Grimmstead Academy: Defiant Rebellion

by Candace Wondrak

  Something that, I hated admitting, wouldn’t have registered if I didn’t have Bram inside me.

  Footprints in the dirt. Felice’s footprints, judging by the shape and size.

  She was here, just recently, Bram went on. Maybe she heard your clumsy steps and decided to bolt again. Give me the reins, Koda. I can catch her.

  “And why should I believe you won’t hurt her once you do catch her?”

  I make no promises of not hurting her, but…I won’t kill her. That’s as much as you’ll get from me, you fucking goodie-goodie.

  “No,” I said. I would not let Bram take control. To even ponder handing it over on a silver platter was foolish; I knew better by now, after dealing with him for so long. He had a long joyride before, but now it was my turn.

  Felice said she’d help us get a schedule, Bram reminded me. Unless she lied to me, and you know how I hate liars.

  I steadily ignored Bram as I walked back into the house. I went around the other side, to the front door. The sky above me grew even darker, the grey clouds turning almost black, an omen if I ever saw one.

  After heading inside, I slowed to a halt when I saw Victor turning to head up the steps in a hurry, as if chasing after someone. Felice? I was about to follow, but a hand was set on my shoulder, causing me to jerk back.

  Fucking hell, Bram hissed in my head when I turned to view who it was. What the fuck is wrong with this one? Is he that bothered by the children?

  Ian stood, one hand on my shoulder and the other holding onto a glass of whiskey. Another, if the smell of his breath meant anything; he’d downed quite a lot already, and the day had just begun. “If you’re looking for Felice,” he said, slurring his words a bit, “she’s in the kitchen. She looked fucking hysterical. I offered to fuck her, but I don’t think she heard me.” He took a sip from his glass. “If she had, surely she would’ve taken me up on the offer—”

  How about this, if you let me kill this one, I’ll give control right back and won’t bother you for a while, Bram suggested to me. Look at him. He’s killing himself slowly as it is, anyways. I’d be doing him a favor. Maybe carve up his face, make him a little less pretty…

  “Why don’t you let me handle Felice?” I said, moving him towards the stairs. “You need to lie down, I think.”

  Ian pushed me off, finally releasing his hold on my shoulder to trip up the stairs. Yes, the man actually stumbled on his way up, like the drunkard he was. He was so wrapped up in his own problems, he didn’t see that something was happening with Felice.

  I had no idea what that something was, but I needed to find her. To help her. To see if I could do anything to alleviate whatever it was that was bothering her.

  I loved her.

  Oh, fuck me, Bram whined in my head. You love her? Well, la-di-fucking-da. Let’s pull the curtain and tell the audience the play is over. He chuckled. I didn’t know this was a tragedy.

  My feet had started dragging me through the dining hall, to the kitchen door, but I froze the moment Bram said that. “A tragedy?” I echoed in a bare whisper, feeling my heart beating in my chest. Why would he say that?

  Yeah, you know. We’ve read some, I think. Bram paused, sounding oddly thoughtful as he sought to explain his choice of words. The ones where you don’t know who to root for, where everyone does awful things and, in the end, no one is happy? Those ones.

  “Why would this be a tragedy?”

  Come on. You know what goes on here, seen what all of us are capable of, even you. Especially me. For us, for this place—there is no happy ending. There will be nothing but despair for us, Koda. To believe otherwise is fucking foolish.

  No. I couldn’t go on believing that. Bram could, but I wouldn’t. I needed, for my sanity, to believe there was a light at the end of this ever long, massive tunnel of darkness. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I needed a happy ending for us all, but at least one for Felice.

  She didn’t deserve this, even if she wasn’t as totally innocent as she appeared.

  I shook off Bram’s words, moving into the kitchen. My heart nearly stopped at what I saw: Felice, holding onto a thick, shiny knife. She must’ve just pulled it out of the knife block on the back counter, practically miles between us.

  “Felice,” I called out, worry coursing through me when our eyes locked. Her amber gaze was wrought with frenzy, a look I’d never seen on her face before. It looked almost like she’d snapped.

