Chapter 2: The Encounter 2

Elara

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

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice broken. “Okay, dammit.”

I get up, tear off my bathrobe, and head to the closet. My hands rummage through the fabrics, searching for it. The dress I never dare to wear. The one I bought in a fit of madness, one evening when the wine was speaking for me.

Black. Tight-fitting. With a neckline so deep between my breasts it borders on indecent. 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; what’s the point? My nipples already press against the fabric, two small, hard, obscene points. I run my fingers through my hair, letting it fall in messy waves, then I slip into black stilettos, so high I wobble.

In the mirror, I don't recognize myself.

The woman staring back at me has pink cheeks, swollen lips, eyes shining 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 an avenue 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 is 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 by itself. The warm air escaping it is heavy with musk and sex. Sweat. And a coppery scent… blood.

I push the door open and step inside.

The circular hall resembles a perverse cathedral. The burgundy velvet walls, the hundreds of candles, the shadows dancing like lovers. In the center, a black marble table covered with objects… whips, clamps, a leather collar studded with silver.

“You are late.”

I turn around.

Isadora. Clad in a black latex dress, leaning against a pillar. Her icy blonde hair cascades down, her red lips too red.

“I… I didn’t know there was a specific time,” I stammer.

She scoffs, steps forward, her heels clicking like the snap of a whip. I step back, but the wall blocks me. She is against me, so close I can feel her warmth.

“You know very well why you are here, little one,” she says, tracing my jawline with the tip of a finger. “You feel what this place does to you. I can see it.”

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

“You’re wet, aren’t you? You touched yourself while reading that letter. You fingered yourself imagining what we were going to do to you.”

“No…”

“Liar.”

Her hand plunges under my dress. I flinch, a muffled cry escaping. Her icy fingers travel up my thigh, find my soaked panties, and then push inside me without warning.

“Fuck…”

I arch my back, my nails digging into the velvet, my hips seeking her hand. She works me mercilessly, 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 entrance, like the little slut you are?”

I shake my head, but my body says yes. I’m ready to explode...

“Enough.”

The voice cracks like thunder.

Isadora withdraws her fingers. I sway. 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, his voice soft and dangerous. “You are here to learn.”

I tremble with excitement.

Isadora laughs behind me.

“Oh, she has so much to learn. Look at her. She’s going to come just from seeing you.”

I blush, but I don’t look away. I can’t. Kael descends the stairs, every step controlled. When he reaches me, he lightly touches 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 commands, releasing me. “Your first lesson begins now.”

Isadora giggles. I follow him, legs shaking.

Somewhere in the shadows, someone moans.

I know I won't leave here unscathed.