Masked Sins (Ravaged Castle, #4)

by Amanda Richardson

“You all really need t-to come up with a better s-slogan,” I slur. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your family is in my prayers. We’re thinking about you during this difficult time. For fuck’s s-sake, who came up with those?” I shout, stumbling backward. Gary reaches out and takes my hand, but I can tell by his flared nostrils that he’s pissed off. Good. “I broke things too, kid. But you’ll soon find out that while it can feel good to break something, it doesn’t make up for the broken heart you get when you lose someone.”

“What’s our mantra?” I ask, holding a hand behind my ear. “My body is unique and beautiful just the way it is,” they shout.

“You are beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are. Food is nourishment, not the enemy.”

Honestly, how is it possible that Orion looks better every single time I see him? It’s unfair. And frankly, it’s inconvenient. It’s much easier to hate someone when they don’t look like every dark romance book boyfriend I’ve ever been obsessed with over the years.

“Um, what are you doing?” I ask as he reaches around and opens the door for me as I slip my second arm into my coat. “Walking you home,” he says matter-of-factly. I roll my eyes and look up at him. “Thanks, but I’m perfectly fine walking alone.” He smells like… home. This close, I can see the yellow specks in his crystal-blue eyes. His jaw hardens, and he nods once. “Fine.” I push the door open and begin walking, huffing out a frustrated sigh as I go. It’s not until I’m a few houses down that I hear a rumbling sound behind me. Twisting around, I see Orion slowly trailing me on his motorcycle. “I said I was fine,” I yell, glaring at him. He flips the visor up, and I get a peek at his playful smirk. “You said I couldn’t walk you home. You never said I couldn’t follow you some other way.” He snaps the visor back in place and continues trailing me.

Instead of rooms for different kinks, I’d chosen to keep it simple. Those seeking or wanting to give pleasure could go upstairs to Paradise. And those seeking to receive or administer pain—like me—could go to Purgatory.

Before I forget, I pull my phone out and the skull balaclava from my back pocket, popping the hood of my sweatshirt over my head when I’m done. Setting my phone on a windowsill, I hit record and walk backward with my arms spread. The recording cuts off after fifteen seconds, and I save the video to upload across all social media channels and type out a caption. Will you be my good girl and kneel for me? Stay tuned for my next video on communication and safe words.

Even though she told me all those years ago to leave her alone. But that was an impossible ask. She’ll never know how close I’ve actually stayed. Always on the sidelines.

Three examples of rules I’ve given my submissives before: They will address me with respect. They will kneel until they are told to get up. They will communicate with me if they are unhappy in any way. Remember, the rules exist for two reasons: for my submissive’s benefit and for my pleasure.

“It’s almost time for me to go on,” I tell them. My dad gives me a quick peck on my cheek. “I know. We’ll go get seated, but I just wanted you to know that I’m so proud of you, La-La.” “Thanks, Dad. Oh, that reminds me, I really appreciate the beautiful flowers, but you don’t have to send them every day.” He pulls away, and his brows knit together, but before he can respond, Orion claps a hand on his back. “We should go sit down, old man.”

The things I fantasize about are things I’ve never even told Zoe, who’s in the kink lifestyle. I’m not anywhere near as experienced as she is, though, so I never feel like I can chime in and talk about how I want to be choked or held down and called a whore. I didn’t even know I’d like stuff like that until I started reading about it. Who knows—perhaps if someone did those things to me in real life, I wouldn’t enjoy it. Sure, I got turned on while reading about it, but that didn’t mean I’d be into it personally, right?

