Tarnished Embers: A Dark Stepbrother Fairytale Retelling (Dark Retellings)
Tarnished Embers: Chapter 7

My eyelids are drooping again by the time we finish dinner, my stomach full and a contented feeling wrapping around me like a soft, snuggly blanket. I don’t even realise that my head has drifted to land on Cas’s shoulder and I’m slumped in my seat, my hands in my lap until he nudges me awake.

“Come on, Cinders, let’s get you to bed,” he encourages gently, and before I can even protest that it’s too early, a yawn cracks my jaw almost in half.

“O–okay.”

Cas leads me from the room, the others clearing our dishes as we head down the corridor and upstairs, turning down our wing. I pause before my door, Cas behind me. His warmth is like a balm, and I know that this is too fast, that I shouldn’t be feeling so comforted by his nearness, but the part of me that was broken five years ago doesn’t care. I feel more awake now than I did moments ago, my pulse loud in my ears as I work up the courage to ask for what I really want.

“Will you stay with me?” I don’t turn around, just speak into the door with my hand on the door handle and wait, my heart thudding in my chest. Part of me knows that I’m not just asking about tonight, that I want him and the others in my bed from here on out, regardless of how wrong it is. They make me feel wanted, needed in a way that I’ve never felt before. It’s like, with them, I can finally let go and be the truest version of myself, not just a grieving daughter or someone who is trying to cling to an almost non-existent relationship with her distant father.

“If you want me to, Cinders,” he replies softly, his front pressing to my back in a way that has me shuddering and leaning against him, wanting more of the intoxicating comfort he gives me.

“I want you to stay more than anything,” I confess quietly, stilling as his arm brushes my side, his hand grasping the door handle over mine.

“Then I’ll stay all night.”

He pushes down, swinging the door open, and his other hand lands on my lower back as he urges me forward. We step into the darkened room, and he flips the switch, filling the space with the soft glow of my lamps. I had it rewired when we moved in so the main light never comes on, only the small lamps that dot the room. I prefer the delicate lighting since I hate being assaulted by glaring artificial light.

“I need a shower,” I mumble, wincing when I remember I haven’t washed since the car ride this morning, when Cas covered my pussy with his cum. I can’t say that I’ve hated having it on me all day, but I really ought to wash it off.

“Let’s have a shower then,” he suggests, taking my hand in his warm palm and leading me towards my en suite. Again, the light switch only turns on soft lights, nothing too bright, and for the first time, I realise how intimate this type of lighting is. Being in here with Cas is a vastly different experience to being here on my own and I’m aware of each beat of my heart as it pumps blood through each of my veins.

Letting go of my hand, he heads over to the large shower, leaning in to turn it on. The sound of running water fills the room, and several moments pass before steam swirls from the shower as he shifts to face me. His copper gaze trails up and down my body, and I can barely breathe under his heated scrutiny.

He pads towards me, a swagger in his step, and a pleasurable shiver falls over me, but I don’t move, just wait. I’m trapped in the stormy spell he’s weaving, unable to do a thing as I let him take charge like my mind and body craves.

“Up,” he orders, his hands skimming down my arms and taking my hands in his once he’s in front of me. He brings them over my head, then untucks my shirt and pulls it off. My arms drift down afterwards, my skin pebbling as he takes me in. His eyes snag on my forearm and go wide, his body freezing, and all too late I realise what he’s looking at; the bandage that hides my cuts from this morning.

As though ice water has been thrown over me, I try to hide them with my other hand, my shoulders caving in as my feet shuffle beneath me. I can’t look at him, terrified about the judgement I may see in his eyes.

“Don’t hide from me, Cinders,” he says firmly, a slight rasp to his tone, and my eyes dart to his face before he clasps the wrist of my scarred arm and my hand covering them drops away. I don’t want to keep anything from him, even if I’m not sure how he’ll react, especially after finding out about his parents. He takes a corner of the tape holding the gauze down, then pulls it sharply off, the sting making a hiss fall from my lips. “These are fresh.” It’s not a question, but a statement as he looks down at the red-scabbed lines. “But some are old.”

