Page 14 of Collared

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.

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