Page 4 of Hell House
As he goes into detail on what he expects of me, I feel at war within myself. The Pride part of me that lives in my chest, swells with excitement, desperate to prove itself, but my human side? My human side is raging, making my heart hammer and palms sweat. I know that I don’t have a choice. That I’ll be forced to do whatever it is he asks of me. Especially with the threats he has hanging over my head, over all seven of our heads. I can’t disregard his wishes and a voice that sounds like mine screams from inside of my head, trapped.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lukas
My twin was up to something. I know him like I know the back of my hand, each intricate tattooed rose petal. He’d come back from his meeting with the headmaster acting jittery, which was unlike him. When I tried asking him what was up, he shrugged me off and locked himself into his room. I scratch at my scruff and pile a huge helping of eggs onto my plate. Graham had insisted on feeding everyone that was home, and I wasn’t complaining. Graham makes the best food- the things I’d do for his lasagna alone was downright obscene.
“Hey Graham Cracker, do you have any more of that special hot sauce you make?” Emmet asks, mopping up his eggs with the remnants of the red hot sauce Graham makes. The red liquid coats his dark skin as he messily shoves the food in his mouth, his face scrunching up into a scowl. We’d broken into fights over the hot sauce before, and if Graham ever fails at taking over his family’s restaurant business, the dude could make a fortune bottling this shit up.
“Nah, man. I gave the last of it to Lukas.” I feel Emmet’s eyes boring into my plate. Shit. I avoid his envious stare as I shovel the last few bites of eggs accompanied with the coveted sauce into my mouth. He slams his plate into the sink, the rest of his eggs flying.
“Yo, calm down or I won’t make anymore.” Graham says, one hand on his aproned hip and the other pointing his spatula at Emmet who is still glowering at me. I lick my fork and see the green of Emmet’s eyes flash in envy. He’s probably coming up with some retaliation, but fuck it was so worth it. I stifle a smirk from gracing my lips by biting down on my lip ring. That smirk would for sure send Emmet overboard and I was far too hung over to deal with his bullshit this morning.
My mind floods with images that are begging me to sketch them out despite my lingering hangover. My father’s requirement of my education demanded that I earn a business degree like my twin, which didn’t leave much room to pursue my true passions in my school schedule. However, I had worked out a deal with the art department for me to sit in on the classes I wasn’t technically signed up to take.I could attend one advanced art class per week, in exchange for some modeling. It was cold as fuck sitting in a room full of students that were sketching my bare ass, their eyes calculating every brush stroke. As uncomfortable as it was initially, I’d grown not to give a fuck since it granted me access to what I truly desired. And shit, did it feel good to be able to thwart my father’s wishes. He hated anything that he deemed frivolous, and art fell into that category with him. Especially my art.
I remember the moment I stopped trying to show him what I was working on. I was five and I’d just drawn my mother as she sipped her tea. I ran clutching the parchment in my tiny fists as I flew into my father’s office, feet bounding with excitement. I didn’t get her nose right, but I still thought it was so cool. I couldn’t wait to show him. He’d been on the phone, as usual, and when I waved the paper in front of him- he yanked it from my hands, not even bothering to look at it before he crumpled the paper I had spent so much time on and tossed it into the trash. That was the last time I allowed myself to be naïve enough to think he cared about what I did. He cared about his bottom line. He cared about his business, his yacht and his many stock holdings. He cared most of all for his legacy and the insistence that Pierce and I follow in his footsteps. He sure as shit didn’t care about my Mom, or what she wanted, and I’d go to my grave blaming him for what happened to her. I feel my teeth grinding in frustration with the turn my thoughts had taken. I’d play along with his demands- biding my time while I earned my degree and then I’d be gone.
In my room hunched over my art desk, my fingers strain. They’re covered in smudges and are cramping from the hours spent creating, getting everything perfect. I swipe my charcoal over the page- shading and bringing the images in my mind to life. Everything gets quiet in my mind for awhile and the pressure inside my chest dulls as I work. I miss lunch and ignore the dull ache that’s taken up residence in my stomach. The groaning it makes only spurring me on. It isn’t until around 3 that I’m interrupted by Sloan, who has misplaced his weed stash. Knowing him, he was probably just getting up. He usually stays up late smoking and playing video games, and he never wakes up before noon. Sloan had figured out a way to take all his required classes in the evening, and he usually slept through most of the lectures.
