11. Dorian
11
Dorian
B astian huffs, slamming the door and stomping out of the shower, rattling around in his drawers, hunting for something to wear. I can feel his eyes burning into my skin as I read in my armchair. He hasn’t spoken since we left the dining hall, since he defied our agreement to leave our little Octavia wanting if she didn’t admit she wanted us—although he played straight into my plan, the one he doesn’t know about.
I thought it may be too soon for Octavia to fully admit her desires out loud, but I pushed it sooner because I knew Bastian needed it. I hoped for the best, but it didn’t surprise me. My brother did. He always follows me, going along with whatever I deem fit. I assumed he would follow me out and leave her an unsatisfied, shaking mess but, to my pleasant surprise, he didn’t.
Bastian has always handled her more softly, treating her like a princess. He never pushes her, gives in to her every whim, and always waits for me to give the go ahead, holding himself back, afraid to scare her off.
“Is there something you want to say?”
I place the book on my chest, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to blow. Containing emotions has never been one of his strengths.
“Yes, there’s something I want to say, big brother ,” he spits, charging forward, ripping the book from my hands. “How could you say that? How could you even think of giving her away to someone else when she is mine… ours ?”
Ah, yes, that’s what has him all in a tizzy most. The poor, unexpecting staff all scattered when he stormed out the dining room. They were most likely terrified they would end up his next victim. I told him I might threaten that, but it looks like he’s forgotten in his fury.
“Answer me,” he barks, wrapping his hand around my throat. His favoured move. He always goes for the choke, probably trauma from how many times our father choked us as a child. It’s one reason I can withstand it for a long length of time. It also hardens my cock, but I won’t analyse that too deeply.
Our bedroom door slams open, and Octavia stands in the doorway, her hair and clothes dishevelled in that freshly fucked way, fury burning in her gaze. She didn’t bother to put her top back on, only dressed in her bra and skirt with those cute as fuck socks. Blood stains her delicious plush flesh and hair, making her look like a bloodthirsty angel seeking violence.
My cock hardens even more, Bastian’s grip becoming even tighter, and I lean into it. His muscles shake with restraint as he licks his lips hungrily, hope in his eyes that she’s come to beg.
Her step into the room falters for a second, her gaze finding us and taking in the scene. For a second, the fight leaves her eyes, and worry filters into my stomach, but she soon shakes her head, squeezing her eyes closed for a second before she marches forward.
Bastian lets go of my throat, and I suck in a deep breath. He stands up straight, bouncing on the balls of his feet with eagerness. I opt for the opposite, reclining back in the armchair, picking up my book again, pretending to read.
“Come to beg so soon? That didn’t take you long.”
Bastian hisses at me the same time she does, fuelled by anger, and I’m their target. It’s adorable, like two pissed off kittens.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Rian,” she snaps, using the nickname she always called me as a child. I let her believe the name annoyed me, but I’ve always enjoyed it when she was angry, her darkness bubbling under the surface.
Our little angel has been slowly filling with poison to be just like us. I ensured it. When she gives in to her anger and lets it out, she can be just as vicious as us. My little sister shows it now, as quick as lightning, by throwing my book across the room and holding a carving knife to my throat.
Bastian takes a step forward—either to help me or to help her, I’m not sure which—but I hold up my hand to halt him. “It’s okay. Octavia is all hiss and no bite. I’m fine.”
Octavia’s hand shakes, her pupils blown, a deep dark need for vengeance taking over. It looks so delicious. My dick throbs in my trousers, my bare chest begging her to slice me. And she does.
The knife presses harder against my skin, so sharp that it cuts like butter, and I feel my blood slipping down it.
“How’s that for all hiss?” she whispers in my face, her lips so close to mine. I push myself onto the knife, cutting deeper so I can bite her bottom lip, dragging it into my mouth for a taste of her fury.
She hisses, grabbing the top of my hair with her free hand, yanking my head back, pulling her lip free, but she doesn’t press the knife harder.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” She shakes my head, moving the knife and slashing me across my chest. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me after going back on your promises, threatening to marry me off like a prized cow. I’m not an item to be sold. I will never be sent away or removed ever again, even by you,” she snarls, her upper lip curling.
I cock my head, running my gaze over her body, drinking her in. “And what will you do about it if I decide that’s what’s best?”
