Page 19 of Crown of Steel

“You’re shivering.” He tilts his head, watching me with flicking eyes. “Why?”

“Perhaps because your hands are wrapped around my neck like a fucking collar?” I snarl. He’s right though, I am trembling. It’s…a lot. All of this. Seeing my mother again, being instructed to confide in Arthur. I hate the way I react to his presence, to his warmth. It’s confusing, and forbidden, and it makes me feel even more fragile. He’s my stepbrother of all people. “Stop treating me like a dog.”

“Not a dog,” Arthur halts and turns to face me, his fingers still dug into my skin. “Miaow.” He grins, crooking his fingers like the paw of a cat, scraping his nails against my flesh. “I can hear your heartbeat, kitten.”

Pushing him hard, I let out a grunt when his fingers won’t budge. “Let go of me.”

His chuckle is hoarse. “Not quite the same reaction you gave me the last time you and I were together.”

I tilt my chin, teeth ground together. “That was a mistake. And it will never happen again.”

Arthur slowly tilts his head, a dark gleam shining in his eyes. “Yes, it will. The only thing that has changed is the situation.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Just like I said before, you’re in my territory now. My world. Andyouwill play according to my rules.”

I let out a huff. “Okay, thisgame, or whatever you feel like calling it, ends here.” Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I take a moment to choose my words carefully. “I don’t need a babysitter, Arthur, and I sure as hell ain’t your competitor.” The words have barely left my mouth when I feel his hand squeeze tighter around my throat. Arthur thrusts me firmer against the wall and presses his fingers into the tender skin between my collarbone and ears, nails scraping my flesh.

“Wrong. The moment Dad said that there would be a place for you in the family business? That’s when you became my competitor, little Régis. Or should I say, my future colleague,” he scoffs. His breath fans against my forehead, then lower when he dips his head until our eyes meet. Anticipation rustles through me like a breeze, and I bite my lip—a movement he follows with his onyx eyes. From up close I notice a tiny sparkle of golden flecks in those dark irises, but when his gaze moves back up tocatch mine, it’s gone. Swallowed by the black depths of his pupils and his fury. “You see, I don’t share my future. Not with anyone, and sure as fuck not with you.”

“I—I won’t get in your way,” I wheeze pathetically, hating myself a little more. His hold stays firm. “I’ll refuse the job in your family business. I’ll show my worth.”

Arthur leans in and our noses brush. It’s barely there, and it's only the tips of our noses, still I try to pull back, against the mercilessly unrelenting wall. His smirk is subtle, but visible enough.

“You don’t get it, do you? You have no idea what’s coming at you. And like some little, innocent boy, you’re bringing out the worst in me.” He murmurs, using another of his sophisticated riddles he seems to enjoy. “You are going to need me in the next few months. And I’m going to need you to be grateful for my help. You think you can do that?” My entire body goes rigid when his lips scrape my neck on their way to the corner of my mouth. Goosebumps break out, and sparks of pleasure tingle my insides. Still, I won’t back down. Not when he considers the battle won without having to put up a single fight.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” I hiss, but due to the lack of oxygen the words miss their punch. My throat burns, very much like the desire that blazes through my veins. Pain and pleasure create the most electric combination. Just like Arthur himself. Hot and cold, black and white, gentle and cruel. His fingers on my throat hurt, but his lips on my sensitive skin are gentle. Making my cock buck.

Arthur chuckles my words away, his teeth still connected to my ear, his claws around my neck. “You’re in a lot of trouble, little Régis,” he sings in a murmur. “A lot. Of. Trouble. So if I were you, I’d be nice to your stepbrother. Show some gratitude. And maybe, just maybe, he will protect you.” He drops a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, making my inside shiver.

“Fuck off,” I seethe through gritted teeth. He pulls his head back, but still stays close to my face. Too close.

He tips up the corners of his wicked mouth,then releases the pressure on my neck and moves to massaging the skin with warm, soft fingers. I take in big gulps of air while I try to calm down. I think he wants to say something else, but movement in the narrow corridor cuts us out of our haze.

“Oh, there you are!” Louis appears in our line of sight with swagger. “Am I too late for the party?” I expect Arthur to let go of me, perhaps even spill the beans and tell his twin about their father’s intentions for my future,, but instead he remains quiet and keeps one hand around my neck, while the other one cups my cheek. Louis, dressed identically like the both of us, gives Arthur a funny look, before his eyes roam over my face. He huffs out a laugh.

“Looks like you’ve already started your own private party. Yeah, I get it, bro.” Tilting his chin toward the door, he adds, “You coming? Mom and Dad wanted to see us. Sorry, without you little s-brother.”

Mom…the word makes me cringe. She’s not their mother. But she’s not mine either, not anymore. I’m too caught up by his word choice that I can’t even feel offended by Louis’s meaning.

When Arthur finally lets go of me I make a show of straightening my clothes and with an indigent huff, ignoring my raging hard-on as I flip the twins off. Fuck the entire Deveraux family, my mother included. That thought brings a smile to my face. Yeah, that’s right. Screw them all. I came here for myself, and for no one else.

But when I nearly turn the corner, Arthur calls after me. “Oh, Régis? Go back to our dorm and wait for me. I’ll come and see you very soon. After all, we are connected now. You won’t forget that, will you?”

5

RÉGIS

Oh, I won’t forget. Not for a single, freaking minute that’s left in this dreadful day. It’s the only thing Icanthink of. Because the entire conversation feels distorted—like a trick. Something to catch me off balance so I underperform.

Connected,he said.

Am I being punished? No one shows up after so many years and just throws around all this money for a child they don’t know and never wanted to begin with. If my mother did love me, why did it take her thirteen years to come back to me? And why would Jean-Luc want me to join their successful family business?

That conversation replays in my mind like a scratched record player on loop, again and again. But no matter what, I come up empty, though that persistent feeling of calamity still lingers. Jean-Luc always comes across as sincere, just like the words—though absurd—that leave his mouth. Ambling through my room, I contemplate my options.

Arthur as my chaperone. The thought has me huff in annoyance and my chest flaring with heat.

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