23. Dorian
23
Dorian
O ctavia steps out of her room, her heels clicking on the floor, gazing at us with her wide doe eyes that set my heart on fire. I wondered if she was going to stick to the bloodline guidance and wear one of her old dresses for our meal, but she does my toxic soul proud by wearing a floor length white gown tight to her body, showcasing every curve, covered in crystals, leaving one arm bare while the over is covered by a sleeve, a long slit revealing her thick thigh, body shimmer making the stretch-marks there sparkle. Her white-blonde hair is slightly curled, pulled over her bare shoulder.
“I’ve never seen you look more like an angel,” I whisper, capturing her face, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth and tasting her light pink lipstick.
She moans, melting at my touch as easily as breathing. I always knew I owned her, never doubted for a second that she was mine, but I never realised how much I was hers. Love isn’t something I ever considered when I thought of her. She was my possession, my property; no one was going to take what was mine away from me, but I missed the moment she claimed me right back, when she took me as hers.
I have fallen sickeningly, obsessively in love with this woman, something I never believed myself capable of, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
“My turn,” Bastian snaps, barging into my shoulder, stealing her out of my grasp.
He twirls her in a circle, making her giggle before bending her dramatically and going in for a romantic movie kiss. She still giggles against his lips as she kisses him, melting into his touch as much as she did mine.
That is why we work so well, why my brother and I are not complete without the other. I cannot give her that, the carefree, playful kind of love. No matter how unhinged and damaged my brother is, he can be completely free. His scars and torment mean he doesn’t have a single care in the fucking world. My damage is different. I need to control, I’m too possessive. I can give them safety and peace to just be.
My sweet Octavia is more damaged than both of us, just in a different way. She craves to be loved, to be cherished, to have everything she so desperately wanted all her life and could only get from us, but it was tainted with fear of everything else. I plan to slaughter every possible thing that could bring that fear back, anything that takes away from her happiness. I might not be able to give her sweet romance, but I can give her my fucking life for her to do with as she pleases.
“Time to go now, kids,” I say, snapping my pocket watch closed. Dinner is about to be served, and this is a meal I do not want to be late for.
“What have you got planned?” Octavia asks, frowning at me as Bastian sets her on her feet.
“Whatever do you mean?” I shrug my shoulder, trying to school my face into a neutral expression, but I can’t help the smirk still pulling at my lips.
“Oh, you’ve done something extremely fucked up.” Bastian bounces on the balls of his feet, his eyes sparkling with bloodthirsty excitement. “I know that look. You’re giving the same look you did when you made Octavia’s nanny eat her husband’s heart by making her think it was a cow’s. She got about halfway through before you dumped his body on the table with his chest caved in.”
Bastian laughs hysterically, holding his stomach, as Octavia’s eyes widen, her head whipping between the two of us.
“I’m sorry, what?” she exclaims. “When did you do this?”
I don’t need long to remember. I know the exact date. “Fourteen years, seven months, and nine days ago, give or take a few hours.”
A burst of nervous laughter erupts from her as she shakes her head in bewilderment. “A memorable event, then.”
I step towards her, trailing my fingers through her luscious hair. “Of course it was. It was the day after she cut your hair against your will at Father’s request. Bastian and I had put semi permanent pink dye on the ends because you wanted to look like a fairy princess.”
I brush my lips over her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent of strawberries. “Like I was ever going to let that go unpunished. Every fairy princess needs her demons.”
“I cut off some of her toes and then made her wear them as a necklace,” Bastian adds, snaking his arm around her waist from the side, placing his lips on her hand right next to mine. “I still have it somewhere if you want it.”
“I think I’ll pass on that.” She pulls away, scrunching up her nose. Don’t blame her on that front. “In terms of jewellery, I’ll stick with platinum, maybe some silver, but never toes, Bas. Never toes.”
Bastian tilts his head, shaking it from side to side. “Fingers?”
Octavia rears back, and I close my eyes, counting to ten.
“No, Bastian. No body parts of any kind.”
“What about my cum? I’ve seen a shop online that dries it out and puts it into jewellery. They look so pretty, and it would match this outfit perfectly,” he counters, trying desperately for some inane reason to get her to agree to it.
She sighs heavily, her foot tapping on the ground. “You’ve already got it, haven’t you?”
