Little Doll: Queens of Chaos 1

by L. J. Findlay

  “We went round there a few years back for Halloween, it was so creepy,” I said, shivering at the memory.

  Ludo stared back at me impenetrably, his gaze conveying a thousand things I didn’t want to know that he had done. “You think that’s creepy… the tunnels, le grande reseau sud, is a lawless place. Illegal to access but not impenetrable. You don’t want to know who you might bump into down there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course Noelle felt the need to go down there.”

  “She’s so twisted, swear she creams at the thought of death,” Gemma added, causing Bastien to choke on his drink.

  “What the fuck did you say, mon amour?” he asked, staring at her in horror.

  I giggled, of course he didn’t think that sweet Gem would come out with something like that. She just shrugged. “Honestly, it excites her. She probably heard about the bones and was determined to find them and when she’s determined…”

  “…there’s no stopping her.” I finished before continuing contemplatively. “That’s probably why she was so excited to go to that funeral.”

  “What now?” Ludo asked, looking thoroughly confused.

  “Oh some Hinge date where the guy asked her to continue it at some relative’s funeral. She probably thought it was romantic,” I replied, casually.

  Ludo choked on his drink. “Fuck. That’s insane.”

  “Like you haven’t seen some insane stuff,” Blaise replied coolly. “Probably why Damien insisted on chasing after her. He’s a sick fucker too.”

  “Honestly, it defeats me why we stick around with you, my dear de Vere,” Bastien commented. Blaise merely arched an eyebrow back at him. “We feel under-appreciated, starved of love and affection…” I giggled, interrupting his grousing, and he stared at me, wounded. “You hurt me, Xanthe, what have I ever done to you? Just because you don’t seem to mind Blaise’s bastard ways…”

  “…he’s fine,” I interrupted. “We’re working on it.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how I had taken his control. “Aren’t we?”

  He scowled at me and didn’t deign to respond. Bastien just cackled away.

  I tuned him out as I had looked up and saw Noelle approaching. Thank fuck for that, I thought in relief. She was definitely a bit grubbier; there were dark stains on her tight white top but she was intact. Jumping up, I vaulted over Blaise and hugged her tightly. Gemma noticed us and joined our embrace, giggling madly. We sank to the floor, relieved to be reunited.

  “Who did you pick up, Bastien?” Ludo asked in wonderment at our hysteria.

  I ignored him, leaning back to look at Noelle. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

  Her emerald eyes danced madly back, her pupils blown wide. “The best fucking adventure I’ve ever been on! Honestly girls it’s mad that you didn’t come with.”

  I felt a sting of resentment. “I mean, you could have asked…”

  Sensing my hurt, Noelle stroked my face. “I didn’t want to raise the attention of our guard-dogs, and it’s like you said, it’s too morbid for you. It was a once in a lifetime experience.”

  Mollified slightly, I smiled back. “I guess you’re right. Don’t do it again though, please.”

  Noelle tutted at me, flipping her hair back. “You’re as bad as Gem…”

  “Hey! We just want you to be okay,” Gemma interrupted.

  Noelle gazed at us both, her expression softening. “I know girls, love you both.” We kissed her back and squeezed her before returning to the booth. “Now, who wants to look at pictures before we go back for a dance?”

  “Obviously! Also desperate for a dance,” I glanced at Noelle’s phone.

  3.30 a.m.

  “It’s getting late and I feel that we need to shake off the intensity,” I laughed.

  The girls cheered their assent and we crowded in to finish the wine and look at the photos. I could see why it appealed to Noelle. There was something haunted about the tunnels. The derelict, starved appearance spoke of previous clandestine encounters, intrepid explorers leaving their mark in bright graffiti standing loud against the stone. The dark corridors twisted and turned like some labyrinthine serpent, holding secrets only the bravest could uncover. And then there was the odd pile of bones… not as much as the main catacombs but enough to speak of humanity’s inevitable mortality. Of previous lives. Of the fragility of existence. No wonder Noelle was so over-excited.

