Constricted: Beyond the Brothel Walls

by Ryans, Rae

  The brawny man smiled and extended his hand. We spoke for hours about how life had changed since the collapse and his farm. He laughed and invited me to see exactly how generations of his family survived off the grid. “Gas,” he said. “Trash and animal waste produces plenty.” I studied his set-up and asked questions about his process. Before leaving, I compelled him to forget and brought the findings to the Arcadian Steam Power Board –all vampires.

  “Petre,” Kor said, and I shook my mind back into the present. She sat cross-legged on the other end of the sofa, and the television was off. Her forced smile faded as she stared at her hands. “I want to ask some questions.”

  I nodded and wished I could read her mind. “Anything,” I said, noticing my dry mouth.

  “What exactly do you do for a living? I mean you have all these beautiful things, food, and ….” She blinked as her words trailed off, and I reached for her hand.

  “Remember I have been alive since the mid-eighteen hundreds, and even then my family held abundant wealth. I am or was a Baron along with my twin brother.”

  “The picture above the mantle,” she said to herself. Her brows twisted. “He’s alive too?”

  Ah, the question I’d feared her asking, yet I baited her right into it. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. We are both cursed.”

  She pursed her lips. “I’m not as dumb as everyone paints me. I can’t read or write, Petre, but I can read people.” Kor blew out a rushed breath. “I could feel the evil in that painting. Even up here, it taints the air.”

  Without a word, I grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs into the attic. That was where I stored my painting. We’d used the same artist, and they were done months before the curse took effect. Korrigan sneezed as dust flew into the air. The snap of the white sheet made her jump and clung to my arm.

  “You haven’t changed at all,” she said, kneeling on the attic floor. “Is this how men used to dress?”

  Dressed in long tails and a black top hat, my brother and I were almost identical. I chuckled at her ability to know this one was mine. “Yes Angel, ladies wore beautiful dresses too.” My knees landed beside hers. “What do you feel from this one?”

  She blinked as her small palm hovered over the cracked oil surface. Her eyes lit up, and she turned to me. “Pain,” Kor said, and her hand fell to her heart.

  That was not far from the truth, because I’d ached for her. Four years I waited, forced to watch her from the shadows. Now I had not known what to do about Korrigan. My brother’s malice crushed me, and I could not control him without outside help. Her hand touched my face, stroking my cheek. Ending him meant losing her, but his altered form proved dangerous. Unless I found another way, I’d have to let Kor go too. My hand laced into hers, and I brought it to my lips. A blush spread across her cheeks; her innocence glowed like a halo.

  “My brother did a cruel thing when we were both alive. He raped and murdered a slave working in our household. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t realize what happened until it was too late. The girl was dead, strangled by his hands. She was quite young too, not that age mattered. Even in my day, noblemen didn’t rape.”

  My gaze dropped to my hand. We barely touched, yet there was a hum of energy rolling off of her skin. Humans didn’t have that, and if it weren’t for the curse, I wouldn’t have even cared. Demon Spawn was dangerous; he’d killed other horses and humans. Anything in his path became fair game when unleashed. His pent up rage sent others into a tattered frenzy as they began to fight and argue.

  Her face lacked emotion as I told her the story, but tears leaked from her eyes. We were young men, entering our prime, and I followed him when he left the castle. I thought it was a game, the way he had laughed and smiled with her. “When the servants found her body, my brother was accused. They found his ring at the scene, and nobleman or not, justice was demanded from the lower class.”

  Korrigan squeezed my hand. “He faced the gallows even though my family pled his innocence. I knew that he was guilty, because I’d been in the stables that night too. Under threat of disownment, my family urged me to utter a lie. The court summoned me, wishing to hear my statement in person. My parents had already sent word before I agreed. They knew honor and title meant everything to me.”

  “I can understand that,” she whispered, but I doubted she knew anything about honor or titles.

  “I lied to them all,” I said, shaking my head. “Told the courts my brother was innocent, and that he never left the house that evening. They released him at once since my parents corroborated witnesses placing us inside our castle. All paid to spread the lies.”

  Her fingers danced over my palm, stirring my insides to life. “How did the curse happen?”