My eyes fly open, and I stare at Bastian’s guilty face. His cheeks turn red, and he scuffs his boot on the ground, letting go of her waist, shoving his hands in his black jean pockets.
“No,” he mutters, and that is definitely a yes.
“Bastian?” she says, trying to get him to look at her.
“I said no. That would be a stupid gift to get someone.” He forces a laugh, staring intently at the floor, scuffing his shoes.
Octavia runs her fingers through his beard, forcing him to look at her as she softens her voice. “I would love a necklace made from your…cum.”
“Really?”
His head snaps up, a big wild smile on his face that proves infectious. I can’t help the little smirk on my own, and it grows wider as he pulls the necklace from his pocket.
“A pearl necklace.” I chuckle, and he scowls, pulling it closer to his chest, hiding it.
Octavia frowns at me over her shoulder, giving me the evil eye. “It’s beautiful, Bastian. I love it,” she says, giving him her full focus. I let them have their moment, moving over to the door, leaning against the frame.
“You like it?” he asks with all the hopes of a puppy dog wanting attention from its owner.
“I love it. Put it on me?”
She turns around, lifting her hair, waiting for him to clasp the necklace around her neck. It is quite pretty—a small delicate gold chain with a single round pearl that rests in the centre of her chest. She twirls the pearl between her fingers with a warm smile as she gazes up at him with so much love in her eyes that I feel it in my gut.
I take a step towards them, clearing my throat, feeling like a total bastard having to put a stop to their moment, but time is ticking on. “We need to go, sweetheart.”
Bastian raises her chin with two of his fingers, placing a soft kiss on his lips before taking her hand.
“Okay, sugar tits, let’s get the show on the road.” He winks, sending me a kiss, but I don’t take the bait. With Bastian, you have to know which battles are worth it and which ones aren’t.
Octavia reaches for my hand as we leave, squeezing tight, her nails digging into my skin. “It’s all going to be okay, angel.”
I’ve made sure of it.
Grandfather is already waiting for us, sitting in our father’s spot at the dining table, taking a sip of scotch. He swirls the amber liquor in the crystal glass, raising an eyebrow at the three of us.
“You’re late.” His voice booms in the room, echoing off the walls, his tone low and scolding. He’s trying to make us feel ashamed, but it’s been a long time since any of us were children.
Waiters flurry in with plates of food, placing them expertly on the fully decorated table with the best black lining and silverware, dahlias as the centrepiece as I instructed. Grandfather’s favourite.
“It seems we are right on time,” I say, directing Octavia and Bastian to our seats.
The moonlight shines through the large windows, stars twinkling in the sky: the perfect night for the final pieces to fall into place.
I had every seat at the table removed, leaving only the two chairs at opposing ends, one having two flanking it on each side. Octavia sits on my right, Bastian on my left. I can tell by the twitch of his hand when he releases her that he doesn’t want to be on the opposite side, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Interesting gown choice, Granddaughter.”
Octavia takes a sip of her wine, taking her sweet ass time. She sets her glass down and turns to me. “What’s being served tonight?”
Bastian lets out a quick burst of laughter, and I have to tamp down my own, hiding my smirk. Grandfather bristles, slamming his glass on the table, but we all ignore him.
“Veal is being served tonight, angel.” Her lips turn down, grimacing in disgust. “Don’t worry, I’ve already asked them to make you a different dish. I believe Chef was going to prepare you some pasta,” I tell her, making her frown turn into a smile.
More waiters enter, placing a covered plate in front of each of us, removing the top with a flourish to reveal the meal. Octavia groans, leaning down to smell her creamy pasta, making the most delicious sound that has my cock hardening. I shift in my seat, catching Bastian out of the corner of my eye doing the same.
“I have not come to be ignored,” Grandfather snaps, grabbing his knife and fork, cutting violently into his veal. “Leave us,” he barks at the staff, and they scuttle away quickly.
Octavia twirls a bit of pasta on her fork, gazing up from her eyelashes, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I didn’t realise there was a question in that statement. Was there a question you wanted to ask about my gown?”
Bastian pauses with his drink midway to his lips, as stunned as I am at her retort. My angel has grown her talons. We wait to see what he’ll do, if his anger will rise and cause a scene, or if he will try the sugar sweet poison that he likes to lure people in with.
