Stabbing was fun, not going to lie. What I enjoyed most tonight was the beheading. Sawing away at Payne’s pale flesh, cutting through his spinal cord, all the while listening to the gushing of blood…not going to lie, I got hard thinking about it.
Koda was such a fucking goodie goodie that he never allowed himself to feel the pleasure in the pain. Me? I was fine with only the pain. Most of my pleasure stemmed from that anyway, and it’d been so long since I’d been in control here. Koda was persistent, but right now he was tucked away in the back recesses of my mind.
No white angel on my shoulder today. Just the devil himself. Me.
I pushed out of the front door, the sky not downpouring as much as it was when I’d been locked outside earlier. Still raining, but not hard. More like a light drizzle. I watched Felice further down the drive as she ran to the open gates.
Fool. She’d soon see that she’d never leave this place now. The moment she walked through those gates and arrived, her soul was forfeit, her heart and her body now belonging to this place, nothing but a toy, really.
Felice was a toy, and I couldn’t wait to play with her.
She ran through the gates, only she didn’t. This place wouldn’t let her go, now that it had its cold, cruel grip on her. Felice tried running through again, and failed. Over and over, until she started spinning. Until she put her hands on her head, bent over and threw up on the pavement.
I made it to her, still holding onto the knife I’d used to kill Lucien and Payne, the blood from the steel dripping onto the ground with the rain. Felice’s dark, tawny eyes lifted, meeting mine, her brown hair splattered all over her face. The rain had nearly stopped now; nothing but a few drops here and there.
I drew a finger along the sharp edge of the knife, watching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out. My eyes glanced at the gate, and I saw that it was closed. As it always was. The fucking thing was never open, not truly. It might welcome you in, but once inside, you could never leave. This place drained you and used you exactly how it wanted.
Careful to avoid stepping in her vomit, I moved to kneel over her, rolling her away from her puke and onto her back. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. Her skin was a few shades darker than mine, not a flaw anywhere to be seen.
This one…she was too perfect to be here. A woman so flawless could only become prey inside Grimmstead; she could only unleash the beasts that had been waiting impatiently for their new master. The others might fall at her feet, including Koda, but I would not.
I was a different kind of beast, the kind that needed no master. Without a leash around my neck, I could thrive.
I brought my knife to her face, running its blade flat against her cheek, curving it along her jawline until it reached her neck. Such a tender place. So many vital things you needed to live resided in your neck. Arteries, your spine, everything that connected your head to the rest of your body. I could cut deep and watch her bleed out. I could watch her chest rise and fall until that heart stopped pumping blood…
…and then we could do it all over again tomorrow.
My nerves were as hard as the steel in my grip, but it was right then Koda got loose. Not loose enough to take back control, but merely a tiny voice in the back of my head: Don’t kill her, Bram.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked aloud, baring my teeth to no one, because no one else was around.
Because she’s still alive. Because, if anyone has a chance of getting out of this place, it’s her, Koda tried reasoning with me. But you couldn’t reason with a man whose heart was as black as his mind.
“I don’t care,” I said simply, because it was true. I didn’t care, and I never would. The only thing I cared about was wetting the edge of my knife with more blood.
Yes, you do, Koda insisted, because you’re me. You might like to think we’re different, and maybe we are, but we share this body and this mind. Everything I do has a touch of you in it, and vice versa. You won’t kill her because I won’t let you.
“You don’t control me—” I went to cut her throat, to kill her, because why the fuck would I listen to Koda and pull myself away when I knew she would only come back? Why would I let Koda’s words interfere with what I wanted to do? Sure, I whispered things into his ear, hedged him toward the darkness, but he was always too much of a goodie two shoes to admit that my words ever affected him.
My arm muscles tensed, the blade only an inch away from her throat now. Wait. Did that mean Koda had been tempted by me before? He always acted too high and mighty to listen to me, but had I actually almost gotten him to turn to the dark side?
