by B C Morgan
“Well, make sure the rest of the Harkwrights know that her virginity is off limits, none of those fuckers are claiming it,” he growls and my stomach flutters in response.
“If you want her so bad, just make her a goddamn number and claim her yourself, you are the Prince after all,” Aeron clearly has no fear and fuck, he’s talking to Emmet. No, no, no this is not good. I can’t be drawing the attention of the prince already, I haven’t done anything.
“She has to prove herself first, besides I’m not even here. I mean it though Aeron, she better still be a virgin when I get back,” a crashing sound fills the air before a door opens and slams closed.
I take a few seconds to steady my breathing before I open the door and walk into the kitchen and find Aeron leaning against the counter, one ankle crossed over the over and a joint hanging from between his lips.
“Right on time, come closer Little Zero, I don’t bite,” he says with a wink and a ripple travels up my spine as I roll my shoulders back and move closer to him. The thick smoke travels down my lungs and I find myself coughing which only makes him laugh before straightening up and moving to open a window.
“If you smoke it all, I won’t be able to make your pot brownies,” I say, as I grab an apron and yet again, I wish I thought to bring my own.
“Keep the apron off,” his voice comes out huskier than usual, and I watch as he takes a long drag from his joint, while his eyes remain fixated on me.
I hang the apron back up before collecting all the ingredients I need, and I can feel his eyes burning into me as I bend over to grab a mixing bowl. His footsteps sound loud as they travel closer before I feel him pressing up against me and something hard presses up against my ass. I swallow hard, I don’t know how I’m supposed to react especially with his hand traveling over my hip and moving around until it's pressing over my stomach.
“Aren’t you going to stand up, because this position is only fun when you’re naked,” he all but growls out and I’m going to lie to myself and say that my panties haven’t got damp at all just by the sound of him. His voice just does something to me, it’s crazy how much it affects me.
I grip the bowl tight as I right myself and my back pushes against his chest, and his chin comes to rest atop my head.
“Tell me Little Zero, if I asked instead of ordered you to fuck me right now, would you?”
I’m glad he can’t see my face otherwise there is no way I would be able to answer his question.
“No I wouldn’t, if the choice is mine then I wouldn’t give it to you in a kitchen or anywhere. You haven’t earned the right to be with me just like I haven’t earned the right to be with you either,” my heart is beating rapidly as his hand travels up my stomach and between my breasts until he’s gripping the zipper between his thumb and forefinger.
He glides it down until it rests on the lower part of my bra before his weight leaves me and he stalks around to take me in.
“I definitely prefer you with fewer clothes on but tell me Little Zero, why the fuck would you wear this to bake in if you don’t want to be fucked hard enough to lose a few brain cells?”
I force myself to meet his gaze as I take in a few deep breaths to steady the nerves he raises in me, and try to forget the fact that my breasts are hanging out of my outfit because of his deft fingers.
“Because I’m not allowed to wear the clothes I’d usually pick without permission,” my pale blues meet his hazel eyes and I almost smile when he scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Fucking politics, fine but this only counts for when you’re doing your nighttime baking,” I have no idea what he’s talking about as he grabs a pad of paper from the side and starts scribbling across it. Before folding it up and walking over to me. “Keep this on you and show it to anyone who may ask why you are dressed in non-sanctioned clothing.”
I feel smaller than usual under the weight of his stare as he grips the cup of my bra and pulls it away from my skin, but he doesn’t steal a peek before slipping the paper inside my cup and then stepping away.
“Let’s get baking,” his tongue slides across his bottom lip and I can’t stop myself from staring at the movement until he grabs my arms, spins me around and directs me over to the bowl.
Guess I’m making some pot brownies, this is going to be a place of so many firsts. I wonder how many of them won’t be regrets when all is said and done.
Aeron is like a big kid, aside from the joint constantly dangling from his dirty as fuck lips and the constant stream of cuss words. He licked the beaters the moment I was done with them and the bowl didn’t even need to be rinsed before I placed it in the dishwasher, he licked the fucker clean.
I shake my head with a smile on my lips as I pull the tray out of the oven and place it on the side.
“Yes, brownies here I come,” he says as he reaches out for them and I don’t even think as I slap his hand away.
I freeze on the spot as my mouth falls open and I look up at him, his look almost mirroring mine before a sly grin forms on his face and he stalks closer, backing me against the counter and trapping me with his arms.
“You’ve got some guts, I don’t know if I should be pissed or turned on,” he runs his nose up my neck before snaking his tongue out along the same trail.
“It was… a reaction,” I say on a gasp as his teeth bite down on my lobe before releasing me and capturing my stare with his own.
“I’ll let you have this because you have made me brownies but… you have to eat one with me,” he’s smiling like the Cheshire Cat and I want to refuse but I don’t think I can.
“I don’t do drugs,” I say weakly and he bops me on the nose with his finger before saying, “neither do I, I’m a good boy.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that for an instant,” I say without thought and he bites down on his bottom lip as his body moulds against mine and I can feel every last inch of him.
“I won’t make you take one, this time. But I’ll only give you so many free passes, remember that Little Zero,” I nod my head at his words, my own failing me as his length grows harder against my lower stomach and right now, I don’t think I could refuse him anything.
