AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER18
KONRAD
“Ah, fuck this,” I groan, pushing myself up onto drunken legs. The room spins and I reach out to the closest thing to me which happens to be the putrefied head of the Baron. My fingers slide into his rotting flesh and I gag. “Fuck!”
Yanking my hand back, I swipe my palm over my filthy trousers. I’m still wearing the same clothes I was the day of the funeral, and in my drunken state I know that was at least four days ago. Maybe more. I should go back to my suite, shower, eat a proper meal rather than the sandwiches Five has been bringing me, and drink some fucking water, but that would mean going back up into the land of the living and facing my brothers, Nala,her.
Nope. I’ll stay right where I am. Fuck you very much.
Swiping up the almost empty bottle of whisky from the table, I glug back the last swig, revelling in the burn. “Cheers,” I slur, smacking my lips and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth before raising the empty bottle to the Baron’s head.
If I didn’t know any better, I could swear he smiles back.Fuck.
The room spins, but the distant sound of someone knocking on the metal door forces me to move as I stumble towards it. The knock gets louder, and I reach up to my face, checking to see that I’ve got my Mask on. I do.
Well that’s something at least.
“Who the fuck is it?” I call out, rocking on my feet as the room tilts sideways. I try to focus on the metal door on the other side of the cell, but it’s like I’m on a fucking boat and I can’t seem to steady myself enough to get to it. Not that it matters because the door creaks open, and I find myself blinking at the silhouette of a woman standing before me.
“Zero?” I mumble, trying and failing to stop the room from spinning.
“No, Master. It’sme, Twelve.”
“Twelve? What areyoudoing here?” I ask, forcing myself to straighten my spine and take steady steps towards her. I fail fucking miserably, and would’ve ended up on my arse if she hadn’t reached for me.
“Hey,” she says, her arm around my waist, her shoulder beneath my armpit as she takes my weight. “You’re drunk.”
“Fucking blasted,” I reply, not disagreeing with her. I wish I would just pass the fuck out already. I don’t want to be left with my thoughts one moment longer. I’ve been too in my head. Too caught up in the events of the past few weeks. Too wrapped up in her.
Zero.
“This is all because of her, isn’t it?” Twelve snaps, her fingers digging into my side as I wobble on my feet. Looks like I’ve let the cat out of the bag.Oops.
“Yeah, her,” I reply, not giving a shit about how that sounds or makes me look. I’m past the point of caring. “Just leave me to my fucking drink, alright?”
“No,” she mutters, huffing as she struggles to hold my considerable weight. She’s stronger than she looks, and right now through my drunken haze she looks almost enticing.
“You know I’m so out of it, even you look tempting in this light.”
She stiffens at my backhanded compliment, but instead of leaving me to wallow in my own shit, she stays. I’m not surprised, she’s so needy for any kind of attention from me that she’ll take all the bad shit I say if it means spending even a few minutes in my company.
“You like my outfit?” she asks, holding me steady so that my drunk-arse gaze can take it’s fill of her tight little body covered in nothing but a sheer, pale pink dress. She’s hot, there’s no denying that, and she sings like a fucking angel, but when I look into her eyes there’s only me staring back. I don’t see her. I don’t feel anything. Twelve doesn’t churn me up inside, she doesn’t make me question every fucking thing I’ve ever known. She doesn’t make me want to fuck her until I go blind. Doesn’t she fucking get that I don’t wanther.
“I don’t much care about your outfit…” I slur, the room choosing that moment to tip sideways. I stumble, taking her with me, expecting to end up in a heap on the floor but find myself slumped in a chair instead.
“You know if you need to let off steam, I can always help…” she says, ignoring my obvious distaste whilst she moves my limbs and settles me back onto the only chair I have in this room: my bondage chair.
It’s been a long time since I’ve used it, and even longer since I’ve sat in it myself. I had hoped that by now Zero would be strapped to it screaming in pain and pleasure as I coaxed out her orgasm, her ghost eyes begging me to fuck the virginity out of her. I groan, feeling my booze addled dick sparking to life at the thought.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, because who knew I could still get hard after three bottles of whisky and spending days with a rotting, severed head only six feet away from me.
It’s a fucking miracle. No,Zero’sthe fucking miracle.
Thoughts of our fiery mistress flow into my mind like a hurricane ripping through a forest. Every memory I have of her makes my cock grow harder until I’m rock fucking solid.
I remember the way her silky hair felt between my finger and thumb as I cut a length from it that first day she arrived here.
I remember how she parted her lips on a moan as I felt between her legs on the table in the Grand Hall the night we introduced her to the Numbers.
