Page 90 of Crown of Steel

“You’ve left your dad to rot in a prison!” Dad shouts ruthlessly. “You’ve left me to die! Have you already planned the funeral? Already ordered the headstone?”

The door clicks behind me as I make my way inside and toward my room. Louis is sitting on one of the couches in his football gear, chatting to one of his friends from the team by the looks of it. He gives me a funny look when I rush past, but I ignore him.

“Of course not. I—”

He won’t let me talk. Too furious all together, like he usually was. Back at home, when he’d get lost in one of his tantrums, would be the moment he’d drag me to my bedroom and to the kennel.

“I have changed my will, you worthless piece of shit.” He lets out a horrifying laugh. “Don’t want your pathetic fingers to touch any of my stuff.”

“Dad, I—” I close the door with my hip, then melt against the cool wood. “I—” Arthur is sprawled out onto my bed in nothing more than a pair of track pants. Bare foot, bare chested, his raven mop a tangled mess, a stormy look in his onyx eyes. He’s furious. But that’s not it…that’s not it. My gaze slides toward the window, toward where the kennel has been placed. It’s the same one I kept in the stables. He’s put it there.

My heart thunders inside my chest as I eye my iron bars, andwhen Arthur slowly gets up from the bed, it takes all my strength not to run away from him. From Dad. Like some twisted horror version created in my mind that has tied them together, in a battle against me.

Useless boy. Get in there.

“I can’t believe I trusted you, Régis, to get me out of here,” Dad spews. “The lawyer says that the case looks tough.” He’s silent for a moment, and it’s the exact moment for Arthur to approach me, his tall, sculpted, lithe body caving me in against the door. Tipping up my chin, he brushes his lips against mine and I shiver. “Or have you told your mother incriminating things about me? You little liar, that’s what you have done.” He rumbles through the phone. “As if you haven’t destroyed my life enough.”

I squint my eyes.Do you want me to go inside the kennel?I feel like asking. But my mouth tingles from the connection with Arthur’s and my mind gets fuzzy because of this crazy hate-love connection that’s slowly consuming me whole. I can’t concentrate, and it makes me both tense and strangely careless. I’m not given an option to suggest anything though, because my big stepbrother easily captures the phone from my ear, while his other hand snakes around my neck, pinning me against the door.

“I suggest that you stop calling Régis from now on.” His voice is nothing more than a hoarse rasp, but it’s enough to have my knees buckle. Our eyes meet and when Dad barks an answer, Arthur’s lips slowly curl into a cruel smile. “I said, I suggest that you stop calling Régis from now on,” he drawls. His cold, dark eyes meet mine. “Startingnow.”

Making a show of disconnecting the call, he hands me back the phone, then lets go of my neck and strolls back to the bed.

“Does he still call you often?” He asks.

I watch him climb back onto the duvet, then spread his legs wide, his head supported by the headboard. He doesn’tlook at me, instead blinks slowly as his gaze slides toward the kennel.

“I still can’t believe your father put you in that cage.” His long, slender digits crawl around the waistband of his sweats, and I’m caught transfixed by its sensual sight. “And he locked it?” His eyes dance back to mine, I can feel its heady stare, and heat rushes to my cheeks. Still I can’t look away, my mind a whirlwind. I clear my throat, that’s choking up because of the truth hitting the cool air.

“Yes.” I finally admit, my own dick throbbing beneath the navy-blue pants of my uniform.

“And you never fought him?” His hands slide to the sides of his waistband and dip the fabric down. His huge erection pops out and hits his navel. A soft whimper escapes my mouth and my gaze flicks up, only to meet his deviant stare. It’s wrong to be so turned on by my big stepbrother, wrong to share this kind of information. Wrong to have told my mother that I wanted Arthur closeby. And yet, it feels so fucking right. Perhaps in its sick wickedness, his provocative way of talking to me, of always using his body as a weapon against my defenses, he manages to pass my defenses and get his hands on those details I usually don’t share with people.

I do it with him. And despite everything, it feels good. Despite everything, I don’t feel judged by Arthur.

“No,” I finally breathe. “I thought that—'' I wave my hand dismissively, unable to find the right words. Unable to even find the right emotion. “Perhaps he was angry at me for making my mother leave. Perhaps he had the right to treat me like that.” My voice ebbs away, the words laced with uncertainty. I’m not sure if that actually makes sense. It used to, for years. Right now, not so much anymore. Still… “He doesn’t deserve to be in prison. He’s getting older and he…he’s my dad.”

Arthur bares his teeth, growling, “He’s a fucking abuser, is what he is.” We stare at each other. “What he did to you waswrong, Régis, prison is the right place for him to be. There’s no fucking excuse for his behaviour.” His charcoal gaze burns inside mine, setting my stuttering mind ablaze. “I put the cage inside here for you, because I don’t want you to go into that cold forest to curl inside yourself. When you feel the need, you can do it here. And when you feel the time’s right, we’ll get rid of it, together with the horrors from your past. Okay?”

My eyes blink furiously, my lips unsure of what words to form. His are…yeah, I would like that.

I nod carefully. “Okay.” I would fucking like to live without that cage one day.

Arthur palms his impressive length absentmindedly, visibly contemplating my words intermingled with his own thoughts, its sight salivating. Then he crooks a finger. “C’mere.”

I hesitate, but only briefly, because I simply can’t seem to defy him. Not right now, when I’m feeling vulnerable discussing this. When I come to halt at the bed and look down on his fingers cupping his sac, his smooth, tanned skin with that gorgeous trail of dark hair that connects both his cock and his sculpted stomach, I swallow.

“I know what you need. Crawl on the bed, little stepbrother. Crawl over here, then take my cock between those sexy lips of yours.”

I do. I must have lost my mind entirely, a thick fog of lust temporarily taking over my senses. I want Arthur so bad, it makes my limbs tremble and my mouth drool. Fuck, he is quite the sight with his digits loosely caressing his wet slit before he slides them between my lips. “Suck on them, Régis,” he rasps. I do, and he hums lowly, visibly satisfied. When he moves his fingers, he uses them to pinch my jaw and tilt up my head.

Licking my lips, I focus on his words, but trepidation creeps up through the cracks, making my thoughts go hazy. “Are you—” I tilt my head and nod toward the kennel. “Are you going to use it for punishment?”

His fingers under my chin press deeper into the skin of my cheeks, as his eyes shoot daggers. Then he bends my head, forcing me down until I am met with his leaking, throbbing cock. With my lips right by his crown, he compels me to look up again. “You want me to punish you?”

I don’t answer, but feel my lips tremble.

Arthur brushes a finger over my wet mouth. “You want me to guide you into submission? Want me to train you in obeying your big stepbrother?”

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