  I could see Damien watching us, his face poker straight. I wondered if there was anything between him and Noelle. He clearly was drawn to the tunnels in a similar way. I wondered what his fascination was sparked by. He was clearly the watcher of the group. The one that let nothing pass him by. His involvement in Noelle’s rescue only further agitated the flurry of questions I had.

  We finished up looking at the pictures and headed back inside to lose ourselves in the thumping music. All too soon it was over and the guys guided us out of the club to waiting taxis as the sun was beginning to rise in the distance.

  Xanthe

  I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming in through the window, snuggled up to a hard chest. I shielded my eyes as I looked around the room. It was grand with a four-poster bed, in which I was currently lying, and long sage green curtains draped next to the windows doing little to hide the glare of the sun. Useless.

  The room also did no favours in reminding me of where I was… I knew I had broken up with Xander yesterday but the rest was just a hedonistic blur. I squinted at the chest I was lying on, registering that I was well and truly pinned beneath his limbs. I racked my brains as a flood of memories surged forth like a tidal wave followed by the ‘oh shit’ of destruction. The sick realisation of all the choices we made when fucked. The awful accountability of being sober.

  Paris. That’s where I was. Blaise was the boy pinning me down to this bed.

  Oh fuck.

  I scrambled out of Blaise’s grip to search for my phone, to assess the damage, uncaring of whether my actions woke him. I only had 5% battery and the time read 11 am, early for a 6 a.m bedtime, I thought, but I was grateful for feeling surprisingly okay after the excesses of last night. Small mercies I supposed.

  My phone was filled with messages and my heart stuttered in panic. I ignored the multiple messages and calls from Xander, focusing on the damage caused by Instagram. I glanced through my story and saw the classic trail of debauchery starting with a fairly civilised snap of my girls looking glam before the night started, and ending with us walking home by the Seine with the sun rising and casting a peachy, romantic filter over the scene. Noelle’s Instagram on the other hand was an utter shitstorm. As expected. It was easily five minutes long and also featured the tunnels. I wondered if she would get in trouble for that.

  Turning back to my messages, I opened Xander’s first because of course I would. Instead of being sensible and heeding the advice of my girls I did not block his number...

  * * *

  7 p.m - X: How’s your night going Xan? X

  * * *

  7.30 p.m - X: You not replying to me? Guess I did say I’d give you this night but what can I say? I’m impatient and I need you to get over this tantrum. Spoke to your parents as well and they’re not all too pleased X

  * * *

  9 p.m - X: Fuck this and fuck you Xan! I’m tired of your games and if you sleep with any of those boys in Noelle’s story or do whatever that bitch is insinuating I will make you watch as I slit his throat – meus ad fucking infinitum babe X

  * * *

  Jesus. I thought, worriedly. It seemed like he’d lost his mind and I was scared to scroll further, but again the foolish side of me won out.

  * * *

  12.17 a.m - X: Paris?! What the fuck Xan? I’m calling your parents now - we will get through this, I promise, you’re clearly going thru a mental breakdown or something?? The job you’re doing must be having more of an impact than I thought. But reality check, every fucking grad hates their job, grow the fuck up X

  * * *


  2.30 a.m - X: Fine if you want to be a little whore then so be it. Don’t expect me to bail you out when you inevitably get stranded in Paris.

  * * *

  Wow. He was clearly not holding back, desperate humour lacing my thoughts, trying to dissipate the cold stone of dread coiling in my stomach. I knew he would stop at nothing to get me back. He was rich as sin and I knew that he would prefer it if I didn’t work so he could keep me in his doll’s house. This reminder was paired with how important it was to make our families happy. How we were destined to be together as we had grown up together.

  I checked my battery. 2%. I had to shoot off a quick message to my parents and older brother, Zac, and be done with it as I couldn’t see a charger. Time to face the music and read their messages. Checking, I noticed there was only one, which caused my stress to peak.

  * * *

  12.24 a.m - Family Whatsapp: We’ll talk about this in the morning. Make no mistake – you’ve really messed up this time.