“You know I don’t touch that shit Sloan.” I make a final stroke around the intricately designed wrought iron fence I’d been sketching all day. I’d woven skulls and roses throughout the design and finished with a flourish of my signature down in the corner. My floor is littered with bunched up papers I’d tossed trying to get it right.
“Yeah, but have you seen it?” I rub at my cramping shoulder, smudging a bit of the charcoal as I massage my aching muscle. “You know I need it to relax.”
“I haven’t, but if I do, I’ll let you know.” He nods at my response then heads downstairs to bother the rest of our frat brothers. I stand stretching out my lower back, determined to grab some food. Pierce’s weird behavior from this morning nags at my mind, but I push it away reasoning that it was probably just him coping with a hangover.
When I enter the kitchen, I find it empty, giving me full access to the refrigerator. I pile some meat on bread and smear a bit of mayo on. When I go to squirt the mustard, it shoots out at me from the bottom. “What the FUCK!” I roar. That shit almost hit me square in the eye, missing by a millimeter.
I hear a dark chuckle coming from behind me. Fucking Emmet. I should have known. I wipe my mustard filled face with a paper towel.
“We even now, asshole?” He leans against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He nods assessing the damage he’d done with his prank.
“I guess we’ll see.” He says before knocking his knuckles on the door frame as he leaves the kitchen.
Fucking Emmet. I rip into my sandwich, sans mustard. I need a shower.
When I finish my food, I toss the plate into the sink then head up to the second level where the communal bathroom was located. The school had renovated the old mansion to make it fit for a fraternity. I walked into one of the shower stalls and turned on the water waiting for it to warm up. As I let the tepid water flow over me, I felt the tug of Lust grabbing at my chest. Fucking hell, not again.
I look down to see my pierced cock rock hard and aching. The pressure in my chest increases, demanding I give in. I wrap my hand around my length, obeying as I stroke it. Images of people I’d fucked playing in my mind as I satisfied the Lust that lives in me, controlling me. When I finally come, I let out a loud groan. For once I’d like to remember what it was like to feel this way without the pull of the demon I’d been saddled with.
CHAPTER FIVE
Pierce
The Pacific Northwest is in a mood swing, the temperature plummeting fast after the summer months, just in time for school to start. A chilled fog hangs in the air as I trudge down the wooded path from Hell House to Paladin Hall where I have my first class of the day. My mind has been a fucking mess since meeting with the headmaster, my thoughts sparring against what he expects of me. The consequences of not following through with his request.
Wind whips at my face, biting into my skin while I make the five-minute walk to class. Though the frat house isn’t far, it’s still eerie and no one else is on the path as most of my fraternity brothers opt for classes that start later in the day. The Douglas Firs that surround the path creak while the bitter wind batters the miserable island. By the time I arrive at the hall, my skin is pebbled with goosebumps and the chill from the wind has settled in my bones. It takes me a moment of rubbing my hands together to get some feeling back into them.
My first two years at Kildale Academy were spent getting all my prerequisites out of the way, which means I’ll finally be able to focus on the classes that are specialized to my degree.
I’m about to enter Intro to Business when a flash of creamy white legs covered in fishnet stockings catches my attention. A smirk graces my lips at seeing the hellion that I’d run into the other day on my way to the headmaster’s office. Judging by the disgusted look on her face, she’s seen me too. I check my watch and see I’ve got some time to spare before class starts. I slink over to where she’s sipping on a coffee cup. Maybe the early start won’t be so bad.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I lean against the wall, hands pushed deep into my pockets.
“Drop dead.” She says, looking down into her cup, not sparing me even a glance.
I feel a rustling in my chest of displeasure, but then an idea hits me. I pat my body in confusion and finally get her to raise an eyebrow at my overt display.
“What are you doing?” Annoyance laces her husky voice.