Fuck, how that thought scares me.
8
One Week Ends and So Does a Zero
A week has passed already and I can’t believe how fast it’s gone. I’ve only seen Liam in passing and Millie seems to have caught the eye of a Harkwright. She’s barely in our room now, maybe even less than Carly and man how that bitch hates it. The funny thing is, they are both still a Zero so I have no idea what the men are waiting for. The only ones who haven’t changed are me and Caitlyn. We spend every night in our room, and aside from my night time baking for Aeron I haven’t spent time with any of them so far. They barely even look in my direction, which only makes me wonder more and more, why they even chose me as a stand in.
“Do you fancy checking out the gardens with me today? I really want to go out there but I’m nervous to go on my own,” Caitlyn says as she pushes her lunch around the plate and although I’d much rather read a book or do some baking, I can’t bring myself to say no.
“Sure, why not? Let’s finish our lunch and then we can head over,” I reply with a smile, only a little forced and by her returning one, I know I made the right choice.
We finish up in record time and head out of the mess hall, walking down the long corridors with mosaics for ceilings. Sure, because white paint isn’t good enough for this place.
We make it to the foyer with the spiraling staircases and come up short when we see the small crowd that has formed. A girl has tears streaming from her eyes and she is full on ugly crying, as she clutches onto one of the Harkwright’s sleeves. I think it’s Simon, and he’s leveling her with a look so hateful it even seeps into my bones.
“Please, I can’t leave. It was a mistake,” she pleads as he pushes her off him and she stumbles before falling onto her ass, looking up at him with eyes so open they gut me.
�
��You’re right it was a mistake, you knew when you agreed to come here and take a number that we would not allow you to refuse us. Yet you have the audacity to do just that, you sicken me,” he says before spitting on the floor by her hand.
“I’m sorry Si, it scared me. I’ve heard that it hurts and I wasn’t ready to accept the pain that goes along with it,” her words are making my blood boil, what the fuck was he demanding of her?
He looks around at the group and slowly turns around, meeting every one of us eye to eye.
“If we tell you to get on the floor and open your mouths you do it, if we tell you to spread your legs you better believe you’ll be spreading them without a fucking delay,” his voice is rising and more and more people are gathering, including a few more of the Harkwright men. “So, if I tell you to bend the fuck over and take my cock up your ass without a fucking crying session, you better fucking do it,” spittle flies from his mouth as he screams the last couple of words and the girl goes into herself. Curling into a ball but by the way Simon’s eye flick to her, she isn’t in the clear just yet.
“Zero, get your ass over here and show your worth,” I freeze and Caitlyn looks as though she’s going to fall over in shock but we don’t need to worry as Carly steps forward and cracks her knuckles.
She stands at Simon’s side and he whispers into her ear before gripping onto her ass hard enough he must be leaving finger marks and grinding himself into her. Her cheeks heat before she walks away from him and moves closer to the other girl.
“Okay Chantelle, here’s your goodbye present,” she says before her foot smashes hard into the girl’s ribs, making her cry out before the next blow goes to her cheek.
She tries to get up but Carly drives her elbow down into her back, causing her to sprawl out, face first. She delivers kick after kick to her kidneys and ribs before crouching down and raining her fist down upon Chantelle’s face. She isn’t even trying to protect herself anymore, and barely even a whimper is coming out of her mouth. No one is doing a damn thing and I have this sick dread building in my stomach that she won’t stop until Chantelle is lying dead before her feet.
Caitlyn tries to grab a hold of my arm, but nothing will stop me. I don’t care if I meet the same fate, nothing is worse than watching this happen and doing fuck all to spare a life. All this because she didn’t want to do anal, fucking monsters the lot of them.
I rush to the middle, not a single person trying to stop me and I grab hold of Carly’s elbow as she brings her arm back to strike another hit to her temple. Her head shoots up, she bares her teeth as she stands straight, and narrows her eyes at me.
“She’s had enough, that is more than enough of a punishment. She’s being kicked out for God’s sake,” I grind out, bracing myself for a punch to the face and I know she’s eager to give it to me.
“How dare you grab me you frigid bitch, go back to the cemetery with all the other pale assed emos,” the back of her hand whips out and strikes me across the face, but I don’t make a sound. I just wait here for her next move.
“That’s enough,” bellows Tom as he comes over to us and grips Carly by the wrist. “Your orders were to teach Chantelle a lesson, not the other Zero. You could be kicked out right here for pulling such a stunt.”
“She grabbed me,” she pouts as her bottom lip sticks out and his eyes darken on her.
“I don’t give two fucks about a grab you pathetic little girl, now get out of my sight before I make Chantelle’s punishment look like the top prize,” she swallows hard before walking away, keeping her back straight and her head held high. But I don’t miss the slight shake in her hands and I don’t care that it gives me a thrill knowing that she’s scared.
“What are you doing getting involved in my business?” Comes from Simon as he grips Tom’s shirt by the collar and pulls him in close.
“She said no to anal dude, get over yourself. Besides, we have four girls ready and waiting to take her place,” he says coldly before gripping Simon’s wrist and pulling himself free.
