Captured: Highgate Preparatory Academy, Book 1

It’s finally the last week of term, or semester as they say here. We’re called into the school’s chapel on Monday for a special service. Highgate is all about showing off its good, upstanding Christian students.

What a load of shit. Did they not see the orgies at Halloween? Oh yeah, no, they didn’t, because they’d just left, turning a blind eye.

We all file into the carved wooden pews, facing the front, and I can see Headmaster, sorry, Principal Robertson standing up front with a group of five others.

Holy shit! Is that…Pentatonix?!

“Today we have some special guests, who are going to perform for us,” he informs us in a self-important tone. “They will start with Amazing Grace.”

Outside I’m cool as a motherfucking cucumber, but inside, I’m fangirling so hard I’m surprised I’m not throwing my knickers at them!

I hear an amused snort from my right as I’m surrounded by the vanilla scent that is all Loki.

“Bit of a fan are you, Pretty Girl?” his familiar drawl whispers in my ear, his breath caressing my neck as he speaks. Zing, there goes my nipples! I don’t know what it is about that boy’s voice, but I swear he could talk me into an orgasm. Or sing me into one.

“Oh, shut up, Loki!” Ash snarls nastily on my left. I see he woke up on the wrong side of the bed again this morning. He’s been in a funny mood since we played truth or dare, avoiding me. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt a little, his withdrawal. After all, he’s the one that forced the issue.

Loki interrupts my train of thought by running his hand along my upper thigh, my legs opening instinctively, my left one brushing Ash’s. For a brief moment, an image of Ash and Loki naked on either side of me, four hands caressing me, and two cocks moving inside me, flashes across my mind, and I gasp aloud at its intensity as heat floods over me in a rush.

I look up at Ash, confusion on his face, his perfect ebony brow dipped in a frown. I turn my gaze to Loki, to see amusement once again dancing in those green depths, as well as a flicker of heat.

Surely he can’t know what I was just thinking? Can he?

“Naughty Girl,” he teases, whilst giving me that panty melting smile of his and stroking his long fingers up and down my thigh. How the fuck did he know? I wonder, and as if I asked that thought aloud, he replies in a deep, husky whisper

“I know all of your deepest darkest desires, Pretty Girl,” he purrs, his fingers teasing higher, delving underneath my red Run & Fly tartan pinafore dress.

“Loki!” I hiss, trying to ignore the fire that he’s started, and the tingles racing to my core. “Behave!”

“Nope,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t feel like behaving today,” he whispers, his hand going higher, those long clever fingers of his dancing along the edge of my lace knickers.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hear Ash mutter, and a second later, a tanned hand grabs Loki’s wrist and halts its movement. I look up and see them, eyes locked and faces tense, and I can’t help feeling like a fucking bone between two alpha wolves, neither willing to give up his prize.

Just as I’m about to tear them a new one about the fact that I’m not a fucking dog toy, I hear the dulcet tones of Pentatonix begin to sing, and the guys, the church, the fucking world, just melts away.

Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone) is one of my favourite covers of theirs, and like most of their songs, it starts slow and then builds to a crescendo of voices, lifting you up alongside them. It’s the type of music that you feel in your soul.

I come back down to earth when I feel Ash go completely stiff next to me, so solid it’s like he’s made of granite. I turn to look at him, and see he’s almost vibrating with…fury? My brow furrows as I wonder why he’s so cross, when all of a sudden, he stands up and marches down the aisle and out the door.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, completely bewildered as to his strange reaction.

“Go to him, Pretty Girl. After hearing your story the other day, he needs you,” Loki urges, also looking in Ash’s direction, concern flashing in his eyes, all hints of lust and playfulness gone.

I get up in a slight daze, confused as hell, and quietly make my own way down the aisle, still hearing the music behind me. As I exit the carved wooden doors into the winter sunshine, I see Ash, doubled over with his hands on his knees. His back is rising and falling rapidly with his panting breaths, his eyes closed tight, like he’s trying to keep the monsters at bay.

“Ash…?” I query, concern flooding me, taking a step closer. Ordinarily, I’d go to him, but the past few days have left me feeling uncertain.

I’ve never seen him so emotional in public. So unstable. Vulnerable. It’s as if the world is closing in around him, and he’s powerless to stop it. His eyes snap open, his head whipping towards me, and the desolation in his steel gaze robs me of my breath. He looks broken, and like nothing in the world will ever put him back together.

“Ash!” I gasp, horrified, my heart aching for the sadness I see in his eyes, my eyes filling with tears as I see the moisture in his.

Before I can take another step in his direction, he stands up and stalks towards me, vibrating with anger and loathing, and I’ve no idea if it’s towards me…or himself.

“It’s all fucking bullshit!” he screams at me, arms flailing at his sides. I flinch. There’s a wildness in his eyes, making their grey depths churn.

I once saw a tiger at London Zoo, pacing in front of the glass, then clawing at it as if it was desperate to flee. Ash reminds me of that tiger in this moment, desperate and wild.

