Chapter 6 Just be the Viper's "Prey"
Bri
I had to let them think he incapacitated me. That kind of mind fuckery wasn’t something just anyone could snap out of and it did leave a fog behind as the slime of his magic pulled away. Disgust, humiliation, and loathing coursed through me. I pushed the rage down before I unleashed goddess knows what. I reasoned with myself, ‘You're almost out, Bri. Hold on. Just hold on.’
I heard Draven chuckle, “I can’t wait to taste her, how was she Andrew?” He said with perverse excitement. As if that was ever going to happen. I refrained from letting my body react to the slime that dripped through me like a blanket of repulsion and dread. I opened my eyes just enough to see that Andrew was leaning forward, blocking his face. His elbow and forearm on the table, his cheek leaning into his hand, as he looked at Trent; who looked absolutely horrified as he mouthed something to him. Andrew ignored Draven’s taunt. Silas pulled me up by the hair at the back of my neck, bringing me toward his chest. The gesture was possessive or was it protective? He leaned forward collecting a glass and the scent of whiskey hit my nose. This was how this always ended. Fuck with my head to the point I had to pretend I was immobile and compel me to drink to maintain my complacency so he could sit with me. Though I would never tell him, I was thankful for the booze that dulled down the gift’s rage. I had to admit, Silas was an odd duck.
I heard two tips of the bottle after the sounds of Beckum clinking the ice into crystal glasses. The scent of whisky burned my nose as the glass came in front of my face. “Drink,” Silas commanded. Bringing the glass to my lips, I pretended his compulsion worked and swallowed. I didn’t need this today. He caressed the curve of my hip. Bile rose and I swallowed it down. “So powerful,” he cooed. He had no idea, I could end him now. He lifted me by the neck and kissed my cheek. I shuddered in disgust, which he probably took as pleasure. He forced my front over the table pulling my wet hoodie over my head and exposing my back that the black halter top revealed, calloused fingers ran over the white scars there, pausing, was he trying to egg me on? Pushing my boundaries to force more power to the surface? Trying to taunt me into reacting? My magic obeyed me, though it itched with unbridled fury, ready to implode and end them all. “Matthews!” Draven insisted, practically spitting out the words and pulling Andrew out of his bubble with Trent. He looked up with a charming grin, which I viewed through bleary eyes. “She tastes like honey and spice. I could sip from her every day!" Andrew said with an enthusiastic tone meant to hide his true thoughts.
“But your boyfriend?” My mother questioned, fingernails tapping on the table in disapproval. I knew the sound well. Andrew smiled a grin I knew by now was just for show. “What about him? I doubt Brianna plans to be the only one warming our beds at night.” He looked at Trent. “Are you jealous?” Andrew asked. “No,” came Trent’s hesitant voice. “Can you share?” Andrew poked further. “I always knew I had to,” Trent replied obediently. “You will never taste her,” Andrew added, taking a sip of whiskey. This was further protection for Trent. “I never expected anything from her,” he answered simply, almost sounding bored. Silas tilted my head, pulling the back of it to his shoulder. I felt too exposed, I wanted to shut down, but that wasn't an option with him. He made sure you were an active participant, even after his mind rape. He put the glass back to my lips. “Drink Brianna,” He coaxed. ‘Fuck.’ I swallowed and everything got foggier after that.
Silas was a force that both repulsed and confused me. Morally he was a hard no, but between the drugs, alcohol, mind fuckery, and lack of consent he wasn't the worst. He never brought me to the edge, as if he toed some invisible line in his delving and he never passed me off to the others, never touched me as Draven did, forcing me to seek the girl's memories. Draven was just a fucking creeper. I could only imagine Trent's horror at what this looked like or well what it was. It was his reaction to that kiss that caused this pow-wow. “So Andrew, how did you crack our little wayward angel?” Beckum asked. I could gag right now, stupid pet names. Through bleary vision, Andrew seemed to shrug. “Maybe it's my charming looks, or the fact I'm not three times her age.” There was a creak in his chair as he shifted in his seat. “Or maybe I'm the least oppressive so she resigned herself to try and come to terms with this contact.” Beckham's fingers drummed on the table top, ”Her past attempts to flea have failed and her time is running out as we all know. I just gave her a little push.” He was such a good actor spinning half-truths I hoped Beckum couldn’t detect them.
“How do you think she responded?” My mother queried. They talked about me as if I were property, a prize mare responding to training. Fuck this shit. Andrew shot a look I couldn't make out toward Draven. “Why ask me? It's obvious to me Dean Draven set this little party up because he was watching the entire thing, like the creeper he is. He watches her you know, just like the pervert he is, probably with his dick in hand.” Andrew announced diverting the attention, he was good at that. “Enough Andrew,” my mother said sharply. As usual she didn’t care. Silas however, had argued against being so obviously suffocating and to give me room to breathe after my last stint at running away from life itself. So I wasn’t surprised he tensed, his attention evidently shifting to Draven with the shift of his body.
There was some back and forth I couldn’t keep track of. Andrew’s plan apparently worked, pitting the men against each other. The whiskey glass kept returning to my lips periodically. Tears almost fell … almost. I couldn’t pull my strength to sober up with him so close to me. Did I even want to be sober while they argued about the best way to keep me complacent? Nobody cared what Bri wanted. I was just a vessel for the power they craved, wrapped up in a pretty package to use. The truth was I doubted they would give me up easily. Moments like this, the fight in me wavered. It pined for something, some haven far away, for goodness and love I’d probably never have. I had to at least try to be free!
I allowed my head to slump to the side, hoping Silas would realize I had passed out or was close to it. It is quite a feat to steel your insides while appearing limp on the outside. The whiskers of his well kept silver beard brushed my neck as he checked me. He chuckled. “Seems our girl is ready for bed.” I felt eyes on me. ‘Stay cool, don’t react Bri, stay steady,’ I pleaded my heart. “Andrew, how about you tuck our little bird into bed?” I heard the sound of chairs moving and another set of hands took me, slighter ones. Andy’s cologne engulfed me. I was safe. At least I hoped so. My skin prickled, unhappy with the skin touching mine. Silas always puts me to bed. He would remove my shoes and tuck me in like a child, “You survived another day, little bird,” he’d say before leaving. What was it with him and Andy and that name?