Page 16 of The Cult

“Listen—”

“How many times do I have to tell you ‘no talking!’” Napoleon barked.

“Damn it!” Seven muttered. “Talk to you later.” He scurried away and stood next to his bunk. It was a smart move, since he’d been warned on multiple occasions, and one of these days he’d suffer the consequence. I was surprised it’d taken this long.

“What were you fools talking about?” Napoleon asked. Like a bonafide creep, he inhaled deeply when he reached me, eyelids fluttering. It was subtle, but not subtle enough. Fucking perv.

I shrugged. “Just wondering what’s for dinner, sir.”

“I’m watching you,” he said, walking away.

The six of us were taken into a metal-caged arena a five-minute walk from our new barracks. The ring, illuminated by a spotlight, was a contrast to the dark space. “Up,” someone behind us ordered. We did as we were instructed and made our way to the ring. The tan-colored canvas surface was splattered with dried blood. Some appeared to be fresh because of the bright red color. Even the white pads in the corners were stained. It didn’t smell great either, the room permeated by sweat, vinegar, and alcohol.

“Line up and don’t move a muscle.” Like fucking robots, we stood in formation, hands behind our backs, without speaking.

I chanced a glance to my side and locked eyes with Seven, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension written all over his face. “What’s th—”

“You! Again!” Napoleon marched over and elbowed Seven’s stomach before he had a chance to complete his question. “I said, no talking!”

Seven grimaced, coughing up saliva, but he remained standing.

Lights flicked on, and the dim room brightened. Between the shifting crowd of guards, figures emerged from one of the heavy doors that lined the arena.

Orcus, distinguishable by his commanding presence, walked forward, followed by a tall man with dark hair. My attention was immediately drawn to the stranger. He stopped behind the shadow of a post, which obstructed parts of his face. He had a jaw for days. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and tattoos all over his arms, some peeking out of the collar of his shirt, running to his thick neck. He swallowed hard, his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbing. Man, I wanted to lick it. His well-trimmed facial hair was sexy as fuck. I wondered how the rough hair would feel dragging on my skin. The striking man was what wet dreams were made of. This day wasn’t so bad after all.

My head filled with excitement—a little too much for the occasion. I looked away as my cock stirred to life. I was reminded that I wasn’t wearing any underwear when the head of my dick brushed against the stiff fabric of my pants, causing slight discomfort. I stuck my ass out slightly to readjust without any success. Great. There was no hiding the bulge in my crotch. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing until my racing heart and boner calmed down.

When I opened my eyes, the man appeared to be staring in my direction. Maybe he liked what he was seeing; I was not mad about the perusal. Come on, come closer. I wanted—no, I needed—to see his face, hoping his features matched his physique. Something to imagine when I jacked off later.

Orcus stepped forward. He looked back to where the man stood and nodded, inviting the new guy to stand next to him.

And when he did, my heart skipped. There was no denying who this man was. His face was etched in my mind, the subject of my wildest dreams. The man who’d made me realize I was attracted to guys. The one I could never forget. Stories my dad had told me about him and the fantasies I’d made up flooded my brain. It’d been ten years, but every fiber in my body was telling me it was him.

When he stood under the light, my suspicion was confirmed. He threw a blank stare my way, seemingly unaffected by my presence.

My eyes widened in disbelief. Tobias? What the fuck was he doing here? Did he recognize me?

Nine: Tobias

“Iadmire you, Toby,” Orcus said. “You’re the kind of man I need around here.” He tapped my shoulder and stepped in front of the caged arena, but I’d lost interest in his ramblings. My sight focused on the group of guys dressed in black tank tops and camo pants standing in the ring. I studied the faces of the young men. They all looked alike; they could’ve easily been mistaken for each other—except for the one standing in the middle. Most of them appeared confused and intimidated, but not him. He stood with confidence.

A flicker of familiarity sparked. As my stare lingered, a realization slowly took form. Was that Oliver’s boy? I couldn’t know for sure, since he was just a kid when I saw him ten years ago. The man in front of me was no kid. His blond hair was buzzed close to his scalp. His eyes were fierce; the length of his right eyebrow disrupted by a small scar. The boy I remembered was gone. His resemblance to his father was undeniable. His lips mouthed “Tobias?” and I doubted anyone noticed but me.

Abel. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Locking eyes with the young man, I detected a flash of shock that quickly transformed into a blend of surprise and something deeper—disgust, perhaps. Everyone faded into the background, and we were left staring at each other. Shit. I hoped he wouldn’t blow my cover, for his sake and mine. The original plan didn’t include meeting him face-to-face in front of Orcus and half a dozen of his armed minions in a contained space. I ever-so-slightly shook my head.

Abel appeared to have received my silent message when he stayed put. I doubted they were allowed to say anything anyway, if their muted posture was an indication. The distaste on his face of minutes ago was now a full-on loathing. He closed his eyes and my sight traveled to his full red lips, down to his veiny neck and body. He’d filled out. He wasn’t as muscular as I was, but damn close. Traces of his abs outlined his tight tank top. My eyes journeyed south. Is that a fucking boner? I shouldn’t stare, and it wasn’t like I’d never seen a man’s bulge before, but a small part of me wondered why he was turned on. No one seemed to notice but me and the creepy guy standing in front of them. The creeper made my blood boil, kick-starting my protectiveness. Time began to regain its pace; the world around us slowly came back into focus. People materialized in my periphery, unaware of the history between Abel and me.

The creep was still ogling Abel’s pants. He had to be put in his place.

“Hey, you!” I called.

The creep whipped his head toward me, confused.

“Close your fucking mouth,” I said, surprising everyone in the room, including Abel and Orcus. The arena roof reverberated my words, breaking the silence.

“What did you say?” the creep asked, his face flaming red, perhaps from embarrassment of being called out.

“You heard me.” I didn’t know what had compelled me to cause a scene like that. I was an outsider, and these guys were packing heat. They could end me right at this moment and no one would know, but Abel was Oliver’s son and I’d break any hand that touched my best friend’s boy.

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