avoid the soft whimper at the loss of his touch, and Ma?l murmurs something unintelligible as he tightens his grip on my hair, making my eyes sting and teary. My cock is hard, wet and desperate for more, and I don't have a clue of what's happening to me right now.

"Alpha Fraternarii was founded after the French Revolution," Ma?l mumbles as he takes a step back, his eyes on mine. "As a reaction against the debauchery that took place in Paris." He takes another step back, this time tilting his head as he tightens the rope. He's waiting.

"For what?" I must have voiced my thoughts, because he lets out a light chuckle.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I've got you collared like my pet. Cat, dog—" Ma?l shrugs, "Doesn't matter. As long as I've got you crawling next to me on all fours."

I puff out a derisive snort. "You've got to be kidding me."

Crossing both his arms in front of his chest, he eyes me with raised brows. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Well, do I look like I'd get down on my knees for you?"

Pursing his lips, he drops his gaze before slowly dragging it back up, taking in each centimeter of my trembling body. My skin flushes with heat, embarrassment, and something entirely different. When he takes too long to answer, I let out an impatient scoff in an attempt to hide my uneasiness.

"Hmm, as a matter of fact, you do."

My gaze flies back to his, catching the wicked flicker in those almond eyes right in time, before he gives the leash one, firm jerk that catches me in surprise and makes me loose my balance. I topple forward, crashing down onto the floor, barely finding my balance with my hands. Humiliation coats my cheeks when I realize that he's got me exactly how he wanted. From above me, Ma?l hums an approval. "That's it. Now stretch your hands, and?—"

Looking up at him, I snarl, "I know how an animal crawls." Ma?l crouches down in front of me and cradles my face surprisingly gently. His fingers trace the heat of my cheeks, the look in his eyes calm, even serious. Gone is the earlier mockery.

"I don't want you to crawl like an animal. I want you to crawl like my pet." His mouth brushes over mine, and I feel how my palms search for the coolness of the ground, as it somehow helps me to shed a light on my inner turmoil. I'm so confused right now, and so, so horny.

When he finally pulls back, he keeps his face close to mine. Our gazes interlace, examining, searching. I don't know what it is we're looking for, but I can feel my heartbeat slowly calming down, and I inhale deeply, then let out my breath in a long, solid puff of air.

"Good boy," Ma?l mumbles, ruffling my hair, before getting back up to his full length. " Viens ." I let out a growl to cover my internal perturbation, but he ignores me. Instead, he leads us forward and toward the other side of the shed. His words…something flutters in my chest at his praise. He guides us both into the first stall, one that's clearly not used for any horses judging by the way the floors are clean. He drops the leash and walks to a cherry-red, antique cupboard with two drawers, where he takes out a plush, thick blanket. He lays it out in front of us.

"Come here, sweet Thurel. My chosen one. You decided to participate in the Wicked Chase. I hunted you down. Now, I've come to collect my prize."