Chapter 10

Idon't know how long we lay there. Minutes? Hours? My entire body feels limp, heavy and powerless. Somehow during this apocalyptic gathering I surrendered, and my limbs show the remnants. My mind has calmed down though, with those flickering shadows having disappeared altogether with the cloaks and masks from the other member of the brotherhood.

No, it's quiet here, in the dungeons. Aside from the piano that still plays a sweeping melody, the place is peaceful. Cocking my head, I leave my right cheek to rest on the altar, eyes fluttering when I stare outside the window toward the blackness of the forest. In a deserted corner, a couple is making out, their masks discarded as they kiss each other passionately. I blink when I recognize the taller guy as Arthur Deveraux, heir to the Deveraux Empire. The smaller guy is barely recognizable, his long, wavy strands, much like my own, reaching his cheekbones and blanketing most of his face, while Arthur's large hand cups his nape to keep him close. Régis Deveraux.

"My gift," Arsène mutters behind me, the first sign that he hasn't actually fallen asleep atop of me. He lets out a yawn and stretches his arms, his body still heavy on mine. Then he slips out of me, leaving me feeling vulnerable. "I'm going to unwrap you now, papillon, and then we're going home. You must be tired." The ghost of his own raspy tone confirms that I'm not the only one who could use some sleep here. Lowering his head, he surprises me by pressing his firm, warm mouth on every single centimeter of skin he releases from the brilliant thread, soothing and warming my flesh once more. "You did really well," he purrs, followed by a lick and a nip. "So, so well."

When my hands are free, he takes his time rubbing my wrists and forearms, before dropping a slow kiss on each of my palms. Then he continues releasing me from his ropes. "You have entered the world of the Alpha Fraternarii," he muses, then grasps my chin between two fingers and turns my face over my shoulder to look at him. His gaze is dark, wicked yet gentle. "I love how you let my brother play with your mouth."

Searching his gaze wildly, I stammer, "Brother? As in, your brotherhood brother, or your real brother?"

Arsène huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as if I just made a good joke. Leaving me flicking through my memory as to if there has been talk of another de Noailles at college. Not that I can think of, but that doesn't mean shit.

"Well? Answer me." Annoyance bubbles to the surface in less than a few seconds. "Is he your flesh and blood?"

Arsène grabs me by my hair and yanks my head back until I bump against his chest. My legs are still tied up, but I use my hands to tear and dig. "And what if he is? You were sweet to him."

"Untie me at once," I snarl instead.

"Uh huh, this takes time, pretty boy. Time that I intend to take if it makes you feel good." Uncapping a bottle of oil—almond of some sort by the smell of it—he starts massaging my hands and wrists with a slow, unyielding motion.

Someone chortles, and I momentarily freeze, taken aback by the laughter that sounds as if it's coming from an entirely different scene. Like we're in two separate movies.

It's the pianist. He's blindfolded, his black suit jacket discarded, the collar of his white shirt open, the deep v-shape exposing parts of a naked chest. He's sitting at the piano, his fingers on the instrument. Those digits, roaming freely over the keys, held in control by another pair of hands, used like a willing ragdoll. The melody changes from that dramatic, gentle sound to something lighter, matching their mood. They are both laughing now, the blond guy working the musician's fingers as he kisses his nape at the same time. He's no longer masked, the silky material propped up onto his forehead instead. My eyes flicker.

I recognize them. They are one of the most popular couples of Saint-Laurent. Ga?l Deveraux, the wicked cousin of the Deveraux twins. Realizing that they are all part of this brotherhood somehow makes the fight leave my body, paralyzing my snarky defense mechanism.

I should have known. These guys run the school. And apparently their families rule the country.

I can't fight the shivers running over my body. When Arsène's warm, oiled fingers return to my naked skin, this time rubbing my shoulders, I lean into his touch, fatigue threatening to weigh me down like a heavy blanket, making the remainder of my walls crumble at this man's feet.

"Word has gone out to your family, Robin," Arsène muses and his fingers dig into my skin, massaging my sore muscles.

A low rumble is the only sound that escapes my throat, muscles relaxing and mind finally calming down. God, this feels amazing.

By the piano, a guy with red hair has joined the two lovebirds, a glass of champagne in his hand, saying something that makes the others burst out laughing. They don't look my way.

"Surprised?" Arsène asks with the hint of a smile. When I don't answer, he continues, "Your brothers have accepted you, mon papillon. You are part of the Alpha Fraternarii now. And aside from ordering commoners on how to behave and what rules to obey to, we like to enjoy the pleasures in life." His groping hands lower toward my back, firmly demanding for my muscles to yield and to give in. They do, slowly softening under his touch and becoming more pliant. He hums at that, content.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask.