My mouth opens, yet no words come out, not immediately anyway, and tears fill my eyes in relief and shame at finally having someone else know my secret.

“Your research didn’t tell you this then?” I ask, my tone weary, cautious. I’m not mad that they looked into me, but a part of me will always wish I knew of their existence too before they suddenly appeared in my life. His gaze snaps to mine, the copper bright, and his muscles rigid. It hits me again that his parents took their own lives, and I open my mouth to apologise but he speaks before I can.

“There is still so much we don’t know about you, Ember, even if we did stalk you for half a year. But nothing, fucking nothing, will make any of us want you less,” he tells me, his voice unwavering as he steps right into my personal space, his hand tight on my arm. A shiver cascades over my skin where it brushes his soft jumper. Then he grabs my chin with his free hand, forcing me to keep eye contact just as I was about to stare beyond him, unable to face the heat of his passion. “But you come to us for pain if you need it, okay? We will give you what you need, but you stop doing it to yourself right now, yes?” There’s an edge of pleading and panic to his tone, his eyes wild, and a slight tremble in his muscles that speaks volumes about how important this is for him.

I take in a shaky exhale, sudden tears sliding down my cheeks as the tension drains out of me. I want to agree, if nothing else but to see the terror that lurks in his copper eyes disappear, but what would it be like to give up that part of myself? I’ve been seeking relief in this way for five years. It’s a comfort, a release, and I felt the need this morning because of Cas and the others. Though maybe it would be nice to have someone else help when I feel overwhelmed.

“Yes.” My lips form the word even before I’ve completely committed to the idea, and I’m surprised with how okay I feel about it, my body loose and my muscles weak with relief.

“Swear it, Cinders. Promise me you won’t cut yourself anymore. That you trust us to give you the pain you need from now on.” His voice leaves no room for argument, his jaw firm. So I look into his metallic eyes and agree.

“I swear.” His touch on my chin softens, the slight throb of his grip a reminder of my promise. Then I watch as his entire body relaxes, his eyes softening and no longer wild and worried, as though he was terrified of my refusal.

“Good girl. Now let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

He strips the rest of my clothes with a reverence that no one has ever shown me before. My sexual encounters before were often hurried, a desperate need to explore, and I’ve never truly taken the time to learn my partner’s body like I’m desperate to study every inch of his and his brothers. He treats me like I’m something to be cherished, something to be worshipped and adored. I’m not sure anyone else has ever shown me such devotion and attention in this way, and my skin flushes from the way each touch is like a prayer, an act of devotion and reverence.

Then he does the same, taking off his clothes and leaving me incapable of coherent thought. Like the twins, his body is muscular, but he’s a little more stacked than they are. His body is covered in beautiful works of art, one image flowing into another, all black and devastating in their beauty. My eyes spot crosses, heavenly light, a beautiful Madonna mixed in with flowers, and death head moths, and two bars shining in his nipples. He’s pushing down his jeans before I can study all these images properly, and when he straightens, my eyes go straight to his thick cock, standing hard and proud with that glint on the end.

He just smirks, taking my hand and pulling me into the shower after him. I let out a groan and close my eyes, the water the perfect temperature when it falls over my aching muscles. A sharp gasp falls from my lips when his large hands glide over my breasts, and I open my lids to find Cas washing me, his hands covered in the suds of my favourite lavender and rosemary shower gel.

He keeps everything PG, which doesn’t stop my clit from pulsing, and by the small half-smile he’s giving me as his eyes follow the path his hands take, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Well, two can play that game, arsehole.

I grab the shower gel, squirting a large dollop onto my palm, and then rub my hands together, creating hundreds of sudsy bubbles. He drops his arms to his sides in simple invitation, daring me to do my best.

Giving him a teasing smile, I sweep my palms over his rock-hard pecs, toying with his nipples ever so slightly and tugging on the bars, eliciting a deep moan from him. His hands come up to grip my waist, his fingers digging in.

