Chapter 27: Tarnished Embers: Chapter 26

Two days.

Two fucking days that my bitch of a mother has kept Ember locked in the attic. Tightness in my chest fills me as I try to discover an answer and come up empty. Even if we knew how to get up there, which Odette’s made sure that we fucking don’t, the armed security that patrols that grounds and the house prevents us from staging the rescue that we so desperately want to.

We’d all risk ourselves, but we won’t risk her.

Nausea swirls in my stomach as the sun sets on the second day, and the sound of cars pulling up the drive is like nails on a chalkboard.

“The guests are arriving,” Oct says, his voice flat. He steps back from the window, letting the curtain fall closed. We’re in Cas’s room, which has a view of the driveway on one side, and the line of car headlights has me trapped, my heart thudding inside my chest as I continue to think of a way to avoid this.

It’s like there’s a weight on my chest, a lump in my throat that prevents me from taking a full breath. I fucking hate that we can’t get out of this. That we’ll have to fuck these other women tonight in order to keep the one woman we all love safe.

Heaving a sigh, I reach into my pocket and pull out the packet of little blue pills that are going to be the only way I’ll get it up tonight. I ordered this the moment Odette told me that we’d be taking part in this party, knowing that I couldn’t maintain even a semi without them.

“Aren’t we a bit young to need Viagra?” Kit asks, trying and failing to make it into a joke, but nothing about this is fucking funny.

“Will you be able to get a hard-on without it?” I question, my voice low and rough. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. Then he shakes his head, reaching out and taking the packet after I’ve extracted a pill for myself.

It sits on my palm, taunting me, reminding me of how I’ve failed my brothers and my soulmate.

“We’ll get through this,” Cas says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. My throat damn near closes up at his words, the knowledge that we have no choice threatening to be my undoing.

“How will she forgive us?” I breathe out, knowing that none of them can give me an answer.

“She’ll understand,” Oct replies tightly, his jaw clenched. Then I watch as he places the pill on his tongue, reaching for the glass of water by Cas’s bedside and swallowing a gulp.

He hands the glass to Kit, who takes a deep, shuddering inhale before copying him. Kit then passes it to Cas, who gives me a small nod, places the pill on his tongue, and then takes a drink, handing me the now three-quarters-empty glass.

I look down at the small pill. How can it hold so much pain? So much devastation?

“Forgive me, Sugar,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I place the pill on my tongue, then use the water to wash it down.

Earlier, I’d gotten one window to open, and it’s the reason I hear cars pull up to the drive once it’s dark, the sound of tires crunching gravel like someone dragging Odette’s body across them. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

It’s only when I hear faint voices from outside that I remember what this means; the party. Tonight is the gathering where the guys will…

My hand flies to my mouth to stop the bile that burns the back of my throat from spilling out. I’ve only been getting one meal a day, so I can’t afford to throw it all up. There’s a bucket in the far corner that’s been emptied each day, but I’ve not been permitted fresh clothes or a shower. She’s taken any kind of niceties away until all I’m left with is nothing. Tears fill my eyes and the room suddenly feels too hot, too small as the walls close in on me.

I’m grateful that I’m sitting on my bed, my knees drawn to my chest, because I would have fallen flat on my arse if I’d been standing.

The idea of anyone touching them makes my blood boil, but it’s the fact that I know they will force themselves to be touched to keep me safe. They will allow these rich men and women to rape them to stop it from happening to me.

I take a deep breath, counting from ten backwards as my old therapist used to instruct me, and once I get to one, the room is less oppressive, the situation more manageable. My body is racked with chills, my fingers icy, but I’m no longer about to pass out, so small mercies and all that.

The moon is high in the night sky before I hear the tread of footsteps. Multiple sets of them.

My stomach roils and my pulse thuds in my ears as the noise of muffled voices sound beyond the door. Then I watch in horrified fascination as it slowly opens, and in walks my stepmother followed by four strange men.

All the men are smartly dressed in what looks like expensive tailored suits, and they are a range of ages, all four older than me by some years if their weathered faces and greying hair are any indication. My arms tighten around my knees as I take in the leering way they look at me. They look at me like they’re already possessing me, already taking what they want from me.

“Ember, honey, these gentlemen request the pleasure of your company this evening,” Odette says, a simpering tone in her voice.

“W–what? B–but you p–promised…” I say in a whisper, the sound of my heartbeat thrashing filling my ears. One man, an older gentleman with greying hair and a potbelly, flares his nostrils, his eyes almost rolling as he scents my fear. At least, I assume that’s what he’s doing.

“Oh, that.” Odette gives a tinkling laugh as she waves her hand in the air. “But my boys trained you to take four cocks so well, it would be a shame not to make use of your new skills, and these gentlemen have paid handsomely for you tonight.”

The men laugh, then step further into the room, Odette moving to one side and backing towards the door.