  * * *

  Shit. Dread coiled heavily in my belly and I bit back nausea. My family meant the world to me and I treated their opinion like law. Noelle said I should live a little but I always just found it was easier to toe the line. I had become a pro at keeping my partying life with my friends separate from my family although Noelle was such a high-risk security leak. Anyway, arguments didn’t make for a simple life. Messages like this only made me freak out.

  * * *

  11.20 a.m - Xanthe: Chill. Last night might have got a bit out of hand but I promise I’m fine. Gemma and Noelle are here with me and we’ll be back in London before you know it. Love you xx

  * * *

  My screen went black and I let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Shit. Could Noelle get us out of this mess? What if the boys left us? I was so blasé about Blaise last night but that was fucked-up Xanthe who was not known for having the best judgement… he was a dickhead for most of the night, what if he just upped and left? What if this was all some elaborate prank? Bastien seemed to care about Gem… he wouldn’t do that… would he? As the questions raced around my head, my breathing sped up. Quicker and quicker, until I was only drawing in shallow panicky breaths. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Shut the fuck up.” A gravelly demand snapped me out of my panic and I glanced across at Blaise, still clearly asleep.

  “I wasn’t speaking…” I tried to laugh but it came out as a pathetic wheeze.

  In a sinuous movement, Blaise had me secured flush against his chest, his arms banded across my back, pinning me with his gaze. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing…”

  He just scowled at me. “Xanthe. Your thoughts woke me up. In my opinion, that means that I deserve an explanation.” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “What if you leave us?” I choked out.

  “Fuck’s sake. We will not leave you. Do you think Delacourt will let Gemma out of his sight? Or Damien’s fucked up thing with Noelle? I’d be more worried about them going down tunnels illegally than us leaving you.” It didn’t appease me. He didn’t mention us. I knew that made me sound like a whiny brat but that was the reality of my insecurity. It clearly was emblazoned across my face in neon letters because Blaise sighed and continued. “Look, I don’t know what this is between us, other than a bad idea. Trust me enough to enjoy this weekend. You look at me like I’m the answer to life but in reality I’m the grim reaper. I’m the one you should be running from. The big bad wolf to your little red riding hood.” I tried to protest but he placed a finger over my lips. “Listen. No matter how hard I try to push you away you only come closer.” His eyes darkened to near black, something I was learning was a tell-tale sign of his desire, and his voice went husky. Clearly having an internal debate with himself over what to say next, Blaise scrunched his eyes closed tight, before throwing them open and staring at me with fire in his eyes. “Fuck it. It’s only one weekend.”

  In a fluid movement, he rolled me onto my back and I squirmed against the sheets, wanting Blaise. Everywhere he touched me lit up into sparks of desire, setting my skin and my desire for him alight. “At any point, let me know if you’re not okay with this,” I heard him mutter.

  The sheer fact he asked me made me choke a little but I masked it with humour, my go-to deflection technique, and smiled as I said. “I thought you were going to scare me?”

  “I like my mistakes, my victims, to be compliant. I, unlike some sick fucks, don’t see force, or a lack of consent, as a turn on.” I shivered at the anger coursing through his tone.

  Any further introspection about this was derailed when I felt him press a soft kiss to my lips before they swiftly left to press a kiss to my centre between my legs. I moaned, arousal quickly making me slick, filling the room with the heady scent of desire.

  Then I felt a sharp sting of pain. “Blaise! What the fuck?” I demanded, opening my eyes and propping myself up, seeing his dark head buried between my thighs.

  “Shhhh. Close your eyes or I’ll stop,” came the muffled response as I felt his tongue lap the sting away, dancing around my clit, causing my eyes to roll back in pleasure. I closed my eyes and lay back. “I should only keep you for the weekend but there’s nothing more that I want to do than to lock you in a gilded cage.” His tongue lapped the tops of my thighs again before he murmured like a man possessed. “Blood in. Blood out.”

