Page 57 of Crown of Steel

“If what you say is true,” he hisses in reply, “And Alpha Fraternarii rules our country, then you know of equal opportunities. You know that now’s the time to be generous and open up your doors to let in some of these people?”

I breathe out a disdained chuckle. “And why would we do that?”

“Diversity,” he says at once. His eyes shimmer with something bright, making the blue of his irises indigo.

Despite our earlier moment of fun in the canteen, my appetite for my little stepbrother never seems to seize. And do I love to make him talk, and touch, and lose that horrible mask that he wears like his second skin. My nails want to dig into the soft cotton of his suit pants and trace the lines of his firm skin. Want to feel that supple skin against my own, feel it thrumming and give in under my firm kneading. Feel him give in to me. But now’s not the time. Because there’s something glorious abouthearing Régis speak his mind, share his big brain. It’s like at those moments there’s nothing separating us.

“Back in the Atrium, you were talking about keeping the people happy,” Régis muses, giving my hands a squeeze. “Then you need to give them something they want, right? Someone they want. In schools, hospitals, and businesses. In politics.”

“What does that have to do with the brothers?”

“Different backgrounds mean a broader, more developed opinion. It creates growth. Don’t you want to grow the brotherhood?” His eyes flicker with something close to mischief, and despite it all, I smile. The little fucker.

“Tell me, how would you make those talented commoners qualify for our brotherhood?”

He shrugs. “I have never really given it any thought before.”

“No, you’ve been too busy competing with me.”

He snorts. “You’re kidding, of course I am. Have you ever asked yourself why you won’t give me just that little more space to be myself here at college?”

“Nowthatis a strange question.” Strange indeed. Because I’ve never once asked myself to slow down. It has never been expected from me. I’ve always been Arthur the clever one, Arthur the competitive one, Arthur the wicked one. And I fucking love to be your worst nightmare. When you try to conquer my king, you won’t back off during combat either, will you?”

“This is not some chess game. This is you already being the one and only Arthur Deveraux.”

I chuckle. “Say that again?”

Régis snorts. “Fuck you. You know what I mean. You have already conquered all the kings. Youarethe king, here, in college. What more do you want?”

“You.” The word leaves my mouth before I swallow it down. Régis’s mouth has gone slack, and he just gazes at me, cheeks flushed, lips parted, with that cat-like curiosity. Régis claimsthat he’s not interested in me, but he sometimes stares at me as if he wants to creep inside my mind and place the pieces of my puzzle, too.

“M-me? Why?” He asks, voice cracking. Fuck, he’s gone back to skittish Régis again, and I want to bite his lips into my mouth, feast on them with my tongue, and rip them against my teeth.

“This is so fucking wrong,” I mumble. So fucking wrong on every single level in my life. I have completely and utterly lost my mind. But when I’m with him, I can’t seem to think clearly. He must understand what I mean because he backpedals in his seat, his back searching for more of the backrest while his gaze lingers on mine. “But you’re not getting away from me.”

Without warning, I bend my head and capture those soft lips with mine. He gasps against my mouth, then lets out a soft moan when I nip at his bottom lip, flicking my tongue and teeth against his plump flesh as I dive in further. Régis tastes divine, all innocent, and shit, and he lets me take control so fucking sweetly, opening his mouth with my lips and flicking my tongue inside his mouth. He’s hot, and wet, and deliciously tight, when he lets me come and play. It’s an unfair fight, and when my hand reaches for his neck and I crawl my fingers around the delicate skin, he leans back to give me more space, which I fucking take. All of it, every centimeter he gives, until his back is flush against the backrest of the couch, and I’m practically hovering over him.

I can feel his head shake before he manages to push me away. “No,” he breathes heavily. He hurries to stand, the thick outline of his hardened cock clearly visible in his navy-blue pants, but when he catches me licking my lips, he scowls, then turns to walk away.

“Yeah, go, scurry away like the fucking little coward you are,” I hiss at his retreating frame. I’m fucking fuming, annoyed with myself for losing my cool so dramatically, for the dramaticoblivion on my part. Am I really going to let my little stepbrother have the upper hand?

“You know,” Régis mutters when he reaches the door, the knob already secured into the palm of his smaller hand. His back is still facing me, shoulders tense as they rise and fall with every sharp intake of his breath. “Everyone I love goes away in the end. I don’t…” He doesn’t finish that sentence, and it shouldn’t fucking matter, but I still find myself looking at the empty spot by the exit long after he has left, my chest constricted and filled with tiny feathers at the same time.

14

RÉGIS

“Everyone I love goes away in the end. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

The words echo through my mind while I run through the corridors, heart thumping wildly in my ribcage, making my movements jerky and tense.

This place is a fucking labyrinth, but thank god I’m finding my way around better these days. Before, when I came here as part of the adjustment days the Deverauxs organized for me, Monterrey Castle wasn’t anything but a large, beautifully engraved structure from the past like we have so many we have in France.

But now… knowing that the Alpha Fraternarii was created here, that a long time ago monks lived in this place and opened their arms to the fallen elite, the thought alone gives this place something eerie. As if, I imagine it fiercely enough, I can practically see those people floating around those narrow halls. Monks used to wear simple tunics with a waist, it’s what the teacher told us during our extra course on the history of Saint-Laurent. It isn’t too far a line to draw between tunics and cloaks, although the thick, velvety material we wore during Initiation was far more luxurious.

My insides are tingling, knees wobbly as I keep on running further away from Jean-Luc’s office. From Arthur.

I don’t want to fall in love with you.

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