Page 97 of Crown of Steel

In the far corner, right by a giant white bird of paradise, sits Arthur in an armchair. His legs are spread, and his masked chin is leaning onto his folded hands as he looks at me. Waiting. For a moment I just stand there, unsure, my new found determinationeasily beaten back into a pile of nothing. Part of me wants to go back to my bedroom and hide in safety. But my cage lost its hold on me the day my tormentor left, and no matter how hard I tried, that emptiness just wouldn’t be replaced. Not by pain or anxiety. Until Arthur. After him, the emptiness was replaced by desire, fueled by rivalry. That, in its own turn, liquified into something more primal. Feral in its intensity, like Arthur’s gaze burning my skin, yet somehow soothing my mind.

It’s the longing for my stepbrother, infuriating and toxic, though more caring than I could ever have thought. Protective, the way he holds me when we meet each other in bed.

Forbidden, yet lustful.

Arthur tilts his head, watching me from behind his mask, as if beckoning me to come forward.

Then, as if the crowd has stepped aside to let him through, Elder Jacques appears by my side, stepping in slowly, those black, piercing eyes from behind his white mask focused on mine. He’s clearly on a mission as he steps in closer, and with each impending shuffle of his feet, I wince a little further. Remembering what happened the last time he was this close to me, I feel my veins fill with ice. Would he want me to…

“Mon frère.” Elder Jacques approaches me and snakes long, cold fingers around my wrist, right under my cloak. The sudden touch feels like an attack to my skin and I flinch.

“Monsieur,” I mutter as softly as possible, not sure if I should reply, and not willing to give my identity away, assuming that he doesn’t know who I am to begin with.

He gently pulls at my joints. “Shall we?”

My heart plummets, sweat breaking out on my forehead. “I—”

But before I can think of anything else to say, another brother heads our way, wearing a shiny, dark-blue mask,followed by the two other cloaked figures that also wear white fur around their hood.

Elder Jacques leans in, his masked face brushing my ear. “It seems like we are disturbedagain,” he mumbles. Goosebumps scatter all around my sensitive flesh and I jerk my head away from him. He lets go of my wrist, and with a nod to the blue mask he follows his other brothers back through the crowd.

My chest heaves from my pants, fear still rattling in aftershocks through my veins, as if my body hasn’t gotten the memo. Or perhaps, it’s a warning, that danger hasn’t yet subdued. I gaze at the blue mask, and judging from the heavy stare that comes from the holes, he’s already looking at me. This brother is enormous and has the darkest eyes I have ever seen. It’s enough for me to turn on my feet and back away.

The armchair is only a few meters away from me, but it feels like an everlasting walk. And not just that…it’s like we have fought our battles and he has surrounded my king with his own troops.

Check mate.

But this is a different kind of victory. It tastes enticingly sweet, and I’m not sure whose camp is in celebration. I’m feeling ecstatic, that I realize. Lighter, carefree. Because I want Arthur so bad it makes my blood boil and my stomach flutter. I’m no longer afraid of wanting him, or of being afraid of admitting it. My legs feel wobbly and my lips feel dry. Still I keep on walking.

My mind wonders how on earth I should start a conversation, or if he even wants to have a conversation, or perhaps he never wanted me to come over in the first place. By the time I halt right in front of his sprawled out form, my skin itches with nerves.

“There you are.” Is all Arthur says, and then he reaches out both hands and grabs me by my waist, turning me around effortlessly as he pulls me straight onto his lap. I mentallycollapse. All the built-up insecurity falls apart like a domino effect replaced with desire, syrupy and sweet. My dick fills as my chest shatters with feral need. So hungry…

“Are you wearing something under this cloak?” Arthur rasps against the crook of my neck, his fingers already busying themselves with the seam of my cloak. Pulling it away from under me, he now has free space to roam his fingers under the garment.

“Underwear,” I grate.

“Hmmm.” He purrs, as his fingers find the thin material of my boxers. He follows my spine up until he reaches the material of my tank top, letting out another long, low hum as he does so. “I needed to visualise that,” he mumbles. “Needed to know what I was working with here. Thankfully, not much. It seems like my little stepbrother finally starts listening to me.”

I let out a nervous laugh that quickly turns into a hiss when his hands grab both my ass cheeks and rub them firmly, rocking me onto his lap with languid, sensual movements. I lean back against his chest, just like I’d seen Dominique do before, and Arthur meets me at the curve of my neck, his lips on mine at my next inhale. They feel both rough and soft at the same time, his hunger obvious as he moves to lick inside. He nibbles at my bottom lip, laps at my upper lip, only to dive back in and suck on my tongue. The chase, the sensations, the fact that I’m sitting here, on his lap, with one of his hands around my throat while the other lingers on my cloak, has me moaning in starvation. I rock my hips into nothing, not being able to get enough friction, and it's making me work myself even further up into a frenzy. I growl in frustration.

Arthur smiles against my lips. “What do you want,chaton?” I watch with hooded eyes as he grabs a bottle of lube from the armchair and holds it in front of me.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Yes, what?”

I swallow, eyes darting from the bottle back to him. “I want that. I want you to make me feel something I’ve never felt before.”

“Hmm,” he croons, leisurely tracing the shape of my mouth with his tongue. The sensation makes my toes curl. “I can do that. If you ask me nicely.”

“What?” I snap.

Arthur huffs out a wolfish grin, then squeezes one of my cheeks, making me squirm on his lap. “Beg, kitten.” He lifts his hips in a roll, and his erection grinds against my ass, making me moan. Pleasure scatters all around my insides.

“I—Please—”

“Please, what?” Arthur’s eyes are dancing. “Be specific, little stepbrother. Tell me what you want.”

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