3. Octavia
3
Octavia
I can’t breathe. All rational thought left my brain the moment Dorian placed his hand on my chin, lifting my head, welcoming me home. During my time away, I convinced myself that my brothers were not as sinisterly beautiful as I remembered them to be. I tried to tell myself that I built them up in my head, putting them on blood-stained pedestals because they were the only good things in my life.
I was wrong.
“Hi,” I whisper, taking a step back.
Dorian pushes his jet-black hair back away from his face, creating a striking contrast against his pale skin and angular cheekbones. His appearance takes my breath away as his grey eyes meet mine. He smirks cruelly at my gasp, making him look like the sinister monster I know he can be. I’m not blind to my brother’s darkness; I’ve never shied away from the people they are. Monsters may terrify some people, but mine make me feel alive.
He’s dressed in a bespoke suit as always, handmade by the family’s personal tailor. Even as a child, he wore a suit, nothing ever out of place, even while smashing someone’s head in with a metal pipe. I asked him once why he always wore black and never any fun colours. He looked down at his clothes, a vicious grin on his face, and said, “better to hide all the blood, little sister.”
It was only after he said it that I realised his clothes were damp, but not from the rain. It was from the shower of his victims’ blood as they breathed their last breaths. He was thirteen years old.
Father didn’t like us wearing anything colourful, but Dorian and Bastian would sneak me pretty pink and yellow dresses, always with colourful socks. I had to hide them away and only wear them when he wasn’t around. A butler once caught me in a lilac dress and told my father. He beat me until I threw up and forced me to watch as he burned the dress. My brothers found me, sobbing in their bed, apologising for getting caught. They hunted down the butler the next day and gave me his fingers as a present.
There was no hiding from what I was born into; my family never shielded me from the darkness. But there was a life raft I clung to until my fingernails ripped out, and that was them.
“We’ve missed you, baby sis,” Bastian says, wrapping his arms around me from behind, squeezing me tight.
I let out a little squeal of joy feeling him at my back, lifting my feet from the ground. My brothers enclose me in tight, one holding me too hard, the other demanding my eyes remain on him by pinching my chin in his grip. A peace settles over my soul, one I haven’t felt in years. This is how it has always been with us. They have always surrounded me, giving me no space to breathe, no space to even think straight without them in the equation.
I have never felt more at peace.
Bastian chuckles, placing me back on the ground, not taking his arms from my waist. My back flush against his torso and my ass grazes against his pelvis, letting me feel the bulge inside his trousers. Immediately, my skin flushes, and I have to force myself to not push back, grinding against him. At the same time, my stomach drops, and the nausea that I felt in the car comes rearing back.
If Father sees me like this, he’ll know. He’ll know that my feelings for them haven’t changed, that sending me to the academy did nothing but prove how much I need them. He’ll send me away. I’ll be ripped from them before I’ve even been back.
I struggle in their grasp, my ass grinding on Bastian while my breasts push harder into Dorian’s chest. Pleasure rolls down my spine, my thighs shaking and underwear dampening at being trapped between them. The more I struggle, the harder they hold me, and the more turned on I become.
A hand ghosts against my bare thigh, the skirt I’m wearing not helping, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I squeal again, jolting back, stamping on Bastian’s foot and head-butting Dorian’s chin. They grunt and release me, each tending to their injuries.
My head flies around the entrance hall into the greeting room, searching for the scorn-filled eyes of our father or a sneaky servant peeping in the wings to report back. Thankfully, there’s no one there to drag me away or report back to score points. It’s just us.
I clutch my chest, breathing deeply, warding off the panic attack threatening to drown me. Bastian has moved to stand next to his twin, tilting his head to the side to examine me with a puzzled expression. He looks so cute when he does that—not that I would ever tell him.
Where Dorian is a refined evil, exuding sinister patience that could fool anyone into thinking he’s the more reasonable one, Bastian is the unhinged feral twin, and he looks the part. They may have been identical when they were younger, but as they’ve grown, Bastian has bulked out more while Dorian stayed lean. His jet-black hair is shaved short at the sides, leaving length at the top to fall in front of his dark blue eyes. Bas got our father’s eyes. He doesn’t don a suit, settling for black jeans with a matching t-shirt, tattoos covering both of his arms and most of his body.
“What’s up, baby sis? Are you not happy to see your big brothers?” Bas asks, his head cocked to the side. “Because we’ve missed you. You’ve all grown up.”
His eyes rake my entire body from head to toe, drinking me in. My head spins, and I take a step back, wrapping my arms around my waist, forcing myself to stay in the same spot and not fling myself at them.
“Of course I have,” I say with a nervous giggle. “I’m just tired; it was a long trip home. I didn’t get much sleep, so I don’t really feel like myself.”
Dorian raises his eyebrow at my lie, giving me the look he always used to give when he could tell I was lying. Thankfully, Bastian does what he always used to do as well: he shoves Dorian’s shoulder, bounding over to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, letting me live in my lie.
“Of course you are, pretty girl. Let’s get you all tucked up in bed before the demons come out to play.”
He laughs hysterically at his joke, and I roll my eyes, elbowing him in the gut, letting him lead me to my room.
“It’s still not funny. This place is haunted, I swear. For two years, I had the same nightmare on the thirteenth of the month, every month. If that’s not proof that ghost demons exist, I don’t know what is.”
The night after my eighteenth birthday is when the nightmares started. I would dream I woke up in my bed to find the world around me melting. Each time, I would run to find my brothers, and the demons would slowly turn up in the hallway, chasing me through the castle, laughing wickedly as I screamed. Just as they would almost catch me, my brothers would turn up and slaughter them at my feet. They would bathe me in the blood of the creatures, whispering dark promises for the future.
