Page 28 of Collared

“Explain,” Elder Jacques prompts.

Next to me, Maël accepts the wooden, folded chair that one of the brothers hands him. He sits down, tugging me closer and pulling me between his knees. Despite my body feeling sore from our earlier contact, my insides are stimulated with a feral need to be dominated by Maël. To feel those diamond studs searing in my flesh when he leads me closer to him, against him, and allows me to meld into him.

Laying a hand on my head, he flicks his long fingers through my hair before grabbing it tighter, forcing me to look up at the Elder. A sting flares my insides, a good sting, the kind that makes my eyes teary behind my mask. But it also collects this clutter of thoughts, undoes them from their disoriented state and puts them into clear-cut boxes.

I let my head fall back voluntarily in his grip, breathing out on a shudder as I let the gesture take the bite out of his firm grasp. Surrendering to whatever this is.

And suddenly I know…this is the real game. This game of power. This is what it’s really all about.

“I was elated to receive the invitation for tonight’s Initiations,” I finally speak up. “There are talks of a secret frathouse at college, but I never expected them to be true. At least, true enough,” I add quickly, when I see the Elder opening his mouth to contradict my words. “I never imagined that I could be considered for something like this.”

“Something like…what?” The Elder asks, and coming from him, all low and gravelly, makes the words sound nearly comical.

Nearly.

“Like being chased by a bunch of masked guys?” I ask sheepishly.

“And being caught,” someone adds, humor thick in their voice. When I dare to look over my shoulder, my gaze collides immediately with bronze mask. His full lips smirk at me.

The bola.

The cousin.

I shudder at the thought.

The piano picks up again, and when my gaze darts toward the corner, I see Dominique sitting in front of the instrument, alone this time, his dark suit glued to his agile limbs as they move in line with his fingers.

“You were chosen by one of our highly respectable brothers, Maël Duteil. When asked what instrument he wanted to use on you, he told us he wanted to collar you.

Serré.

“He wanted to chase you down in the woods and bring you back here. He wanted to make you his pet.” Slowly raising his head to the audience with a wide smile, Elder Jacques adds, “Now, the details of their arrangement are none of our business…” Around us, some people snigger secretly, stirring my embarrassment even further. Elder Jacques glances our way. “But what is my business, is that Maël will be your mentor in the foreseeable future, Thurel. You were born a commoner, and as such, you need to be taught our ways.”

What is this? The 18th fucking century? I balk at the words. My thoughts sputter, backpedaling to take cover by thinking of soothing thoughts, Mamie, our flat in Paris, my dorm. Part of me realizes that something has already changed irrevocably in me, and that whoever I was yesterday, is lost. Doesn’t mean I have to listen to his bullshit, though.

Feeling my internal commotion, Maël reaches out and strokes his fingers through my hair. I swear I can hear his soothing “sshh” flutter through my core.

“We will introduce you to the mystiques of our brotherhood as you go along,” Elder Jacques continues. “You will even see your brothers’ true faces with time. You will learn how to honor them, just like they will honor you. We are the future, Thurel. The Alpha Fraternarii will guide you along the way through your life. We represent every single element of wealth our country has, whether it’s in business or in politics. We manage large corporations and set up global charity organizations. We streamline healthcare and lead our nation to keeping its status as a powerful, first world state.”

Around us, people leave their seats and join their brothers as they come closer to us. “Respect.” They boom.

“Loyalty.”

“Traditions.”

Maël pulls on the leash and brings my face closer. Leaning in himself, his mouth reaches for mine in a soft kiss, and he smiles as he repeats the words, his chant matching the simultaneous string of words from everyone around us.

“Welcome home, mon frère,” one of them says, and they start circling us in slow, deliberate moves. Their chant continues, charging the air with an invisible fog, heavy and expectant. My ass clenches when Maël tilts me onto his lap, chests colliding when he lets me straddle him like a ragdoll. With legs dangling on either side of his thighs, I can feel his hard cock press against my stomach. His hood has fallen off his face, and his raven strands are messy and sexy and I need to touch them, need to touch every single centimeter of this man who has just claimed me as his pet.

It’s filthy.

I fucking love it.

“I’m going to finger your hole now,” he mumbles against my mouth, his fingers digging into the fabric of my school pants, before he roughly pulls the material over my thighs together with my underwear, leaving my ass naked for the entire world to see.

People gasp, the atmosphere heavily charged with wickedness. Someone approaches me from behind and foreign fingers tug at the remainders of my pants, rolling them down and removing my shoes in their wake. I flinch at the touch, but Maël just smiles, then slings an arm around my shoulders as he dips his chin toward mine.

“Our brothers want to see your beautiful, tight hole, ange,” he murmurs. I can’t help the hiss that escapes my mouth at the sensation of wet, cool fingers rubbing over my crease. He chuckles raspily. “Don’t worry, it’s only me. They can look, but they can’t touch.”

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