Turns out, it’s neither. He takes a bite out of his meat, humming at the taste. Octavia turns back to her food with a small, prideful smile, and I grasp her thigh, giving it a squeeze. We eat in silence for a few minutes. Bastian only takes a couple bites of the meat before turning his nose up at it, trying to steal Octavia’s pasta. I personally find it very delectable, but I think that has more to do with where I got it.
“How long have you been involved with your brothers, Octavia?” Grandfather asks, leaning back in his chair. “Or would you prefer I call them your boyfriends? They are certainly not your husbands, seeing as there have been no legal proceedings.”
She shrugs her shoulders, batting Bastian’s fork away as he goes in for another piece, rolling her eyes. “Either is fine.”
He opens his mouth to no doubt scold her, but I cut in, stopping whatever vile words were about to spew out.
“The legal proceedings will happen in the autumn, as per my little sister’s request.” I smirk watching him grimace in distaste.
“ The wedding ,” he says, clutching his cutlery tight, “will take place in a month’s time, and it will be with the groom I’ve arranged. I planned to discuss it with your father before he went missing. I knew Octavia was sent away to correct her behaviour, and I thought this wedding would be a perfect permanent solution that wouldn’t put a stain on the Stone name.”
He sneers at her, cutting roughly into his meat, taking a big swig of drink to wash it down. Sweat starts to shine just slightly on his forehead, and he pulls at the neck of his shirt, loosening his tie.
“The only reason I did not stand in your way bringing her back was because I needed her to return. Don’t think I didn’t know all about your scheming to bring your sister home and everyone you killed in the process. Don’t think-” He sputters, his sentence cut off as he coughs violently.
Octavia stops eating, and Bastian stops trying to steal her food, both of them shifting their focus to our grandfather. I lean back in my chair, taking another bite, savouring the surprisingly sweet taste.
“And don’t think I didn’t plan exactly for that.” I smirk, grabbing my glass, swirling the amber liquid.
“What…what is the meaning of this?” Grandfather coughs, grabbing his handkerchief. Blood splutters from his lips; it’s only a few speckles, but it will certainly be more extensive in a few more minutes.
“What’s happening?” He stands up from his chair, or at least tries to, before falling back down, his limbs growing weak. “Ramsey,” he bellows, as predictable as ever.
The door swings open, and Ghost walks through instead, carrying a silver serving tray with Ramsey’s head perfectly displayed on a bed of salad, an apple between his teeth.
“Jesus,” Octavia mutters under her breath, shaking her head.
Bastian smirks, keeping his gaze on our grandfather, not letting him out of his sight—just in case. He already knows the plan.
“Oh no, poor Ramsey seems to have had a minor accident,” Bastian says, putting his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands, pouting. “Guess that means no one was able to taste your food or drink. Huh, I sure hope no one did anything to it.”
“You stupid boys,” Grandfather wheezes, more sweat dripping down his head as he undoes his tie completely. “You are children playing a grown-up game. Ramsey isn’t…the only one I have in the manor.”
His eyes flick to Ghost, a smug smile on his face that falters as he places Ramsey’s head in front of him and walks away, right out the door.
“Ghost! Ghost, come back here this moment.” He bangs his fist on the table and hunches over in another coughing fit.
I take the moment to grab Octavia’s hand, an uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach at the revelation I have to give next. I didn’t want her to find out; I planned on dealing with him alone so she would never know. I allowed a single flaw into my plan at him arriving early, and I will pay for that.
“I’m sorry about this part, angel. Forgive me.”
She gazes at me with a bewildered look, her brows pulling together, scrunching up her little nose. “For what?”
I don’t have time to break it easy to her. Time is ticking on, and the poison is working fast. I stand up, nodding my head to Bastian for him to take over. He rushes round and pulls her up until he can hold her in his arms.
“Did it never occur to you why Ghost volunteered so readily to be your spy in this castle? He was in the ranks to be a top player, and he left it all to do this. Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
I crouch down beside him, pushing him back in his chair, lifting his head. “He’s Octavia’s biological father. He’s been working with me since the moment he came here. Lucinda was already pregnant before she married Father, something he found out quickly but decided to save face than admit it. You would have murdered him had you known, and that privilege belonged to my sweet sister.”