  “The girl’s father damned me to eternal life, but because I lied, he gave me an out. My brother’s life tied into mine, but he transformed him into a demon. Slowly, he altered from man into beast until one day the humanity ceased.”

  “When you said the horse is your brother, you meant it.” She swallowed hard. “I want to see him.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” I said, stroking her cheek. “Even contained he’ll try to harm you.”

  “I wasn’t asking.” She dropped my hand and stood. Her fingers flexed, beckoning me to stand. “What is the out?”

  Chapter Nine

  I had asked Petre the question, but he didn’t answer me straight away. The way his lip trembled bothered me too. He hadn’t wanted me to ask about the curse, but I wasn’t about to let him brush me aside either. We were in this together now whether he liked it or not. Our fates had tied in the dream, and I wasn’t about to just let that fact ride off into the sunset along with my hopes for a better future. Petre might have lived a long life, but I hadn’t. There were slaves to save from the likes of Jules.

  “I can’t.” He stayed on his knees and grasped my hand. My brows arched, twisting at his refusal. “Demon Spawn will hurt you.”

  My breath hissed out, and I glanced away. My life was filled with risks before he came into my life. A risk I was willing to take, even if it meant facing my fears. After spending all day in bed, loathing myself for the actions of a dirty man, I’d found a solution at last. My arms crossed over my chest as I waited for him.

  “No,” he said again. Petre stood and loomed over me as I bit the inside of my cheek. He stilled, and his shoulders stiffened. “Don’t do that, Kor.”

  I turned around, but he grabbed my arms. “Let go.” I twisted and turned, but his grip had tightened. Petre dragged me back, encircling me with his cold arms.

  “Promise me you won’t go to the stables without me,” he groaned in my ear. His fangs extended, and I jumped, accidentally pressing into him. Kisses trailed down my jaw and neck, but I couldn’t find words. The sharp points scraped my skin, and I shivered. “Angel?”

  “I … promise.” The words managed to flow as his tongue circled my skin. He murmured, whispering against my heated flesh until I closed my eyes. Distraction, yes. He tried to stop me from visiting the horse, and Petre hadn’t wanted me to ask more about his curse. The little voice screamed inside my head that this was nothing more than another game, another lie. My body and heart interjected; thoughts ceased when his lips traced my skin.

  Petre spun me around and lifted me from the ground. Before I could utter a word, icy lips encompassed mine. His hands cupped my ass, kneading through the silky pajamas until heat flared from my center. My legs wrapped around his waist, and my hands grabbed at his shirt. I wanted Petre, and at that moment, I needed him too. My body trembled at the thought.

  His tongue pushed through my lips, and I moaned against him. Petre stumbled down the attic steps, but he tumbled and dropped me from his clutches. I cried through gritted teeth as my back and head had slammed into the wooden steps. Stars littered my vision, and warm wetness trickled down my face.

  “Hold still, Angel,” he said, but I saw nothing in the darkness. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. Fluid dribble
d into my mouth, thick and gross like mud. My stomach churned, and I heaved, but the sharp pain had dulled to a gentle throb. A few seconds later, and Petre had blinked back into view. “I guess I can tell you now; my blood heals.”

  He smirked, and I was thankful, but the idea of drinking blood wasn’t what I longed to hear. “Can I …” his eyes trailed; his nostrils flared, and his tone rasped, “Lick your wound?”

  I saw many fetishes over the years, but this was the oddest one to date. Would it tickle? “Okay,” I said, chewing my lip.

  Before I’d uttered another word, his wet tongue touched my skin. Petre moaned as the slurping and sucking grew louder. His hand dropped from my neck to my breasts, and he unbuttoned the pajama top. My body tingled in anticipation of his cold fingers to tease my hardened nipples. This would be a long six months.

  Later that week, Petre announced we’d have a visitor. Neither of us left the house except for when he insisted. Mellissa asserted her opinion for my wardrobe and said I’d wear formal attire. I picked out the nicest pants and top from the closet.

  She immediately sent me back into the closet, covering her mouth. But she snickered the entire time.

