I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Drake’s pov

Lysander’s body surrendered completely under my touch. A broken, high-pitched moan ripped from his throat as his whole frame shuddered. Thattering ropes of thick, white release shot from his tip, splattering violently across his flat, flushed stomach and chest. The violent, sudden contractions of his climax forced his internal walls to spasm, ejecting the vibrating egg with a wet pop that sent it tumbling onto the stained mattress sheets.

At that exact second, my own self-control shattered.

A guttural, dangerous growl tore from my chest as I dragged my hand over my length once, hard, and came violently. Heavy, thick ropes of white seed arched high through the air, splattering across Lysander’s flushed forehead, cheeks, and eyelids. He gasped in shock, his lips parting on an exhale, and another direct spurt splashed into his open mouth.

Driven purely by primitive instinct, Lysander swallowed it down on reflex.

A deep, dark surge of possessive satisfaction flooded my chest. I used the head of my cock to stroke the remaining drops over his full lips, watching the mess trail down his jawline, painting him entirely as my property.

The sharp, loud ring of the apartment’s main doorbell shattered the heavy silence of the room.

I didn’t break eye contact with Lysander. My fingers remained planted on his trembling jaw, my thumb dragging over his mess-stained lower lip.

"Go check the door," I commanded Vesper.

"As you command, Your Majesty," Vesper murmured. A sly, knowing smile curved his lips as he stripped off his rubber gloves and stepped back from the bed. He cast one final, amused glance at the two of us tangled together on the mattress before gliding out of the room and pulling the heavy oak door shut behind him.

The heavy, metallic click of the lock enclosed us in absolute privacy. Lysander was breathing heavily beneath me, his dark eyes wide, glossy, and magnetic, locked onto mine as if he were completely spellbound, entirely unable to pull his gaze away no matter how hard he tried.

A long minute passed in heavy, breathless silence before the bedroom door swung open again.

Vesper stood in the doorway. The playful arrogance had completely vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, guarded air. His cloudy grey eye looked darker than usual.

"Drake," Vesper said quietly. "It’s urgent."

I smothered the raw irritation flaring in my gut as I tucked my length back into my trousers and adjusted my clothes. "Who is it?"

He didn’t say a word and I knew it was business. My lips thinned into a tight, dangerous line at the thought of the interruption.

Striding toward the doorway, I paused to speak quietly to the seer. "Keep your eyes on him. Under no circumstances is he to leave this room without my explicit instruction."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Vesper replied with a droll edge to his tone. "Shall I also bind his wrists to the bedpost? I’m certain you have suitable methods of restraints tucked away somewhere."

"Do not tempt me," I growled low, and Vesper let out a faint chuckle as I stepped past him and into the corridor.

I did have something to restrain him. But restraining Lysander while his body was still recovering from shock would be foolish. Besides, Vesper was more than capable. He wouldn’t permit the human to set a foot outside this room unless I gave the word.

At least, I hoped so.

I walked down the long, marble-tiled entryway and pulled open the heavy front door to reveal the tall, dark-haired man waiting patiently on the threshold. For a mortal, he was remarkably striking, possessing a refined, commanding presence despite being well into his early forties.

His steel-blue eyes were sharp and calculating, masked beneath a layer of pleasant warmth. But there was a persistent falseness beneath his demeanor that kept every one of my instincts on high alert around him.

Darius Thorne was the founder and chief executive officer of Thorne Biopharmaceuticals, one of the most dominant biomedical conglomerates in the world. His facilities housed many of the globe’s foremost authorities in genetic and medical research. Naturally, when the high vampire dynasties initiated the secretive protocol known as Experiment Zero, forging an operational pact with Darius had been a logical necessity.

To the human public and high society, Darius was perceived as transparent, reliable, and utterly credible. He maintained a reputation for a brilliant mind and a charismatic charm that easily won over potential allies.

I knew better. There was something buried deep beneath his polite facade that made me uneasy, a subtle, calculated edge that warned me he was far more dangerous than he presented himself to be.

I had recently discovered that Darius held unsanctioned, clandestine meetings with rival noble vampire houses, which only deepened my distrust.

Unfortunately, because I lacked concrete evidence of his treachery, I could not execute him without creating a political disaster, especially since he possessed extensive knowledge regarding the inner workings of Experiment Zero.

If he leaked that intelligence to the wrong factions, the consequences would be catastrophic. Which was precisely why I kept him under constant surveillance.

For now, my operatives had failed to uncover definitive proof of his treason, so I was forced to maintain diplomatic civility.

"Your Highness," Darius said, dipping his head in a flawless, respectful bow. "As always, it is an honor to speak with you."

I certainly did not share the sentiment. "State your business, Thorne."

"Nothing official," he answered smoothly, his voice dropping into a relaxed cadence. "I only recently learned of your presence in the city, and I deemed it appropriate to pay my respects in person."

The expression on his face was crafted to look open and guileless, as though he had nothing to hide. But I saw straight through the performance. There was nothing behind his gaze but calculated deceit, along with a faint, tightly controlled thread of hostility that he tried and failed to completely mask from me.

I didn’t need to ponder the source of his hidden anger.

Lysander was his stepson.

Darius had undoubtedly been informed that I had claimed the boy and brought him to my personal quarters.

"You managed to locate my private residence in a remarkably short window of time," I remarked coldly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Your network is exceptionally thorough."

He offered a humble, deferential nod. "Not nearly as thorough as yours, Your Highness. I am quite aware of the discreet security detail you’ve assigned to monitor my daily movements. A man in my position can never be too cautious these days."

Recognizing the thinly veiled challenge beneath his polite tone, I kept my face entirely impassive. "Quite," I stated flatly. "I appreciate the effort you made to deliver your greetings in person. However, I have pressing matters to attend to."

"Of course," Darius began, just as I started to push the heavy door shut against him.

Before the latch could catch, he slid the toe of his leather shoe firmly into the narrow gap between the door and the frame, halting the movement.

"I recognize that a king’s time is valuable," Darius continued softly, his pleasant smile slipping just a fraction. "I, too, have a multitude of urgent matters demanding my attention today, the foremost being the immediate return of my stepson."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the door until the wood groaned under the pressure. A sudden surge of dark, violent fury flared in my chest, making my claws itch with the urge to reach out and tear the tongue from his mouth.

When I spoke, the tone of my voice was dangerously quiet, chillingly cold.

"You have severely overstepped your boundaries, Thorne."

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