Grimmstead Academy: A Villainous Introduction

by Candace Wondrak

  The room filled with moans, both mine and his. My carnal urges took over, bodily instinct taking control. I moved my body like I’d never moved it before, causing the man under me to groan every few moments. He never shut his eyes, never turned to look away; Lucien always had those eyes on me, watching forevermore.

  I felt like a different person then, high on the feeling of skin on skin. And, call me weird, but I could’ve sworn I heard both our hearts beating in unison. Nothing at all mattered to me in that moment, nothing but the pleasure of giving in and giving up, the blood pumping through my veins harder, faster, as I rocked along his cock.

  The hands grasping my hips helped me move along him faster, and my body couldn’t get enough. The world around me could’ve been on fire, and I wouldn’t have noticed, and that was saying something, as fire was my first love. My body was lit, my senses overloading, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

  Suddenly an explosion of bliss overtook me, and I had to throw my head back as my pace became slower, more erratic. I lost myself to the heated indulgence of passion, my inner core tightening as the orgasm swept over me, dominating me like a long-lost master.

  Lucien took charge, my body nearly useless as I rode the high, his hips somehow thrusting under me. It didn’t take long before he followed suit; when he orgasmed, he closed his eyes and moaned a deep, guttural sound that I knew I’d dream about every night after this.

  This was the best dream ever. Very realistic. And that orgasm? Sad to say, but it was the best I’d ever had in my life, no joke.

  I didn’t get off him, but my body did relax as I straddled him. I leaned forward, hugging his wide chest, my hands sliding under the open shirt. Such warm, strong, solid muscles. Any straight woman, regardless of age, would be attracted to this guy. So what if he was in his thirties? Right now the last thing on my mind was his age.

  I mean, after that sex, why would I even care? Plus, with this being a dream and all, the taboo of reality was far removed from my mind.

  His arms encased me, wrapping around me, holding me tight. He leaned his head against mine, whispering, “I wish I didn’t have to let you go.” Tender words coming from a burly man, words that came from his heart.

  Dream brain must’ve liked having guys obsessed with me, huh? Not that I was going to complain. This was…oddly nice, sitting here with him on this red velvet chair, with not a care in the world. His cock was still inside of me, and for a long time, neither of us moved.

  And then, everything turned hazy. It was like my mind shut itself off. I wasn’t quite sure what happened next, if the dream was over or what, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed, blinking awake at the morning light streaming through my window.

  My body felt warm, and I took a quick peek under the covers, seeing that I still wore the lacy night slip. The area between my thighs felt a little worn, which I thought was odd, but then again, that dream had been extremely realistic. Maybe I was doing some unconscious thigh-clenching all night as I dreamed of Lucien and that strange room.

  Huh.

  Weird.

  Chapter Twelve – Dagen

  I stood in one of the lounges in Grimmstead, fiddling with an old vinyl record player in the corner. Everything in the room was lavish; most of Grimmstead still was, but I didn’t care about what it looked like or how intricate the patterns were on the seating in the room.

  The one and only thing I cared about was finally finding something that would stop the God-awful noise that plagued my mind day and night.

  Thump.

  Even when I managed to sleep, my dreams were full of blackness, and that terrible, monotonous sound, like someone was pounding on a wall far away, and most of the sound waves had vanished by the time they reached me. Dull, repeating, over and over again. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and I…

  Well, I was certain most here would already claim I was mad.

  But then that would lead into a whole philosophical discussion where I would claim each and every one of us was mad in our own way. We simply had different kinds of madness. I was fairly certain that to exist in Grimmstead, you had to have something wrong with you.

  Something, but not too much. It was a difficult balance to keep. Everyone else…Grimmstead kept, stoking the fires that kept this place burning, that kept these walls upright. We were what kept this place going, but that was neither here nor there.

  Eventually chaos melded into pure madness, pure psychosis. I wasn’t like Payne; I didn’t care about conducting experiments or discovering the root of my problems. The only thing I cared about was stopping that dreadful noise.

