Chapter 3
The dark robe slips from my shoulders. Darwin walks closely enough that, even without slowing my pace, he catches it before it hits the floor. It’s dreadful and fucking heavy, but the Circle of Six recommends that it be worn while addressing the people. It’s to serve as a symbol of my authority, a means of dispelling any perceived weakness due to my only being twenty-seven.
However, being seen as weak isn’t something that’s ever been a concern.
Maybe I’m a bit old-fashioned in my thinking, but my authority can be conveyed just as easily by making an example of those who step out of line. If a few broken bones don’t serve as a deterrent, nothing fucking will. But I’m reminded of this year’s collective goal among the flock: lean into love, not violence.
Or some shit like that.
I’m exhausted and have another full day tomorrow. That’s always the case when we have newcomers. The vetting and induction process can be delicate, so I never entrust the task to anyone else. The newest members of our family must grasp the full understanding of how important loyalty and balance are among us.
After all, their lives now officially depend on it.
“I’d consider tonight a success,” Darwin says, his round face lighting up with the words. “The woman… what was her name?”
Cole’s got the memory of an elephant, so he rambles an answer without missing a beat. “Esther.”
“Yes, that’s right. Esther. She’s well-educated. I think she’d make a fine teacher.”
Darwin’s right. We’re in need of someone to oversee a few night classes.
“I’ll consider your suggestion when it’s time to place them.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he says with a nod, always pleased when we agree on something. “And perhaps the men can be added to the Maintenance Team.”
We reach my bedroom, and I place my thumb over the sensor on the knob. It beeps once in recognition of my fingerprint, then Darwin and Cole follow me inside. The others know to remain out in the hallway unless they’re invited in. As expected, the room’s been prepared. The lights are dimmed to twenty-five percent brightness, soft classical piano lulls from hidden speakers, and the temperature’s been adjusted to a chilled sixty-seven degrees.
The door closes behind us, and I lock eyes with Aria. She’s on her post, standing beside my bed, waiting to dress me for the night. A change of clothes rests in the bend of her elbow, and her expression brightens, making her far too easy to read.
She wants to be told to stay, with hopes that I’ll fuck her tonight.
A smile curves my lips, and then fades when Darwin’s voice cuts in again.
“Sir? Thoughts on assigning the men to the maintenance team?”
“I heard you the first time, and I’m considering it.” My tone is sharp, prompting Darwin to lower his head.
“My apologies, Sir.” His cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and I turn from him as Aria steps forward to unbutton my shirt. She finishes and her focus lingers on the scars over my heart for a moment. Scars she’s tried to get me to open up about, but her attempts have all been fruitless. Realizing I’ve caught her staring, she quickly redirects her eyes to mine.
“We’ll worry about placement later. Not sure I have the mental capacity to make a sound decision tonight. I’m exhausted.”
A loaded silence fills the room after I speak, and I can feel tension emanating from both Darwin and Cole.
“Sir, I actually hoped we could speak to you about that. About your… burning the wick at both ends.” It’s Cole who’s spoken up this time, which is a bit of a rarity.
“I’m listening.”
He clears his throat and without turning to face him, I know he’s forcing his posture straighter, searching for confidence that seems to drain right out of him when I’m near.
“There are concerns regarding how often you’ve left the property lately. Concerns about your… nightly activities… and what might happen if the police are somehow able to trace the incidents back to the community.”
My jaw ticks when he finishes, wondering what business it is of anyone’s what I do with my time. Be it morning, noon, or night.
“Tell me, Cole. What are your thoughts on my nightly activities, as you call them?”
He clears his throat again, which I’ve noticed he does to control his nerves, but it doesn’t seem to be working.
“Well, Sir, I—I don’t give it much thought, personally. I’m simply a vessel for you, a resource. Whatever you require, I’ll do my best to provide it.”
“You don’t give it much thought,” I repeat, seeing if that sounds any more believable when I say it than it did when he said it. “I find it interesting that people are comfortable sharing these thoughts with you, in particular, Cole. Don’t you agree that this is fascinating?”
I can practically smell the fear on him.
“I… no… I only meant to express how—I’ve defended you.”
