IX
Syn
W henever I read the news and find a story about how a building has collapsed, I always look at the comment section. Without fail, I find people writing about how they never saw it coming.
It amuses me greatly that people think this.
Sure, how well built the building is plays an important part of that, but any building, no matter who built it or what materials were used, are only as good as their weakest point. No matter where or what that is, the longer you chip at it—the more stress and pressure you put it under—it can only withstand so much before it crumbles.
She has a wall around her, one she thinks she’s built tall and strong.
Maybe it is.
My current amusement lies in trying to work out when it will crumble, and what will be that final stressor.
Tonight, I saw the hint of a fracture. Small enough that she was able to run out and fill it in, but still, a fracture.
No matter what she’s used, the crack is still there, and her whole front is now dependent on that fracture surviving the upcoming onslaught.
We get back to the house before she does, even with Driving Miss Daisy at the wheel. Regardless of how slow she walks, she’s not going to get lost. Even she’s not that stupid.
Inside, Gemini heads straight upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. His current hyper-fixation is some online game, and he’ll probably be playing that for the rest of the night now.
Royal follows, muttering something about being at the gym first thing.
Then it’s just me, waiting in the hallway.
I’ve yet to give her the codes to either doors, and while the thought of making her sleep outside does cross my mind, tonight, I’m feeling generous.
She doesn’t make me wait long enough to change my mind, and a shadow falls across the door through the mottled glass. The handle rattles, then there’s a pause before she knocks on the door. If I weren’t standing in front of it, I wouldn’t have heard the rap from anywhere else in the house.
Denali House is kitted with a video doorbell and a small screen inside most rooms within the house for us to be able to respond. I’m mildly curious as to why she hasn’t used it. However, I walk over and open the door.
She looks up at me but doesn’t speak, waiting for me to move out of her way.
When I do, she walks in, barely acknowledging me like I’m a doorman working one of the hotels in the city. I close the door, aware that I can hear her heels as she stops a few paces away.
Curious.
Silently, I turn back, finding her waiting. Her hands are clasped together in front of her, and overall, she looks calm, but I can see the subtle movement in her jaw, like she’s chewing on the inside of her lip.
I stare directly at her. “What?”
“The collar,” she says without even flinching. “I want it removed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to take a shower before I go to bed, and I figure you wouldn’t appreciate me waking you up tomorrow morning, considering I need to be at the dining hall so early.”
I tilt my head. “You didn’t shower today?”
There’s a brief moment of tension in her hands, until she breathes deeply. “I did. However, the collar is made of leather, and if I shower with it on, it’s going to stink quickly. So either this comes off…” she raises her hand to point at the sleek black strap around her neck. “Or I don’t shower.”
A part of me is curious as to whether or not she would follow through with that threat. She’s mistaken if she thinks not showering will change my behavior towards her, or if she thinks it will offer her some form of protection from participating in certain aspects of her initiation. Surely, after tonight’s discussion, she’s realized that she escapes nothing , and that if I tell any member of the Elite to line up, they will.
Instead of finding out, I nod.
Prior to last night, I underestimated her. I thought she’d be gone by now.
I certainly hadn’t expected her to be inside this house, prepared to do whatever I tell her to. The reason a skyscraper can withstand an earthquake isn’t because of how flexible it is. It’s because they’re designed to withstand a lot of energy for only short periods of time.
If an earthquake were to last days instead of hours, no building would remain upright.
And I have the energy and drive to rock her world for years, if needed.
There’s a slight frown on her face, as though she doesn’t trust me, and she glances over her shoulder and up the stairs. Then she looks back to me. “The key?”
I unbutton my suit jacket and shrug it from my shoulders. After carefully folding it, I drape it over my left arm. Then I reach into the pocket of my shirt and pull out the small key.
Seamus Moran is not just the housekeeper of this house. He’s also our personal assistant. For the first half of the semester, he has an easy life. The initiates perform most of the duties that he would do the rest of the year. But he’s always on standby should any president or vice president require something— anything .
The Elite has connections, which means opening hours and price tags are redundant. And unusual items like the custom-made collar around her neck can be acquired with ease.
I’d told Moran what I wanted, and it had been left on my desk a day later. When I opened the box and held the piece of leather in my hands, I was certain I’d never get it around her neck—that she would quit at that point.
And yet, here she is.
There’s something about that thin piece of black leather curling around her pale neck that fills me with a deep sense of satisfaction. The text etched onto the silver tag is too small for me to read from this distance, but I know what it says.
Property of Synclair Keyingham .
That bitch belongs to me.
The lock was an afterthought, and not well made. But its presence is symbolic, and it affords me this exact situation.
When she sees I’m not going to move, she walks up to me. After giving me a fake smile, she turns around and brushes her hair off her shoulders. She’s gathered most of it, but a few strands of the deep blue hair fall down her back.
Her back isn’t as flushed as the rest of her skin, but I can see the goosebumps on her arms. Is that because she’s cold or because of me?
I unlock the small padlock and then unbuckle the collar, holding both tightly in my hands.
She lets her hair fall from her grip, but she doesn’t turn around. “Thank you.” Her voice is tight.
I don’t say anything back.
She walks over to the cabinet where I tossed her phone earlier and picks it up. She has at least one message, but she doesn’t read it. Instead, she walks towards the door to the basement.
Still clutching the collar, I follow.
As she reaches for the door handle, she realizes I’m behind her, and she turns, frowning. “Are you following me?”
