Page 18 of Hunted

“Did you take this from the castle?” I gasp.

Alexandre breathes out a soft laugh that tickles my insides. He ruffles my hair slowly, playfully. “Where else should this come from?”

“I don’t know. I thought that maybe—” His growl is the only warning I get before he spins me around, facing him, and plants a chase kiss onto my lips. Then he lowers me backwards, one hand still on my neck, the other wrapped around my waist. He drops me. Freefalling, I let out a muffled yelp, and time seems to slow down as gravity takes over, sending me down and into another pair of hands. I wince, and my quivering eyes flutter closed, but not before I catch sight of Alexandre. He follows my line of submergence, stepping in to stay close, one hand already on his mask. The moment those foreign hands secure my back onto the table, he slides off his mask gracefully, his molten gaze penetrant and heady as he takes me in.

“It’s for you, Olivier. That’s why the altar is here. For you and me. For tonight.”

Altar? I swallow heavily, unable to look away, though heavily aware of prying eyes around us. It makes me feel even more vulnerable, though strangely powerful at the same time. Because—“I still can’t believe you actually organized all of this,” I utter in lingering disbelief.

Alexandre’s lips tick up slowly. “I did,” is all he says. He doesn’t need to say more. The heaviness of that confession is enough and it takes me a moment to digest.

“The Alpha Fraternarii welcomes you, Olivier,” the Elder with the golden cane rumbles. He’s standing in front of me, of us all, on a platform, surrounded by two other dark cloaks with bird masks that disguise all facial features apart from their mouths. I roll the back of my head against the soft tissue of the altar to look up at him, trying my hardest to ignore those foreign hands that have now moved to brushing my hair. “Finally, I can say,” The elder continues, his voice the only sound in the silent forest. “Tonight’s not your first time participating at the Wicked Chase. Nor is it the second time. But before, it wasn’t your moment. Tonight, it is. You did not find the money, instead you were found by the brother who has claimed you. We are happy to have you here. At last.” He looks back up to where the crowd is now slowly gathering, then crooks his finger to one of the red cloaks. Approaching, the cloak is discarded with an elegant oscillation, exposing a willowy guy with endless, sculpted legs and dark hair, that would probably fall down to his shoulders had it not been tied in a loose bun. With a bashful smile he gracefully drops down to his knees, exposing his round ass to the crowd, and looks up to the Elder. Waiting.

“I’m Elder Jacques.” He clarifies, his eyes still trained on me. “I’ll be here to guide you the next month, during the Initiations.” He claws a hand around the guy’s neck and pulls him forward, pushing his own cloak aside for access to his crotch. He’s naked beneath the black velvet, a disturbing thought when I catch sight of the large, erect cock as it juts up between the sides of his robe. Wasting no time, the kneeling boy opens his mouth, accepting him in with a lewd moan, audible for everyone. Elder Jacques’ hand cups his head, playing with the silky, bound hair. He stays like this for a moment, staring hard at me with his hand tangled in the boy’s hair. And then, as if finally giving in, he tilts his head back, facing the stars and lets out a guttural moan.

My stomach recoils.

“By now, I’m sure that Alexandre has told you about the existence of the Alpha Fraternarii?” Elder Jacques asks, undisturbed by the open display. From my position on the altar, I nod. My hands nestle on top of my stomach, fingers grazing the tip of my concealed, yet straining erection. Why this makes me hard, I can’t quite grasp. It feels wrong. But the way I can feel Alexandre’s scorching stare on me, challenging and reassuring at the same time, those digits brushing through my blond strands down my back, and the rest of the group staring, watching, enjoying their role as bystanders, gives me a defined tickle in my stomach. In my balls. It turns me on, this little show.

“Well?” He urges, waving a hand in the air, a proof of his impatience.

“He told me how the brotherhood was formed during the Revolution,” I stammer. Alexandre takes a step forward, sliding his hands over my calves and knees, up to my waist, where he slowly starts unbuckling my belt. My heart pounds in my throat, cock thickening even more.

“What else?” Elder Jacques asks.

“Uhm—” Alexandre pats at my thigh and I lift my hips, mindlessly obeying because my thoughts are completely consumed by the question and by my own memories. By this unexplainable need to please the older man and be a good pupil. My thoughts are all over the place, fogged by heat from Alexandre’s grazing touch as he loosens the rope that’s still swung around my ankles, followed by my pants and boxer briefs. I shudder when I feel the cool air whisk against my hot skin, against my rigid shaft and flushed tip, wet and eager to be given some attention.

“You’re a secret organization,” I squeak, watching how Alex deftly tightens the rope around my ankles once more, only to throw them over his own shoulders like a hoop before he leans in from between them. My tongue peeks out, licking my bottom lip as my eyes dart to Alexandre, who’s moved to rubbing his hands over my naked thighs, flaring eyes on my exposed hole as he greedily takes me in. “Membership is upon invitation,” I stutter, voice going up in the end because of the warm, wet tongue that laps at my entrance.

Oh. God.

Alexandre’s leaning forward, rubbing his veiny hands over my thighs, his blond hair shining in the darkness as he looks up from his lashes, a wicked grin curving his handsome face. With his eyes still on me, he sticks out his tongue once more, only to…

“Aah,” I gasp at the wet, soft sensation, hips bucking off the altar in desperation for more. A chuckle, followed by fingers threading my hair, pulling at the strands, keeping the back of my head firmly in place and against the silk cloth of the table. My eyes lift up to the stars above, as they glow brightly in the night, surrounded by treetops and flapping bats as they shriek and dart through the air around us.

Bound by restraints, I can only feel.

The sensations burst free in my trembling core, and though I’m vaguely aware of the audience and their leery glares, I feel myself fading into a void of tingling pleasure. That unfamiliar hand now rubs my scalp while Alexandre eats my ass, licking and nipping, probing his tongue inside and through my tight channel while he lets his hands slide down my calves to the back of my knees, up to my thighs, where he finally lets them rest on my ass cheeks. He squeezes, spreading them apart. Hard. It stings. In a good way. Fuck yeah, in a good way.

I groan, bucking as I lean into the touch, writhing my head restlessly in the unfamiliar hold, while my hips gyrate on their own, fucking Alexandre’s tongue with my ass.

The tingles cause gooseflesh and make my toes curl. My vision dances behind my closed eyes, flickers of obscurity lighting up before they turn to ashes, only to disappear again into the darkness.

Hands pull on my shirt, opening it and dragging the sides to my waist, exposing me even further. I moan, and my eyes open slowly, only to meet Alexandre’s dark stare. His lips, wet and shiny, tip up in an amused smirk.

“You got me so hungry, petit loup, and your taste is divine.” Leaning in, his teeth nip at my bottom lip and he pulls softly, toying with it while humming in approval. A cool, wet finger slips between my crease, sinking into my loosened, wet hole. I still flinch. It has been so long since Theo last made love to me.

It was never like this.

Heat unfurls deep inside my stomach at the touch of his probing finger. He smoothly adds another one, sliding them further inside, working me open while leaving a trace of discomfort and arousal. Of hot, thick desire. When he touches my most sensitive spot, I nearly bounce off the table, pushing my head against the palm that’s still cupping my head. A taunting chuckle.

Low, melancholic tones resonate from the piano, the emerging melody one I hang on to, climb into as if in search of some hidden chamber inside my mind. The need to hide makes me tremble, my vulnerability threatening to drown me when reality courses through the fog of pleasure.

The Alpha Fraternarii.

Alexandre Arnault.

My eyes drift open, only to flit right to his. Dark meets light, predator captures prey.

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