Chapter 49 His Face is Fit
My father—if I can even call him that—has always reiterated how weak my resolve is.
My entire life, I’ve been treated like a fragile, breakable doll.
I wholeheartedly blame him for my demise and naivety.
I had hoped once I escaped the confines of my cloistered gilded cage, I could overcome my codependency on others.
The realization is I have always needed him.
I’ve been using Zain as a coping mechanism.
He’s been using me too. We’ve been using each other.
I refocus my efforts on him and let myself drown in my own self-hatred. I was brainwashed and lied to by Pearson. He took my brother from me. He hid me away like a prized jewel. No longer will I be the martyr. No longer will I let anyone have power over my emotions. Except him…my brother.
I snap my eyes with his, begging for connection.
“Yours,” I whisper. Zain’s eyes widen at my unholy unveiling.
He increases his thrusts inside me with renewed fervor.
As if he would wait for permission. No, Zain takes what he wants.
We’ve always felt connected, and now I understand why.
The darkness inside of him runs within me too.
I just needed his help to uncover who I truly was and where I belong.
My father is too stunned to speak. He only can watch helplessly in horror as his son defiles his daughter.
I arch against my restraints, dying for him to reach that place inside of me that makes my toes curl.
The place only he can satisfy. His piercings ripple along my G-spot.
He digs his fingertips into my hips and maneuvers me to his liking.
After a minute, he unties my ankle restraints to get a better angle.
He drags deep, lazy strokes in and out of me, making me keen like only he can.
I pull at my wrists that are bound together.
The rope cuts into my delicate skin, forming harsh red ligature marks.
Fire burns in his irises. He scrapes his teeth along the nylon rope, undoing it effortlessly.
My body melts into the mattress. Into him.
I’m angry, I’m hurt, but the only thing I want to do is drown out the pain.
His face is fitted with so many emotions.
He’s about to break again. It’s up to me to keep him grounded.
I’m the only family he has anymore. I reach for his neck and force his forehead against mine.
This is as intimate as he’s ever allowed.
Slowly, he concedes. I slowly chip away at his hard exterior.
“I can destroy your demons, but you don’t want that,” I moan onto his lips. ”What you need is for me to join you in your insanity.”
My words light a destructive, unruly fire within him, and he roars out his release, filling my insides with his seed. I follow suit, my body convulsing around him. I know he craves blood. Something I can willingly offer to satiate his needs.
“Cut me,” I breathe. His ragged breath and sweat-soaked tendrils make him look wild, disheveled like the beast he is. He snaps his gaze to mine. His dead eyes light up with predatory need at my sacrifice.
“You’re scared you’ve fallen for the monster. It’s okay, I’ll protect you from the world.
Seek asylum within me…sister.” His voice is low and dangerous.
The words on his lips make it real. I should feel disgust, but the only thing swirling inside of me is a deep hunger and desire to please.
The anger and hatred I should feel for Zain melts away.
He dips his hand into the pocket of his slacks and flicks open his blade.
He runs it along my thigh before clipping it next to his brand, just enough that crimson goodness seeps from my milky skin.
A satisfied glint flows through his features at his handiwork.
He lowers himself to my thighs and laps at my wound like a starved animal.
His tongue does a long, lavish lick, coating my skin in velvet.
When he looks up at me, his lips, tongue, and chin are soaked in my sanguine fluid. He embodies the epitome of deranged.
“We. Are. One,” I whisper.
My father begins sobbing uncontrollably. “I wanted to protect you, Vesper. To protect you from the Void. I wanted to protect you from him." He hones in on Zain.
And Zain stills as if he’s been caught.
Void? What does he mean?
He gets to his feet and, deceptively slowly, pulls my dress back down into place very calmly. He tucks his cock away and wipes the blood from his lips on his forearm like a savage.
“You knew when you adopted her that she was the youngest of this generation of Elites. You knew it was a possibility! Thought you were doin’ the right thing? Couldn’t fix me, so you fuck with my sister?” he seethes.
“What is the Void?” I ask, getting to my feet, but no one says a word to me. “What the fuck is the Void?” I shout louder, finding the voice I’ve been missing my whole life. Not anymore. Anger radiates from my skin.
Zain’s mouth is buttoned tight. He stares down Pearson as if waiting for him to offer an explanation.