Hmm. That prospect was a wild one.
I was slow to take the knife away from Felice’s neck, studying how peaceful she looked, even while unconscious. Hmm. I refused to let Koda win this round, but killing her here, where it could theoretically start to rain again, might temper my groove.
No, I’d bring her inside before I played with her.
With the knife in one hand, I grabbed Felice’s body with the other, rolling her onto her side and throwing her over my shoulder. Her body hung limply around me, and she showed no signs of waking up.
Which was good. If she woke up, I’d have to tie her down.
Bram, Koda warned inside my head. Give me back control. None of the others will forgive you if you hurt her. Surely you’ve seen how Lucien is with her…everyone else is the same way. Even Ian.
Yes, I was well aware of how badly everyone in Grimmstead seemed to crave Felice. Like she was a newly-found drug whose high was better than anything else. She hadn’t been here long, and yet she somehow wormed her way into everyone’s minds.
Not mine. I just wanted to hurt her. To taste her pain. I wanted to hear her screams and lick the tears off her face as she begged me to stop.
I pushed through the giant front door, carrying Felice up the steps. I turned into the west wing, not wanting to risk coming into contact with Ian or Dagen. Of course I knew where her room was; I’d known it from the very first night. Koda and I had wandered throughout the night, somehow ending up at her door, where I’d constantly try to get him to go in, to wake her from her sleep, but he never did.
Now, I wondered if he’d ever been close to snapping. Close to giving in to me and joining me in reveling in another’s agony.
Either way, it didn’t matter much now, because I was the one in control here. I would be the deciding factor here. If I wanted to torture Felice until she no longer knew her name, that’s what I would do. If I wanted to cut into that pretty tan skin of hers and watch her bleed, I’d do that, too.
Anything I wanted…there was nothing off-limits.
I carried Felice’s unconscious form to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind me and turning the lock. After moving to the bed, I dropped her on top of it, the dry sheets getting wet from her body.
Her chest rose and fell steadily with even, smooth breaths. Being lost to the blackness of unconsciousness, Felice had no idea the danger she was in right now. I positioned her body on the bed: laying her on her back, her arms tucked neatly against her sides.
Bram—Koda wanted to stop me, but he couldn’t. Nothing was going to stop me.
I jumped onto the bed, straddling her, the palm holding onto the knife starting to sweat—something so unlike the usual me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was nervous…or was that Koda’s mannerisms peeking through?
Whatever. He might fight me to get out, but right now I was still firmly in control. Felice was mine. Everyone else in this house could fuck off and let us be. After dragging prey into its nest, an animal always wanted privacy for what came next.
“Looks like we’re alone, Felice,” I spoke to her, leaning down and breathing hard in her face. The hand free of the knife went to grip the side of her head, my fingertips tangling in her wet hair. “No one’s going to save you from me now.” A whispered promise. She was in the spider’s web, caught and wrapped up like a pretty present, soon
to be drained of all of her life force.
That was one thing I could agree with Payne on. Blood was a fascinating, beautiful thing.
Hell, I bet Payne enjoyed being cut into. I bet he died getting his rocks off by seeing all of the blood coming out of his neck before he breathed his last breath.
A tingling sensation alerted me to the semi-hardened cock between my legs. Not something Koda would be proud of, but I wasn’t Koda. I was his opposite, strong where he was weak, vile where he was kind, and ruthless when he was forgiving. To compare us would be to compare night and day.
The hand gripping the side of her face moved to hold her jaw, and as I fingered the knife I let my thumb graze her lips.
Such soft things, her lips. I was almost mesmerized by them. It wasn’t a wonder why the others were practically falling over each other to get in Felice’s good graces. I bet she’d be a great fuck.
She was the first woman we’d had in…a long time. Most of the women who’d been here simply weren’t strong enough to carry on, so Grimmstead took care of them. Sometimes it let the souls it devoured out, let them wander the property, lost. All of us were lucky that our chaos and havoc only fed the darkness at the heart of Grimmstead.
