Us.
Us as children. I still didn’t know what to think about that.
Were they real, or were they simply manifestations of our lost innocence? And if the latter was the case, where was Felice’s junior? Where was Victor’s? Lucien stated he’d never been a child, but still. It wasn’t as if things in this house made a lick of sense, so I didn’t see why we all wouldn’t have miniature versions of ourselves running amok.
I sat near Ian, nervously fixing my glasses as I shot him a look. He smelled a bit, his shoulders hunched. He was not the outgoing man I knew him to be, not right now. Not with his sickly childhood self eight feet away near Victor.
Everyone else looked normal, as normal as we could be. No one suspected anything.
Thump, thump, thump—
A different sound interrupted the repeating noise in my head, and my eyes moved to the pot roast sitting in the center of the table. The long dinner table was full of dishes—the tray of meat, steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, bread rolls, butter, and a whole host of other things. It all looked absolutely delicious and smelled just as good, but after I heard that sound, I spotted a fly resting on the edge of the meat tray.
And then, in the blink of an eye, everything turned rancid and nasty. The meat grew mold, fuzzy and hairy, and the entire room took on a dank odor. I nearly vomited when I watched the others eat as if they had no idea the food they shoveled into their mouths was contaminated.
When I saw Felice stick an old, fungus-ridden piece of meat into her mouth, I opened mine to say something, but I blinked again and everything was back to normal. No mold. No hairy growths. No flies. Just a delicious aroma, the smell of a well-cooked dinner.
A dinner that had been sitting on the table, waiting for us. A dinner that was not cooked by any of us. This place…this house…it had its hand in everything. I bet nothing went on here that it did not want.
Did that mean what happened in the basement was what it wanted?
When dinner was over, the others helped the children settle in upstairs. I pulled Felice to the side, standing near the stairwell, waiting until we were alone to talk to her. Truth be told, I’d been dying to speak to her ever since that night, but things had been so crazy—all of her attention was now on the children and what we would do with them—I just hadn’t had the chance until now.
Her back leaned against the dark wood paneling on the wall, her tanned head tilting up somewhat. She smiled at me, her full lips curving without hesitation. “Dagen,” she spoke my name softly, a bare whisper that sent a rush of blood somewhere it shouldn’t go. Not right now. But it was impossible to hear her say my name now and not remember the encounter with her and Ian.
That had been…well, frankly one of the most pleasurable moments in my life. Not that I had much to compare to, for I couldn’t recall a day when I did not hear that constant noise.
“How are you doing?” she asked, setting a hand on my arm, stopping the thumping from reaching my head.
Silence. Sweet, beautiful silence. Silence so pure and magnificent, I could truly appreciate the woman standing before me. Her flawless beauty, the way she carried herself, unabashed at the things she’d done. If the men under this roof fought for her, it would be an endless fight. She was perfect in every way; there would be no point in trying to one-up each other and have her to ourselves.
“I’m fine,” I spoke, resisting my urge to grab her waist and pull her closer, to feel her chest pressing against mine with each breath she took.
“Good,” she said. “I know the others are having a rough time, with the children being here.” The others meant Ian, and maybe Koda. Payne was simply annoyed that the children were here—they took away from the time he could spend with her. I was…only confused at their presence.
I shook my head. “I wanted to—” I was seconds from asking how she was, if she was okay, but right then Lucien came down the stairs, undoing the buttons holding together his suit jacket. As his large frame sauntered down the steps, Felice’s hand slid off my arm, and just like that, it was back.
Thump, thump, thump.
“Felice,” Lucien’s scratchy, rough voice practically growled out her name. “Meet me in my office when you’re done with Dagen.” He said nothing else, turning to head there.
Felice and I watched him go, and I was too lost in that noise to feel a pang of anything in my chest. Of course I didn’t want her to go, didn’t want this moment to end—not to mention that I wanted to have her hand anywhere on my body, relieving me of my anxieties—but I could say nothing, do nothing. Not when it came to Lucien and his need for her.
Even if he just wanted her in there to talk, I couldn’t get between them. Lucien was probably the most gentlemanly out of all of us, but when he snapped, he snapped hard. I knew it was only a matter of time until something happened. Until the beast emerged.
Felice was slow to turn her amber eyes back at me, expectant. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
There was a lot I could’ve said in that moment. A lot I wanted to say. Alas, I could do nothing but hear that sound, so I simply took a step away from her as I shook my head. “Nothing. I…I’ll talk to you later.”
Felice appeared unsure, but I didn’t linger. I left her, heading up the stairs and to my room. I didn’t close the door, leaving it open as I walked to my bed and sat on the edge of it, a great sigh leaving me.
I was sure Felice was fine. She was up and walking around without a problem. This worry was all in my head, rooted in my stupid brain that didn’t know when to shut off.
But what if she wasn’t okay? What if…
No. No, I wouldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t let myself think back to what I did. I couldn’t.
Shit.
The world of night fell outside, and it was a long while before I heard footsteps—along with the beating sound. I was measured in looking up, finding that it was Ian. He had a bottle in his hands, his shirt unbuttoned all the way to reveal his lean, flat chest.
