Page 26 of Collared

THUREL

The large greenery that goes by the name of the GreenHouse to us, apparently naive students, is an impressive building practically entirely made out of glass. It stands deeply hidden in the forest. Its neverending symmetrical shapes of lead as they reach all the way up to the stars, are heavily adorned by ivy and flowers.

We stop right in front of a steel door that’s left ajar, only to reveal soft, yet unintelligible sounds I can’t place, coming from inside the building.

They are waiting for us.

“The Atrium, or the GreenHouse as you like to call it, was built by our ancestors when they were in hiding in Monterrey Castle,” Maël explains. “They’d already created the brotherhood by then, and according to the official paperwork, wanted to have a luscious, rich environment to match their equally abundant soirées.” He pulls on the leash with a wicked grin, then thinks better of himself and takes my hand. “Shall we go?”

Placing it back on his arm, he wraps his own larger palm over mine, and leads us to the door.

The muffled noises become more perceptible as we make our way inside a hall, though I still can’t make out what they’re saying. The end of the narrow corridor uncovers a large, open space with that remarkable dome I’ve only seen a handful of times from outside. Colorful tiles coat the floors, and I can’t help but absorb my surroundings—the large plants, couches decorated with loosely dotted pillows, nothing more than curvy shapes, lit by the outside moon and cressets that burn all around us.

Just like my own fiery heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The grand hall appears ghastly dark and foreboding. It’s filled with cloaked men. The Atrium is luminous, the sides heavily decorated with plants. Some of them are so high that it feels as if they can touch the stars. Looking all the way up, I catch so many of them, as if sparkling through the roof, painting the entire atmosphere with a layer of mystique I can’t quite grasp.

This entire night… these guys…I look around me.

They are in college with me.

I’m grateful for my mask, the dark velvet firmly back into place by Maël’s steady hand. He too is wearing his silver camouflage once again, the mask that only reveals the cruel beauty of his plush, full lips. Even more so, now I know exactly what is hidden beneath the elegant embroideries. I just had sex with this guy. I can barely understand what the hell is happening with me. And those eyes, piercing blue the way they look at me, before he gives me a faint nod.

Shall we go?

I don’t reply, instead turn him my back and carefully take another step forward. Maël was right, his brothers were waiting. When I take another step, all those hooded heads turn around to face us, staring at us from behind colorful masks. Garment and ceramic cover their identity, including their sinful characters.

Because the brotherhood is immoral. It’s lustful, deceiving, and eager for power, ruthless in its attempt to obtain just that.

Sex and money, Maël said.

I can see that. I can see it now. I just wonder why I’d never seen it before.

“Are you ready to be accepted by the Alpha Fraternarii?” Maël purrs in my ear, both hands already pressing against my shoulders.

Are you ready to change your life?

This is what I wanted, I tell myself, and I fucking do want it. It’s what I secretly plead for. To step away from the average and be noticed. To be cherished.

To be proud of.

But this is…hard.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, I try to relieve some pressure from my shoulders, before I face the floor. Here goes nothing.

Slowly I slide down and onto my knees. Behind me, Maël groans. Pushing myself up onto my hands and knees, I wonder if he’ll keep his word of protecting me, of keeping me warm and safe. The fluttering promise vibrates gently through my core, making my insides swoon like they never have. No one has ever swooped me up in my life, only to announce that they want to keep me.

“Fuck, yeah,” he mutters, then I hear the rustle of his cloak as he crouches down beside me and leans forward to ruffle my hair. The gesture should be patronizing, should make me feel upset. Angry. Yet I don’t feel anything like that. Cupping my head against his palm, I hear his breath stutter, the faint scent of coffee and chocolate fluttering over me and inside my system.

“My perfect pet,” Maël rasps, voice thick with arousal. “You’re so sweet Thurel, you’re so sweet.” With a final stroke of my hair, he moves back onto his feet, only to pull at the leash. “On-y-va.”

We do. We start marching forward at a slow pace, led through a path created by the brotherhood. They step aside, their darkness chasing us, creating a sizzle of electricity in the air. I turn inward, using this intense feeling of embarrassment like a shield to protect my overstimulated mind. I try to ignore the way everyone’s looking at me.

Once we have passed the first group of brothers and get closer to the heart of the Atrium, I see the rows of chairs. They are equally occupied by dark cloaks and terrifying masks whose stares are on us.

I’m hot, sweat licking my forehead and nape, though my body trembles. God, this place is creepy, I hope this part will be over soon.

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