  “Leave me alone,” she hissed, turning the knife toward me. Even though a countertop sat between us, I still couldn’t believe it. “I need to be alone, Koda. Go away.” Her voice shook with each word spoken.

  Give me control, Bram said. If you don’t, things will escalate.

  No, I told him. You’ll turn that knife on her. To Felice, I said, “What’s going on? Put the knife down.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Felice shouted—she actually shouted—at me. Fury and anger, laced with the faintest traces of denial and disappointment. So much emotion on her face, so much more emotion than I’d ever seen. “None of it matters, Koda, so just leave me alone!”

  She was mad, upset, and I had no idea why.

  I slowly stepped around the counter between us, holding my hands up in a helpless, surrendering gesture. “Felice,” I spoke her name again, pleading.

  Koda, Bram warned.

  Felice kept the knife pointed at me all the while. She really didn’t want me moving any closer to her, and yet inch by inch that’s exactly what I was doing. “Please,” she whispered, no longer shouting, instead becoming so soft her voice broke. “Leave.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, “but not until you give me the knife—”

  “Don’t.” Don’t come closer. Don’t try to reason with her. She could’ve meant a lot of things, but I didn’t listen.

  And then—then it was like a switch flipped in my head, and I was thrown into the back, into the darkness, staring out of eyes that I no longer controlled. Bram had throttled me while I was too busy trying to tame Felice, trying to calm her down; he’d seen a moment of weakness and leaped on it like the true hunter he was.

  Son of a bitch.

  Bram! I called out to him, but he was a master at ignoring me, moving fluidly, far too fast for Felice to react, too quickly for her to avoid him, to dodge him. She was helpless, even with the knife.

  Bram bum-rushed her, grabbing the wrist that held onto the knife and twisting it away from him, while simultaneously spinning her and pinning her to his chest. With her back against him, he wrapped his free arm around her, holding onto her tightly as his fingers dug into the wrist holding the knife.

  “Only brandish a weapon if you’re going to use it, lamb,” Bram muttered against her head, his chest breathing hard, ragged.

  “I was,” she responded, struggling to break free. Soon enough she realized it was pointless, she would never escape Bram’s hold, so she stopped. “If you would’ve just let me be.”

  Bram’s chest rose and fell with vicious laughter. “And what were you going to do, hmm?” His fingers dug so hard into her wrist that she was forced to loosen her hold on the knife’s handle, which he then immediately snaked out of her grip completely.

  Don’t you dare hurt her, I warned. The last thing I wanted was to be locked up in that basement again, let alone watch in the background as Bram carved into the woman I loved more than life itself.

  Felice was quiet for a long time, and I could feel Bram’s mind turning with the possibilities. However, I didn’t think either of us expected to hear what she said next: “Me. I was going to use it on me.”

  Even Bram was shocked at that. He started to bring the knife to her face, lean it flat against her cheek as he’d done in her room all that time ago, taking pleasure in the titillation. He was slow in asking, “Why?”

  “How can I bleed if I’m dead?”

  To me, Bram thought, What the fuck is she going on about?

  I wish I knew, I told him. Give me back control; you’re no good at comfort. Sh
e clearly needs—

  I know exactly what she needs, he mused. To Felice, he said, “What makes you think you’re dead, little lamb?”

  “I saw it.” She leaned her head back on his chest, trembling as she exhaled. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, to turn her so that her chest was on mine, block out the entire world for her. “Me,” she added. “I saw me.” A tear streamed down her face. “I’m dead.”

  Bram clearly did not know what to do with a crying woman, for he was motionless for a while. He was so caught off-guard that he lowered the knife away from her face; the bastard even loosened his hold on her.

  I knew Bram like I knew myself. He wanted to hear her wails of pain, wanted to see the look of agony in her eyes—not sorrow. Not sadness. A true melancholy that radiated from Felice was not something he knew how to deal with. Hell, neither did I, but I knew I’d do a better job than he currently was.