“Cinders,” he growls as my hands travel lower, tracing the line of each muscle and the V that leads to what I’m really after. Unlike Cas, I decide that the time for teasing is over, and having decided to take what I want, to live my life to the fullest, I grasp his dick in one hand, my fingertips barely brushing around his wide girth. “Fuck!” he rasps, and I’m inclined to agree.

He feels like velvet steel in my palm, and I slowly pump his shaft up and down, my thumb toying with the piercing in the tip, a desperate need making my vision waver.

“You said that you’d give me whatever I want, whatever I need,” I remind him, my voice low and husky as I continue to work my fist over his length. “I want you, Cas. I want this,”—I squeeze my hand and he hisses a breath—“and I want you inside me right fucking now.”

“Prince will fucking kill me,” he groans, but he hoists me in his arms anyways with his hands under my thighs, and my arms come up to wrap around his neck. Then he presses my back against the tile wall and it’s my turn to let out a hiss as the cold hits my overheated skin. “But you make me not give a shit about any of that.”

Before I can utter a single word, he’s pushing inside me and my eyes roll at the feel of his hard cock stretching me to full capacity.

“Cas!” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he fills me more than anyone ever has before. “Fuck, Cas.”

“I know, baby. Shit, you feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick, letting me in like you know I own this pussy.” A rush of wetness floods my cunt, allowing him to slide in the last couple of inches, and we both groan and pant at the feel of him fully seated inside me. “Tell me you need me, Cinders,” he breathes out, his forehead pressed to mine, an edge of vulnerability in his tone.

“I need you so bad it hurts, Cas. Please,” I beg, shifting my hips. I’m not lying. I need him to move, to show me I’m owned by him, and even though I know that I’ll never be the same, not after fucking one of my stepbrothers, I couldn’t stop this if I wanted to. “Please.”

“Always, baby,” he whispers, pulling almost the entire way out and then thrusting back inside me so hard that I scream. “I will always take care of you, Cinders. Always give you what you need.”

He fucks me hard and fast, just like I’ve been craving since I woke up with Kit’s tongue in my pussy, and I hold on as my body accepts every punishing thrust, every shock wave that he sends shooting through me.

“Fuck, Cas—” I open my eyes, only to find the dark green sapphire of Prince’s gaze, and with a gasping cry, I shatter, my inner walls clenching around Cas as my entire world rearranges itself.

“Fuck, baby, you’re strangling my dick,” Cas grits out, thrusting his hips harder, prolonging the pleasure that is rendering me speechless, unable to breathe as I hold Prince’s intense stare. Cas stills, a deep, rumbling cry leaving his chest as he buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites down.

The sharp pain sends me spiralling again, lights flashing before my eyes as another orgasm hits me full force. My body is not my own, taken over by pleasure until I’m just a vessel, filled to the brim and overflowing.

We stay together for a few moments, and my skin tingles the entire time. I didn’t realise how much I needed that, and when he pulls out, letting my feet drop to the tiles, my legs almost buckle and he has to grab my waist to keep me from landing in a heap on the floor.

“Cas–that was–Jesus,” I mumble, looking away from Prince and into Cas’s beautiful eyes. He chuckles, the sound low and deep, making my nerves prickle. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, placing his lips against my own and giving me a kiss that has tears filling my eyes, his short beard tickling my sensitised skin. “What I ever did without you, how I managed, is something I’ll never know.” His lips brush mine with every word, my body shuddering in response.

“Cas…” I reply, my voice thick with the lump that fills my throat.

“It’s okay, Cinders. Let’s get you to bed, it’s been a long day.” He grabs the shower gel, my legs only trembling slightly as he steps away, washing me again, then himself before shutting off the shower.

He doesn’t even pause when he turns around and spots Prince, arms crossed over his chest, leaning in the doorway, his brows lowered and jaw tight. Cool air rushes over my body when Cas opens the door and steps out, holding out a hand to help me out too.