I would wake up in the morning to my body aching and pulsing with need, drenched in sweat. I didn’t tell my brothers about the things it did to my body, watching their nightmare selves kill the things chasing me, or that I would touch myself to the thought of it when I woke. They just thought it was a horrid dream I couldn’t shake, and they would tease me mercifully about it.
“Poor angel, always terrified of the demons in her sleep.” Bastian smirks.
“While she should have been terrified of the monsters down the hall,” Dorian whispers from behind, sending shivers across my skin.
I thought I would be stronger than this. I was determined to not let them affect me, but it’s been minutes since I’ve been home, and it’s worse than ever. Father can’t see me with them; he will know in a second.
“Where is he?” I ask, not needing to voice who I’m talking about. We all know who he is.
Bastian’s grip tightens on my shoulder, pulling me closer into his heat as we move up the stairs. Dorian’s fingers run through my hair, lightly kneading my neck. “He’s…away on business. He won’t be back for the foreseeable future.”
My head whips around to gaze at them both as they keep moving me forward. The only time he was away with no return date is when something went very wrong in the bloodline.
“Have the elders called him in? Is something changing?”
That could explain why I’ve been brought back. If something big is happening, a change of structure, I would be brought back into the fold to keep up the perfect image.
“Something like that, I suppose you could say,” Dorian answers, keeping a straight face, but he cannot hide the gleaming hunger in his eyes. He’s happy with what’s happening.
“Nothing for you to worry about, pretty girl,” Bastian says, bringing my attention to him, bopping me on the nose. “You’re home with us now, and we’ll be keeping you very, very close.”
He grins widely, showing all teeth, making him look feral with the crazed look in his eyes. We turn off the stairs on the second level in the east wing, and they direct me down the hall. I frown in confusion, wondering where we’re going.
“Change of rooms, little sister,” Dorian says before I ask. “There have been a lot of changes while you were away. You’ll now be in the east wing, your bedroom right next to our new one.” He stops me at a door and opens it wide, revealing all my things in the bigger room.
“A few rules before we tuck you in.”
Dorian twists me out of Bastian’s arms, and I bristle. Whenever Dorian gives me rules, I always want to break them.
Bastian settles himself at my back, the two of them sandwiching me in again. Dorian grabs my chin, lifting my head, running his thumb along my bottom lip and making me hiss.
“Now, now, angel.” He smirks. “I know you’re never a fan when I implement new rules, but you will follow these with no mischief. This will be your room now. If you go anywhere, it will be with either myself or Bastian, and that includes roaming around the manor. The west dungeons and the south wing are off limits; you will go nowhere near them, and you will not like the consequences if you do.”
He grips my chin tight, pulling our faces closer together, a stern, unforgiving expression on his face. “We know you like to sneak around and find whatever dirt you can, or snoop and watch us work, but that will not be tolerated now that you are back, do you understand?”
My bottom lip quivers, the harshness in his tone making my eyes water. I feel pathetic at twenty-three years old, welling up because my big brother talked to me sternly. But he’s never spoken to me like this. Even when he gave rules in the past, he was always soft with me. Father was the one to talk to me like this.
“Is this or is this not my home as well, Rian?” I seethe, calling him the nickname he hates. "I'm a grown fucking woman who doesn't need to be babied or tethered to your arm like a pet."
He pinches my cheeks, squeezing to the point of pain, whipping my head side to side, sneering in my face.
“No, Octavia, this place isn’t your home. We are your home,” he whispers harshly, twisting my head back to Bastian and then him. “You will do as we say. You will not move, you will not breathe in this place if we are not by your side. You think you know the monsters we are, but we are worse than even your mind can conjure. We’ve been easy on you growing up, but we do not have that luxury now. I told you things are changing, and it’s time for you to embrace it.”
“Embrace what?”
He keeps me in his hold, not letting go even as I try to pull myself free. I huff in frustration when he doesn’t answer. His eyes bore into mine, holding me in their intensity. I can’t help my gaze flickering to his lips as his tongue swipes out close to my face.
A maid squeaks in surprise, rounding the corner, finding us all pinned together. My eyes widen in horror as I try desperately to pull myself away from them. Dorian pins the servant with his stare, not dropping eye contact as he places a kiss on my forehead, slowly releasing my cheeks.
I stumble back into Bastian, flushed and flustered, running my hands over my skirt to flatten it. It’s a nervous tick, as the skirt wasn’t raised at all. The maid didn’t interrupt a twisted intimate moment; she interrupted a brother being a confusing asshole to his sister. Only my mind is seeing it the other way because of my depraved feelings.
Bastian laughs, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek, his hand flush on my stomach. I whack him away, looking up to explain something to the maid, but she’s already gone. I push Bastian away, holding the door to my new room.
“I’ll stick to the new rules,” I mutter, agreeing to anything if it gets me away from them and my panting thoughts.
“Good girl.” Bastian grins, moving closer. “Let us tuck you in like old times,” he says, about to put his foot on the threshold, but I slam the door in their faces first.
Bastian howls loudly with laughter, and I hear Dorian’s quiet chuckle of amusement.
“Goodnight, little sister,” they say, their voices chiming together.
“Goodnight, Bas, Rian,” I shout back and then mutter under my breath, “Goodnight, big brothers.”
I never call them that out loud, never dared to whisper it because of the feeling that floods me as I do. They’re the words I call out at night as my hand is down my underwear, my fingers running through my cum, pushing myself over the edge again and again.
I’m sick and twisted, because I’ve never wanted anything more than to feel my big brothers stretching me out, filling me so deep that their cum would stay with me forever. I’m a depraved soul in a manor full of sin.
If only I could have the two sins I truly want.