I cut a look toward him, hearing the sound of rushing blood behind my ears. “Do I look like a man who needs your defense?”
The color drains right out of his soft, disappointing face. “No, Sir. My defense of you was merely an act of loyalty. I’m always loyal to you.”
My chest heaves, and my hands are suddenly warm, coated in blood that isn’t actually there. But I crave it. Crave the way it draws the rage right out of me.
Little does Cole know, he ought to be grateful for my measure of restraint. Grateful that I express my true nature outside of our community, sparing him and the others my wrath. If he were smart, he’d shut down any “concerns” that arise, and thank his lucky fucking stars it isn’t his flesh that I tear into.
A deep breath fills my lungs, then I release it, reminding myself of that damned mantra.
Lean into love, not violence.
It’s utter bullshit, but it works. I’m calm, and I haven’t strangled Cole for stepping out of line.
Not tonight, anyway.
“If someone wants to question my actions, do us both a favor and send them directly to me.”
“Yes, Sir,” he grovels.
I pull my arms free from the sleeves, and Aria lowers to her knees, peering up seductively as she undoes my belt. Her tongue peeks out, dampening her lips while she unzips my slacks, lowering the waistband to the floor, and I step out of them. Her eyes settle on my cock through my briefs, which she removes next. I’m hypnotized, focused on the soft, delicate skin covering the visible hollow at the base of her neck, staring as her pulse hammers against it.
A vision of my cock stretching her mouth wide, taking me to the back of her throat, has me hardening. Which, in turn, has a pleased grin spreading across Aria’s lips.
“Gentlemen, do we have anything else to discuss?” I grind out the question as Aria slides a hand between my legs, lightly cupping my scrotum.
“Uh, yes,” Darwin answers, likely tearing his gaze from Aria and I to glance down at his clipboard. “You’ve committed to morning meditation, which will take place just outside the greenhouse, followed by breakfast with Meal Group A. Based on chatter I heard over dinner, they’re looking forward to dining with you.”
I nod, laser-focused on Aria’s lips, and then her tits when she removes her top. “I’ll be there. Anything else?”
“No, Sir. I believe that’s everything.”
I nod again, moving my fingers into Aria’s red hair. She kisses the head of my cock, leaving a trace of sticky gloss behind, and then takes me in completely.
A breath hisses from my mouth.
“Good. Sleep well then,” I say to the men. Their steps are already shuffling toward the door when I remember something. “You didn’t mention our project. Any updates?”
“Actually, yes. Mira just gave word that we’re all set up and completely functional as of eight this evening.”
“We’re online?” I slip out of Aria’s mouth with a wet pop when I press my palm to her forehead.
“We are, Sir.”
No one seems more surprised than Aria when I reach for the pants draped over her shoulder and slip into them. I secure the tie around my waist before snapping my fingers, pointing toward the dresser. Aria’s slow to rise from her knees, unable to hide her displeasure as she trudges toward the drawer and removes a t-shirt. There’s a look of defiance in her eyes as she hands it over. I’m certain if it weren’t for the fact that she knows not to speak while Darwin, Cole, and I are talking family business, she’d question me. It’s as I pull the shirt over my head that I realize she’s gotten a little too comfortable lately, seeming to have forgotten her place.
“I’d like to go to the screening room,” I announce.
There’s still confusion in Darwin’s eyes when he nods. “Of course, Sir.”
We start toward the door, and I don’t miss Aria’s glare, her frustration that I’d turn down an evening with her in favor of tending to business. And it’s that look she’s giving me that will one day be her downfall.
“Have someone escort Aria back to her quarters. And when I return, see to it that it’s Shelby waiting in my bed. I think I’m due for a change,” I inform Cole. And as we exit the room, I take note of how Aria’s mouth has fallen slack.
The elevator stops in the basement, and the doors part. Cole and Darwin’s steps echo in sync with mine until we stop at a large metal door. Darwin is quick to unlock it, and I step inside alone.
“You should be all set, Sir. We’ll be right here if you need anything.”