  Without that noise, I’d be a perfectly fine man. Maybe Grimmstead would even let me walk out that door.

  It had let me walk out before, but when I said the door, I meant the gate. We could all wander the property; it was getting off it that was immensely challenging.

  Thump, thump.

  The noise made my skin want to crawl off my bones and scatter like mice. It made the hairs on my arms stand up, goosebumps rising. The eternal sound of the constant thumping made me want to scream and tear my hair out.

  Most days I managed. Some days I didn’t. Some days I locked myself in my room and refused to come out, even for a meal. Some days I talked to myself to try to shake it off, but nothing ever worked. Nothing. I was in a constant struggle with myself not to go completely insane.

  If these walls finally fell, would the noise stop?

  It was something I’d thought about before, but never put much into. It had to be this place. This place affected everyone differently. It was rooted in the real world, but once you crossed that threshold, things started to happen, things you couldn’t explain…things that made you question your sanity.

  Sanity was something no one had here, not really. We all wore masks and smiles, did our best to steer clear of each other on our worst days. I wouldn’t necessarily go so far as to say we were a makeshift family, stuck in this rut together, but we were. Lucien was the father figure, trying to keep his horrific children in line, and we were the rambunctious brats who did whatever we wanted when we wanted.

  I had a record sitting on top of the machine, the needle ready to go—as far as I could tell, the needle was in pristine condition for the machine being as old as it was. Then again, time was a strange thing here. Sometimes you felt eternity pass you by, and other times the minutes crawled by and acted like years.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  My feet drew me away from the machine, and I ran my hands through my hair, wondering why the hell it wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it playing? I knew this place was not up-to-date with technology and the like, but wasn’t the older stuff eternal?

  Why wasn’t this record playing?

  “You do realize you don’t have it plugged in, don’t you?” A sarcastic voice from behind caused me to jump.

  I hadn’t heard anyone approaching me; the only thing I’d heard was that repeating sound.

  Ian stood under the archway that separated the lounge from the hall. He was eating an apple, biting into its hard exterior with a loud crunch. The food we ate…best not get into any of that right now. His blue eyes were bright as they studied me, his blonde hair messily combed to the side. He was the utter opposite of me, light where I was dark and smooth where I fumbled.

  The only thing I had in common with him was our clothes, although I tried to look put-together. His clothes were undone and rumpled on purpose, but my disheveled appearance was because…well, I didn’t know. It was like my clothes didn’t fit right, or maybe I just couldn’t focus on tucking in my shirt when I kept hearing that noise.

  “I…” Once I realized it was only Ian, I calmed myself as best as I could before turning to gaze at the machine. I moved toward the wall, pressing my head against it to see behind it. It was just like he said: the chord wasn’t plugged into the wall.

  I ended up having to move the record player a bit to be able to fit my hand behind it. Once I plugged it
in, I was able to hit the power button and the track below the vinyl began to spin, playing a hauntingly slow melody. An older song, an even older artist. I wasn’t quite sure what year the world was in now—losing track of time was easy in this place—but I knew the world had long passed the forties and fifties, when this song had originally been recorded.

  “You were correct,” I said, crossing my arms as I glanced back at Ian, who still watched me with the same bored expression he watched everyone with. Everyone except Felice. Felice had piqued his interest, as she had most everyone. “How did you know there was a plug back there?” By all accounts Ian shouldn’t have known it was unplugged; it wasn’t like the plug had been hanging in plain view.

  It was hidden, completely out of sight.

  He took another bite of his red apple, taking his good old time to chew that particular mouthful. “Why didn’t you?” he eventually answered me, shrugging.

