Chapter Eighteen
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Henri
NEITHER VICTOR NOR I SPOKE UNTIL Ily and Rachel vanished into the castle.
The moment I couldn’t see her anymore, the icy gale in my chest increased until I swore a blizzard lived inside me.
I’d been bad the past few days.
Positively OCD with my need to keep her close and safe.
I hadn’t been able to touch her.
Talk to her.
I’d reverted to my childhood self that checked out of life and found salvation in the pages of someone else’s troubles.
Books.
Fuck, what would I do without books?
“Right.” Victor clapped his hands and gave me a wink. “Now they’re gone, let’s tell the others what’s on today’s agenda, shall we? They’re going to be oh so pleased.”
Blinking away my yearning hollowness, I smiled. “Sure.”
“You know what? You can do it.” Victor gave my shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ve noticed how out of sorts you’ve been, my friend. You came to us alone, and I’m sure it hurts to remain alone, even amongst your own kind.”
A group of Masters, crowded at a nearby table, chose that moment to laugh obnoxiously. Proving that for all my willingness to become one of them, the chances of that happening were probably fucking zero.
For one, I needed a jewel who wasn’t broken.
And two, I didn’t like many people.
“I’m not alone, though.” I braced myself, shaking off his touch. “I have Ily.”
“Yes, your nightmare.”
My lips quirked. “She’s certainly living up to that nickname.”
“Unfortunately.” Victor pouted. “But...I wonder if she’s the right choice for you.
Haven’t you begun to suspect she might not be worth the trouble?
” He pointed at a few jewels currently serving.
A couple kneeled by their Master’s feet.
Others on the laps of those who’d finished their breakfast and felt like a different sort of snack.
“There are so many other gems to sample. Much better-behaved girls and boys who would be honoured to accept your attention.”
“Yes, well, you know my answer to that.” My eyes swept back to the sliding doors where Ily had disappeared. “I’m still rather attached.”
And, if I’m honest, I would give anything to be free.
I didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
I’d done my best to sink back into my monster’s darkness, but each time she looked at me, that flare of fear and longing kept me awfully fucking...human.
Instead of being free to be who I truly was, it felt as if she’d wrapped a net around me. A net that kept tightening and tightening—a noose that kept strangling, strangling—tying me up in knots and confusing the goddamn shit out of me.
If only the treasure hunt hadn’t happened.
If only I’d found her first and fucked her on the lawn.
If only I didn’t bloody kiss her!
I could’ve remained a beast—as deplorable and as depraved as that was.
Perhaps he’s right.
Maybe I do need to discipline her.
To re-establish our roles in this new life and find my way back to that exquisite sensation of being home.
Sucking in a deep breath, I prepared to step back into the shoes I’d purchased. I might have made my bed by calling my brother and telling him I was staying, but I hadn’t fully dressed in the clothes of my new self.
Today...that changes.
Today, I would be free again, and that jackass part of myself that howled for love would be well and truly slaughtered.
Good fucking riddance.
Grinning, I asked, “What do you want me to tell them? I’m ready to play. I think it will be good...for all of us.”
“That’s the spirit.” Victor slugged me on the arm.
“Tell them that I’ve improved Emerald Bruises and increased the stakes.
They’ll know what you mean.” He glanced at his diamond-encrusted Rolex—a stark difference to my chipped old Casio.
“Announce that the game will begin at the drawbridge, and I have gifts for everyone.”
At the drawbridge?
What on earth did this game entail?
Almost on cue, a procession of guards suddenly marched over the daisy-splashed lawn, spilling from one of the many side entrances of the gothic stronghold. Two pairs of black-suited men carried a heavy crate between them.
“Ah, perfect timing.” Victor nodded at me and strode to the edge of the deck. He waited until the guards placed the heavy crates down and unwound their fingers from the coarse rope handles.
Smiling with gratitude, Victor waited until the men had retreated to their posts and then turned to his guests. “Friends, gentlemen. Can I have your attention, please?”
Beckoning me to his side, he grinned. “Henri has something he’d like to say.
But please allow me to say something first.” Waiting until the fourteen or so guests ceased what they were doing and looked our way, he nodded at the scant jewels.
“Sweetlings, please scurry along to the grounds behind the kitchens. You’re the last to prepare. Hurry now.”
Without a word of protest, the four slaves tucked their chins and vanished into the castle.
Once they were gone, Victor sighed happily.
“My friends. I appreciate your loyalty, but you can welcome Henri back into the fold. Yes, he’s forgiven.
Yes, he’s staying. And no, he’s not a cop.
Let’s put the past in the past, shall we?
” He shrugged. “Daxton was a snitch and got what was coming. As long as no one else betrays me, then we’re all one big happy family! ”
The change in atmosphere visibly lightened.
A few men toasted me with their coffee cups. “Understood.”
Charles winked. “Welcome back, old chap.”
“All yours,” Victor murmured, stepping away and giving me centre stage. The clip of his shoes on the deck steps echoed as he strode toward the first crate and popped the two catches on the lid.
One by one, men left their tables, all coming to see what new toys Victor had brought.
Turning to face the stunning gardens, gazing at the drawbridge in the distance, I froze as the heavy metal barrier cracked open.