“Odette! Please don’t do this,” I beg, my gaze flitting between her retreating form and the monsters advancing towards me. I’m frozen on the bed, unable to move as I plead with her. “You fucking promised!”

“I lied.” There’s no emotion in her voice, just a frozen emptiness that seals my fate. The smile drops from her face as she says the words, her face void of any kind of expression.

Then the door slams, the sound of the lock clicking loud and like a death knell. I scrabble off the bed, putting it between me and the men, who seem not to be in any rush.

“S–stay away from me, you fucking perverts!” I shout, trying to keep my eyes on them while looking around to see if there’s anything here that can be used as a weapon.

“Tut-tut, little one,” one of them chides. He looks to be the youngest of the group, maybe in his forties, but his blue eyes are shining with excitement, and a quick glance down shows me a small outline pressed against the crotch of his trousers. Bile fills my throat and I have to swallow hard not to throw up. “Such a filthy mouth. We’ll have to fill it for her, won’t we?”

“We will indeed,” Mr potbelly says, his piggy eyes trailing up and down my body. He clearly likes the look of what he sees, his slug-like tongue coming out to lick his pudgy lips.

“I doubt any of you would be able to,” I sneer, sheer revulsion causing me to speak the provocative words regardless of consequence. I back away into the space and past a row of boxes.

“You little bitch!” he hisses while lunging, but I pull the stack of boxes over, and his yelp of pain makes me smile.

I have no plan really, I’m not sure how I’ll get out of the locked door, but I won’t just sit back and let them rape me either. I’ll fight them with all that I have.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” blue eyes teases with a quirk of his thin lips. My brows furrow as I note that one of the other men, a tall one with a bald patch and comb-over, is behind him, and Mr potbelly is on the floor, but I can’t see the fourth.

The breath whooshes out of me when arms wrap around me from behind.

“Gotcha,” a dark voice purrs in my ear, and I freeze, the sound of his voice like the whisper of mist on a gravestone. I know without any doubt that this one will make it hurt just because he can and that’s what gets him off. Blinking, dizziness threatens to overcome me as I try to struggle, to loosen his hold, but he’s just too strong and I’m too fucking weak.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off me, you cunt!” I scream, kicking my legs out and cursing myself for not joining the guys in training and asking for some self-defence moves.

“Now, now, petal. There’s no need to say such things. We’re all here for a bit of fun,” blue eyes croons, avoiding my kick aimed at his crotch. He grabs a leg, the tall comb-over man taking the other, and they carry me, wriggling and squirming, back to the bed.

“I will never stop!” I screech, trying to dislodge their grip, and I think that I might have gained a bit of space, but then white light fills my eyes as pain radiates down the side of my face.

“That’s better,” someone says while chuckling, and the ringing in my ears makes it sound like he’s underwater. My vision blurs, coming in and out of focus, and there’s a warmth that tickles down the side of my face.

“I think you hit her too hard,” another voice utters, and then I’m lowered, my hands raised above my head and secured with some kind of tie or rope, the material smooth yet unyielding. My legs are being pulled apart but I can’t seem to see what’s going on. It’s almost as if it’s happening to someone else, my mind detaching from the horror-filled reality before me.

Then the ripping of fabric fills the room, cool air drifting over my bare skin, and a shadow looms over me.

A grumble leaves my throat, but it soon turns into a scream of agony when fire races from the place between my thighs, my body jerking and moving and so beyond my control that I’m not sure whether or not this is a terrible nightmare. All the while my head pounds, my vision a blur as my mind shuts down.

All I know is that I am a being made of up indescribable pain, of an agony and anguish that goes soul-deep, and that it lasts for hours.

Heaving, the alcohol that I’d tried to drown myself in comes back up and lands in the toilet pan with a splatter. The tinkling of the running shower and frantic scrubbing has me turning as I slump on the floor, my brother, Kit, rubbing his skin raw with a pumice stone. His brows are dipped low, his jaw tight, and the steam that wafts from the shower, the way his body is colored crimson, tells me he probably set the temperature to scalding.

I say nothing, just flush, strip off my boxers, and then join him. I hiss as the water touches me, knowing soon I’ll be as red as a tomato.

“I can’t get clean, Oct. Can’t wash the smell of them off me,” Kit says desperately, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes, the whites showing.

“I know, brother,” I reply with a sigh, my flesh itching with the bodily fluids that cover it, none of which are my own. We may have taken those fucking pills so we could put on a show, but not one of us came. We couldn’t, not without her, our stepsister. Our soulmate.

Taking the pumice from him, I rub it up and down my arm, relishing the burn as I take some of the epidermis away. He grabs the shower gel—the bottle that was full this morning is half empty now—and squirts some into his palm before slathering it all over his raw skin, not even flinching.

We spend a few minutes washing ourselves, which doesn’t do a fucking thing to make me feel clean. Instead, I feel tainted, dirty, and no amount of scrubbing will wash it off. I shut off the shower, Kit growling at me as I open the door.

