Page 18 of Velka Manor

I buck into my hand, lifting my thigh to take more of the pain from the knife, my balls growing tight, the image flashing through my mind.

“I’ll watch you take her first, big brother, and then I will make her sit on my face, tasting you on her, cleaning your cum from her as she explodes. I bet you will taste so fucking sweet together.”

I hiss as I come, white ropes hitting my chest, mixing with the blood still there. Bastian mixes his fingers through both and sucks them clean, growling deep. I shiver as the last drop leavesme, and I relax back in the chair, my thigh burning in pain, adding to my afterglow. Bastian pats my chest over my wound, and I jolt forward, hissing at him as he laughs hysterically.

“I’ll go get the medic for you. I doubt Octavia will be stitching you up, seeing as she’s the one who did it. Lucky bastard. Why didn’t I get cut?” He frowns, his emotions changing like a flip of a switch.

He mutters to himself as he walks out, complaining that she didn’t use the knife on him and how he needs to up his game, be more of an asshole. My twin’s moods change like no one I’ve ever met. Minutes before, he was ready to choke me for being an asshole, but I adore him for it. Without him, I wouldn’t be half as sane as I am. Without them, I doubt there would be anything I ever cared for in this life.

No one else means anything to me. Everyone is disposable when their usefulness ends. I don’t enjoy the killing like Bastian does; it’s a means to an end and does nothing for me. Mental games are my favourite, twisting someone up until they start to doubt their own sanity is what I live for. I may use mental games on my siblings, but that is always for a greater good, to get us where we need to be. They have nothing to fear from me. Others cannot say the same.

My phone pings with a message I’ve been waiting for, and I smile seeing his name flash across the screen. My grandfather is joining us in the castle in two weeks’ time to go over another lead that went dry in search of my father. That has been a fun game I’ve been playing, acting the sad grandson desperately trying to help his grandfather find his son. That will be coming to an end just in time, the outcome undecided for the moment. It all depends on how much Octavia can stomach. If I have it my way, she’s going to be out for blood.

12

Octavia

“Gotcha again, pretty girl. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Bas grabs me around my stomach, cupping a good handful of my breast, spinning me around.

“Have I told you yet how fucking hot you look in this dress?” he whispers biting my neck, making me gasp. He drops me to my feet, dashing away again before I can smack him around his thick head.

It’s a Bastian babysitting day today because I’m still not allowed to be in my own home without one of them by my side. Bas has been the one with me the most since I stormed into their bedroom and pushed a knife into Rian. I’m not sure if Dorian is angry with me for doing it or not. He has onlywatchedme two days out of seven, giving me access to a credit card and laptop, but he hasn’t spoken to me. He only gives me heated glances when he sees me in one of my new outfits. It’s been a dream being able to buy clothes designed for a curvy body, so all my items actually fit me properly now. I went with my style for once, getting sweet, cute outfits that are revealing at the same time.

Bastian hasn’t been silent about it. Every day, I put on at least three different outfits in order to tempt my brothers into taking me instead of making me beg. So far, it hasn’t worked, but Bas is close to breaking, I can tell.

The first day he watched me by himself, he was a complete asshole, acting just like Dorian. I was seriously about to find another knife and stabhimin the thigh this time, but he cracked when I changed into a short, white, frilly dress, going back to his hyper crazy self.

He likes me in white, I’ve figured out. It’s why when I realised he was watching me today, I selected a long, white silk dress with thin straps that barely contains my breasts, form-fitting to show off all my dips and curves, a high slit on the side that goes almost to my hip. Of course, I couldn’t wear any underwear with it. It would have shown through, and that would be a massive fashion don’t. It wasn’t anything to do with the way he growled and punched a wall, blooding his knuckles.

I complained to my big brother how bored I was stuck in the castle with nothing fun to do, pouted that I wanted to play a game while running my hand up my thigh, trying desperately to think of one. He had the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek tag like when we were little, but instead of getting a sweet or teddy if I won, I told him I wanted him to get on his hands and knees and eat my pussy.

The way his lips turned up in a feral grin had my thighs clamping together and my heart racing. I knew getting Bastian to crack would be the easiest…or so I thought.

I’m a hot and sweaty mess, panting and out of breath for all the wrong reasons, because every time I get close, the fucker evades me. My bare feet hurt, and I’m getting serious thigh chafing running through this fucking castle. What I thought would be a fun game has turned into a goddamn nightmare, almost as badas my actual nightmares. At least in the last one, I got off. With this, I’m having no such luck.

I race after him again, the competitive drive bubbling under my skin more than my desperate need to come. I guess wanting to fuck my brother still doesn’t stop that need to compete with him in everything. Slightly fucked up, but damn, a competitive sibling streak is on the low end of my fucked-up tree.

I rush past some of the staff, ignoring their looks of confusion or furrowed brows of worry. One opens their mouth to say something, a gasp in their breath and pure fear on their face. I must be close. Bas would have probably put the fear of the devil in them, thinking he was running atthem, not away from me. I hurry my steps, going up the staircase, turning down the hallway.

Resting for a moment, I take slow breaths, trying to stay silent to hear him. I slowly tiptoe down the hall, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. A low, agonising groan fills the air, sending goosebumps onto my skin. It’s not Bastian; I would know his grunt of pain anywhere. Freezing on the spot, I twist around, taking in where I am. It’s my old hallway, the one I’m forbidden from, and the moans of pain are coming from my old bedroom.

My head flings back and forth, searching for anyone around, but it’s empty, not a soul in sight. Dorian’s threat of punishment rattles around in my brain, but the temptation here forces the worry out.

My hand is on the doorknob before I can blink, the rush of adrenaline filling my veins, the thought of being caught making my clit throb. Doing the wrong thing always gives me such a thrill, even when I don’t want it to.

The bedroom in front of me is bare, blood staining the walls, a foul scent drifting from within as soon as I open the door. My once spotless carpet is now ruined with unspeakable fluids. I gag, trying to hold my breath, covering my mouth with myhand. The only thing in this room is a bed, and on top of it lies a brutally beaten man with a swollen face, half healed nail marks tracking down his bare chest, burns all over his arms and legs.

I gasp, bringing his attention to me. He shakes his head, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Octavia?” he rasps, his voice changed from what I remembered. “Tavi, is that really you?”

I always hated it when he called me Tavi. He only ever used it around company, trying to make it sound like an endearment, but not once did he ever say it without a silent sneer when no one was watching.

“Father,” I mutter, stepping into the room.

Dorian and Bastian said he was called away by the bloodline, that they didn’t know when he would be returning. There’s no way he turned back up in the week and a bit I’ve been home. Some of his wounds look old, and this room reeks. He must have been here for months.

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