I hadn’t given up drinking because I couldn’t stop. I’d given up drinking because I wanted to get my life together.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” “I’m worried I’m turning into him,” I admit. Kai’s brow furrows. “I don’t see it. For one, you’re a lot nicer than him, even when you’re being a jackass.” “Very funny.” “Why do you think you’re turning into him?” Kai asks, expression curious. Aside from the fact that I’m the last single brother left, besides Kai? Besides the fact that, unlike Kai and St. Helena, I have no idea what my future looks like? At least Kai has God. I have no one. I blow out a heavy breath of air. Here goes nothing … “Because I’m in love with her,” I tell him, heart hammering in my chest. “With Layla. Our stepsister.” His face remains expressionless, and only the twitch of his lips has me sitting up straighter. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Kai bursts out laughing, covering his mouth as he leans back in his seat. “Wait, is this supposed to be a surprise, Ri?” “What the fuck do you mean?” I frown. “I thought—” He shakes his head. “No offense, little bro, but it’s been obvious for a very long time. I think the only person who doesn’t know is her.” “Wonderful,” I mutter. “But you agree. I am obsessed. Just like Dad was obsessed with Mom.” “No, that was different,” he says slowly, but I can see the puzzle pieces clicking away. “Really? Was it? Older man with power and money lusting after a younger woman who just so happens to be a ballet dancer? I mean, fuck. Copy and paste,” I add, shaking my head. “So that’s what’s eating you up? You’re worried you’ll push he...

“You want my advice?” he asks, placing both hands behind his head. “Do I?” I ask, smirking as I finish the last of my soda. “Maybe you should stop stalking her like Dahmer and instead try getting to know her.” “I do know her⁠—” “No, you don’t. You knew her. A lot of things can change in seven years. I know you guys had that falling-out, so maybe now’s the time to repair your relationship with her.” I scowl down at the table. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He shrugs. “Don’t give her a choice.” “Can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from the brother who doesn’t date.” Kai gives me a lopsided smile as he stands. “Who told you I don’t date?”

“Care to join me? I was just reading.” “What are you reading?” I ask, crossing my arms and not moving from the front yard. If I get closer, I’ll only be more tempted to stare at him up close. “Just doing a little research for someone special.” White-hot jealousy spikes through me so intensely that I physically rear back. “Oh? I didn’t know you were dating someone.” There’s a bite to my words, and Orion definitely notices because his eyebrows shoot up. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten that I grew up with him and that I can read him like the back of my hand. His expression flicks between a few different emotions—confusion, amusement, and then he hesitates. Like he’s measuring me up. And then he schools his expression into something wary and uncomfortable.

He likes historical fiction, and I like books where the hero tells the heroine, I love seeing my pretty little slut mouth take my cock.

You’re beautiful. I hope someone tells you that often.

Thanks. And no, there’s no one. I’m pretty invisible.

You sure? Because it’s hard to believe you just walk through life without anyone noticing.

And just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. Even more so when you’re “melting.”

I never get involved with fans as Starboy. I never let myself get too interested in the messages I receive—in fact, Layla’s was the first I’d ever responded to. However, when it comes to my stepsister, I’m ready and willing to break all the rules. If I’m going to break the protocol I’ve set for myself, I might as well do it with her.

“Let’s use chapter six of the book. When Drake doesn’t let Sol touch herself. I don’t want you to touch yourself until I give you permission,” he signs almost too quickly for me to interpret. I suck in a sharp breath. “W-when will you give me permission?” His shoulders shake again. “That’s for me to know and for you to obey.” Holy hell. “And then what?” I sign. “Let’s see how it goes for a few days. I’d like you to check in every day. You have my number now.” I swallow as excitement races through my veins. “Okay.” “If this goes well, we can discuss the next steps,” he signs. “And if you follow my directions well, you will be rewarded.” I shift in my seat as ideas of how I’ll be rewarded float through my overactive imagination. “One last thing,” he signs. “I expect full monogamy while we’re doing this. I will abide by the same rules, and I won’t take a romantic partner or submissive while we’re involved.” “Of course,” I nearly sputter out. The idea of dating someone else while talking to Starboy already feels wrong. An image of Orion flashes through my mind uninvited, but I very quickly push it away. Orion is my stepbrother, and that can and will never happen. “Good girl. If this goes well, we can try something else from the book next week.”

If I knew you in real life, I’d ask you to be my submissive. Full stop. I’m holding back. So let me do this. For you, but also for me.

“That’s really nice,” I tell him with my hands. “Trust me, I’m not nice,” he signs in response. I chew on my lower lip while I think of how to respond. “I don’t think I want nice,” I sign slowly. “I read dark romance because I always fall for the villains. I want someone whose intentions are good, but instead of buying me flowers, he cuts off my ex’s hands. Nice guys are just that—they’re nice. But I want someone who will be all-consumed by me no matter what.” Starboy hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture reminds me so much of Orion … I squeeze my eyes closed. Why the hell am I thinking of him right now?