  She was dead? What on earth was she talking about? Did this house get to her while none of us were looking?

  A cruel trick to play. In fact, I didn’t think there was anything worse. I didn’t need to know the details to know it was true; Felice wouldn’t be acting like this if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain of what she’d seen. If Felice was dead, it meant she’d be here with us forever, and I wasn’t selfish enough to be happy about that.

  “You know,” Bram spoke, moving her around so that he could pin her against the nearest countertop, her body now turned toward his, her teary face tilted up and staring at him through watery eyes. “If you want someone to cut you, you should’ve come to me. I’d be more than happy to cut that pretty skin of yours.”

  Bram, I spoke to him, cool it. Now isn’t the time for you to make comments like that. She’s obviously upset. She needs warmth, not your psychotic ways.

  Her mouth formed a bitter smile, though I knew the last thing she felt was thrilled at Bram’s words. She did not struggle to break out of her position, did not fight against the way Bram had her pinned to the counter behind her. Instead, Felice merely whispered, “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it does. I’m not the key to anything. I’m just like you now, forever trapped in this place.”

  Still holding onto the knife, Bram moved and set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He dragged the sharp edge of the knife along her neck, too light to make a mark or cut her, but the motion was enough to cause a twitch of his cock. Our cock.

  I really hated that Bram got so turned on by things like that.

  “It’s not so bad here,” Bram replied, now moving the knife along her collarbone, just above the dress’s neckline. He’d cracked open his eyes, peeking to watch that shiny steel make its way along her. “You find ways to entertain yourself.”

  “Or you go mad,” Felice muttered, fresh tears falling down her face. Truly, she’d never seemed so broken before, and I wondered if she’d found herself in that basement, somehow. If this house had shown her the truth.

  And if that was the case, how long had she been gone, and none of us were the wiser? We’d failed her, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. Each and every one of us should have done better to keep her safe, to keep this house’s influence away from her. If she was dead, all hope was lost. She was not our key to getting out of here.

  Bram’s chest rumbled, and their eyes locked. “Are you calling me mad, lamb?”

  Felice did not tremble because she was afraid of him; she shook because she had nothing left to lose now. Why fear Bram when death had already grabbed her by the throat? “We’re all mad here, I think,” she whispered, her voice faint.

  If that wasn’t the truth, I didn’t know what was.

  Bram, I begged, please let me talk to her.

  I knew the last thing Bram wanted was to give me control, but I heard him grumble into my mind and—to my absolute and utter shock—the man actually stepped aside and let me take the helm. I came into my body quickly, feeling Felice’s lithe form pressed against mine, my palm grasping the knife’s handle so hard it’d started to sweat.

  Moving the knife off of her chest, I set it on the counter behind her as I loosened the pressure between us. Since I was me and not Bram, hopefully the growing erection in my pants would cease and desist. Now was not the time for that.

  Well, there was never a time for getting off on another’s pain.

  You are so fucking wrong on that, Bram hissed.

  I ignored him pointedly, reaching for Felice’s face and cupping both cheeks in my hands. My thumbs swiped at her tears, and I whispered, “I’m sorry. Bram just…” Popped out didn’t feel quite right.

  Felice shook her head, fresh tears spilling. I wiped them away, too.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly, my heart aching in my chest as I willed for a way to make her feel better. To undo whatever sick chaos had been done.

  “My body was in the basement,” she told me, closing her eyes. I hoped she wasn’t remembering it, but I knew she probably was. Not a good thing to think about. “Hidden behind a new wall. I didn’t…I never thought I could be…” Felice couldn’t figure out what to say. “How could I be dead and still bleed? I’ve fed Payne ever since he woke up—I don’t—”

  I watched as she stopped tripping over her words, as something in her head dawned on her.

  “Dagen. He tried talking to me, but I always pushed him off. I didn’t think it was anything that important. I didn’t…I was too wrapped up in the kids and Victor to stop and listen. Dagen knew this whole time.”