Grimmstead himself.
Victor Grimmstead was not a good man. Rumor had it he died here, but unlike all of us, his body was never found. He never reanimated. He simply…vanished. Or at least that’s what Lucien told us when we asked. None of us were too particularly curious today, because as the years wore on, it felt like nothing was changing.
And then Felice strolled in, looking far too innocent. Too naive to be here.
“You really don’t belong here,” I murmured as Koda whispered to me, Let her go. Stop touching her. Touching her will only make you want to hurt her more.
Oh, yes. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt those lips. I’d had her pinned to the window in the library, my hand curled around her throat, her amber eyes so wide and frightened. Truly, the most beautiful prey I’d ever had.
And now I had her again, only this time, she was more helpless. More defenseless. She was mine in every way, and because of that, I only grew more aroused.
I wanted her. I wanted to cut into her, and to fuck her. I might be a beast, might not have morals like the typical annoying human, but I was not the kind of beast who’d take a woman while she was unconscious.
After all, if she wasn’t awake during it, where was the fun? Her spirit, her cries, wouldn’t escape that pretty mouth and fall onto my ears.
No. I’d wait until she woke up, and then I’d take her for all she was worth.
Bram, you know that’s not going to happen, Koda’s voice rang in my head, but I pushed him back, pretending I didn’t hear him. Koda could fuck off and let me have some fun. I wouldn’t let his dreary, boring personality get in the way of my enjoyment.
And make no mistake: Felice and I were going to have loads of it.
Chapter Three – Felice
Dinner was early because of me, so I could get an early night and sleep off my fall. The introductions were also because of me, because apparently I should’ve known each and every wide-eyed, cherub face staring at me from the rest of the dining table. Victor sat at its head, and I sat directly beside him, to his left.
The one named Koda, the one who’d hugged me, sat across from me, his twin, Bram, on his right. Then there was a boy named Payne, whose skin seemed a tad too pale and his hair a bit too white, not to mention his eyes, which were a peculiar light grey color. To my left sat the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy who’d been trying to play tag—his name was Ian. And to finish the table off, the raven-haired, dark-eyed boy who was also playing tag: Dagen.
Honestly, our entire table looked like a batch of misfit kids. I spotted no other adults around, and by the time I was told dinner was ready, all of the plates were already on the table, a nice pork roast along with some steaming vegetables.
The entire table was eating quietly, nothing but the sound of chewing and forks scraping against plates, until Payne spoke up, his child eyes far too knowing as he looked at me. “Ms. Fairday, is it true girls bleed every month?”
Victor set down his fork, glaring at Payne. Meanwhile, I nearly choked on what I was trying to eat. Had to reach for my glass and take a huge swig of water to swallow it down. “Payne,” Victor chastised him.
“What?” Payne blinked that peculiar stare of his. “I was polite.”
Beside him, Bram sniggered.
“That is something you don’t inquire about,” Victor told Payne, shooting him a frown. The sad thing was, Victor’s frowns were as handsome as his smiles. Even if his clothes and appearance were a bit out of time, he could still command the room like no other.
Payne let out a sigh, saying nothing else.
Running a hand through his hair, Dagen appeared to have hardly touched his dinner.
I leaned over Ian, saying, “What’s wrong, Dagen? Why aren’t you eating?” The food was delicious. Normally I wasn’t a fan of cooked vegetables, but tonight, my taste buds were on fire. Everything tasted good.
It was a moment before Dagen opened his mouth to respond, and when he did, he couldn’t look at me. His dark eyes seemed to dart everywhere in the room: the ceiling, the table, the others sitting near him. His stare never lingered anywhere for too long, and he seemed far too paranoid for a child. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I asked, eager to help him. The others at the table simply watched me. Bram, however, couldn’t care less; he was busy eating, chewing as loudly as he could and burping.
