Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

SERAFINA

The knife is very clean, and I’m not sure why that’s the first thought that comes to mind. I mean, it’s a fucking knife. And this masked guy is pointing it at me. Moving the tip of the blade closer to my throat.

“Are you into this, my claimed ?”

The way his voice says my claimed scares the hell out of me. And it turns me on a little. Okay, not a little. It turns me on a lot. Where I come from, guys don’t act like this.

There’s flirting and asking someone out on a date. Yeah, sure, you can go to a party and hook up with some random guy if you wanted to. But it’s all the normal, generic stuff. Robotic and monotone. Certainly nothing quite like…

The blade is suddenly pressed against my throat. Panic and fear writhe inside me, only to be met with a sense of horniness . My toes curl tight.

“One deep breath and you’re going to cut yourself, Sera,” he says. “Not me. You will hurt yourself. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whisper.

“What are you going to do next?”

“Get on my knees before you.”

He moves the knife away from my neck.

I drop from the desk to the floor, hitting my knees with an echoey thud in the quiet library. The smell is so good. I love a place like this. There’s so much rich history and knowledge and peace inside this place. Yet I’m looking up at a masked man who is built with muscle. Let us not forget the nipple piercing either.

“You are my claimed,” he says. “I am your ace . Repeat that to me, Serafina.”

“I am your claimed,” I say, my voice shaking. “You are my ace .”

He moves the knife to his left hand and then touches himself between his legs with his right hand. He’s in jogging pants so there’s no disguising or hiding the insanely thick bulge. It only looks bigger when he grabs at it, wrapping the cloth of the pants around it.

“I will break you,” he says. “And you’ll beg me to keep doing it. Over and over. Then you’ll be sent off to marry someone and live a boring life. Understand?”

I almost lick my lips at the sight of his bulge. He’s just holding it. There’s far more size than what his hand is holding. And his hands are big. So that means he is… really big .

“I understand,” I say.

“Good,” he says.

He moves fast, releasing the grip on his cock and next thing I know he has my left hand. The knife swipes through the air with ease, the tip of the sharp place hitting my palm. I see blood before I feel the sting.

A voice in my head tells me not to gasp. Not to make a sound. Or else it’ll get worse from here. I hate the sight of blood. It makes me want to pass out.

“Open your mouth, my claimed ,” he orders me.

I can’t believe how quickly I listen to him. No resistance. No wanting to resist either. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. There’s a faint droplet of my blood on the tip of the knife. He touches the knife to my tongue, depositing my blood.

“Taste,” he whispers.

He moves the knife and I taste my blood. He then lifts the knife to his own face and the knife disappears behind his mask.

He’s licking my spit off his knife?

This guy is fucking insane. He’s terrifyingly insane. I can’t stop watching. I can’t stop looking at his nipple piercing. I can’t stop moving my eyes quickly down and back up so I can see his huge cock pressing the inside of his pants. And this guy… wants me?

“See you soon, Serafina,” he says.

He turns and walks through the library, his boots echoing with each heavy step. Even that. The boots. The boots and the pants. Shirtless. Muscles.

Running in boots…

It’s just so… I’m not sure if I should stand or not yet. Once at the door, he pauses and calls out, “By the way, my claimed , you looked so peaceful sleeping last night.”

That’s when I let out an audible gasp. He chuckles out loud and leaves the library. My body shivers and I fall back to my butt, sitting on the floor. I hug my knees.

He was in my room last night while I slept. He watched me sleep. Did he… do anything…

My toes curl again. I don’t feel disgusted by that thought. I feel turned on by it.

Maybe I am just as fucked up as everyone else here at Sinners Academy.

Lia won’t tell me a thing about what just happened, and to make matters worse, I am mandated to talk to someone. Waiting for me back in my room is an itinerary. I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing here. Attending classes? Learning a skill? Or just wait around to be stalked by masked men and mentally tortured?

Her name is Esme. That’s who I’m supposed to talk to. Is she a psychiatrist? Some kind of counselor? I have no idea.

I walk along an old, cobblestone path toward a small building. The door is large and heavy when I pull it open. The inside of the building smells old yet clean.

I’m standing in some waiting room area but there’s nobody around. I’m right on time. Right where I’m supposed to be. But nothing. Nobody.

My heart suddenly does a backflip. I fear this is a trick. The guys in the masks… the guy with the knife…

“Fuck,” I whisper.

I turn to bolt for the door when another door opens.

“Serafina,” a woman says.

She’s in a dark gray women’s suit. Her hair is short-ish, shoulder length, dark brown. She’s wearing thin, gold-framed glasses.

“I’m Esme,” she says. “Let’s have a chat.”

I walk into her office. It’s dimly lit and there’s the soft sound of bubbles coming from a fish tank in the corner. My eyes look at a school of neon tetra as they swim together through green and purple plastic plants.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Esme says. “This is a good place to hide.”

“Hide? Hide from what?” I ask.

There’s a couch, love seat, and a huge armchair. I plop down in the armchair and Esme sits behind her very clean and organized desk.

“You’re new,” she says.

“Freshly kidnapped I guess you can say.”

“Don’t look at it that way. Everyone has a story and a purpose here.”

“What’s mine? Because I haven’t done anything wrong. This is some kind of sick revenge.”

“A lot of people feel that way when they arrive,” Esme says. “They’re scared. Angry. I get that. You’ve been taken from your home.”

I scoff. “Home. It was never a home there.”

“Talk to me about that.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t know you. Who are you?”

“I’m like a liaison around here, Serafina. I keep things moving along, okay? You will be scheduled to take classes. Everything you need to get yourself ready for life.”

“Wow, what is this? Forced college? Did you pick a degree for me too?”

“Everything is mostly generalized,” Esme says. “If there’s something specific you’d like to look into, we can help with that. Ultimately, we want everyone to make it through.”

“Make it through,” I whisper. “To… where?”

Esme looks down, totally ignoring my question.

Great. Thanks.

“Are you a shrink or something?” I ask.

“I’m just here to help. That’s all. I facilitate and I coordinate.”

“So you must have talked with my mother then. Organized the whole kidnapping ordeal.”

“We have a process here. One that must be followed. There is no chance of returning once the decision has been made. We always assure safety.”

“Safety,” I laugh. “Ripped out of my bed and thrown around. Yeah, real safe.”

“Were you hurt? Physically? Did you require medical attention when you arrived? Was there not two people waiting for you to escort you to your private bedroom in an apartment?”

Where did the guy in the black mask with a knife forced me on my knees come into play then, Esme?

“Sorry for being harsh,” she says. “This journey is about realization. Now what I would like to do is get you set up with a few classes. You like to read? You like to paint? Right? I’ve gone through your file. Your entire life, Serafina. You’ll be okay here. You’ll settle. You’ll figure it out.”

“What if I want to be a lawyer? Huh? You have classes for that?”

Esme folds her hands. She’s not going to answer that. No, I don’t want to be a lawyer, so I don’t really care for her to answer my question. She knows it.

“I was in one of the libraries earlier,” I say.

“You’ll find a lot of libraries around here,” she says. “Enjoy them. Try not to be stubborn and resist what this place is.”

“And what exactly is this place?” I ask.

Esme stands up and folds her hands in front of herself. I guess we’re done talking that quick then. I stand up.

“Any questions?”

“Plenty.”

“Any worth asking?”

“No,” I say. “I’m just not who she says I am. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m already here.”

“You’ll find your way around. You’ll find your place. I promise.”

Yeah, my place… right…

… in the arms of a psycho with a huge cock, a nipple piercing, wearing a black mask, with a knife to my throat…