  I felt another sharp sting followed by the lap of his tongue brushing it away, circling my clit, driving me into oblivion. I moaned, grinding my pussy against his face, desperate for release. I only grew shamelessly louder when I felt him move his head away, clamping my thighs tighter to keep him there… I was so fucking close. The pain only heightened the orgasm so cruelly denied to me. “Blaise…”

  “Shhhh, needy girl.” He pressed a kiss to my mouth, opening my lips and forcing his tongue in. I tasted the acrid tang of blood and instantly recoiled but he only pressed further, making me taste myself, my desire, my blood.

  He positioned himself at my, making me clench in anticipation and tilt myself up to grant him further access. He hesitated briefly, drawing out a moan before he entered me with one swift thrust, ravaging my body, stealing my breath. I moaned impossibly louder as he moved in and out, faster and faster. His tongue danced fiercely with mine, stealing my moans with his kisses, biting my tongue so hard I swore I bled again. He feasted on my wantonness, my complete and utter submission to him. I moved my hands up and down and his body, encouraging him to go harder, harder. He didn’t even pause to take both hands and pin them above my head, forcing my body to stretch and arch out to him, allowing him to hit places I never thought could be hit.

  “Come for me, Xanthe,” he ordered. Asserting his dominance and yet, just like that, I tumbled over the edge. I fell so hard, pleasure exploding in every cell of my body, pulling Blaise over the edge with me. As I caught my breath, I felt the soft thickness of his hair brushing against my cheek and his cum sliding down my leg. I felt jellified. Ruined by his touch as I lay there gasping for recovery.

  He rolled off me and pulled me into his side, stroking my hair. “Fuck, Blaise…” I breathed out. “You’ve broken me.”

  The fucker outright laughed. I rolled over to face him, my breath catching when I saw his lips tinted dark. “Fuck…” I leaned over to lick them, cringing at the acrid taste, before pulling back to glare at him. “You didn’t?” he laughed again and I swatted at him. “Seriously? I don’t even think I can move you fucked me so hard but you had to make me bleed… where?” I demanded, propping myself up and parting my legs. A blade lay to the side, next to two accusatory red lines, smudged with blood. Shit. What the fuck had I got myself into? I think it turned me on… the sheer brazenness of the act… the savagery was just so Blaise but still, who even did that? I knew he had done something when he kissed me and when I felt the sting of the cut, but that wasn’t even something I could envisage in my wildest dreams.

  He lowered me back into his embrace and stroked my hair before musing cryp
tically. “A union in all senses of the word. Blood in. Blood out.” He pinched my cheeks between his slender fingers, forcing me to look him in the eye, concern etched over his beautiful features. “Did you not like that?”

  “I did…” I laughed nervously, “I don’t even know why, but I did. You really did fuck me senseless.” I planted a reassuring kiss to his lips, allowing him access, savouring the moment of contentment and trying to drown his curious statement, the secrets that were always swirling between us. I just wanted to lie in a post-coital glow of contentment that was like a warm summer’s day. Fleeting but redolent of pleasure.

  Blaise pulled away and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck for that.”

  We lay together, catching our breaths, for a moment longer.

  “So where are we now?”

  “Delacourt’s apartment, septieme arrondissement.”

  “Of course he has his own apartment.” I laughed under my breath. Bastien’s faint French accent betrayed his ancestry and it was of little surprise that his family had a flat in Paris. Blaise’s grip tightened around me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know…there’s just so much unknown about you guys. Like this unending stream of wealth and surprises…” I tailed off, not wanting to be crass and point out that they were obscenely loaded.

  He just chuckled. “Speak for yourself. You are enigma wrapped up in one delectable package.”

  Just as I was about to ask him why, we were interrupted. “Xantheeeeeeee.” The high pitch squeal made it sound as though the end of my name lasted for longer than it should have, promptly followed by the door slamming open to reveal Noelle who was grinning madly.

  “Why? Why, Noelle?” I moaned, burrowing into Blaise. “Go away, babe.”