1. Check in with me every day. 2. Do not touch yourself unless you get permission from me. I’ll know if you do. 3. Sign the contract.

I don’t pleasure my subs. I break them.

“Trust me. It takes a lot to break me after what my mind put me through for years, and I’ve already been at rock bottom. So you can try, but you won’t succeed.” His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then he shakes his head and looks down. When he looks back up again, he looks almost … pained. “Where have you been my whole life?” he asks. “Waiting for you,” I tell him. “We’re going to talk about your past when you’re ready.” My past. Right.

Starboy, despite being a literal stranger, makes me feel like I belong. Like my desires are normal and accepted. Doing this with him feels cathartic, and I’m excited to see just how far he thinks he can push me.

Growing up, my father was tall, handsome, and robust. He towered over all of us at six four, and his striking black hair and green eyes won him a lot of attention when I was young. My brothers and I all share certain traits. Chase has his sense of humor, Miles shares his good looks, Liam shares his protectiveness, and Kai shares his mysterious, secretive side. And me? I share his possessiveness and obsessive tendencies.

I have the perfect plan, and it includes charming her as Orion. She thinks she likes Starboy? I’ll have to show her a bit of the man behind the mask.

“Yeah, we’re in big fucking trouble,” she says. “Shh,” Zoe hisses. “If we’re quiet, maybe we’ll blend into the wall like those lizards who go transparent when scared.” “Not with his precious standing right here,” Remy mumbles under her breath. “Hey,” I warn, sipping my cocktail. Before we can argue further, Orion pushes back from the bar and walks right past us. Once he’s several feet away, Zoe lets out a slow breath of air. “That was close.” Remy’s eyes narrow, and she moves her curly auburn hair off her shoulder. “I don’t buy it.” “What do you mean?” I ask. “He knows we’re here. I’m sure of it.” “Maybe not.” Zoe shrugs. “We’d just walked in when he got here⁠—” “Hey, Orion!” Remy says loudly. He turns around, and I brace myself again. Slowly—ever so slowly—he flicks his eyes between the three of us, nodding once before continuing his walk deeper into the club. Without saying hi or losing his shit or … caring. I let out a shaky breath. “That was weird,” Zoe murmurs, brows furrowed.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the way she obeys so well. One command, and she’s putty in my hands. I am so fucked.

“What happened to my stepbrother, and where did you hide his body?” she asks drolly. I let my lips quirk into a smile. “Funny.” “Really, though. You’re freaking me out.” I slowly turn to face her, and she’s already looking up at me with wide eyes. You’re going to regret pushing my buttons, Little Dancer. Stepping closer, I place my hands on her shoulders and back her against the wall behind us. She lets out a tiny gasp when I step into her space so our bodies barely touch. “A few weeks ago, you accused me of interfering in your life too much. And now that I’ve taken you at your word and backed off, you can’t help but wonder why?” Her cheeks flush even more pink, and fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s blushing. I want to see how much she’d blush if I asked her to join me in Purgatory. If I gave her no option but to bend over so that I could degrade her in front of everyone watching—edging her with my fingers until she was leaking down the insides of her legs, leaving bite marks along her delicate skin, filling her mouth with rope and using that ponytail to expose her throat so I could collar her once and for all… One day, I’d make her mine. Officially. I just had to get her to like me again first. “You’re right.” Her hand comes to my chest, palm flat against my racing heart. The gold bracelet is visible, and I can’t help but reach out to touch it. The fact that she’s unknowingly letting herself be claimed by me only fuels my hunger. Touching the bracelet must wake her from he...

She’s laughing and holding up a bottle of beer with her right hand—the hand bearing the gold bracelet I gave her. It’s slightly blurry, but of course she’s fucking gorgeous. And the caption … Yours. I realize then that I’ll do whatever it takes to make Layla truly mine. Not just Starboy’s. Mine.

“She’s horrified it’s him. You can see it in her face. I never understood that. They shared such a connection,” I whisper passionately. “It’s a vulnerable moment for him, and she acts revolted by him.” Orion’s face, while masked in darkness, tenses slightly. A crease forms between his brows, and his eyes dip to my lips before looking forward. I follow his gaze to the stage. “Loving her so deeply, and knowing she can’t look at him without fear … I guess it’s hard to hide your feelings when they’re that strong,” he whispers. “I can understand that.” His tone conveys a hint of something personal like he’s revealing more than just his thoughts on the Phantom.