“Yes?”
“Why?” she demands.
“The removal of the collar is only temporary.”
Her gaze drops the band in my hand before it returns to my face. “If I was going to leave, I wouldn’t waste time looking for my case. I’m only going to take a shower.”
“Mmmm.” I nod.
“I will come find you so that you can put it back on after.”
“Or I can put it on now.”
She blinks before suddenly recoiling like I’ve gone to strike her. “Either I shower with it on, or you watch me as I shower?”
I nod.
The fuck I’m going to watch. I’d rather volunteer in some soup kitchen than watch her shower.
But it’s not going to happen anyway. She’ll do whatever it takes to stop that from happening.
I just want to see what she’ll offer in exchange.
Her eyes are moving slightly as she stares at me like she’s willing a death ray to come spilling out of them.
And then she shrugs . “Fine.”
She spins on her six-thousand-dollar heel, thankfully before she sees my mouth drop open, and heads into the basement, leaving the door open behind her.
If she thinks this is a game of chicken she’s going to win, she’s very much mistaken.
I follow her into the basement, only a few steps behind, by the time she gets into the shower room and sets her phone down beside the sink. I walk straight over to the stone bench and sit on it, carefully laying my jacket down beside me. The thing was added to this room long before she ever even enrolled, but it’s directly opposite the shower, so I’m not going to do anything that might suggest it wasn’t an intentional recent addition.
She hesitates.
This is it. She’s going to…
She pulls one of the thick black straps, and then the other, before shimmying the dress down over her curves.
Regardless of what she is, she’s still a representative of the Elite, and there isn’t a single item of clothing she owns that’s good enough to reflect who we are. The dress is tailor made—all of her new wardrobe is. This one is made from a stretchy fabric that clings to her body.
Most women would take it on and off over their heads, but she’s pushing it down her body like she’s performing a strip tease, inch by inch. Her gaze is locked onto my face.
Once over her hips, it falls to the floor.
Wearing only her underwear and the high heels, she steps out of the pool of fabric around her feet and flips her hair over her shoulder.
She’s not unattractive.
I know her body measurements, and while she would benefit from a breast enlargement, she’s slim and the tits she has are acceptable. Aside from her hips where I can see faint, yet obvious, finger marks—likely caused by me last night as I rammed my cock into her pussy, again and again—her skin is unblemished.
Which is the only logical explanation as to why my dick is going hard.
When she sees I’m not moving, she steps out of the shoes. Then she continues turning so her back is to me. Bending slightly, but enough to stick her ass out, she hooks her fingers under the elastic of her panties and pushes them down until they fall from her hips.
Straightening, she unclips her bra and allows it to drop beside her.
My dick is rock hard, pushing against my pants in a way that I know I’d get instant relief from if I pulled it out and jerked off.
But I don’t move.
I don’t want her thinking this is because of her .
She opens the door to the shower and walks in. Because of where the controls are, she’s made to stand, showing off her profile, but she refuses to look at me.
It doesn’t take long for the room to start filling with steam, but it’s not enough to obscure my view.
The length of time it takes her to shower makes me wish I’d had Moran change the settings so she’d only have five minutes of lukewarm water. Instead, I have to watch her soap her hair and body like she’s filming a porno where a well-hung plumber is going to come in to see to her pipes.
By the time she shuts off the water, my dick is starting to feel uncomfortable—like I’m a little kid with no control who’s about to come in his own pants.
She shuts off the water and wrings out her hair before getting out. The shower has towel racks so you don’t need to leave it before wrapping yourself up. But she didn’t take any towels in with her.
The towels are hung on heated rods beside me, and she looks like she’s walking over to grab one, but instead, she stops in front of me.
My eyes are level with her navel. If I drop my gaze a fraction, I’ll be staring at her groomed snatch and the glistening droplets of water that have caught in the little hair that’s there. Looking up has me staring at her tits.
I make no effort to hide the fact that I’ve looked at both before I finally bring my gaze up to her face.
“Unless you want to dry me off, you can put the collar back on now.” She’s staring at me with a confidence I’ve not seen before. “Or do you need rubbing down first?” She blinks slowly and then deliberately looks at my crotch.
I stand. In doing so, the distance between us evaporates. I’d only have to lean forward an inch to have her feel just how hard I am.
She gives me a smug smile before turning her back to me, lifting her hair away from her neck.
Taking my time, I put the collar back around her neck, fastening it to the same hole it had been before. Then I thread the lock through and snap it closed.
But as she starts to release her hair, I grab the collar, jerking her back so her body is flush against mine.
“Syn,” she says in a squeak. One hand grabs the front of her collar, trying to pull it from me, while the other is at the back of her neck, trying to pull my fingers free.
Lowering my mouth beside her ear, I ignore her struggling. “Let’s make one thing clear. This…” I push my dick into her back, enjoying the mix of pain and pleasure I feel at the sensation. “This is because I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes imagining you taking one of those showerheads and using it to get yourself off while every single member of the Elite sits in front of this shower and watches.”
I release her, shoving her away as I do. While she slides across the marble floor and tries to stop herself from falling, I reach for my jacket. Instead of using it to cover my erection, I pluck my wallet from the inner pocket.
While I don’t remember the last time I paid for anything without my phone, I always have cash in my wallet. Several brand new, crisp bills. All of them hundreds. I pull one out, curling it around my fingers before I flick it at her.
It lands in front of her feet.
“I don’t have any ones so keep the change.”