Page 48 of Crown of Steel

Perhaps now he understands that he and I don’t have the same goal.

But that night, when we got back to our dark and quiet dorm, something changed irrevocably inside of me. As I watch Louis close the door shut behind us, and Gaël shimmying out of his dark cloak before he makes his way to his bedroom, I know that I won’t ever be the same. I wonder if Dominique’s lying in their bed, asleep and blissfully unaware of the whereabouts of his lover. Did Gaël participate at the carnage tonight?

Tonight’s events were no prank, no frat joke to show their new members how to have a good time. No, tonight was a display of pure control, of raw dominance.

Exactly like Arthur had said it would be.

“If ever you need to talk about tonight…” Louis stands on the doorstep of his bedroom, his cloak curled over his forearm. He’s already wearing a black tee, meaning I must have blacked out at some stage, lost in my own thoughts. His breathy voice makes me jump, my mind already heavy in debate. When I look up in surprise, he gives me another of those dopey smiles. “I’m not as good a talker as Arthur is, but I can listen pretty decently.” Without waiting for my reply, he taps softly on the wooden door, then clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. See you soon.”

“Yeah.” I watch him close his door, still in my black cloak, suddenly feeling extremely ridiculous in the silken garment. “Sure.”

My bedroom feels strangely safe when I lock the door behind me, despite the knowledge that there is something out there, in Monterrey Castle, that’s raw and strong, that has the capacity to give rise to tens and tens of masked and hooded members.

Alpha Fraternarii.

I still can’t believe it. Arthur wasn’t lying when he explained more about them. And I… fuck, I still had the courage to disobey the clearly laid-out rules. How long will this ceasefire last? Perhaps he has decided that I’m no longer a target, now that I have surrendered and joined their little club of rich perverts.

The chessboard on my bed shows our intermingled armies, black and white pieces all scattered in our everlasting battle. It has been like that for weeks now, our game advancing excruciatingly slow. I take a step closer, and draw in a heavy breath of air. Something twinges in my chest. In the middle of the board are both kings, black and white, tumbled on their sides.

Game over.

After that night, life picks up as if nothing has happened. October quickly turns into November, and things slowly continue to fall into place. Weeks are filled with courses and side projects, with visits to the woods and evenings of playing chess with the guys. With avoiding Arthur.

It should be a relief that he’s no longer entering my room, invading my space, or surprising me in general with his obnoxious presence. But it doesn’t.

Something has shifted inside of me.

That first night with the brotherhood replays like a tape inside my head, and there are moments I itch to share my thoughts with someone. Despite our obvious different opinions, the brotherhood is fascinating. Their history is linked to mine, much like many of their ideas of respect and loyalty. My initial trepidation has melted into a more solid sensation of curiosity, and I have questions that I want answers to.

I put them aside for now and focus on my studies. My first grades are better than I could have imagined, despite my restless nights. Still, I'm not able to sleep well. Not even the luxurious bed can offer me a full night's rest. It's. . . too big, the bed, but the narrow closet doesn’t feel right either. I find myself longing for the familiarity of the iron bars.

Punishment.

Locks.

Darkness.

I fucking need those.

Need to stay safe.

Still, solitude is a focus, and I’ve got plenty of that. I have met up a few times with my counselor, a middle-aged mediator who keeps his own practice and has been hired by Saint-Laurent for one day per week. Students walk in during the morning hours, and in the afternoon he works on appointments, with the likes of myself. He’s a nice enough person, though, quiet and observing as he lets me speak. I mostly stick to my activities at college, and so far, he seems to be okay with that.

And Since Mister Montague has agreed to help me prepare for the whole nerve-wracking process of standing tall next to the other qualification presentations, we have weekly appointments. So far, we’ve chosen my topic and I’ve been practising on presenting them to him in a convincing way. Something that’snot easy when I feel his prying eyes on me while my brain searches for plausible arguments to his questions.

I like being around the young teacher. He seems to be one of the first to offer me real friendship while maintaining a level of professionalism.

However, no matter how hard I’ve been working and no matter how things have been around school, I can’t help but notice how things have also been awkwardly quiet.

By day, a silence like that before the storm hits surrounds me. By night, a rage of heat spins me round and round, like some fucking lottery machine. Arthur’s tight, hot mouth wrapped around my dick, his black mask ominous and taunting at the same time. My first, astonishing blow-job, a mind-shattering experience.

Power. He smelled of power. And he wanted me.

And I had…No. I’m not going to finish that thought. But whatever it was rattled my core deeply and fuck, if it had been anyone but him, it would surely have me crawling back for more.

“Dude!” Maxime huffs from across the table. We’re sitting in the empty canteen for one of our infamous chess nights. “Is that…” He picks up his king, ready to put it down.

“Wait,wait…” Jo holds his hand, glaring at the board. “Never give in too easily.”

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