by V. F. Mason
“Father wasn’t called a cunning and smart businessman for nothing. He warned Octavius that if he complained, begged someone for help, or showed his bruises… he would send me abroad, and Octavius would never see me again. Considering my father showed very little love to me, my brother didn’t doubt his words.”
Understanding dawns on him. “You were a weapon.”
“I was a weapon.” I pull my gaze away from him, too afraid to see disgust on his face when I tell him the rest of the story and why running away from him might have been the best decision for him, but my selfish desire kind of ruined it too. Because he has no idea what we signed up for, but I do. Maybe I have more of my mother’s character traits than I realized. “One he didn’t hesitate to use against my brother all the time. And he let him. Because he loved me.”
“That’s why you ran. You feel so indebted to him you don’t want to break the rules he assigned.”
I lean down and put the mug on the floor and then grip the railing, swaying forward until it digs into my stomach. The rain splatters my skin while thunder echoes in the sky like the powerful storm bellowing inside me. “He got the scar on his face that everyone shies away from because of me. He doesn’t even look in the mirror; do you know that? They are absent in our home or apartments except for my rooms. Father wanted to hurt me so Octavious would cry, but my brother of course saved me. He was twelve.”
He growls. “Weak son of a bitch. I’m sure your brother doesn’t regret saving you.”
A hollow laugh slips past my lips. “He doesn’t. Not once has he shown me resentment or anger over his fate. He has given me only love and peace, doing everything in his power to shield me from all the bad stuff. Following and respecting his rules has been the least I could do for him. And not shake the snow globe that he carefully designed for me.” I wipe away the tears, not wanting to seem weak, although that ship has sailed at this point.
“Ah, and I’m a man who finally did, right? Shook the snow globe and threw it to the ground, freeing you from your beloved prison.”
Quite the poetic way of putting what happened between us, but still correct.
Ryder entered my life when I least expected it and managed to bring chaos right along with him.
I place my hand on my cheek, rubbing my smooth skin. “If it weren’t for him, the scar would have been a permanent reminder on my skin and not his.” Ryder tenses, hating my words it seems, but they pour out of me. “So no. I ran, because I love my brother, and I don’t want to hurt him.”
It all sounds kind of ridiculous though, with me standing in his penthouse and wearing his shirt.
Ryder palms my head and angles it toward him, making my body sway in his direction, until the tips of his shoes touch mine and he arches my neck back so our gazes clash in the night. Lightning fills the sky once again, flashing on his face and making him look almost sinful. “What changed your mind?” He hooks my hair behind my ear as his thumb slides up and down my cheek, gently, like it pains him just to think someone might have hurt me there. “You came from Josephine’s apartment looking for me.”
So much for not stalking me.
Resting my hands on his waist, I sink my fingernails in his back, making him hiss, and reply, “I realized I can’t live in a snow globe. My brother sacrificed so much for me, and I’m wasting my life on fear. I no longer want to do that.”
“And if he disapproves?”
My heart contracts at the possibility, but I look him straight in the eyes as I say, “Then we’ll deal.” His brow lifts, and I quickly add, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, “Or rather, I’ll deal. It’s not like I’m expecting this to be a permanent thing or anything else.”
His laughter dances over my skin as he leans closer to me, nipping my chin and skimming his lips to my ear, where he whispers, “Oh it’s permanent, darling. You’re mine now. And God help anyone who thinks otherwise.”
And with this, he picks me up and spends the night worshiping my body.
I’ve made a choice.
And somehow nothing has ever felt this good.
* * *
Ryder
Estella burrows her head deeper into my chest as she hooks her leg over mine. Her hand rests on my stomach while puffs of air escaping her mouth tickle my skin, and my hold on her tightens.
Lacing my fingers through her hair, I rub the silky strands and raise them to my nose, inhaling her unique jasmine scent, which sends calmness within me and blankets the chaos and darkness permanently residing there.
My beautiful obsession that captured me in her web from the first look. Something about her speaks to the scared beast within, knowing that in her arms he can find solace.
In my life, I’ve learned to go after what I want without waiting for permission, because sometimes my entire existence has depended on it.
Everything I have, I got with hard work and sweat, clawing myself out of hell until my nails bled reaching for the top.
Power. Money. Status.
These things are no longer just dreams designed to allow me to rule the world and punish those who killed the likes of my mother and otherwise would go unpunished their whole life. Those who think their tendencies will stay hidden in the dark and no one will ever ask them to pay the price.
That’s the thing about balance though.
Destiny always comes to collect.
One way or another, we pay for our sins, but what amount and what it costs us… depends on the collector.
Estella must be the balance given to me by fate to atone for all the fucked-up shit it subjected me to, letting all those monsters kill all the emotions within me.
Although she’s my obsession, part of me fears I’ll never be able to love her in the ways she’ll need, and the wonder she has in her eyes when she looks at me would transform into fear—or worse, disappointment.