  “A dress lass; I’ll pick ye one.” Just like that, I sat in a chair as she walked to the far end of the closet. “Do ye know what he’s wearing, Korri? Ye should complement each other.”

  “Grey,” Petre said. He was waiting in the shared sitting room where I’d left him.

  “Who’s coming again?” I asked for the hundredth time. No reply came as Mellissa shoved a long silver dress in my hands. She had left, and I removed the pantsuit before slipping into the dress. The top gathered right under my breasts, and it plunged, making them appear larger. The dress swept to my ankles, and as I twirled, it flew out to the sides. I laughed as the rush dizzied my head.

  The door creaked open. “Kor,” he said, stilling my hands and pulling me into his arms. “You are lovely tonight.”

  Heat rose in my cheeks, but not a day had gone by where Petre hadn’t mentioned my beauty. Oh, the lies the devil had told, but I’d held my tongue and played my role. His lips brushed against mine, but I shied away. Anymore it was all I could manage to protect my weak and foolish heart from the fickle vampire. I’d do everything in my power to keep him alive but love hadn’t driven my goals. The sheer will of survival had fueled my soul. A future that hadn’t revolved around pleasuring various men for broth flickered before my eyes, but there were hurdles. Petre, for his part, had refused to talk about my dreams.

  “I’m not ready yet.” Those eyes told me otherwise. He was set, and the click of his fangs spoke more than words. But prepared for that step? My hands twisted in time with my stomach. No. Even if he’d found a way to marry us tonight, as per his rules, I still had too much to work through.

  When Petre touched me, my eyes had remained open. Only when he kissed me did I choose to close them. Danger loomed behind my closeted lids, and I would fall victim to the hopes and dreams of an impossible future with Petre. I swallowed the snort forming with the ridiculous notion of love. There was no such atrocity; lust and pleasure had ruled the mind, body, and soul.

  He hadn’t allowed me to touch him again. I’d so wanted to show him the truth, but he’d refused my advances. How else was I to prove my knowledge and experience with love?

  “Hurry Angel, our guest is here.” Petre pulled me in for another kiss and left the closet. My hand brushed my lips, and the blush crept into my cheeks again. Would he always hold that affect over me?

  Mellissa called for me and broke me from whatever fantasy my mind attempted to weave. After peeking my head out of the closet, I found her waiting in my bathroom by the vanity. She motioned for me to sit and turned to fumble with rollers. For the most part, she had attended to my hair and applied light makeup on a daily basis. I’d wanted to learn how to do it all myself too and not become reliant on her alone.

  She wrapped each section around one of the rollers, showing me which way to curl the hair under. I mirrored her movements on the opposite side and sped up the process. Once finished, she laid out suitable makeup for what she deemed my natural look. My hand shook as I lifted the burnt pencil.

  “Korri let me dae that part; ye handle the foundation, blush, and lipstick just as I showed ye.” I nodded even though the thought of that thing near my eye had never boded well. My breath held every time she had insisted I wear the kohl.

  A poked eye later and I stood, alone, at the top of the stairs. How did women do this all the time? The heavy hair, piled into a series of messy rivulets, cascaded down my open back. Apparently, it was all the rage, but my neck ached and felt as if it were about ready to snap from the weight. Fashion, I chuckled at the thought. No, so not my specialty, but I knew that before I’d arrived. Our guest must’ve been important to Petre, but since we weren’t leaving the house, I had refused to wear those strappy, neck-breaking heels Mellissa had chosen. Instead, I carried them in my hand as I descended the stairs, and prayed I wouldn’t trip over the dress or myself.

  From the second level, I saw the main room alight in a fiery glow. Voices traveled, two distinct voices, and both were from men I would recognize. I froze when the mysterious visitor spoke louder in that accent like the man from the restaurant. Footsteps followed, growing closer to my hidden location on the staircase, and I held my breath. My eyes had darted toward the third floor before catching his odd goggled gaze.

  “Mademoiselle, you are quite breathtaking. Petre, ah …” My mouth opened to speak but words refused to flow. My heart hammered as the room grew smaller, and heat flooded my head. “Petre,” he said, motioning toward me.

