Chester staggered and fell to the floor, holding his hands over his forehead.
"My head hurts," Chester groaned.
Elian immediately fell to his knees and placed his hand on Chester’s shoulder. "You’re alright, Mr. Chester. I think you had a lot of wine to drink," he said, trying to help Chester up.
"Ugh, damn it—" Chester chuckled, "I always get myself drunk whenever I’m here. Forgive my rash behavior," he murmured, pulling himself to his feet and helping Elian up.
"Fuck—this is your strongest, Lucien." Chester lowered himself onto the sofa, massaging his temple.
Lucien had been quiet the whole time, looking like he’d seen a ghost. He watched the whole scene and he concluded that Elian was some evil sorcerer. If not, how does one command another in one second and in the next they forget the entire thing?
Elian was dangerous, and he wasn’t even talking about the killing kind of danger as his father did. He was talking about how easily Elian could wreck a person and still pet that person with a smile on his face.
"Stay and rest, Chester. Ms. Beck will prepare you a room here in the east wing. I will speak with you again tomorrow," Lucien said, his voice calm.
He didn’t want to alert Chester of the turmoil that was happening in his head. If Chester got a clue of what had just happened to him, the whole kingdom would be at his manor’s gate, demanding for Elian and accusing him of gatekeeping evil.
"That is a splendid idea, Your Grace," Chester groaned and fell back onto the sofa with his eyes closed.
Finally, Lucien turned his head, meeting Elian’s blue gaze. "Up," he commanded.
Elian sighed, glancing at the crimson stain on the cream rug before he walked away, leaving the room.
Lucien wasted no time in leaving the room, trailing right behind Elian. From now on, he was never staying away from Elian, not even for a second. Perhaps it was even dangerous to get closer to Elian, but staying away was more dangerous. It was better to stay close and monitor whatever it was Elian would dare.
The moment Finn saw them, he opened the door and bowed his head to Lucien, not bothering with greeting since the mood he read left no room for that.
The door echoed shut in the staircase, flickering the candles on the wall. Elian kept moving, aware of the Duke who was right behind his every step; he could feel the burning gaze behind him, the anger and betrayal rolling off of Lucien’s body.
He finally appeared in Lucien’s chambers, and he headed straight for Lucien’s room since he already knew that is where they would talk. He left the door open for Lucien, pausing in the middle of the room.
The door quietly shut and locked. And slowly, Lucien’s footsteps approached.
"How long?" Lucien questioned.
Elian turned, facing Lucien directly. "How long what, Your Grace?" he asked innocently.
Lucien’s jaw tightened. "You will do well to know that I am not in my element of patience for you, Elian. Do not test me," he warned.
Elian sighed. "I just need you to be a bit direct with me, Lucien—how long what?" he questioned slowly.
Lucien gulped.
Elian was up to something; he couldn’t just point it out.
"How long have you hidden your ability to hypnotize with your blood?" Lucien asked directly.
"Two nights," Elian answered frankly.
Lucien kept knitted his brows, thinking.
Two nights? That meant...
"You found out at the castle," he stated. "With whom? And why did you not tell me?" he frowned.
Elian returned the frown. "How could I tell you when you were busy accusing me of doing something evil to Lysandra? How could I tell you when you never believe a word I said? How could I tell you when you were busy kissing your princess? And why should I even tell you, it’s my secret, only mine," he panted, clenching his fists.
Lucien hesitated for just a moment, his fists tightening before him before he reached out and cupped the back of Elian’s neck.
"Again, I own you," he whispered. "You tell me everything about you. You report any new developments. Also..." he paused, studying Elian’s troubled eyes, "Do not sound like I owe you my affection. I will kiss the princess if I please, she’s my woman, and that is none of your business," he stated coldly.
Elian felt a samurai’s sword pierce right through his heart; his breath caught in his throat as he tried not to cry like a silly child.
"Then—what am I, Lucien?" Elian found himself asking. "If she’s your woman, does that make me your man?" His heart was stuttering loudly as he asked that silly but dangerous question.
"No." Lucien wasted no time in answering.
His words were cold, but the way his eyes darkened as he gazed into Elian’s eyes...