I twist my head and catch the heartbroken gaze on Octavia’s face as she leans into Bastian’s arms. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll do anything.
“How does he taste, by the way?” I ask Grandfather, turning my attention back to him. “I found him surprisingly sweet. I thought it would be bitter, seeing how much of a bastard he was.”
He wheezes in the chair, the poison seeping through his veins, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes flick to his plate, gazing at the slab of meat he thought was veal but turned out to be his son.
I reach into my pocket, producing a needle with the antidote. His fingers wiggle, arm falling as he tries to reach for it.
“Ah, ah,” I tut. “Not yet.” I grab a chair, pulling it closer to him, twirling the thing that may very well save his life between my fingers.
“I will give you this antidote, Grandfather. I’m not a monster. Well, I am, but I’m a cunning one,” I say, leaning back and crossing my legs. “Your death will bring me nothing but work. I’m not in the mood to rule the bloodline yet, not when I’ve just gotten Octavia back. I want to give her the world, let her have some fun for once in her life, but make no mistake: I will be coming for your blood one day. It just doesn’t have to be today.”
I will run the bloodline one day, as I was fucking made to. I thrive in the darkness, lost in the shadows, pulling the strings of everyone around me. I will do it now if I need to, but I meant what I said. I want to give Octavia some peace, some fun. If he declines, Bastian can be that for her, but I want to be as well.
“What…do…you…want?” he gasps, slumped in his chair.
I lean forward, grasping his chin, pulling his head so he really hears me. “What I want is a blood promise that nothing will ever happen to Octavia. She will no longer answer to the bloodline; she is free from it. You will give your blessing to our marriage, Bastian and I will take our father’s place in the bloodline, and we will work as normal with the freedom to accept or decline jobs. We will receive immunity for almost killing you, and it will be a secret no one else will know about. No one will know how easy it was to take you from your throne.”
I place the syringe by his heart, raising an eyebrow, waiting. He licks his bloodstained lips, his gaze flickering down to it, then back up. I shrug my shoulder, lowering the needle, but he takes the last of his strength to grab my wrist, stopping me.
“Deal,” he croaks, and I slam the syringe straight into his heart. He bellows, his scream of pain echoing in the room before he slumps in his chair.
I leave it sticking out of his chest and walk back over to Octavia and Bastian. The latter stares at our grandfather with pure, unhinged joy, the former staring at me with pure anger.
“Angel,” I say, but her head whips around, eyes flaring with accusation.
“Later,” she snaps, leaving no room for argument, shrugging out of Bastian’s hold. She stomps over to her chair, pulling it out roughly, plopping down, and downing the rest of her drink.
Bastian winces, and we share a look, knowing we are going to have to do some major grovelling to make up for keeping that from her.
Grandfather groans, pulling the needle out of his chest and placing it on the table. He grabs a napkin, wiping his mouth and face, shaking his head. Bastian prods the meat on his plate, scrunching up his nose, and Octavia watches him making the same face.
“Was it the food or the drink?” Grandfather says, his voice raspy.
I smirk, watching as he eyes the two things as I shake my head. “Your cutlery. It was bathed in poison, and the remnants soaked into your skin.”
I click my fingers, and a maid comes in carrying a new, poison free set of cutlery, handing it to him. He eyes it for a moment, but only for a few seconds before he takes it. He keeps his gaze on me, cutting into the meat on his plate, chewing slowly. Not to be outdone, I do the same.
“At least your father was good for something. He makes a fine tender piece of meat,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.
“I think I’m going to vomit,” Octavia whispers, her complexion slightly green. I try to grab her leg to soothe her, but she bats my hand away.
“What date did you plan for the wedding, then? The invites will need to go out, events arranged. I’m sure I can find another bride the Carters will find suitable; they did love the picture of Octavia, but no matter. Will you be telling the bloodline about her true paternity?” Grandfather asks, all civil and polite. You would never guess from his tone that he was seconds away from dying by our hand.
“No,” Bastian and I say at the same time. We don’t care what anyone thinks.
“Very well.” He nods, snapping his fingers for his drink to be refilled. “I know you’ll be coming for me now, Dorian. It won’t be this easy ever again.”
I smirk, raising my glass, taking a sip before saying, “Yes, but like this time, you’ll never see me coming, and there will be no escape.”