With cranks of chains and toil, the entrance—the one and only doorway into this place—descended, forming a bridge over the wide moat glittering beyond.
Sunlight spilled inside.
Sea spray twinkled in the sky as waves crashed against the cliffs.
It felt odd to see the outside world.
Frankly terrifying to be reminded of a place I’d forsaken. It suited me better to pretend the outside world had been decimated by some disaster—leaving us as the only survivors.
At least then the rules of old didn’t matter. The laws of society were eradicated which meant my decisions didn’t have consequences.
But it’s still there...
The world I never fit into.
Laws still exist, lives still go on...
He still lives on.
A chill scattered down my spine that my brother might appear at any moment and butcher me.
“Henri, if you don’t mind.” Victor interrupted my thoughts.
“Sorry.” Swallowing hard, I tore my eyes off the open gap in the wall and said, “Emerald Bruises is about to be played. It’s new and improved with even greater stakes than before.”
Men shifted on the spot and elbowed each other as Victor lifted an assault rifle.
My mouth went as dry as fucking cotton.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is this game?
Stalking down the steps, I snatched a gun from the closest crate.
Heavy, well-made, oiled mechanisms and...not real.
Not real?
Frowning, I looked up. “What the hell are we about to play, Vic?”
He smirked and began passing out weapons. “Paintball.”
“Paintball?”
“With a twist.” He laughed.
“Hell yeah.” Patrick, one of the guests I recognised, grabbed a gun and squeezed the empty trigger a few times. “New and improved, you say? Shit, this is gonna be good.”
“How’s it improved, Vic?” Ferdinand—the guy who had sick, sick fetishes—grabbed his own gun.
“Well, you’re all aware that usually the winner is decided by the number of bruises they leave on a particular jewel. We’ve used all manner of tools in the past. Paddles, rolling pins, canes—”
“Billiard balls are my favourite.” Charles interrupted. “Laying a jewel on the pool table, then scoring a shot with them lying in the middle. Dane had a nice array of round-shaped bruises all along his sides for weeks.”
“Lawn bowls was great for me.” Roland chuckled. “Using Mollie as the jack and trying to get as many to whack into her as possible was addictive. And a good work-out.” He jiggled his large belly. “Definitely worked up an appetite.”
My hands clenched tighter around my gun.
“Yes, well. This time, I upped the ante.” Victor tossed the final few assault weapons to his guests.
They sailed through the air looking exactly like AK-47s.
“Usually, the winner gets to enjoy a night of their choice in the snuffbox or dungeon, painting their jewel with a few more bruises if they feel so inclined. They’re still bound by my guidelines, and I don’t tolerate unnecessary violence, but... it’s always been good fun.”
“What do the winners get today, then?” Patrick asked, swiping his hand beneath his nose, looking cracked out with eagerness to begin.
Grinning like a puppeteer pulling everyone’s nasty strings, Victor announced, “I’m aware some of you might be feeling a tad, shall we say...stifled under my many rules. And so...my gift to you is...no rules.”
Men looked at one another in confusion.
But then...that confusion slowly switched to understanding and finally to fucking glee.
“You mean it, Vic?” Charles asked. “You truly mean we can do whatever the fuck we want?”
Nodding, Victor slammed a crate closed and leapt onto it like a goddamn spider monkey.
Spreading his arms, he glowed beneath the sunshine.
“Each gun will be loaded with a particular colour. That colour will determine the winner. The one who manages to shoot and paint a jewel the most—layering him or her with bruises at the same time—will win the right to do whatever their blackened heart desires.”
“Even mutilation?” Ferdinand asked quietly.
“Yep.” Victor nodded. “With my blessing.”
“Asphyxiation?” Charles asked.
“Of course.”
“Hook play?”
What the fuck is hook play?
“Mm-hmm.” Victor smiled.
“Death?” Roland smiled like a psychopath. “What about that?”
Victor didn’t reply for a moment, dragging out the suspense and my damn heartrate. Finally, he clasped his hands and pinned all of us with a blank, deadly serious stare.
His temper rose without warning—his frustration and intolerance, and every sick emotion he harboured that was usually so well covered with careful veneer—crawled to the surface and rained over us like acid.
“You hunt to eat, don’t you? You shoot to kill, yes?
Well, my beloved friends...today is that hunt.
Today is that kill. So yes. Whoever wins this game has my unequivocal permission to do whatever he fucking wants.
My gems have been protected by my rules for long enough and deserve a refresher for just how good they have it. ”
He swiped away a fake tear. “Am I not good to them? Do I not provide them comfy beds, healthy food, and good healthcare?”
“You do, Vic. You’re a fabulous father.”
“And so why must they keep chipping away at my magnanimity? Why must I stoop to their level to remind them that they are fucking nothing to me? They are mine. My flock. My sheep. My little herd to do whatever I fucking well please with. They’re spoiled and ungrateful, and after today...
they will remember their place.” Breathing hard, he raked both hands through his hair and smiled.
“After today, you’ll see...we will have peace again, and all this nasty tension will be behind us. ”
Leaping down from the crate, he grabbed his own gun. “Now, arm up, gentlemen, the hunt is about to begin.”