  My knuckles whitened; my grip increased on the railing. Cool hands grasped my shoulders and shook me while repeating my name. I couldn’t breathe as an alien energy blinded and surrounded me.

  “The painting,” the goggled man said as I pointed to it. His eyes widened. “Non, even she shouldn’t feel that.”

  “Jobe,” Petre yelled, and I winced from the stabbing ache slicing through my eardrum. “Tom, can you help Jobe get rid of it?” A round of agreement sounded, and Petre lowered me to the step. “Angel, I’m sorry. I forgot about the painting again.”

  He’d shown me the old servant’s stairway that led into the kitchen, and we’d come and gone using the rear entry. It hadn’t dawned on me to use the passage tonight. I patted his hand as my head rested upon his shoulder and stared at his jaw. The blame was mine as much as his. “Not your fault.”

  The two men hefted the painting from above the mantle. “Move it to the stable.”

  A frown tugged at my lips. Well there went any plan I’d formed to meet the demon horse. His charming half-smile flashed over his face. Oh yeah, he’d done that on purpose. As long as he stayed contained, I still wasn’t afraid of the horse. Besides, I wanted to see its eyes and try to make sense of everything, not pet or ride the beast.

  Lies, contracts, slaves, and corsets … vampires, demons, and paintings with terrifying emotions … what was next?

  “Witches, warlocks, and but of course magic, ma petit fee.” I glanced to Petre, who swallowed hard, but had aimed his glance toward the wall. Half of me wanted to roll it off my shoulders. “Oh, my apologies, you hadn’t told her yet.”

  A lot of that had been going around as of late, and I wondered if it would ever end. Was this life of deceit and its secrecy worth more than the life of a whore? Legal or not, what choice did I have if I were to leave? The other half spoke as I rose, wanting nothing more than the comfort of my room, “This is unreal or surreal.”

  The clock sounded, and I jumped, tripping forward into the man named Tom, and my heels flew and thudded against the wall. My hand trembled as Petre lifted me from his arms. “Why is he here?” I whispered; my lip quivered recalling the restaurant, and the way he’d stared at me whenever we were in the same room. The vibe rolled over my skin again, but I had to admit it wasn’t the same crawling sensation I’d felt with Jules or his men.

/>   The man removed his goggles and bowed. “To meet the future Baroness,” he answered.

  My head tilted as I took him in. Energy rolled off his skin in waves, but it differed from the painting. Like a fog, it had washed over me and thickened the air. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and my heart hammered as we stared at each other. “Ah, I see you didn’t tell her about me either.”

  His fangs clicked free, and Tom flashed his toothy smile. What was he? I shook my head as he strolled up the stairs. My legs stumbled backward as he pressed me against my vampire. He reached for me, but Petre tossed his arm in front of me and blocked his attempt. The last thoughts I remembered were of the blood rushing out of my head and falling against the cold hard wall of spicy flesh.

  My hand dropped to my forehead, and I blinked. Two frowning faces came into view, but one cracked into a warm smile.

  “What happened?”

  I recalled Tom grabbing for me, his bared fangs. The air had shifted too, and my lungs burned with fire as I tried to breathe. I glanced around. They must’ve moved me down to the sofa since I was no longer on the stairs. The two men glanced at each other and then back to me. “Angel, we hoped you’d tell us.”

  “Us?”

  I blinked wondering how Petre trusted him. My eyes flickered to Tom. His icy blue eyes fixated on me, sweeping a chill over my bare arms. The blond vampire intrigued me as much as a pile of mucky sludge. But I couldn’t deny the energy as it radiated again. A chuckle swept through me, and I shook my head. Maybe the fantasy of magic and creatures was more believable to living with monstrous men my whole life.

  “Tomas or Tom,” he said, extending his hand. Petre gave his head a slight nod. My hand brushed against his, and all the hairs stood up on my arm. “Mademoiselle, you are a curious one.” He whispered something in another language. I sensed that everyone else did though as Petre’s hands tightened, and those grey eyes glossed over. I sat up but remained on the couch and jerked the pins from my hair. The two men spoke in hushed tones as I fluffed it out and cracked the pressure building in my neck. Petre’s color washed away, and his skin became grey and ashen.