Page 20 of Trapped

“Made you come?” Arsène lands a solid slap on my ass cheek, making me jolt in surprise. “Left a plug in your ass?” He gives me another whack. It stings, despite the thin layer of clothing. Fuck, it really stings. He keeps his hand on my ass while his mouth finds the back of my neck, and he gives my earshell a lazy lick when he muses, “Came all over your face? Yeah, we both won the Wicked Games, my little butterfly.”

“I’m not little,” I huff, clenching my jaws, though that’s barely the point and we both know it.

His hand brushes over the small of my back, keeping me close. Tight. “But you are young. You’re just starting out on your journey. You’ve always been trapped. Was it tough to live a life perpetually comparing yourself to your big brothers? They have their own business now in some city up north, if my intel was right?”

“Lille, yeah.” I sigh. His comment bites, making my thoughts spiral inwards once more as I skim my heart on how the true implication of his words make me feel. He’s right. I’ve always compared myself to my older brothers, was always the third wheel. That wasn’t just my feeling…it was true. I wasn’t like Dad, I was like her. Like Mom. The source of our broken family.

Arsène leads me by his hand through the forest, and I find myself letting him. Perhaps I am more like a wounded pup than I thought. I sure feel exhausted, and that plug isn’t helping. My ass feels weird, causing friction with each step I take, keeping me on edge. Or perhaps it’s simply the thought of that dead spider decorating the insides of that glass end of the plug. Ugh.

The forest is quiet aside from the gentle breeze and the sounds of the woods. An owl hoots, and our feet occasionally crunch over small branches as we slowly make our way back to the castle. The air soothes my mind though, and I’m definitely sobering up, despite still feeling a little absent. Arsène’s thumb brushes the back of my hand, causing a pleasant buzz in my core.

“I paid for tonight to be my victory,” he confesses when we nearly reach the football fields that form the gate toward the meticulously maintained inner court of Saint-Laurent.

“Wait…what, what does that mean?” I ask, frowning.

Arsène brushes a wild branch aside and leads me onto the garden path. “That means that my family is a prominent member of the Alpha Fraternarii.” He flashes me a wicked smile, shrugs as if to apologize for what he just confessed, then presses his hand into the small of my back, pushing me forward. “I wanted to win. Because I wanted to have you.”

“But you don’t…” I clear my throat, my eyes straight ahead and onto the slowly revealing contours of the castle. “You don’t know me.”

Behind me, Arsène chuckles. His hand is still on my back, still urging me to keep on moving. “You keep on saying that, but what’s there to know? You are prickly and reserved. You are creative, intelligent and interested in plenty of subjects, but when someone gives you a compliment, you become snappy and distant. You fascinate me.”

Snaking that same hand around my waist, he stops us, spins me around before taking my chin between his fingers, forcing me to turn and look at him. His eyes glitter with mischief. “Always hiding behind that gorgeous, light copper hair. I wanted to see what was underneath it. Your pretty eyes—” His fingers skid up, leaving burning traces in their wake as he reaches for my eyelids that flutter under his soft touch. “Your nose.” Fingertips tease the tip of my nose, and I must have closed my eyes, because when his lips ghost over my own, goosebumps scatter freely in surprise. “Your mouth,” he murmurs, then drops his mouth onto my own. I shiver and let him press his wet, full lips onto my own. He moulds our flesh together, teasing and brushing, before he mutters against my mouth, “I want you, and in my world, that’s enough reason to go out there and claim you.”

The words make me pull back, unsure whether I should be appalled or flattered. “So what, you just take what you want?”

Arsène lets out a dramatic sigh. “Why do I feel like we’re going in circles here?” Grabbing the mask from my hand, he gestures to me to turn around so he can tie the knot in my nape, making the lace cover my upper face once more.

“Maybe because we are?” I grit out. “You can’t just barge into my life and choose me.” Turning around, I catch him sliding down his own copper mask.

“Why not?” He seems genuinely surprised. Pulling my strands tight in my hand, I let out a frustrated huff.

“Because you just can’t. Not even you, rich and all.”

“Because I don’t know you?”

“Yeah, for starters. And because…” Crossing my hands in front of my chest, I tilt my chin and give him a glare. “You haven’t even asked me what I want.”

“What you want?” He huffs out a laugh. An annoying, smug as fuck laugh. He takes a step toward me, and before I understand where this is going, he has already wrapped both arms around my waist and pulls me in, snug to his warm, black cloak. “I know you want this,” he purrs, pressing our foreheads together. Our lips are close, his breath warm, his hips glued against mine, steadied by his firm grip. “I know you want someone to take control. To own you.”

My swallow is thick, but bile remains. I feel a little lightheaded, but this time it has nothing to do with the drugs. I don’t think so at least.

It’s his words.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I don’t know you well. But tell me something, papillon, how well do you need to know a person to know they feel like they might be right for you?” He drops a peck onto my lips, then, while I’m still forming a stuttering retort, takes my hand and pushes me forward, nearly making me trip over my own damn feet. “Come on now, you don’t want to be late for your own party.” He chortles out loud, slings an arm around me and pushes me close to his side, then drops his head shortly onto my head as if we’re suddenly best friends. “The very first time I saw you was in the library.”

Sudden discomfort boils over, making my hackles rise. “I don’t care where you met me,” I snarl. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that.” I inhale, then let out a shuddery exhale. Fuck me, he is right. I can’t seem to communicate like a normal person. Squeezing his hand, I mumble an apology.

He squeezes back. “You looked so handsome. I needed to have you. And this was the best way.”

“What is the best way? Make me your prey, drug me and then claim me?”

He seems to like my assessment. “Exactly.”

We walk through the door held open by Enzo, who doesn’t seem taken aback in the slightest by this cruel admission. Me, on the other hand, I’m flabbergasted. “That’s not very romantic, is it?”

Arsène lets out an amused snort. “Oh, I can be very romantic. Haven’t had any complaints so far. I just like to hunt. And you have been on my mind ever since I saw you.”

“We’re second year students,” I let out.

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