“I…I don’t know.”
Ian boldly declared, “I don’t hear anything.” And then he started coughing, hacking up a lung so hard he had to excuse himself and walk away from the table, his thin shoulders shaking so hard.
A part of me wanted to get up and follow him, to make sure he was okay, but my focus remained on Dagen, who tilted his head, as if he really heard something—something other than Ian’s coughing fit. Personally, I didn’t hear a thing.
“You always hear something,” Bram muttered, scowling. A strange expression for a child to wear. He almost looked…dangerous, which was ridiculous. He was a kid.
Kids could go psycho too, I had to remind myself. I’d seen the news. I’d…I’d done more than that, but I’d rather not think of it.
“That’s enough,” Victor said, cutting through the disquiet at the table. Behind him, Ian returned, walking around the table and sliding back into his chair. “Feeling okay, Ian?”
Ian nodded once, though it seemed to be a very half-hearted gesture. Just from looking at him, I knew he wasn’t okay. I really hoped he didn’t have the flu or some other kind of virus; the last thing I needed was to get sick.
The rest of dinner went smoothly. Once everyone was done, the children dispersed, heading to their rooms. I started to pick up the plates, but not even a moment into it, I felt a warm hand on my lower back. I nearly snapped my head back in surprise at that, and I was slow to turn to face Victor. He got awfully handsy with me, didn’t he?
I…I should probably hate it. I should tell him it was crossing the line, invading my boundaries and personal space, but I didn’t want to. There was a part of me that liked feeling his hands on me, a part of me that wondered how those hands would feel roaming other places on my body, no clothes between our skin.
That was one of the most inappropriate thoughts I’d had in a long time, and I needed to snap myself out of it, no matter how nice his hand felt on me.
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” Victor said, meaning the dishes. “We have others who take care of the day-to-day stuff. That’s none of your concern, Felice.” His eyes dropped to my feet, slowly traveling up, taking in every curve of my body before he added, “I think you should rest for the night. I don’t want you overworking yourself, not after that fall you had earlier.”
He was probably right, I admitted to myself as I gave him a shy smile. “Thank you, Victor. I don�
��t know what I’d do without you.” Well, that was a dramatic thing to say, and the moment I said it, my eyes widened a bit.
Crap. Making a fool out of myself in front of Victor, was the last thing I wanted to do.
“On the contrary,” he spoke, voice smooth as honey, sinfully low and entrancing, the kind of voice you could listen to all day, “none of us here would know what to do without you.” Meant to be kind, comforting words, but they only confused me.
I certainly didn’t feel like I’d done anything to merit such strong feelings from him, but then again, it was hard for me to remember specifics right now anyways.
Within thirty minutes, I was alone in my room, getting ready to take a bath. The tub was a clawfoot, an old porcelain tub sitting away from every wall in the bathroom, simple yet regal. I felt almost out of place as I shed my dress and unzipped my boots. This place, Grimmstead, felt both like a home and like a strange, foreign place. Would I ever get used to it?
Once I was free of all clothing, my dark eyes met with my reflection in the mirror hanging above the vanity. For a split-second, I would’ve sworn I could see the stones behind the mirror, almost like the mirror was not a mirror and more like a window past my reflection—but when I reached a hand out to it, I felt nothing but glass, and my vision refocused on my face in the mirror.
Huh. My mind was playing tricks on me.
I already had the tub full of water, and I let out a long, breathy sigh as I lowered myself into the hot, steaming water. That was one thing I didn’t particularly like about this place. No showers. This was America in the twenty-first century; showers were kind of a must.
You know what else this place didn’t have? Reception. I’d checked my phone when I came back to the room, and as I stared at the blinking X in the top right corner of its screen, somehow I knew it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Grimmstead.
No showers, no signal, no contact with the outside world. We were locked away here.
Grimmstead Academy: Submission Page 2