Prince twitches like he wants to rush at Cas, so instead, I hurry to him, pressing my wet body against his and gripping his face in my palms. He doesn’t complain, just straightens up, his hands wrapping around me to pull me in even closer, uncaring of my dripping skin soaking his clothes.

“I needed him, Prince, so badly,” I tell him and then go up on my tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He remains still and unmoving, my throat constricting with worry. “Please don’t be mad, I couldn’t bear it.” My voice cracks on the last word.

“It was probably better it was him first,” he murmurs against my lips, and I’m shaking my head but he stops me with his next words. “I like to hurt when I fuck, Sugar, and I’m not sure you’re ready for me yet.”

My exhale flutters over his lips, and I pull away, letting go of his face with my left hand and using my right to turn his stare in the direction of my forearm. “I need the pain too, Prince.”

I watch as his eyes widen and then go hooded, his tongue coming out to trace his lower lip.

“She promised to come to us if she feels the need to cut again,” Cas adds, pulling me away from Prince and wrapping a warm towel around me, then tucking it so that it stays up. “She swore.”

Prince’s eyes flit to mine, our gazes locked. There’s so much swirling in those green depths of his; hunger, lust, and a need that takes my breath away and leaves my chest aching.

“Where are your razors?” he asks.

“Bathroom cupboard, in the pink pouch at the back, third shelf,” I answer immediately, holding his stare.

I hear Cas open the cupboard, the sound of things moving, and then he’s next to us, holding the small pouch out to Prince who takes it and looks it over. It’s so pretty, so innocent-looking, the kind of thing that would hold a few items of make-up.

“You come to me when you need these,” Prince commands, shaking the pouch slightly.

“Yes, Prince,” I agree with a nod and watch as the green in his eyes darken to the colour of ivy leaves.

“Good girl. Let’s get you to bed.” He places the pouch on the bathroom counter, then takes my hand, guiding me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. Then he pauses at the foot of my bed, turns, and lets go of my hand. In a move that shouldn’t be sexy but is, he pulls his black T-shirt over his head.

My breath leaves me in a whoosh at the sight of him. Like Cas, he is covered in ink, but unlike Cas, Prince is a riot of colours. It travels up his neck, framing his jaw, and glides down his arms, then over the back of his hands and down his fingers. His designs are incredible; a tiger hiding in grass with its mouth open in a roar; blue, purple, and green elephant heads across his pecs and upper chest, and an orange butterfly resting at the base of his throat.

He’s stunning, and I want to catalogue every piece of art, but he doesn’t even give me the chance to continue ogling him, tugging on my towel until it pools at my feet. The green of his irises grows even darker for a moment, then darkness covers my eyes, my nose full of the scent of rum and leather as he pulls his T-shirt over my head.

I instantly snuggle into the garment after putting my arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around myself in a hug as I take a deep inhale.

“You’ll stay too?” I ask, a slight hint of panic in my tone as my breaths catch. I’m not sure when the idea that I needed them both here with me became crucial, but now that I thought of it, I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight without them.

His entire face softens as his hand reaches out, cupping my cheek. The comfort that slight gesture gives me is visceral, instantaneous, and should leave me worried, but I’m not. How can I be when it feels so right to be with him, with them like this?

“Of course, darlin’.” My shoulders slump, the panic gone as quick as it came, and my eyes close for a moment as a small smile spreads across my lips. “Get into bed, darlin’.”

Opening my eyes, I give him a small nod before crawling into bed from the end, and my smile widens when matching groans sound out behind me.

“That was mean, Cinders,” Cas grumbles, getting in beside me, wearing only his grey boxers. He tugs me towards him and my body instinctively curves around him, my leg draping over his.

The bed dips behind me, and then Prince presses against my back, his hard, very much naked cock nestled against my arse. I wiggle against him, and he growls.

“Sleep now, Sugar,” he orders, his arm wrapping around me as he presses even closer.

I don’t think I’ll be able to, not sandwiched between these gorgeous men, but I find my eyelids drooping, and soon I’m embracing the darkness like an old friend, safe knowing that my stepbrothers will keep the nightmares at bay.

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