I nod at the men, then close the door, locking myself inside. The space is completely dark, the only source of light being the glowing monitor mounted on the far wall. The others that surround it are all dark and dormant, tunneling my vision toward the one with color and movement.
My steps are slow as I move closer. Mira oversaw the technical aspects of the plan, while Eugene was my risktaker, venturing out into the field to install the camera. But the end result?
It’s… well, it’s everything.
I lower into the tall, leather armchair that’s been wheeled to the desk, and I’m already fixating on that face. A face that has surely caused its share of men to fall from grace. Her lips alone—full and pouty—could bring even a tyrant like me to his knees. But it’s her dark eyes that draw me in—wide set, large. Her lashes flutter when she brushes a loose strand of hair from her cheek, as if she’s heard my thoughts and intends to break me.
They say that, when you’re being watched, there’s this sensation of unease that crawls over the skin.
Does she feel that now?
Does she feel me watching?
I zoom in to bypass the vent grate that’s partially obstructing my view, finding that I’m fixated on her body now. A purple t-shirt clings to her full tits and toned midriff, a sliver of skin showing where the shirt ends, and the waistband of loose-fitting sweats begins. I study her, every contour of her figure, and I’ve determined she’s equal parts perfection and sin.
Fucking exquisite.
I’m so locked in that I’ve nearly missed that ridiculous-as-shit hat she’s hidden her hair underneath. It’s a gold monstrosity. Like the kind fortune tellers wear in movies, which now gives a bit more context to the crystal ball printed across her t-shirt.
My eyes are drawn to a small tattoo on her bicep when she reaches for a bowl at the corner of her desk. She removes the spoon, and then lifts the bowl to her face, but I’m still focused on the tattoo, absentmindedly touching the one in the shape of a spider on the side of my neck. Her sleeve unrolls a bit, blocking me from making out the details of her ink, but I’m intrigued.
I’ll get a better look at it soon, though.
I cock my head, watching her quickly gulp down whatever’s inside that bowl, like she hasn’t eaten all week. I smile when she lowers it again, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin. As if she didn’t just hoover that down like a frat boy. She finishes off the last of her soda next, tossing the can toward the trash, missing the shot altogether.
She mouths the word fuck to herself very clearly before attempting to stand and retrieve the can. However, she seems to have forgotten she’s attached to a headset. A headset that’s also plugged into her computer. My hand covers my mouth when I lean against the arm of my chair, holding in a laugh as she Stooges her way through. Eventually, she settles into her seat again before deciding to use her toes to roll the can back in her direction.
Folding my arms, I relax deeper into my chair and observe her, this beautiful, quirky mess of a girl. My annoyance flares that there’s no audio when she takes a call through her headset. Based on how she seems more interested in some old, black-and-white TV show than the call, it doesn’t seem like I’m missing much from the conversation.
But then she presses the spacebar, I’m guessing to mute before she belts an enormous laugh at something that’s been said. I’m talking a toss-your-head-back, show-all-your-teeth laugh, and I’m fucking missing it. Instead, I’m forced to imagine the sound, wishing I could hear it ring in my ears, hold onto it.
“Damn it,” I grumble to myself, pressing buttons that, from what I can tell, do absolutely nothing. I’m still locked out of her world. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you add fucking audio?”
Moving both hands through my hair, my heart races. I breathe deep, ignoring the phantom sensation of warm blood coating my hands again.
Mira simply made a mistake. This isn’t anything to lose your shit over, Damien.
Lean into love, not violence.
Lean into love, not violence.
“Fuck!”
I slam the keyboard against the edge of the desk on impulse, snapping it in two before I’m able to stop myself. Shards of plastic scatter across the floor, but I’m fine. I’m fine. Another deep breath and it’s over.
Clearing my throat, I stare at the monitor again. At this woman. This beautiful enigma who’s recently become the focus of so many of my dreams. Before this, I had to watch her from afar, silently enjoying how my world and hers have begun to bleed into one another, although she has yet to put a face with the… presents I’ve left her.
But soon, when the time is right, she’ll know.
Until then, I’ll have to settle for the glimpse I’m able to see through the screen. And if Mira intends to keep her hands attached to her wrists… she’ll find a way to get me some fucking audio.