OK, time to stop thinking about licking hands, Arwen. Focus. I turn down the hall, following the assistant that called me, and leave Atticus and his delicious hand behind forever.
4
Thou Shalt Not Betray Thy Father
Atticus
Iwatch the fascinating girl walk away, my hand still tingling from our brief contact. Intriguing. I've never encountered such a paradox of a person before. It's obvious that her high status comes from someone of noble means granting her an audience with the entire council. Yet her clothes are unmistakably plain and of inferior quality, suggesting a more modest lifestyle.
The thought of her clothes makes me remember her skirt. The one she had bunched in her little fingers, the material scrunching and inching up her smooth, toned thighs. They looked strong but supple, like they'd be the perfect cushion around my face, the perfect weight on my shoulders.
My cock twitches in response to where my thoughts have gone, and I look around to make sure no one is nearby before adjusting myself. Thankfully, the room is still empty. The phone rings loud in the empty hall, making me jump.
"Daniel, why are you calling? Figured you'd be on your way to the Academy by now?"
"About to leave, but I wanted to see if you wanted to meet at Academy Hollow on the way there and pick up some food for our dorm?"
"Unfortunately... my father has summoned me to the council offices to discuss business before I leave."
Undoubtedly to lecture me again on maintaining our family's pristine image, keeping our allies close, and reporting back all vital information that could relate to dissent or betrayal from other factions.
I'm his good little chess piece, and he is moving me to a strategic position on the board, plans laid out.
"Oh, I understand. That sounds important." Daniel says. He's used to my backing out of plans to delve into the politics of Pride by now.
"I'll see you at the dorm later." He says and hangs up.
I think back to when I walked into this entry room and ran into this intriguing girl.
She didn't even notice I had entered and perched myself on the bench, and I had to clear my throat before her panties were out, a tent was pitched, and we were really in an awkward position.
I stand up and start to pace, looking around the hall. Arwen Davies… the name is not familiar. Strange, as I know most of those who hold power and status in Pride. Maybe she is from another faction?
Often there are easy signs to guess someone's faction. Gluttons always lean forward when sitting like they are on alert, look directly into your eyes, study you like they're ravenous for what you know and who you are, taking in every detail. Lusters throw on charm enough to rival our own. Alluring smiles, heated eyes, witty remarks—all to draw you in and make you feel comfortable. Sloths are standoffish and aloof. There's nothing from our conversation to give away what faction she is from.
This girl is an anomaly. Normally, I wouldn't care. Why am I even dwelling on it? I'm Atticus Willshire, heir to the most powerful house in Vail and likely the next leader of Pride. No one can rival my sin powers, except perhaps my father. Why is Arwen occupying my thoughts? Maybe I need to make a phone call once I arrive at the academy. Camille, or Daphne, maybe both. That should quickly clear Arwen from my thoughts.
I glance down at my Rolex. He's late, of course. If I were a minute late, I'd never hear the end of how I'm letting our legacy down with my lack of punctuality. But he likes to remind me where my place is. As I look back up, I can't help but stare at the Dramir painting she was intently focused on. It's a simple apple, laid out on a table. It's fine. The apple's coloration seemed slightly off; the red portion looked sickly. Maybe she's a Dramir fan?
"Mr. Willshire?" a female voice echoes down the hall. I look up and see a stranger. Of course, my father has another young and beautiful assistant. They never stay around long enough for me to remember their names.
"Councilor Willshire will see you now."
She's been around long enough to be trained to call him "Councilor Willshire" and not "your father".
I also notice she says, "will see you," and not, "is ready for you." A power play in word form. Everything is a power play in Pride. Even a simple sentence.
I nod and follow her down the hall. I step into my father's familiar office. Despite the exterior rooms being bright and marble, my father's office reeks of old money, heritage and dynasty. It's filled to the brim with mahogany and oak. Bookcases line an entire wall, and my father'smassive desk takes center stage in the middle of the room. His chair back is high, wing-backed, and imposing, while the chairs in front of the desk are short. The power play never ends for him.
"Finally. Did you crawl here?" he says without looking up from the papers in front of him. He's wearing a sharp suit that hugs his trim body in a snug fashion. He's greying at the temples, and dignified wrinkles line his face around his eyes and forehead. His sharp eyes, almost black as they scan the papers in front of him.
"Apologies, Father." I reply. "Do you wish to review our academy plan? I came prepared." I pull a file out of my briefcase.
"You assume wrong, Atticus… as usual," he tuts, again without looking up from his papers. "While I have brought you here for something academy-related, this is far more important than your silly schoolboy plans to play allies and make friends." Technically his 'silly schoolboy plans,' but I let it roll off my back like I usually do.
"My apologies, Father." I tuck my file away. "What can I do for you?"
"They summoned the council for a girl. A girl who is sinless at 20. The council is to decide if this common girl is to attend SinVail," He spits out like he's swallowed a bug.
