Page 2 of Trapped

Silence slices through the air. Hardly a breath taken as our participants wait for Elder Jacques to continue. The quiet is shattered by a cloud of bats taking flight just above us. Their screeching pierces through the dark, causing our participants to jump. A smile touches my lips. So jittery. Ah, they will be fun to hunt. Fear can be so attractive in these situations.

“After the last monks left in the early 19th century, the castle was turned into Saint-Laurent Boarding College for boys, an institute that we’ve all come to know as one of the finest throughout the entire world. Our country’s elite regroups here.” Elder Jacques pauses, letting his words land. “Our country’s elite redefines their values here.” His voice has smoothed into a gravelly whisper, and across from me, I can feel Robin fret as he moves to put his hands into the pockets of his pants and lowers his gaze.

“Tonight, you’ve been invited to join the club of the privileged.” Grabbing a document from his cloak, Elder Jacques holds it up in the air. “And having signed this NDA, you understand the need for secrecy. the outside world does not understand us, and so you are required to uphold the trust and confidence we have placed in you. Make no mistake—” Dropping the paper in front of his lap, he tilts his chin and gives the line of participants a challenge glare. “Each of you has undergone an extensive background check. Everything there is to know about you, is known to us. Failure to uphold the trust we have placed in you will result in reprimand of the highest order. The NDA is a formality. A courtesy offered to you out of respect for your place at Monterrey Castle. We have maintained secrecy for centuries. Make no mistake, we will ensure your silence by all means.” The elder moves forward once more and has his claws dug into the chin of the first participant. The one who fidgeted before. "You don't want to see your little sister hurt, hmm?" The guy shakes his head furiously, and even from this distance, I don’t miss how his lips are trembling. He’s already on the verge of a breakdown.

Scanning each and every one of the participants across from me, my eyes once more linger on my remarkable part-time classmate. My prey. I’m elated he showed up, though part of me still can’t believe it. Still can’t believe that he dropped his guard and signed his life away.

What made you come here tonight?

“Exactly,” the Elder soothes, rubbing his finger over the guy’s cheek, before abruptly dropping his hand and turning his body halfway toward our side of the line.

“My hungry brothers,” he murmurs, as if speaking to a lover. “When the church bells chime, you’ll be given two hours to hunt. Participants—” He swivels his gaze back to the other side. “Take a good look at the masked man in front of you. For the duration of this initiation you will identify your pursuer by the color of their mask - gold, silver, copper or bronze. They are the only ones who can eliminate you from this game. Now, the rules are simple.” He leans in ever so slightly toward the guy next to Robin. “Survive. Don’t trust each other, don’t make any friends. You’re on your own here. Keep your mask on at all times, and don’t leave the forest, even if you’re wondering what time it is.” His hand moves toward the guy’s pocket and he fishes out his phone, tossing it away and into the darkness with an audible chuckle. Passing two participants, he steps behind them, his frame almost entirely swallowed up by darkness.

“How do you know you’ve won? How do you know if the other participants have been eliminated? It’s simple.” He pushes his cane into the ground. “You don’t. But we will know. And when you are the last man standing?” He huffs out a husky chortle. “You’ll know.”

My eyes search the line of participants, seeking out Robin. My gaze meets his. His eyes are on me but I don't think he sees me. His face is blank, his eyes glazed over. Has he retreated into some dark part of his mind? His chest puffs up, as if preparing for battle. A second time tonight, a smile touches my lips. He's perfect.

Then, something flashes in those eyes. Is it surprise? Realization? The NDA didn’t state that he can only be eliminated by me. Nor does it say that I’ll claim him after I capture him. Or perhaps he is not as brave as he's trying to look? My chest tightens. Ne te prends pas la tête. Don’t worry, beautiful. I'll hunt you and then I'll take care of you.

“I know what the rumours tell you about a possible frat house with its silly pledges inside the walls of Monterrey Castle,” Elder Jacques drifts closer to Robin. “They are lies. Remember when someone blabbed about a secret evening in the basement? What was his name again…” He pretends to think carefully, his chin pinched between his fingers.

No one speaks. Every single student knows about Camille Dubois and his dubious departure from Saint-Laurent.

Robin clears his throat. One of his hands has left his pocket and he rolls his fingers into a fist, unclenches them, before clenching them once more. Ah...he remembers.

While the Elder continues his formalities, I let my eyes roam over my chosen one once more, skin itching with contemplation. Robin wears his light caramel hair in an unpractical, unusual length. It’s too short to be wrapped out of his face in a bun of some sort—though I believe that would be against college rules—but long enough to frame his narrow face. Some days it even looks like that thick mop of straight strands completely absorbs his fair skin as it hangs like a curtain over his cheeks. His eyes are light and large, with thick, curly lashes under bushy, taupe-coloured brows.

He’s in second year like me, though he majors in Business Administration, where I am in International Business. We share a few classes together, and the same library hours, which is how I know of his existence. It’s a shame really that he only always uses those gray-colored eyes to glare at the entire world around him. Those lips, those pouty, pink lips, permanently curled into a disapproving sneer.

Not tonight. Tonight, Robin looks wary. I might not see much of those facial features I dream of with the mask he’s wearing, but the expression in his eyes is clear. He’s anxious.

Finally his gaze clears up and his eyes focus on me with clarity. It’s just a flicker of a moment, but it’s enough to cause an explosion in my belly.

Fuck, my snappy, snarling part-time classmate is afraid of me.

At the thought, arousal unfurls inside the pit of my belly. It tickles like a gentle brush of a feather, causing internal goosebumps, the way it crawls persistently slowly toward my groin, rousing every nerve in its wake.

My fingers flit over my own mask. My contact lenses are drying out my eyes, making them feel scratchy. I could have worn my glasses like last time, knowing that they’d be solidly perched against my nose, securely held by the mask. But I was vain, I guess. Wanted to look my best when I finally get to fuck Robin.

Like a spider, I don’t have good eyesight. And tonight, like a spider, I, too, will rely on touch, vibration, and taste to navigate and find my prey. Spiders create traps of silk thread with glue droplets on their web. They paralyze their prey with venom so they cannot escape. Like this, their prey can stay alive for hours, and the spider can have a juicy meal whenever he gets to it.

This is exactly what I have in mind. With Robin as my prey.

I don’t have silk thread to offer my chosen one, but I do have quite the surprise for him, hidden in the forest. Just like the venom only the spider can inject into its prey, Robin is about to receive a kind of venom only I can provide.

Speaking of…did you know that male spiders like to leave presents?

I’m not just a predator. I can be sweet too. After finding out I had been chosen to partake in the Wicked Chase, and I'd decided that our time had finally come, it didn’t take me long to find a cute chocolatier in the town of Saint-Laurent. They made me the finest of boxes with tons of sweets, wrapped up in golden ribbons and accompanied by glossy cards. And so over the recent weeks, I have been leaving them in his bedroom by the window with a little note:

Soon now, mon papillon.

My butterfly.

Though, despite the effort on my side, none of the chocolate has managed to erase that permanent scowl off Robin’s face. In class his eyes flit and glower, his lips permanently curled into an disinterested sneer. I wonder how they’d taste against my lips. Against my teeth, my tongue. Against my cock.

We’re here now, papillon. But don’t you worry, I’ll erase that glower off your face in no time. And once it’s gone, and your face is void of that usual sulky look, it’ll be mine to paint with emotion. I might choose a hint of wonder, a splash of venom and a whole sweep of desire. Of hunger, mixed with desperation, because you’ll be entirely at my mercy.

Caught in my silken web.

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