I’ve seen such looks on my mother’s face so often when she cried in the corner and applied antiseptics to her wounds; they’re forever etched in my brain.
And knowing that piece of shit’s blood runs through my veins inspires rage within, because I never want to hurt a hair on her body or make her regret choosing me.
Although she is yet to discover my past and how I hunt in the dark, stripping monsters of their hidden coats and bringing them to light so they can cry in despair and forever be destroyed.
I crave her to the point of insanity, have my eyes on her twenty-four seven, and probably know more about her than her brother does.
She is an art form, after all. Wrapped in a female form that drives me insane with each breath she takes, she lures me toward her with her green eyes alone, telling me she can always be my calm during the storm.
What sane man, let alone a monster, would resist her siren call?
My fingers on her waist dig harder in her skin, pressing her tighter to me, the possessive beast inside me roaring at the prospect of other men admiring what belongs to me or thinking they can have it.
No one touches her, because she’s mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
I run my thumb over her cheek, tracing the various freckles sprinkled on her face. I want to lick each one of them and stake my ownership so she has no doubt she is the most desirable woman to me and stops concerning herself with stupid rumors floating around me.
I’m not a saint, but I’ve never bedded a woman more than once and sure as fuck never claimed one as my own.
Her smile, her compassion speaks to the little boy still living inside me who wonders… if someone like Estella found me back then, would my fate be different?
Would I be subjected to so much pain and agony—based on my family name alone—to pay for my father’s sins, or would I grow up into someone else?
My Estella would never be cruel to an innocent child.
Ironically, her brother, one of the most ruthless fuckers I know who sometimes puts even my torture techniques to shame, raised her better than that and gave her so much love nothing but goodness resides
in her.
He took all the darkness and fucked-up shit upon himself to handle while surrounding her with a protective cocoon where nothing would ever touch her, even if he had to suffer. He even took their mother to court, using all his connections to get custody when he turned nineteen, because the woman was about to get married again to a perverted fuck who had his eyes on a young body.
He’s only five years older than her, but he acted more like a parent to her through the years than her actual parents did. It explains their deep bond and her fear of him never accepting this relationship or worse, deciding to declare war over it.
I’m not afraid of war, but anything that brings distress to Estella unsettles me and urges me to fix it before it can get to her. I never want her to lose the light inside her that brightens up my darkness.
Octavius has my respect for all he has handled and how he took care of Estella.
My respect won’t stop me though from beating the shit out of him if he stands in my way.
Brother or not, she belongs to me now.
I claimed her; she’s mine, and as such I protect her from now on, and her brother is no longer the most important man in her life… who she puts above anyone and anything else.
And if it’s a war he wants once he finds out, it’s a war he will get.
Chapter Eight
“I’ve always frowned at secret relationships.
Because if a man truly wants you, he doesn’t hesitate to claim you for the whole world to see.
Until I met Ryder.
For I enjoyed being my professor’s dirty little secret as long as my brother didn’t know about it.
Except nothing lasts forever.
Even carnal bliss.”
Estella
* * *
Estella
The marker moves flawlessly on the white, spotless board as Ryder writes down the topic of today’s class while my eyes stay glued to his arm, the muscles flexing with each stroke and reminding me what hides beneath his jacket.
Tan skin and masculine appeal that’s impossible for mere mortals to resist as his powerful aura slams so hard into you a person has no choice but to submit to it.
Open your mouth, darling, and suck.
Tracing my fingers over my lips, I close my eyes and shiver, remembering last night when he got me on my knees on the balcony with thousands of lights illuminating the city and let me suck him off, teaching me how to please him.
His fingers laced in my hair, his grip on me, the way he grunted above me, which only fanned the flames of the fire with me, demanding I soothe it for him.
All while he pushed hard into my mouth and let me have complete control just for a fraction of time.
Good girl. And mine. All mine, aren’t you?
Yes. Just his.
And the various hickeys spread all over my body attest to that. They might be invisible for everyone else as I hide them beneath my turtleneck sweaters and shirts, but they mark my skin in ways that never let me forget who my body responds to.
“In today’s class, we are going to cover Homer and his two most famous works, Iliad and Odyssey.” Collective groans fill the air, and he grins, amusement flickering in his gaze while he drops the marker on the desk. “I know you all just finished your midterms. That’s why we will just have a light discussion today, and I won’t give you an assignment.”
I blink at his generosity, because despite having a great reputation when it comes to the delivery of his subjects, his giving us homework in every freaking class is driving everyone batshit crazy.
Sometimes he acts as if we have no other class but his, and even I have hated him a little bit for it.
“Woo-hoo!” Josephine whistles, and several people laugh while Ryder grabs his mug, sipping his coffee, but not before catching my eyes with his penetrating ones, which hold so much promise for later that my heart stills and then gallops in my chest.
A hot flash travels through my entire system, and my cheeks heat up as countless memories pop into my mind, one after another, playing like a forbidden erotic movie that I can’t help but stare at.