  I blinked, not quite knowing what to say to that. I supposed his question was valid, but…

  Ian stepped inside the room, plopping himself on the nearest seat. It was a chaise lounge, the fabric almost gaudy in its golden and red design. He kicked up his feet and spread out his left arm; his right held onto the apple. His sapphire gaze twinkled as he studied me, frowning slightly. “Get no sleep last night, Dagen?” He didn’t really care, so I had no idea why he felt the need to stir up a conversation right now.

  “Not much,” I admitted.

  “Same here,” he muttered, taking another bite. He chewed thoughtfully, looking ridiculously easygoing and relaxed. Ian might not have gotten sleep, but he looked great. Not a blemish on his skin, not a single bag under his eyes. He looked good, a handsome fellow.

  Me? Well, I just looked exhausted when I was tired. And I was always tired, so I always looked it. No one here could hide his problems quite like Ian could. It was a skill I hadn’t mastered, but I hoped eventually I’d get there.

  I had all the time in the world.

  “Is there something that you want, Ian?” I spoke. The only thing good about this was with the music playing and Ian here, I could almost overlook the constant thumping in the back of my head.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  It was always there, always driving me to the edge. The edge was not a pretty place to be.

  Ian tossed his apple. He just…threw it aside, like some kind of sports ball, something he didn’t care enough to keep holding onto. As if there still wasn’t half an apple left to eat. The apple landed on the floor, rolling under a couch on the far wall. “Actually, yes. What do you think of Felice?”

  That was not what I expected him to say. Not at all. Him coming to me was about Felice? I shouldn’t be surprised, but it was just so out of the blue.

  “She’s…nice,” I managed to say, feeling my heart speed up just a bit. I wasn’t sure why my body reacted the way it did, but I couldn’t stop myself. It’d been so long since I’d seen a pretty woman, and all of her features were symmetrical and shaped perfectly. If there was ever a pretty woman, it was her.

  “Oh, come on,” Ian said, waving a hand through the air. “She’s with Payne right now, so it isn’t like she’s going to walk by and hear you. Tell me what you really think of her.” He watched me, eager to hear my thoughts about her. It was the first time I’d seen him eager for anything in a long, long time.

  I sighed, glancing to the archway, at the hall. He was right, of course. Right now her scheduled time was with Payne, and she wasn’t likely to forgo the session, even after what she’d learned in the woods. And the whole debacle in his room. Yes, we’d all heard about it from Lucien, and we all knew we had to be on our best behavior for her.

  Thinking of her, it was all too easy to lose myself—which I found odd. I never lost myself. The only time I ever lost myself was when I let the incessant pounding noise get to me, but never anything else, let alone someone else.

  The way her dark skin looked like bronze with her light brown hair and warm, amber eyes. How those lips quirked into an appreciative smile when you answered one of her questions correctly. How she walked, swaying those hips and making the dress’s skirt sashay back and forth.

  And then, of course, I thought about how I’d found her in the woods, where Payne kept his carcasses. The look of sheer horror on her face. It was a peculiar thing, wanting to protect someone. Even more peculiar when you realized that you’d never truly be able to protect her from whatever this place had in store for her. Lucien was trying his best, but the moment Grimmstead wanted something, it would take it, forcing it to happen.

  “She’s pretty” was what I settled with saying, hoping that was enough for the ever-curious Ian.

  “That she is,” Ian agreed. “More than pretty, I’d go so far to say.” He was slow to get to his feet, standing tall as he stepped closer to me.

  I remained rooted in place, not about to let Ian intimidate me or whatever it was he was doing. Playing the games he did was not something I wished to do. The only thing I wanted was to stop that constant noise.

  Behind the music, I could hear it faintly: thump, thump.

  “She has resisted my temptation so far,” Ian spoke, sounding almost as if he was whining. But to whine would be to show how much he cared, and I knew him better than that. Showing anyone that he cared about anything was probably his worst nightmare. “Which, of course, I find very strange. I mean, we all have eyes here. I’m clearly the best-looking man under this roof.”

  His confidence knew no bounds, apparently.