I glance down at the Kindle on my lap and try to flip it quickly so that he doesn’t see the stickers I’ve decorated it with. You had me at trigger warning. Villains do it for me. My favorite necklaces are hand necklaces. Call me a good girl.

“What’s she like?” I ask, hurt lancing through me like I’ve been shot by an arrow. Orion looks over at me, studying my face intently. “Beautiful. Smart. Accomplished.” Ouch, ouch, triple ouch. “I’m really happy for you,” I squeak out. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks casually. I open and close my mouth. Am I? It suddenly occurs to me that I could tell him a little about Starboy. The idea of making him jealous appeals to me, especially since my stomach is still roiling with how he described the person he’s seeing and how affectionately he spoke of her. “Sort of,” I admit. “It’s new. We met online,” I say slowly, watching Orion for his reaction as I distractedly play with the bracelet Starboy gave me. However, instead of jealousy and anger, his face softens. “I’m happy for you, sis.” His words crash through me, and I feel sick. Sis? He’s never called me that—not once. But he is my stepbrother. That line was drawn in the sand the second his mother married my father. Still, it doesn’t sit right. I don’t like it at all, but I don’t have a valid reason. Between that and the comment about the woman he’s seeing, I feel petulant. Like I want to argue. Like I want to throw him off his game, too. “Sis?” I ask, arching a brow. “That’s a new one.”

“Talking to her?” I ask, my voice just a tad too snippy. He smirks before turning to face me. “If I’m not mistaken, you sound a little jealous, sis,” he says, his voice low and almost sultry. My mouth pops open. “I could never be jealous of you,” I nearly whisper-hiss. “I’m just … curious. I don’t think you’ve ever talked about dating anyone since I’ve known you.” “That you know about,” he adds. I dip my chin. “Touché.” Drumming my fingers along the front of my Kindle, I practically word-vomit the next question. “What’s her name?” Orion smiles, and I fight against the knot of envy lodged in my chest. “Why? Are you worried you know her?” I shake my head. “No. I mean, I doubt I do. If she’s … you know,” I add, whispering so that the people standing right in front of us don’t overhear our conversation. “A submissive?” My cheeks burn. “Yeah.” “She’s not. Not yet, anyway. But she’s willing to learn. I think she’s a natural,” he adds, leaning an inch closer to me. The tobacco smell gets stronger as he gets closer. “You’d be surprised how many people naturally want to submit. To give over that control.” He leans another inch closer. “No thinking. No deciding, except whether you want more of whatever your Dom is giving you. Some people find it to be a reprieve from daily life.”

“Drink,” I tell her, grabbing a glass and filling it with cold water. Arching one brow, she takes the glass from me. “Bossy.” I can’t help it. Leaning forward, I let myself get within a couple of inches of her face. Her eyes go wide, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “You think that’s bossy?” I chuckle, leaning back.

“Master!” Layla and I both crane our necks to see Earl flying through the penthouse. He lands on one of his many perches around the house, and Layla laughs. “Oh my God, your bird! I completely forgot.” “Pretty girl,” Earl states, walking closer to the edge of his perch and, therefore, closer to Layla. “Earl missed pretty girl.” Layla looks at me, and I shrug. “No idea who he’s referring to.” “Master loves his pretty girl and wants to fill her tight, little f⁠—” “That’s enough,” I say quickly, reaching out for him. “Let’s get you back into your aviary, old man.” Just then, Sparrow comes around the corner, and Earl begins to growl. Because yes, apparently, I have a bird who growls.

“Just wanted to check on you. How are things?” “Uh,” I look over my shoulder in the direction Layla went. “Layla is here,” I tell him, my voice low in case she comes back. “Oh? That’s a new development.” “Yeah, Scott had a health scare this morning.” “Oh fuck. Is he okay?” “He’s fine. How many times do you have to self-flagellate when you swear?” I tease. “Fuck off.” I laugh. “You can come over if you want. We’re about to go swimming.” “And subject myself to the thick, sexual tension? I think not.” “How are you doing?” I ask, leaning against the counter. “Fine.” I wait a few seconds for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Fine? How’s Julian? And his wife?” I’m grinning as I say it, and I’m sure Kai can tell. “They’re fine.” “So wordy today, brother.” “Be careful. I’ll come over there just to fuck with you.” “I dare you.” “In all seriousness, have you told her how you feel?” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m working on it.”