"Now now? Or from now on?"

"I mean, people will know. They will have seen me, tied up…" Like bait, I want to add, but I swallow the word instead.

I like that feeling. And I hate it.

"Now you are mine to play with," Arsène mumbles, his warm hands trailing down to knead my lower back. Everywhere his skin touches mine, my flesh tingles, my entire body even more relaxed in its sweet capitulation.

"You'll live with me in my dorm. Meet my friends and family." He continues to massage the back of my legs, releasing me from the thread as he does so. And with every knot he pulls smooth, my chest constricts a little more. I can't explain the way I felt safe with him, it's ridiculous. I — I shouldn't feel this. I hardly know the guy! But to be held like that, to feel warm skin brush against mine, plush, wet lips claiming mine, fingers exploring the most sensitive spots on my body…it made me feel something I have never felt.

Perhaps Arsène is right. Perhaps I am set free.

"We'll make sure you graduate, and then decide what you want to do. Our family empire is vast with over fifty different brands in our holding. I'm sure we can find you something you like." Golden Mask approaches us, silently aiding Arsène in unravelling the silk off my naked body.

"No more spider butt plugs." I scrunch up my nose, and both men puff out a laugh.

"Oh, I'll be the boss of that, pretty boy. Now—" Arsène grabs me by the hair and pulls me back up until I'm awkwardly leaning on my knees, my ass practically sitting in his lap as he presses behind me. He sniffs my throat greedily, then murmurs, "Why don't you introduce yourself to your new family."

I swallow. It's not a question, but a demand.

Golden Mask leans in, and with Arsène holding me tight and my legs still wrapped up in thread, I watch him hover closer until his nose is practically touching mine. His eyes are pitch dark as they flicker between me and Arsène. Waiting for permission.

"Go ahead, brother," Arsène rasps.

My ears buzz when Golden Mask's mouth captures mine, and my eyes snap wider open with the first sweep of his tongue.

"Open up for him, papillon," Arsène whispers, voice thick with desire. His breath tickles the skin on my neck, and I realize he has leaned in to watch us kiss. I do as he asks, my lips parting like a flower in bloom. Golden Mask's tongue slowly sweeps inside my mouth, licking and sucking. My hands, no longer tied, fly to reach out to Arsène's dark strands as I let Golden Mask deepen the kiss. Flutters awaken in my stomach, despite my fatigue and I bask in Arsène's strong hold on my shoulders as he keeps me close.

A tongue laps at the tender skin of my neck, and I realize Arsène is participating, his grip sliding up to my nape where it tightens as he brushes his nose up and inside my hair, his wet mouth on my earlobe.

"That's enough, brother," Arsène clips. Golden Mask hums, leaving my mouth with one last peck, and then Arsène angles my face toward his, our foreheads and noses touching. He doesn't kiss me, just stares into my eyes. My chest is rising and falling more rapidly, I'm clearly out of breath. "Felt good?" His fingertips stroke my cheek.

"You made me do that!" I spat out of habit, though my words lack real bite.

"You can be honest. It looked good from where I was standing." Arsène pulls back and looks up at Golden Mask. "You pleased my chosen one, brother. Soon you will get to have yours. Who knows? Maybe we can play some more once you have claimed your guy?"

Then, with a final pull of the thread, Arsène unravels the remainder on my legs, freeing me entirely. "There. Now we can head back to our dorm." He rubs my ankles and calves with the oil, then helps me get up. "Let's get some sleep."

"Wait." Golden Mask says. When I turn, he's already staring at me, a challenging shimmer in his inky gaze. Who are you? "Do you need help escorting Robin upstairs?" He asks Arsène, ignoring my prying eyes.

His voice, those eyes… something clicks into place. "I know you," I blurt. This time I do snarl as fear crawls up my spine. "You are that guy who made that other guy—"

"Say it and I'll stick more into your mouth than just my fingers," he sneers, eyes flashing aggressively.

"Edouard…" Arsène hums. A warning.

So he has a name. This brother. This…

"Connard. You're an absolute asshole. That poor guy, that—tell me something. What did you carry tonight?" Arsène squeezes my shoulder warningly, but I shake him off, because my guard is up and my prickly self has made its appearance, in its full glory.

Edouard grins, then holds up the knife. The Damascus pocket knife with a rosewood handle looks vintage and deadly. The tip of the blade is painted with red splashes, no doubt of blood.

"Were you out there to kill?" I growl. "Again?"

"No, we're here to play," Edouard hisses, not sounding amused anymore. His eyes flash. "We're here to win. Your guy won you tonight, so be a good pet and please him."

"What did you say?" My eyes have turned to slits, voice going low, hands turned to fists. I am so ready to take this arrogant fucker down. Forget fatigue.