  “I’ve been trying to rack my brain about it, to figure out why she’s resisting me so much,” Ian went on, standing less than two feet before me now. His white sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, revealing hints of his toned but slender physique. “And I’ve come up with a plan. Eh, more of an idea, really, but once you agree, it’ll turn into a plan.”

  Ian came up with a plan to woo Felice, and he needed my help to do it? Whatever his so-called plan was, I didn’t anticipate liking it. And if I didn’t like it, there was no way I’d agree to it.

  Any plan to get her into bed was asinine. She was off-limits. None of us were supposed to touch her, let alone be with her in an intimate capacity.

  I studied him with a frown. “How could I possibly help you get Felice into bed?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a bed,” Ian quickly said, grinning a dimpled smile at me. “I’d have her anywhere, really.” When I continued to stare at him as if he was crazy—which he was—he added, “Come on. Don’t act like you haven’t pictured pushing her against one of these walls and making her yours.”

  “I have not,” I immediately spoke, indignant.

  At least, I hadn’t until now.

  Pushing her up against a wall, feeling her body arch into mine…it’d been a long time since I’d felt anyone’s skin on mine, mostly because I was here, and partly because, since I was here, my mind kept focusing on that miserable thumping noise. Perhaps Felice would be a nice distraction…she wouldn’t drown the noise out completely, but maybe it was worth a try.

  “Ah, then you’re a better man than me,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Anytime I’m with her, I imagine doing all sorts of things to that body of hers, and even when I’m not with her, she takes up my mind more often than not.”

  Someone who didn’t know Ian well enough might think he was obsessed with her.

  Sounded like he kind of was.

  “Anyway, back to my proposition,” Ian spoke with a grin. “You seem to be the least crazy out of the bunch. She’s too freaked out with what happened with Payne for him to join in this, and Koda…I somehow don’t think it wise to have him in the plan, considering the devil on his shoulder.”

  My eyebrows furrowed as I listened to him ramble on. I had no idea where he was going with this. Not the slightest clue.

  He let out a laugh. “So it’s just you and me, I’m afraid.”

  “You and me for what?” Had he gotten to the point amongst all of his rambling and I just d
idn’t notice? Honestly, I could not tell.

  “You and I are going to seduce her. I figure there’s no way she can resist the both of us—” Ian went on for a bit, as he often did, commenting that I’d have to work on my appearance a bit before we tried to make our move, but I was lost with what he’d initially said.

  Seduce? He wanted my help in seducing Felice?

  As in, the both of us would seduce her together? I just…how did that thought process make any sense whatsoever? How did Ian wake up one morning and decide he was going to come to me with this proposition? It was mind-blowingly absurd. If she wasn’t willing to consent to sexual activity with him, why would my addition suddenly make her change her mind?

  Ian must’ve noticed that I was no longer listening to him, for he stopped his rambling, cocking his head. “Did I lose you somewhere, Dagen?”

  The track on the vinyl changed, this song a louder, faster track with more of a jazzy sound. I was so caught up in what Ian had said that, for a fast moment, I didn’t hear that telltale noise. Eventually I managed to say, “What makes you think we could—”

  “Tag-team her?” Ian chuckled, dimples on his cheeks. “Pretty sure it’s a dream of every woman.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t think so.”

  “It is. Trust me, I would know. I’ve asked every single woman on the earth whether they’d enjoy a threesome with no strings attached, and they all said yes.”

  Somehow, someway, I didn’t believe him. I would not be persuaded to join some ill-fated attempt at seducing the one woman who Lucien said was off-limits. Granted, she was the only woman who was here on a regular basis, but that was beside the point. If he really needed physical gratification, there were other ways he could find it. His hand, mainly.

  “Come on,” Ian spoke, giving me a good-natured push on my shoulder. “Just think about it, okay? You don’t have to agree right now…even though I’m dying to know what she feels like.” He sent me a dimpled smile before shoving his hand in his pocket and strolling away, as if we’d just had the most normal conversation ever.