Pearson cranks his neck up to meet my gaze with a contrite expression. Sadness and despondency radiate from him.
Zain forces him back in the chair. His lip is busted and blood runs down the side of his bruised face. He’s hardly recognizable; looks nothing like the man who raised me.
“Void is an acronym. The wealthy families of Grimshaw are in on it…” Pearson tries to skirt around it.
“What does it stand for, and what does it have to do with me?” I demand.
“It is an underground pleasure ring for the Elites. I did not want you involved in any part of it.”
Then he explains it. How the school was founded by the Elites. The Void is a front that allows them to funnel money into the school while enjoying themselves in the process. My stomach churns.
“Where do the girls come from?” I ask with a shaky breath. Do they auction us Elite women off?
He licks his bloody, chapped lips. “The scholarship students. The ones with broken backgrounds. Who would say no at a chance to be an offering? If the offering refuses, she loses her scholarship. They rarely decline, but if they do, it is the youngest female Elite’s responsibility to provide for her school to keep the legacy alive. ”
Clara…
I feel sick to my stomach.
Realization dawns on me. She’s on scholarship. “Does she know?” I ask in a broken whisper. My father shakes his head slowly. “Not yet.”
The firelight snuffs out to a low, dull glow.
Zain stays quiet, allowing me to uncover the details.
Like him, I too have been a victim of endless lies and deceit.
My heart shatters, and I want to retch. It’s disgusting.
It’s vile. How could he lie to me? He stole my entire life.
What’s worse is he stole Zain from me for nearly two decades.
He made me think I was someone I wasn’t.
“And Mother?”
He balks. “She killed herself. Zain was too much for her. The idea of being unable to fix him broke her, even years down the road. She watched him from afar and steadily noticed his rapid decline.”
I stay silent for a beat, piecing together everything from my life, including Zain’s hand in this. Did he know?
No…
I turn to Zain, searching for the truth. “So all of this was to kill Pearson? I was a pawn?” Now that my mind can straighten out everything, clarity comes to me. He used me. Am I still nothing but a means to an end?
Zain keeps his expression neutral as he dissects me, deciphering my emotions no doubt. Zain does everything with a purpose. “Yes.”
His truth stings. He grits his teeth as if in pain. I know he’s fighting his demons again.
But not just that, he’s fighting me. His feelings. “Did you know I was adopted?”
He nods slowly and with lack of remorse.
I slam my eyes closed and let out a bellowing shriek as I hunch over, gripping my matted, tangled hair. I disassociate.
“And you knew I was your damn sister?” I shout. “No,” he says in a low whisper.
That makes me feel better at least. If he knew, I don’t know what I’d do right now. I don’t trust myself. “You knew about Void?” I pant, trying to calm down.
“Only recently. I don’t speak to Roland,” he grits.
I still have so many unanswered questions. How did he not know about Void? How did he find out? What does this mean for Clara and me? She would never decline. She needs this scholarship. Knowing I’m safe brings me no solace.
His face twists and his eye twitches. I can tell the voices are speaking to him again. He must be processing this the same as me. I will myself to calm down for his sake.
“Don’t fight it,” I say, seeing his internal struggle.
He growls. “You don’t understand. The voices. They demand things. Sick, fucked-up shit.”
“Don’t let him in, Vesper. He’s toxic, a nihilistic instigator,” Pearson interrupts.
Zain snaps his head around and pulls his switchblade from his slacks again.
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. If it wasn’t for Vesper, I’d have killed you already.
Only reason I haven’t is she deserves answers.
Don’t misunderstand, your fate rests with me, Father.
” That word on his tongue is like poison. His face says it all.
I approach him cautiously and take his hand with the blade in mine. We entwine. “Like what,” I whisper, hoping he will open just a tiny fraction.
His eyes darken. “To cut you. To fuck you. To drink your sanguine blood flow. They demand you in every fuckin’ way. Some violent. They enjoy your tears, your torment and pain.”
I swallow thickly. I’m not scared. I know he would never hurt me. Not really. Violence is his love language.
“What else?” I whisper, taking the blade from his grasp.
His gaze stays trained on the ground in a trance. “I like to hurt others if they touch you. I am a murderer, Vesper,” he confesses. I embrace every fucked-up detail of his inner workings. He’s the only one who’s been here for me. He’s all I have.