His man?
What would that feel like?
That would never be possible.
"Okay," Elian murmured, "Then tell me what I am, Lucien," he demanded quietly.
Lucien blinked, not expecting Elian to still push on the topic.
"Tell me who you did it to the other night, Elian," Lucien said, stepping away from Elian.
"Tell me what I am to you first, Lucien," Elian repeated.
Lucien chuckled humorlessly.
"You know what you are, Elian," he smirked.
"Tell me," Elian took a step forward.
Lucien gulped, darting his eyes away from Elian’s. "You’re a traitor’s son, a dangerous man whom I intend to hold captive for as long as I live, a defiant man whom I shall punish if you do not quit saying my name like it belongs to your tongue." He was breathing slowly, holding Elian’s gaze.
Slowly, Elian stepped away from Lucien, nodding. "Alright," he murmured, lowering his gaze.
Lucien frowned, feeling an indescribable ache in his chest.
’Alright?’
Why did he feel that need to soothe his words each time he felt Elian withdrawing from him?
He was supposed to be wary of Elian; the man can literally enslave him, yet he was there, staring at Elian’s lowered head with a forbidden word almost rolling off his tongue.
"It was Lysandra, Your Grace. After Rowena sliced my wrist, she came to help me, but my blood dropped in her wine and she told me things," Elian spoke calmly, looking at the floor.
Lucien furrowed his brows, tilting his head the slightest. "Rowena slit your wrist?" he whispered, taking a small step forward.
"You don’t have to believe me. I only told you because you asked. I am healed and over it, and I would hate to disrupt your lovely relationship," Elian said, pushing his hands into his pockets.
For the first time, Lucien realized he had ignored the threat to his secrets being exposed and rather focused on Elian.
He was shocked at that realization.
Elian had mentioned that Lysandra told him things, and for some reason, Elian’s wrist being slit was the only thing that stuck to his mind.
"You should have told me," Lucien murmured, taking another step that brought him right in front of Elian.
"It wouldn’t matter. Rowena is your woman—I’m simply—nothing," Elian lifted his head, smiling very softly.
Lucien’s heart trembled greatly, aching like a few toddlers were jumping on the blood-pumping organ, slow tingles traveling down his spine as he fought the urge to pull Elian in and say things he’d probably regret by morning.
Elian inhaled shakily, clearing his throat. "I know you plan to keep me as your slave forever. But, I can help you with whatever secret you’re trying to uncover; in exchange, you let me uncover mine, and in the end—" he sighed, looking away, "In the end, you let my mother and I go. Please—" he whispered softly.
Lucien’s eyes darkened instantly. "Go?" His deep voice vibrated in his chest. "Did you say go?" He reached out, grabbing Elian’s chin.
Elian swallowed hard, licking his lips as he locked eyes with Lucien. "Yes," he blinked.
"I will let you use my ability and my blood whenever and however. As long as I am also allowed to pursue the real murderer who framed my father. When everything is settled, you would get whatever ending you’re chasing, I would get mine and prove that my father was not the traitor. What would be there to hold me for? Why would you still keep me when I will no longer be the son of a traitor?" he questioned calmly.
Lucien was left speechless.
He had never thought about it that way.
But now that Elian mentioned it, what was he to say?
A manor without Elian?
Impossible.
He knew Mr. Morel was guilty so he did not need to bother about Elian’s crazy hypothesis. However, what if it were true?
What would he do when Elian was really not the son of a traitor? Just let him walk away from him like he was never there?
"You’re never leaving, Elian," he breathed out shakily, pressing his forehead against Elian’s, chest heaving with heavy emotions weighting his heart down.
Elian chuckled. "You will release me. You cannot keep an innocent man hostage. Unless—" he broke off, this time, pinning Lucien with his most serious gaze.
"Unless what?" Lucien murmured huskily, hot breath escaping his lips.
"Unless you’re killing me in the end. That’s the only way I’m not leaving," Elian blurted out.
He chose a much safer answer than what he actually wanted to say.
He couldn’t say it. He would look and sound absolutely out of his mind.
Lucien’s face hardened. "Can you not speak of dying for even a moment?" he asked sternly.
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