“This,” he declared, “this whole fucking thing, is bullshit of the highest degree.” Ian then took a swig from the bottle before stumbling to my bed and collapsing on top of it. The bastard nearly tipped the bottle on me, so I took it from his hand. A strong aroma greeted my nose, and I winced.
Whatever this stuff was, it was strong.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, recoiling as I brought the bottle to my mouth. Drinking never alleviated my problems, but recently I’d acquired another huge one, one so large I wasn’t certain I could handle it being added onto everything else that constantly worried me.
The stuff smelled horrible, and it tasted awful going down, too.
Ian rolled onto his back beside me, his chest completely bare. I did my best not to look at him, for again, the last thing I needed to be reminded of right now was that time in Felice’s room. “What the fuck do you have to worry about? Your little you is not dying.” I handed him the bottle, and he took it, propping himself up to take another sip.
“Neither is yours,” I told him. “If he was dying, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe, or maybe he’s just my reminder that if I ever do get out of here, I won’t have much time.”
Thump, thump, thump.
I knew Ian’s fear, though it wasn’t until I saw the junior Ian that I knew exactly what those fears stemmed from. Somehow, this place had given him life. He spent that life chasing pleasure in all forms, and it wasn’t too far-fetched to say that Grimmstead might decide to take that life back. Every single day he probably wondered if it would be his last.
It wasn’t quite fair, how the house had given him life and yet I was stuck in an endless loop of that sound.
“Do you really think we’ll ever get out of here?” I asked, using my peripherals to look at him. Ian sat less than a foot away from me on the bed. He was, in all honesty, the one I was closest with in the house, and that was before the whole encounter with Felice. Payne and Koda were…both too extreme for
me.
Ian was the right amount of messed up for me, I guess.
“I don’t know” was what Ian chose to say.
I knew I would never not hear that noise, not unless I somehow left Grimmstead. It just wasn’t possible, though. I was sure at one point, most everyone here had tried. There’d been other people who’d lived under this roof, but they faded in and out of existence, and then it was like they were never here.
If that happened with Felice…
“A part of me wants to, even knowing what might happen,” Ian said. “But that’s fucked up, isn’t it? Wanting to leave, even if I might not make it out there. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great company, but…”
“But you want more,” I finished for him. “You want a life.” A life was not something anyone could truly get under this roof. Sure, with Felice here, life was more bearable, but it wasn’t a life. You couldn’t truly be free or happy here, even if you were in love.
Love, in a place like this, was perhaps the most dangerous thing around. A weakness like no other…but maybe also a strength.
“It’s not wrong to want that,” Ian whispered, taking another sip before offering me the bottle. “Life is something everyone has, and most people, I think, tend to take it for granted. Here…this isn’t a life, for any of us.”
I took the bottle, sipping out of it again. The liquid fell down my throat, burning on its way down. “No, it’s not,” I agreed with him. Beneath the over-the-top swagger and smooth confidence, Ian was actually not that bad. He and I saw eye to eye on a lot of things. We both longed for something more, and in a perfect world, he and I would get it, with Felice still at our sides.
But this was Grimmstead, and in Grimmstead you never truly got what you wanted.
Not for long.
That’s why I knew Felice wasn’t fine. That’s why I knew this thing, whatever it was, whatever you wanted to call it, was only temporary. The roof would come crashing down over our heads, and we would be helpless to stop it.
Chapter Four – Lucien
I tossed my suit jacket atop my desk as I entered my office. Victor had tried to claim the office as his own—and maybe it was his, a long time ago, but that would not work here. Before, I wasn’t around. Now I was, and I would not let him try to take back the sitting throne of this place.
As much as anyone could rule over a house of haunted souls.
I heaved a giant sigh, leaning on my desk, my eyes staring at the large windows opposite me. Tonight was a cloudy night, the clouds blocking the moon’s glow. It was near pitch-black in the office, and I sluggishly went to turn on the lamp on the corner of my desk, illuminating the cluttered space.
Victor played a game. He had to. He was not back to simply make nice with me. No, he had to be here to cause havoc.
I didn’t trust him, which was odd, considering it was his blood that had made me, given me form. Here, in Grimmstead, blood was currency. Blood was everything. With it, the possibilities were endless. He created me to be a guardian when he himself began to fade, this place pulling him back into the bottomless pit of despair.
No, he had to be here for some nefarious purpose. He did claim he did not bring the children along with him, and maybe that was true. Maybe that was this house, toying with him as it toyed with all of us. If we managed to rid ourselves of the kids, what would be next? Would he try to stuff us into the crevice he crawled out from, try to claim Felice as his and his alone?
Oh, fuck no. I would not allow anything of the sort.
The sound of the office door closing behind me dragged me back into reality, and I straightened my back, turning to face Felice. She and I were finally alone, after what felt like forever. Who knew being alone would be so difficult to do when there were children running around, breaking things and generally getting into trouble? And that said nothing about Victor…I was fairly sure Victor would do anything to not see me with Felice.
If he wanted to see her, he could go to the room and see her likeness. The real Felice was mine. I had to make sure she knew that.