“Tell me you have a plan.” “A plan for what?” “To win her over. For the love of all things holy, make your move.” I wince. “It’s not that simple.” “How is it not simple? I’ve never seen you have problems picking women up.” Running a hand through my hair, I groan. “Yeah, but she’s different. Plus, I don’t know what she wants.” Malakai sighs on the other end. “Okay, here’s what you do. What’s her favorite thing in the world?” I open and close my mouth. “I don’t know … she likes books.” “Okay, great. Books. Make yourself a part of those things, but don’t be too obvious. Show her you’re genuinely interested and care for her.” I rub the back of my neck. “How?” “Where does she read? Make it so that she has to think of you whenever she’s there.” I’m quiet as an idea begins to form in my mind. “And for the love of God, don’t rush it. Be patient. I know you’re spontaneous, and patience isn’t your strong suit, but let her see the real you and give her reasons to want more. It’s about connection, not just chemistry. I mean, a little bit is chemistry, so it wouldn’t hurt to turn on the charm.” “Who would’ve thought the brother who’s a pastor would give me the best dating advice?” “Very funny. I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”

She wants a villain? Well, I’m the one who can give it to her—the guy who buys her flowers and burns the world for her.

Orion swims closer, popping up right in front of me. I try to scoot back but I’m pressed against the wall and too surprised to do anything. He lifts a hand and runs his index finger over the strap of my bikini before I even have a chance to react. “Pretty swimsuit,” he murmurs, smiling. “Did you wear it just for me?”

I continue standing against the opposite wall and watch as he moves fluidly through the water, attempting to catch my breath. He must swim a lot. He’s not even out of breath when he stops right in front of me and pops up from the water, wiping his face and flicking his hair to the side. “You know, it’s rude to stare.” My chest burns with embarrassment. My skin is still tingling from where he touched me a minute ago. “I was just admiring your cardiovascular health. You’re not even out of breath. How many laps do you do every day?” He smirks and moves closer again so he’s only a few inches away, but this time I’m more prepared. We’re standing in the shallow end, so the water only comes up to my waist. I don’t let my eyes wander down to his chest as he gets closer, but I can see how the water collects and drips off his perfectly hewn pectoral muscles. “A lot,” he says, his voice husky. “There are certain … extracurricular activities that require peak cardiovascular health,” he adds, his lips pulling into a lopsided smile. I’m panting from the heat. That’s all. It’s over a hundred degrees out, and despite the pool being cold, I’m sweating and not breathing from the heat. “That’s good. Your girlfriend must be pleased,” I retort, instantly regretting it when a large smile breaks out on his face. “Oh, she is.” I clench my jaw and cross my arms, trying to think of something to say to change the subject and not imagine what it would be like to sleep with Orion.

The gray sweatpants sit low on my hips, and my situation is very obvious because I didn’t bother wearing boxer briefs. Layla retweeted a picture of gray sweatpants last year that had this caption: Have you been harassed during gray sweatpants season? You might be entitled to some compensation. So I went out and bought five pairs.

What happened in my bathroom a few minutes ago is proof that I—Orion, her stepbrother—is her one weakness. The jealousy. The lingering gazes.

I’m fucking addicted to this version of her—of the stammering, unsure, shy, aroused version of her. I am so fucked.

Tell me it was an accident, I want to tell her. Tell me you didn’t mean to watch me. Tell me you didn’t take a cold shower or wish you could have been in that shower with me as I pumped into your cunt. I dare you.

The pain inside me becomes a sick and fiery gnawing, and I feel sick to my stomach. He chose a ring for someone else. He’s going to ask someone else to marry him. And the worst part is, I’ve pushed him away time and time again, so why am I surprised? Why would someone like him, someone charming, handsome, charismatic, funny, bossy, and kind, stay single? I may have feelings for him—feelings I don’t want to acknowledge—but I have no claim over him. And maybe I never did.