I stand, towering over her, watching as she takes a small step back. “Tell me, Octavia. What will you do?” I whisper.
She doesn’t think, not even for a second, and slams the knife into my thigh, twisting it.
“I will slaughter any fucker in this castle who tries to send me away,” she whispers, pure, unhinged madness sparkling in her eyes.
There she is.
I grunt as she twists the knife in my thigh one more time before letting go, storming out the way she came, the stomp of her shoes booming with each step.
“Oh, and I also want a credit card and a laptop so I can order my own fucking clothes for once,” she shouts over her shoulder before gripping the door and slamming it.
I fall back in my chair as she leaves with that last demand, laughing with joy. Bastian stands with his mouth hanging open, his head swivelling to the door and back to me.
“That, dear brother, is why I threatened her with the marriage.”
She needed a little more pushing, that was all, and look at what a glorious outcome we got. Bastian’s stunned expression morphs into a more sinister one, the wires in his brain connecting. She will never fully accept her wants and needs if we’re always shielding her from our darkness. She thinks she has seen it all, but she has no idea. She doesn’t need to be protected from it; she needs to be lured in and consumed by it, to embrace it on her own. My way isn’t gentle; I’m not her knight in shining armour protecting her from all the bad things. I am the bad thing, and I will feed my soul into her until she is as damned as us.
“You twisted bastard. I could fucking kiss you.” Bastian smirks, eyeing the knife in my leg, cocking his head. “How hard are you right now?”
I groan, grabbing my cock in a strangled grip. “Painfully.”
I slip my trousers down my ass carefully to avoid the knife still sticking out of my leg so it doesn’t pull out. She didn’t hit anything serious; we taught her all the places to stab a body, so she knew what she was doing. I will need to get it stitched up soon, but first, I need to take care of my throbbing need.
“Spit,” I order, needing the warped feeling of my brother’s saliva running down my cock before I come from our little sister stabbing me.
Bastian grins, sauntering over, towering above, letting his spit trickle down onto my wanting cock. I moan as it hits, my head falling back as I rub it around my shaft. He stays above me the entire time, his eyes fixated on my movements, his own cock hard. He takes hold of the knife, and I growl, working my hand faster. He twists it just like she did, leaning forward.
“I can’t wait to watch our little sister on her hands and knees, begging us to fuck her,” he whispers, “her body covered in blood after she’s slaughtered our father.”
I buck into my hand, lifting my thigh to take more of the pain from the knife, my balls growing tight, the image flashing through my mind.
“I’ll watch you take her first, big brother, and then I will make her sit on my face, tasting you on her, cleaning your cum from her as she explodes. I bet you will taste so fucking sweet together.”
I hiss as I come, white ropes hitting my chest, mixing with the blood still there. Bastian mixes his fingers through both and sucks them clean, growling deep. I shiver as the last drop leaves me, and I relax back in the chair, my thigh burning in pain, adding to my afterglow. Bastian pats my chest over my wound, and I jolt forward, hissing at him as he laughs hysterically.
“I’ll go get the medic for you. I doubt Octavia will be stitching you up, seeing as she’s the one who did it. Lucky bastard. Why didn’t I get cut?” He frowns, his emotions changing like a flip of a switch.
He mutters to himself as he walks out, complaining that she didn’t use the knife on him and how he needs to up his game, be more of an asshole. My twin’s moods change like no one I’ve ever met. Minutes before, he was ready to choke me for being an asshole, but I adore him for it. Without him, I wouldn’t be half as sane as I am. Without them, I doubt there would be anything I ever cared for in this life.
No one else means anything to me. Everyone is disposable when their usefulness ends. I don’t enjoy the killing like Bastian does; it’s a means to an end and does nothing for me. Mental games are my favourite, twisting someone up until they start to doubt their own sanity is what I live for. I may use mental games on my siblings, but that is always for a greater good, to get us where we need to be. They have nothing to fear from me. Others cannot say the same.
My phone pings with a message I’ve been waiting for, and I smile seeing his name flash across the screen. My grandfather is joining us in the castle in two weeks’ time to go over another lead that went dry in search of my father. That has been a fun game I’ve been playing, acting the sad grandson desperately trying to help his grandfather find his son. That will be coming to an end just in time, the outcome undecided for the moment. It all depends on how much Octavia can stomach. If I have it my way, she’s going to be out for blood.