“Things are crazy out there,” Felice started, stepping closer to me. The dark grey dress hugged the curves on her body perfectly, and it took every ounce of strength in me to not rush to her, slam her against the wall, and take her here.
She truly did drive me crazy. Just as crazy as the rest of them. But that was to be expected, I supposed. I’d been loving this one a long time, years and years before she ever stepped foot here.
“You and I need to talk,” I said, watching as her full lips turned downward.
“Don’t tell me this is about Victor.”
“Of course it’s about Victor,” I hissed out his name. I hated speaking it. “He is not to be trusted.”
Felice folded her arms over her chest. “Why is everyone so adamant about not trusting Victor? Why are you so sure he’s up to no good? Maybe he’s just trying to do what everyone else here is—survive.”
“He is not a good man,” I said, rage rising within me. How could she look at Victor and think he was? How could Victor be that blinding to her? I didn’t understand it, but even before Victor started walking around again, she’d leaped to his defense.
She and Victor clearly had some kind of connection, and I hated it. I hated it with my entire being.
I would make her forget all about him.
“I never said he was,” Felice spoke, bold in the face of me. “None of you are good men, in case you’re curious. None of us have any right to judge him—” She stopped when I moved closer to her, and I watched her throat swallow.
Oh, I knew I could radiate intimidation—and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt Felice—but this had to stop. No more defending Victor. No more. She would not be on his side; she would be on mine.
“I will not have you speaking in his defense,” I told her, flexing my hands.
Though she was clearly uneasy at my nearness, she managed to be defiant and bold all the same: “You are not my boss.”
I cocked a brow. “Aren’t I? Aren’t I the headmaster to this academy?”
“Technically I work for whoever sent that letter, and based on your surprise at my arrival, I don’t think that’s you.”
She wasn’t wrong there. I never sent that letter. This place did. This place could affect the world outside just as easily as it could morph itself into something new. Her feistiness drove me mad, though.
The others knew to be fearful of my punishments. They knew to be on their best behavior around me. Felice was lucky I loved her, so I would never hurt her like I would the others. Still…perhaps I could learn to punish her in other ways, ways that didn’t involve pain.
Pain was very close to pleasure, after all.
I closed the distance between us, swiping a finger along her jawline. The hands she had folded over her chest fell to her sides, and her breath caught in her throat. Her skin was smooth and cool. “I think you need a lesson, Felice.”
She tried to act confident, but when she spoke, she sounded anything but, “I’m not a student.”
My lips curled into a small smile. The finger I’d drawn along her jaw fell to her neck, trailing down it before moving her hair off her shoulders and to her back. “With me, you are.” I moved away from her, even though it was the hardest thing I’d had to do in a while, leaning my backside on my desk. Now, it was my turn to cross my arms, staring at her all the while. “Take off your dress.” An order, a command. One she would follow.
Felice stood, rooted in place. Her eyes widened somewhat at my order, and she made no moves to immediately do so.
My cock twitched in my pants. It never took long for me to become wholly aroused when she was in the picture—and now that I had her, the real her, my body was in overdrive. No amount of time with her was enough.
“I said,” I repeated, my voice rough and low, “take off your dress.”
“But the kids,” she stuttered.
“Are in their rooms upstairs,” I told her. I’d assigned
Payne up there, since he’d told me he never slept anymore, just to be certain those kids didn’t get into any trouble. Koda was keeping an eye on Victor. If there was anyone who could go head to head with Victor—beside me—it would be Bram.
I just hoped, if that happened, I would actually be in my own mind enough to realize the switch and not get caught off-guard and stabbed again.
“Take off your dress,” I said for the third time, my voice hardening.
Felice’s amber eyes studied me, starting at my feet, slowly traveling up my body until they reached my stern face. She noted the growing bulge in my pants, her cheeks reddening. The smart girl said nothing else as she stepped forward, between the two leather chairs, her arm reaching behind her.
I watched, hardly blinking, as she fumbled with the zipper behind her back, eventually getting ahold of it, and pulled it down, loosening the fabric clinging to her chest. Once the zipper was fully down, she slipped her arms out of it, and it fell to a heap around her feet. A set of lacy undergarments clung to her body still, and I fought the carnal urge to take her.
She was, quite honestly, the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. It was impossible to stare at her semi-naked form and not feel a rush of desire overtake me.
“The boots,” I said.
Felice knew better than to argue with me now. She bent to unzip her boots one by one until she could step out of them, and then she peeled off her socks, her toes sinking into the plush carpet below.
“Come here.”
She inched toward me, but I didn’t get up off my desk. I made her stand in front of me, my eyes roaming over every part of her. How the curve of the lacy black bra was smooth along her breasts, how well-kept she was beneath the small triangle of fabric between her legs. She truly was magnificent.
Felice swallowed again, and I knew she wanted me to touch her. To tear those bits of clothing off her body and shower her with the heated passion I felt inside. To let my hands and my mouth roam along every inch of her body and cause her to cry out in pleasure.
Grimmstead Academy: Defiant Rebellion Page 3