“I wasn’t done.” His nostrils flare as anger heats his eyes.

“Yes, you were,” I tell him, stepping out and grabbing a towel. “You know it won’t help, and you’ll just bleed more than you already are.”

He looks down, seeing the blood dotting the surface of his arms, and inhales a sharp breath, as if he hadn’t noticed that he’d literally scrubbed himself raw.

“Fuck.” He lets out a defeated sigh before getting out of the shower and grabbing the towel I hand him. “We should check on Cas and Prince.”

I nod as I walk back into his room, seeing the pale light of dawn lighting up the sky. It feels wrong somehow, like it shouldn’t be a new day. Like the nightmare of the past several hours can’t be washed away with a sunrise either.

We throw on some sweatpants, then head to Prince’s room as it’s the closest. I don’t knock, just open the door and stride in. Goosebumps pepper my skin, the chill of the room and the open balcony door telling me he’s outside.

Sure enough, when we head out the door, we see him, his forearms resting on the metal railing, looking out at the sun as if it mortally offended him.

“Hey,” I greet quietly, and he swings his head to look at me, making my steps falter. The skin around his eyes is bunched, his stare pained as tears make his emerald eyes sparkle and shine in the dawn’s light. He looks fucking traumatised, like he doesn’t want to see another sunrise, and moisture springs to my eyes when I see the anguish in his gaze. “Fuck, Prince.”

I rush to him, pulling him in a fierce hug, and that seems to be his undoing as sobs soon rack his large body as he clutches at me, tugging me closer.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Oct,” he croaks, his face buried in my neck.

“It’s not your fault, you know that,” I assure him, my voice thick as I hold him so close that I can feel each shudder from his body. My soul aches at seeing him blaming himself for something that’s always been beyond his control. I would do anything to take the guilt he feels and throw it to the four winds, because I want him to look forward to the sunrise, each and every day.

“How can you believe that? I’ve let them fucking rape you since you were little more than children and—”

“No!” Kit comes storming over, grabbing hold of Prince and spinning him around. My twin clamps his hands on either side of Prince’s face, a fire in his stormy gaze that I’ve not seen before. “Your mother may be the biggest cunt that walks this earth, but that has nothing to do with you, Prince. You didn’t force us to do anything. We gladly fucked those women for years until we grew tired of old pussy and realized how much of a toll fucking for money takes on our soul, but none of that is on you.”

Prince tries to shake his head, and by the way Kit’s jaw clenches, Prince is about to argue.

“Ember didn’t blame you,” I say, pressing into his back, wrapping my arms around him from behind, and resting my chin on his shoulder. I need him to feel the truth of my words. He stills, barely breathing, so I forge on. “She knew it wasn’t your fault, and she loved you regardless of who your mom is, like we all do.”

He takes a huge, shuddering inhale, and I watch as Kit’s face crumples the moment Prince sags into him and cries. Tears fill my eyes and spill over, so I nestle my face into the side of Prince’s neck, and soon we’re all sobbing into each other, the anguish of years leaving him in a storm of sorrow.

After a few moments, we quiet, and I let go of Prince as he straightens up, sniffing and wiping his hand down his damp cheeks.

“I don’t know what I’d do without any of you,” he says in a rough tone, turning to face both of us. His eyes are bloodshot, his chest bare, and all his gorgeous ink is on display.

I’m not sure when we became closer than brothers, when our love grew into the kind that brings pleasure, but I’m forever grateful that it did. Otherwise, I’d never have known what it’s like to be held with affection and to be given pleasure because that act brings gratification to the giver.

“You too, Prince.” I dart forward and place a soft kiss on his full lips. He chuckles, swiping his tongue over mine, and my body sings, the tension of the past few hours finally releasing and leaving me boneless.

His hand cups my cheek in a gesture that’s so tender it brings fresh tears to my eyes, but this time they’re not of sorrow. Pure love fills my heart, the emotion overflowing for the man in front of me, who’s given so much to protect us all. Our tongues tangle languidly, neither of us having the energy for more than a sweet kiss between lovers and best friends.

“Thank you,” he says softly against my lips before pulling back, and my lips split into a wide grin. It feels strange on my face, and I realised that it’s been several days since I truly smiled.

“Thank you for always being here, big bro,” I tell him, and he laughs again, swatting my ass as I dance away.

Kit goes up to him, and it’s like watching a battle between two male lions as they size each other up. Kit is the only one of us who will make Prince bow, who can assert his dominance over our eldest stepbrother and win.

Something breaks between them, and then they’re coming together in a clash of teeth and tongue, Prince’s hand tangling in Kit’s hair, shorter than my own but still long enough to be used as leverage. Kit growls when Prince tugs, his hand coming to the front of Prince’s throat and gripping it tightly.

The crash of shattering glass above us has them pulling apart, but it’s the cry of utter anguish that has my heart pounding, looking wildly around.

“Where the fuck is Cas?”