“They’re lying!” he sneers, flinging his arm back towards the church and the beautiful music that we can hear drifting out of the open doors. “I will never be fucking free! My chains are here for fucking life and beyond!” he says, pounding his chest, then looking at his wrists as if he could feel the cold metal digging in.

“Why?” I whisper, knowing that the answer will break me, carve me up. I can see it in the sharpness of his eyes, as he looks back up at me, cutting me already.

“Why?” he snarls, his face so close, I’m drowning in his ginger scent and molten eyes. They are boring into mine, digging into my soul with sharp claws, and leaving me bloody and torn. Something changes in his gaze, almost as if thick darkness takes over, and I’m left staring into an abyss so deep that there’s no end.

“You know I had a brother, my twin brother, Luc. We were complete opposites in every way, yin and yang, you might say. He was the lightness to my darkness. The better half of me.” A pinprick of light enters his eyes, a spark of pure joy, and the effect is astounding. And then, the light goes, like a candle snuffed out by a careless breath.

“It was the end of summer semester last year, and exhausted as we were, neither of us was looking forward to going back to the shitshow that we call home. My father is….well, you know.” His gaze shutters and sharpens until it’s like the edge of a blade. His whole face transforms into something hard and unfeeling, like a statue sitting over a grave.

“My father enjoys setting people against each other, another of his wonderful traits,” he mocks. “He fancies himself a God, playing with people like you play a game of chess. He always set me and Luc against each other, made us compete to see who was stronger, smarter, more ruthless. When we were younger, it was innocent things, like races, or who could carry more. As we got older, it became more…damaging. Who could hold their breath the longest in the pool, who could last longer without eating, who could take the most punches.” He’s no longer looking at me, looking instead into a childhood that’s full of pain and suffering, and I feel each revelation like a blow. It takes everything I have not to flinch.

“He hated if we ever got along and would punish us if he discovered us laughing together, or even fucking smiling at each other. He’s a fucked up bastard that’s for sure. So, Luc and I weren’t close, not as twins should be anyway. But…I never hated him, and he didn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think he did.” He looks wistful, with a despairing kind of hope.

“That morning, I’d finished packing all my shit up and went to Luc’s room to see if he was ready to head downstairs. His door was locked, but I could hear music pounding, that fucking song by Anson Seabra, I Can’t Carry This Anymore. No matter how hard I pounded, he wouldn’t answer.” His breath hitches, and it’s like watching a car come towards you, but being unable to get out of the way. You see the headlights, yet you’re frozen to the spot, staring your death in the face.

“Loki came out of his room, asking what the fuck all the noise was about. He’d gotten wasted the night before, so he was pretty hungover, the fucker. Jax came too, and Kai wandered up the stairs at the same time. That fucking song started up again, it was on repeat, and I just knew something wasn’t right.”

My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty like I’ve been running for my life. I feel sick, nausea rolling my stomach. Please don’t let it be what I think it is. Please.

“After what felt like hours, but was probably only around five minutes, Jax kicked the door in, and all I could see was red. A sea of red covering the bed and pooling on the floor. Luc…” He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, “Luc was lying in the middle of it. He was so pale, whiter than the sheets, and he looked so…peaceful. Like he’d finally come home after a long journey. I remember feeling envy, I was fucking jealous that he didn’t have to deal with this shit anymore, with our father and his mind games. I was so angry at him, for giving up, for not fighting. For leaving me.” Ash’s head is bowed, jet hair covering his face.

I taste salt, and I realise that tears are streaming down my face and I can’t stop them. I don’t want to stop them. I remember the red blood splattered on the walls, the smell of shiny pennies. There was no peace, though, only horror. I blink the memories away, now is not the time to get lost in them.

My hand reaches out to push his hair back, feeling its softness which is so at odds with the hard man it belongs to. He leans into the touch and sighs softly. He opens his eyes, that molten gaze on me once more, and the guilt I see in those steel depths is paralysing.

“Ash…” I breathe, at a complete loss as to what to say. I know nothing helps, not really. “It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him, desperately wanting him to know that, to believe that.

An almost smile lifts up one corner of those full lips. It’s not a nice smile though. It’s a smile of hopelessness, a smile of despair.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. It’s entirely my fault. He even left a note telling me so.” His long finger comes up to caress the side of my face, from forehead to chin, like he can’t help but touch me back.

“Wh–what?” I stutter, unbelievingly.

“Dear Ash, I can’t fight you and dad anymore. I don’t want to, and I don’t want what he’s offering. I just want peace, so I’m taking myself out of the game. The crown is all yours. Luc” he recites, obviously having memorised the note.

“Oh, Ash,” I choke, my eyes filling up and spilling over once again.

Before I can say anything else, he tears away from me, his eyes cutting and narrowing once more. This must have been why he bailed the other day, our experiences are so similar, both finding our loved ones in a pool of blood too fucking late.

“Don’t you dare fucking pity me!” he spits, pointing a long finger in my direction, then spinning on his heel and storming off. Before he’s out of earshot, I hear him mutter, “I don’t fucking deserve it.”