Edouard lets out a laugh, pats Arsène on the shoulder, and walks away.

"Let him go," Arsène says when I take a step forward. "He's a hothead. Just ignore him."

I turn over my shoulder. "I'm not your pet."

Arsène laughs, shaking his head. "No, you aren't. I already have enough of those." His digits clasp around my wrists and he hauls me up and against his chest. "You're my lover, papillon. My prey. My toy. Want me to continue?" Wrapping his cloak around my naked frame, he pulls me close, then snakes one of his hands around my nape. "And Edouard is frustrated, because there's this guy he wants, but can't have."

"Why not?" The dark silk feels like bliss around my limbs, and once more I feel like I'm nearly collapsing.

"The tranquilizers, still?" He asks. I shake my head and give him a shaky smile.

"I'm just tired."

"Then let's go upstairs and to my room. We can talk about this tomorrow. Besides, I want you to meet my little friends." Caged in, I let Arsène walk me away. There are only a few torches left alit, and even fewer people. The Deverauxs and their lovers are gone, the only two people left are masked and standing by the door. They tip their heads when we make it outside. Zin and Enzo are also gone.

"Your little…" Nausea bubbles up in my chest as I realize what he means. Spiders. "I, no." I try to struggle out of his hold, but Arsène just sniggers. "No," I repeat, but even to my own ears, it sounds pathetic. His grip tightens and he practically pulls me forward and toward the stairs.

"Si. You're mine now, papillon. Mine to take care of. Ours to play with. Come on," he pouts when he catches my glare. "Don't overthink everything. Have I hurt you just before?"

I snort as we climb the stairs. "Aside from the drugs, the chase and the fuckery?"

"That was playing. Well?"

"You—You haven't," I admit in a sigh. Turns out the big, bad Arsène de Noailles is nothing but a spoiled child who wants to protect what's his. Histoy. My stomach tightens at the thought.

"Exactly. So, come on. Let's go home."

Home.

We climb the next set of stairs, the large, floor-to-ceiling windows broadcasting our interlaced shadows with the outside darkness as we reach the first floor. The castle is abandoned, with students gone for Pentecote. I shiver involuntarily before I drag my gaze to the row of doors we're moving toward.

"You saw me the first time in the library, but I first saw you in the canteen," I hear myself say.

My hand finds his and he squeezes. "And?" He teases. "You didn't like what you saw?"

I let out a scoff. "Because you were one of the elite? One of the snobs? Absolutely."

Arsène huffs out a chuckle. "I figured as much. I mean, you always carry a scowl, but you seem to have a special version for me."

"What did you think?" My face flushes at the question, and my snappiness retreats, leaving me feeling awkward. Of me? "I mean—" I flush.

What did you think of me?

"Mesmerizing," Arsène interrupts, then pulls in our joined hands until he can drop a kiss on mine. "Prickly, unpleasant, secretive, lonely, smart, troubled, and so very sexy." He throws open a door and yanks me inside. I've barely set foot over the threshold when he kicks the door closed and pushes me against it, immediately followed by his larger, toned body. "I knew immediately that I wanted you, Robin." The fingers he brushes through my hair are soft, but his crotch, rocking and grinding against my hip, is anything but. Nor are his teeth nipping at my neck, sharp and unrelenting, as he once more has me under complete control.

"Relax, mon papillon," he murmurs. "I'll be generous, and curious, and protective of you. I'll take good care of you."

Gazing over his shoulder I recognize the easel and set of brushes that are mine. I blink, scanning the other wall, and come to realize that it's filled with a lot of my things. My black suitcase, backpack, computer bag, and the large duffel I use for my paint. It's all there. He wasn't kidding when he said that his people would move all of my stuff here.

"You—"

"Sshh," Arsène brushes his lips over mine, taking the slightest of openings to enter my mouth, his tongue licking inside and creating a spill of moans coming from my throat. My stomach clenches with instant lust, which shouldn't be possible after the number of orgasms he's already given me tonight. Or is it morning now? I've lost track of time. My knees buckle when he deepens the kiss and tilts my chin in the exact angle he wants me in. "My lover," he breathes against my lips. "You have come home. Now look up—" His brown eyes glitter wickedly as he lets his fingers brush under my chin. Flutters dance in my stomach, knowing that he has me completely enthralled. I'm under the spell of this devilishly handsome, privileged guy. He smiles playfully, because he knows it too. "To see the welcome committee. They've also been waiting for you." His fingers press a little deeper into the sensitive skin and I let out a hiss, fresh arousal sweeping through my cock despite our earlier coupling.

"Regarde," he whispers, and I do. Tilting my head back, I look up at the ceiling. And freeze.