Obsession

Chapter 11

Eleven

D espite the torment and fear, Ren refused to let herself be completely depressed and beside herself. She had faced worse things in her life, or so she convinced herself.

After-all, she was being taken care of well enough. She had food and clothing, warmth and companionship, and even reading and wine. The last two were things she rarely had time for in her life prior to the car accident.

Her encounters with each of them were a rollercoaster of emotions. Their touches were often cold and distant, yet brought a soothing calm to her at the same time.

The scent of their cologne mingled with the smell of blood, creating a potent, unsettling mix. Despite this primal attraction and yet revulsion, she learned to navigate the twisted dynamics of the brothers and their dark world. She did as she was asked, and sometimes told. She kept quiet and didn’t ask questions. Stayed an observer more than anything. Trying to make herself unseen and forgotten as often as possible, in hopes of finding her way out someday.

She found strength in herself she never knew she possessed, using it to subtly assert herself. Grayson was so wrapped up in the games he was playing with his brothers, he barely took notice of the way she was observing and learning from him.

Not that she wanted to, but while Bastian and Callum were the two sides of the coin of power, a power she did not possess, Grayson was the thin edge of the coin rolling the wheel forward through the ages. He was remarkably adept at keeping the coin balanced on that edge.

Somehow when he saw an opportunity to put either Callum or Bastion on each other or an outside force he was like a dog with a bone. Nothing and no one would take it away from him.

Renalta’s endurance, however, came at a cost. The once vibrant colors of the world outside the mansion began to fade in her mind, replaced by the darkness of her new reality. Her senses were now attuned to the brothers' presences, the sound of their voices, the sight of their dark silhouettes, the scent of their peculiar cologne now familiar.

She found herself so wrapped up in them that she was slowly becoming their centerpiece. She became the point in the middle of the mass of both faces and the edge.

With a little push, she found she could flip the coin any way she wanted, always staying away from the violently rotating edges that could hurt so much if they struck wrong as the hand went to catch it.

She developed into the eye of the storm, where the crashing waves of Bastian, the torrential downpour of Callum, and the howling winds of Grayson all calmed in her presence.

Despite everything, Ren remained unbroken, an ember of hope still burning in her chest. Even as she delved deeper into the world of the vampires, she held onto a shred of her humanity, her last tie to the world she had been abruptly taken from. She had to hold out that hope that she would be able to break free of the catacombs, break free of the gothic underbelly these enigmatic men thrived in.

There was only one problem with that.

She was torn. She liked the feeling of power.

That power she had over them when she was alone with them.

The way they made her feel.

The undeniable lust.