Chapter Eleven
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Henri
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I STOOD LOOKING AT MYSELF in the mirror.
A mirror that took up the whole wall of the vast bathroom. Exposed stone on the walls, black marble on the floor, a walk-in shower beneath a large skylight, and a vanity carved from a single tree stump.
My hands curled around the basin, twinging the cut on my palm from the glass I’d shattered in the club.
The scalding shower that I’d turned on ten minutes ago filled the space with steam. The mirror streaked with fat droplets, blurring my reflection, making it seem like I bled with colourless tears.
I needed to undress and climb into the shower. I needed to rinse away the memory of the blood test to see if I could fuck slaves unprotected, to wash out my filthy thoughts, and head down to breakfast to fill my churning stomach with food.
I needed to do whatever it took to settle the corruption in my mind.
Ever since the butler guided me into this suite with its giant four-poster bed, bronze chaise, massive stained-glass window, and a small round balcony that overlooked lush gardens that didn’t seem real, I’d tripped a little deeper into hell.
This place was fucking with my head.
Every rock and lintel seemed to regress me to an era where violence was just a part of life. Humans pretended to be more civil in this day and age, preferring to destroy one another with slander and pointless online battles, but back then...we didn’t hide.
Back then, men were animals, and women knew it.
Murder was rife and accepted.
Rape was common and unchallenged.
Women knew who had the power, and men knew they were untouchable.
This fortress hissed with that history, even if it was fake like Ily said.
The longer I stood in its walls, the more today’s society faded away until I was left in yesterday.
In a time when I would flourish.
A time of debasement and lawlessness.
A time when I could’ve been free.
My fingers curled tighter around the sink, trying to crack the thick porcelain.
You are free.
Free to be good. To be an obedient brother. To be a man unbent by sadistic fucking desires.
My upper lip curled, snarling at my reflection.
I had arguments with those thoughts. I had fears I wouldn’t live up to those thoughts.
With a groan, I ripped off my tie, undid my useless cufflinks, then shrugged out of my blazer and shirt.
The awful feeling that I was on my own increased with every heartbeat.
The sensation that I’d been sent here to fail made claustrophobia claw.
I’d been thrown into a devil’s den without a fucking gun, and I had to admit...I’m in way over my head.
Enough.
Focus.
I would rinse myself clean.
I would stay as pure as I could.
I would march downstairs and do whatever it goddamn took to stay in control, so I didn’t trip into a promised death.
Only a few hours.
He’ll come.
He might not care about me, but he cares about them.
Kicking my shoes into the corners of the bathroom, I did the same to my trousers. Determination filled me to stay good. To recall why I was doing this. To remember the aching loneliness I’d suffered all my life. An ache that could be cured if I did this one thing right.
But of course, fate never played fair.
As my trousers flew to catch on the towel rail, something delicate and pretty fell out of them, fluttering to the floor.
Ah, shit.
Don’t. Ignore it. Get in the goddamn shower, Ri.
I’d never been good at listening to myself.
Stalking toward the scrap of cream lingerie, I snatched it up and ran my finger over the piece that’d been nestled against Ily’s cunt.
I froze as my thumb stroked the fabric.
Wet.
I stumbled against the wall.
My mind gushed black, seeing her all over again.
Bent over.
Moaning as I fingered her.
Trying to stop me...
Without any control, without any strength to stay human, I jerked off my boxers, wrapped her knickers around my pounding cock, and marched into the pouring shower.
Hot needles pierced my skin as I raised my head to the torrent, braced one hand on the black iridescent tiles, and fucked myself.
My hand squeezed.
My fist pulled and punished.
Ily’s underwear soaked with water, mixing with her own previous wetness, sending me straight into the darkest pits of hell.
My hips thrust into my palm.
My sac drew tighter, tingling with an impending release.
I gave in to self-abuse, causing pain—delicious fucking pain—all while my mind swarmed with fantasies far sicker than any of Victor’s tapestries.
Ily’s face shot into my thoughts.
That single delicious tear as she’d looked at her ex and realised he never deserved her. A tear that I’d sampled. A tear that sat like ice in my stomach as I gasped and grunted and chased a release that’d tormented me ever since I met her.
“Christ.”
I came in ribbons of lacerating pleasure.
Strings of cum shot free, painting the tiles in white before washing away.
I let myself go as the erection that’d haunted me for hours finally deflated.
I’d wanked for self-preservation. For self-control. I told myself all manner of things.
But I knew.
I knew how close I was to snapping and honestly didn’t know how much longer I’d survive.
My hands shook. My heart ached. My head pounded.
The orgasm left me hollow and utterly unsatisfied.
But...it also gave me clarity.
A crack in the storm. The barest sliver of light.
I might want to step into this world. I might wish I’d been born in a different time or that someone could fix me, but...those were pointless wishes.
I had the chance to be better.
I had the opportunity to prove to myself and my brother that I was worthy, regardless of my inherited sickness.
All I had to do was pretend.
Pretend to be the sadist.
Pretend to be a beast.
Pretend to be someone else until I figured out how to bring Victor down.
The prize I would earn was worth it.
Worth more than her.
More than pleasure.
The prize was happiness.
Belonging.
Family.
And whatever happened at breakfast, I wasn’t going to fuck that up.