  I couldn’t say what Dagen knew and what he did not, but I could not bear to watch Felice be so sad. “Tell me what I can do for you, Felice,” I whispered, dropping my hands from her face, giving her space. “Tell me how I can make you feel better.” Truthfully, I’d do anything to make this girl feel better.

  I know how to make her feel better, Bram said.

  Seconds from telling him to shut up in my head, I stopped the moment Felice took a tiny step closer to me, swiping at her face. Her eyes were a bit puffy from the tears, but she still looked just as jaw-droppingly beautiful as ever. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders in layers, the color in her amber eyes crystal clear in spite of the red around them. Not a mark on her skin anywhere, no blemishes and no scars.

  She literally was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.

  Granted, I couldn’t really recall seeing another woman lately, but still. The statement could stand on its own; I meant it.

  When Felice said what she said next, I heard Bram hum in the back of my head, “Make me forget.”

  Make her forget? I wasn’t quite sure how I could make her forget the fact she was dead—

  She means fuck her, Bram spoke, the annoyance plain in his tone. She means she wants you to tear those clothes off her body and fuck her so hard she’ll forget everything else. A pause before he added, You know what? Why don’t I take the reins here? I’m sure I could give her what she wants better than you could. You’re a bumbling idiot—all offense meant.

  I am not a— No. I wasn’t going to argue with Bram. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in my own head; now was the time to help Felice however I could, though I really didn’t think that’s what she meant when she said to make her forget.

  “Tell me what you want me to do,” I said, my voice dropping to a bare whisper.

  Felice puckered her lips, again taking a step nearer. The kitchen lights were off above us, nothing but stainless steel and cabinets around us, along with a layer or two of dust. “I told you,” she murmured, “make me forget.” She ran a hand down my chest, unhurriedly, taking her time in touching me.

  Okay, I took back what I thought earlier. Maybe she did want what Bram had said.

  “I don’t think you’re in your right mind,” I told her, hoping to calm her down, knock her off the crazy horse she seemed to be stuck riding. “You should rest—” Any other words I might’ve spoken were swept from my lips the moment Felice began unbuttoning my shirt, starting at the topmost one.

  Fuck,
Bram growled out, I need control. Give it to me, you pussy.

  I breathed in sharply as I felt her fingertips brush my chest when she made it halfway down my shirt. No, I told him. You’d only hurt her. She doesn’t need your violence right now. She needs…she needs to be loved, and you are incapable of something like that.

  Once my shirt hung open, once she unbuttoned the last tiny button, she pulled it apart, getting a nice, long view of my chest and abdomen. I was fit, lean in all the ways that counted, but I was no bodybuilder. Next to someone like Lucien, I felt like a twig.

  Shut your wandering mind up. She’s not thinking of anyone else, Bram harrumphed. She’s thinking of you—and maybe of me.

  She touched me again, and this time nothing restricted the feeling of her skin on mine, the way her soft hand traveled along me, roaming across the plane of my chest before she helped me out of my shirt, dropping it to the floor beside us. Felice angled her head up to mine, a questioning look in her eyes.

  Did she want me to take charge? Did she want me to do the rest? I didn’t…damn it, I wasn’t sure if I could, I was so star-struck by her and everything she was. But by all that made me me, I would not give over control to Bram. As difficult as it would be for me, I would do everything I possibly could to make her feel better, to make her forget what she’d seen in that basement.

  I didn’t want to think about it.

  I leaned toward her, wrapping my arms around her lower back and pulling her against me. Our lips met, and I remained in control as I kissed her. My grip on her back was firm, solid, and my mouth on hers was a gentle kind of possessive and hungry. A slow, tentative kiss that she freely gave her all to.

  Of course, I knew even before the kiss why the others had lost themselves so easily in her. She was everything. She was everything each of us under this roof never knew we needed until she strolled through that door. Even if she was trapped here like us, even if she was dead, she could still live. She could still have a life. Death was not an ending in Grimmstead; it was the beginning. Things around here might morph and change, it might toy with our memories, but when something was written in the stars, fate had a way of finding you regardless.