Because each one of them includes Ryder ravishing my body in the most tempting way that sends tingles all over me.
My life is divided in before and after, where the after has become so addicting I wonder how I’ve lived in this world without Ryder, because my existence was so bland one might weep.
After we spent the night in his penthouse, he demanded I move in with him right away and go to my brother to get over my fear so we wouldn’t have to hide. According to him, if a man didn’t claim his woman publicly, he was a coward who did not deserve her. But just the idea alone terrified me.
Besides, it’s not like it’s wise to introduce every single hookup to my brother, right?
Needless to say, my explanation didn’t go well with his obsessive, possessive tendencies, and he fucked me so hard after that I saw stars. However, he agreed to wait and give this relationship a go for a time before I confess my feelings to my brother.
So in the last month, we’ve spent almost every free minute together, and he takes me to various discreet places that always end up being magnificent.
Private art shows, vintage collections, concerts in VIP sections so no press will ever take pictures, and other creative things that have allowed us to date and explore our relationship without everyone sticking their nose in our business.
Or making me feel like a dirty secret where we’d meet just for sex at his or my place. At all costs, he has wanted to avoid that; he voiced his concern over it many times.
And my stomach has fluttered every single time, because how could it not?
In the university though, we are professional and never have given any hints of being together. Josephine and Morgan usually hang out with me while Ryder talks to other professors.
I mostly stay at his penthouse even without officially moving in, studying there while he works quietly in his office. And during the evenings… and some mornings… and even afternoons… he teaches me everything there is about passion and pleasures of the flesh, enveloping us in desire so strong it blocks any rational thoughts and makes me so much more addicted to him that it borders on unhealthy.
The exception being the weekends, where I go to the family mansion and visit Octavius, who surprisingly doesn’t ask me any questions and just enjoys dinners with me. Most conversations though are strained, because he always gives me some gift. It’s a tradition he started a long time ago, and I feel like the worst little sister in the world for lying through my teeth.
But no matter the bliss filling my life every day and my bond with Ryder growing stronger while I fall harder and harder down the spiral, I still can’t go public with this relationship.
I don’t care what society thinks.
Octavius though?
His anger might turn my bliss into a nightmare, and then I’ll be torn between two powerful men, with each pulling me toward their side while I’ll have to make a heartbreaking choice.
And the more I get to know Ryder, the real Ryder who hides behind the façade he shows to the world, the more I’m convinced they would hate each other.
Because they are very much alike.
I exhale a heavy, longing breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by my two best friends who sit on either side of me.
They both frown and then shake their heads at me, knowing full well about my internal turmoil without me having to voice it.
In fact, I’m so happy to have them in my life that I can’t even imagine doing all this secret professor banging without their support.
Josephine places her hand on mine and squeezes it a little in silent support as Ryder’s voice echoes through the auditorium, grounding me in the present again. “Let’s start with Iliad.” He leans on the podium, taking another sip while sweeping his gaze over everyone, and I hate not having his attention on me after we’ve been apart longer than usual.
Since we had a holiday break that gave us th
ree free days in a row, Octavius planned a trip to Florian’s cabin, and I couldn’t refuse.
God, who knew I’d be this needy after spending just days away from him.
If I grow any more attached, we’ll be joined at the hip.
“It’s about the Trojan War,” Valeria says several rows behind me, and everyone looks over their shoulder. “The Trojan prince, Paris, stole King Menelaus’s wife Helen, so the Greeks declared war over it.” A pause and then she continues. “His brother King Agamemnon supported him.”
“It lasted ten years, with the Greeks winning and setting Troy on fire. Since Troy had an unbreakable wall, they used trickery. They built the Trojan Horse and presented it as a gift from the gods. Soldiers hid in it, and then once the horse was brought inside the city, they all emerged and burned and conquered it,” Josephine says, and I grin at her.
I’d be surprised if she stayed silent; she studies the material of the syllabus weeks ahead, wanting to always be prepared.
This girl will rule the world someday.
Ryder nods. “Correct.” He cocks his head to the side. “Although the story is much more complex than that. It shows human vices in their rawest forms and also humanizes both parties as they suffer great loss at the altar of their selfishness.” He taps on the thick book on the podium next to him. “Each one of them got punished one way or another. So victory could never be sweet. Rather devastating and tragic, I would say.”
Bending my elbows and lacing my fingers, I rest my chin on top of them and welcome the calmness that settles on me whenever Ryder talks about history or shares his knowledge.
His mind attracts me as much as his irresistible body.
He almost sounds like a poet—my dirty-talking poet.
Ryder takes another sip, and our gazes clash; he winks at me, and butterflies erupt in my stomach as he shifts his focus back to the arguing students.
Nothing new for our class though. We love to discuss various topics until we turn blue because everyone is so damn stubborn.
Jonathan, who sits in front of me, huffs. “All these deaths over an unfaithful wife. He should have just dumped her.” He clicks his pen several times. “Paris was an idiot too. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”