He shakes his head before storming away and with a single glare from Tom, the rest of the crowd disperses until there’s only the three of us.
“You should run along too, I’ll take care of her,” he says with a narrowing gaze when I hesitate and my eyes drop back down to Chantelle.
“I don’t want to leave her alone, I…”
“Come on, spit it out,” he all but growls and I close my eyes for a few moments, trying to find some hidden strength to fall back on.
“I’ve heard the rumors where some girls don’t make their way back home, I want her to,” I exhale on a shaky breath and he comes in closer. Close enough that I can pick up his scent, of sandalwood and something that has to be uniquely him.
“It’s better if you don’t stick around Zero, but I can assure you that with me standing at the door she will make it home. Alive, if not a little rough around the edges. Now leave, I’m not asking.”
My eyes flick up to his and I nod my head before crouching down and running my hand over her face, brushing the hair away. “You’ll be okay, Tom will look after you.”
I hear a grunt come from the man in question before getting back to my feet and walking away and despite wanting to, I don’t dare look back.
Carly doesn’t come back to our room again that night and her stuff is removed and taken to her new room. She didn’t just get made a number, she became number Twenty, meaning all the girls after her had their numbers raised. No one wants to fall lower, and I can imagine there are a lot of unhappy campers present right about now.
The rest of the week is a blur in comparison, except for Caitlyn refusing to go anywhere alone in case a Harkwright sets his eyes on her and Millie doing whatever she can to gain their attention. She’s lucky they haven’t taken the bait yet if Simon and Shane are anything to go by, but it won’t stop her for long.
By the time the third week sets in, something new is happening and whispers are circling down every corridor and it’s almost deafening as we’re called into the grand ballroom for an abrupt assembly.
I didn’t think this place would do assemblies but I guess they love proving us wrong, I walk beside Caitlyn as we enter the room and the sight of it leaves me breathless.
The room sports a high dome ceiling, with a crystal chandelier bigger than any of the others I’ve seen in this place. The walls are navy blue with gold accents and a dark oak wood is used for the floor and the windows stretch high across the walls. It’s magnificent and even the rows of chairs and the daunting stage with fifteen chairs lining it doesn’t detract from its beauty.
We claim our seats at the back, a Zero written across three chairs. Even here we are segregated from the rest of the girls. Why do they have to throw our standing in our faces every damn chance they get?
Millie drops down a few moments later but barely glances at us, she doesn’t even look at us now unless we’re alone in our room.
The rest of the chairs are being filled and I watch as the fifteen stroll out across the stage and take their seats, only… there’s one missing. The elusive Emmet Harkwright, the only one who didn’t have a picture next to his bio.
A woman steps out onto the stage and sets a microphone down before scurrying away and is replaced by none other than Ms. Vanderbilt.
“Good morning ladies, today they will give you the great honor of being within the presence of Sir Harkwright himself. Do not address him, sit up straight and if I hear a single noise or see any of you fidgeting, then I will escort you from this land and ensure you pay back what you would have earned in the year’s entirety here.”
Millie is suddenly sitting straighter than before, even I couldn’t resist the warning in her voice and Caitlyn looks as though she’s about to pass out any second now.
She walks off the stage only for a man to step out in her place, I can’t take my eyes off him and Ms. Vanderbilt will have nothing to worry about in regard to me moving. I couldn’t if I tried.
H
e’s tall, at least six foot three and he’s far from balding. He’s lean with muscle tone that can’t be missed in his well fitted, three piece Harkwright suit. Oh yes, he even has his own clothing line. His hair is silver and his beard is short and well looked after but what has me rooted to my seat is his icy steel eyes, they fucking terrify me. He comes to a stop in the center of the stage and his eyes scan the crowd, assessing us and calculating odds that only he is privy to.
“An assembly such as this has never occurred so early on in the entirety of the Academy history, usually we make it to at least half way through the first year,” his tone is cold and cutting as his eyes snap to one of the guy’s and I’m not even going to try to decipher it. “Bradley has claimed a Miss Daria Lewiston, come to the stage Miss. You now belong to him,” he holds his hand out and Bradley rises from his seat and moves to stand beside - and slightly behind - Sir Harkwright.
Daria climbs up to the top of the stage, her strawberry blonde hair falling in soft curls down her back, with her baby blues attached to Bradley’s chocolate brown eyes. He’s smiling at her and she’s returning it and if I didn’t know better, I’d say hers was genuine.
She walks to stand beside him, his honey brown skin falling upon her California tan as they link fingers and stand as close to each other as they can.
“A claiming is not unusual within the Academy but it is not a decision to be taken lightly. A Harkwright reserves the right to claim any lady who he sees fit to call upon, she will become his property to do with as he pleases until he sees fit to end the arrangement. Whilst being claimed, no other Harkwright will enjoy her company and she will be obligated to refuse any order given to her by any man who has not issued the claiming. This can last for however long the man decides and usually at least three claimings will be made by the same person over the years, in fact it is encouraged,” none of this is said by Sir himself, it’s a goddamn recording that plays across the room as he levels us with his unrelenting stare.
