Chapter 2: The Encounter 2

Elara

I seize it again, fingers stained with my own desire. The envelope is sealed with a red wax stamp, intact. Like a promise. Like a challenge.

— Okay, I whisper, voice breaking. Okay, fuck.

I stand up, tear off my robe, and head for the wardrobe. My hands rummage among the fabrics, searching for it. The dress I never dare wear. The one I bought in a fit of madness, one evening when the wine was speaking for me.

Black. Tight. With a neckline so deep between the breasts it borders on indecency. The fabric glides over my skin like a caress, hugging every curve as if it were made for me. For them. I don't have a bra that would go with it—why bother? My nipples already pierce through the fabric, two little hard points, obscene. I run my fingers through my hair, letting it fall in disordered waves, then slip on black stilettos, so high I stagger.

In the mirror, I don't recognize myself.

The woman staring back has flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes bright with a fever I can no longer deny. She looks ready. Ready to be devoured.

I grab my long wool coat and step out into the night.

The Academy stands at the end of a lane lined with gnarled oaks. The building itself is a nightmare of black stone and red stained glass, the windows lit by a golden glow that seems to breathe. As if something inside were waiting for me.

I climb the steps. The massive door is carved with bodies and mouths that almost move when I blink. I knock.

Silence.

Then a creak. The door swings open on its own. The warm air escaping from within is heavy with musk and sex. Sweat. And a coppery scent... blood.

I push the door open and enter.

The circular hall resembles a perverse cathedral. Bordeaux velvet walls, hundreds of candles, shadows dancing like lovers. At the center, a black marble table filled with objects... whips, clamps, a leather collar with silver studs.

— You're late.

I turn around.

Isadora. Molded into a black latex dress, leaning against a pillar. Her ice-blonde hair cascades down, her red lips too red.

— I... I didn't know there was a set time, I stammer.

She snickers, advances, her heels cracking like whip strikes. I step back, but the wall blocks me. She's against me, so close I can feel her warmth.

— You know very well why you're here, little one, she says, tracing my jaw with her fingertip. You can feel what this place does to you. I see it.

Her finger travels down to my breasts, finds my nipple, pinches it. I hold back a trembling breath.

— You're wet, aren't you? You played with yourself reading that letter. You fingered yourself imagining what they'd do to you.

— No...

— Liar.

Her hand dives beneath my dress. I startle, a stifled cry. Her icy fingers travel up my thigh, find my soaked panties, then push inside me without warning.

— Fuck...

I arch, my nails scratching the velvet, my hips seeking her hand. She works me without mercy, her knuckles rubbing against my sensitive spot.

— You're so tight, little one. So hot. Are you going to come like this, standing in the entryway, like the little slut you are?

I shake my head but my body says yes. I'm about to explode...

— Enough.

The voice cracks like thunder.

Isadora withdraws her fingers. I stagger. She licks them slowly, savoring.

I look up.

Kael. At the top of a spiral staircase. Perfect black suit. High cheekbones. Square jaw. And those eyes, pale blue almost white. Ice. Death.

— Welcome, Elara, he says in a soft, dangerous voice. You are here to learn.

I tremble with excitement.

Isadora laughs behind me.

— Oh, she has so much to learn. Look at her. She'll come just from looking at you.

I blush but don't look away. I can't. Kael descends the stairs, each step controlled. Reaching me, he brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers. His skin is cold. Too cold.

— Are you afraid? he murmurs.

— No.

— You should be.

His hand closes around my throat, just enough to feel my pulse. I moan, and his pupils dilate.

— Come, he orders, releasing me. Your first lesson begins now.

Isadora giggles. I follow, legs trembling.

Somewhere in the shadows, someone moans.

I know I won't leave here intact.