I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Lysander’s pov

The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him, leaving me standing on the moonlit gravel driveway alone with my stepfather.

My body was aching, my mind completely drained, and the sore, unsatisfied pulse in my lower half was still lingering agonizingly.

"Come inside, Lysander," Darius said gently, placing a heavy, warm hand on the small of my back to guide me through the entrance.

We walked into the quiet, dimly lit foyer, the grand chandelier casting soft shadows over the marble staircase.

I expected Darius to send me away, but instead, he led me toward the archway leading to his private, secluded study.

Panic flared in my chest, my hands instinctively clutching the red satin fabric of my gown as I hovered near the doorway.

Darius walked over to his mahogany desk, pouring himself a glass of amber liquor before turning around to face me.

He leaned back against the desk, his intense, heavy gaze slowly sweeping over my pale face and styled blonde wig.

"You look exhausted," Darius noted softly, taking a slow sip from his glass while keeping his eyes fixed on me.

"I am, sir," I whispered, shifting my weight uncomfortably on my sore legs. "It’s been a very long night."

Darius tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if he noticed a missing piece of a puzzle.

"Where is your necklace, Lysander?" Darius asked suddenly, his voice dropping into a lower, far more dangerous register.

My hand instantly flew up to my bare collarbone, my fingers brushing against the soft skin where my usual silver chain sat.

In the chaos of Gideon forcing me into the gown and wig earlier, the simple silver pendant had been removed.

"I... I think Gideon took it off when he made me put on the dress," I lied quickly, my pulse spiking into panic.

Darius stared at me for a long, agonizing moment, as if searching my face for any sign of deception.

"I see," he murmured quietly, placing his glass down on the desk with a soft, deliberate click.

He took two slow, measured steps toward me, his large frame blocking out the warm light of the study’s fireplace.

"Tell me the truth, Lysander," Darius requested softly, stopping just a foot away from where I stood in my heels.

"Did Professor Drake cause you any trouble in the art gallery tonight?"

My breath hitched in my throat as the memory of Drake pinning me against the wall, his fangs grazing my neck, flashed violently in my mind.

If I told Darius the truth about Drake, it would ignite an all-out war between the Thorne family and Drake’s circle.

If I lied, I risk Darius discovering Drake’s mark on me later and suffering the wrath of a stepfather who viewed me as his property.

"No, sir," I lied smoothly, forcing myself to look directly into Darius’s dark eyes without flinching.

"Professor Drake was entirely professional. He... he just reprimanded me about my studio hours, and I behaved myself."

Darius searched my face intensely, his heavy thumb reaching out to gently trace the jawline where Drake’s handkerchief had wiped away the makeup.

"You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?" Darius whispered, his breath hot against my cheek as his fingers lingered on my skin.

"I am the master of this house, Lysander. As long as you are loyal to me, neither Gideon nor Drake can ever touch you."

A sickening chill ran down my spine at the possessive undertone in his voice.

"I know, sir," I choked out, taking a subtle, respectful step backward to break the uncomfortable physical contact. "I... I should really go to bed now. My head is spinning."

Darius watched me step away, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips as he slowly nodded his approval.

"Of course," Darius granted smoothly, waving his hand toward the door. "Go rest, Lysander. We will speak more tomorrow."

"Goodnight, sir," I whispered, turning on my heel and practically running out of the study before he could change his mind.

I hurried up the grand staircase, my kitten heels making little noise against the carpeted steps as I made my way to my bedroom.

Every shadow in the long, dark hallway felt like a threat, making me fear that Gideon would jump out from a corner to finish his revenge.

When I finally reached my room, I threw myself inside, locked the heavy wooden door behind me, and collapsed against it.

My chest heaved as I slid down to the cold floor, wrapping my arms around my knees to stop my violent trembling in the dark.

I jumped when a knock rapped against my door, my heart vaulting straight into my throat as my breath hitched in absolute terror.

The knob rattled slightly, the metal mechanism straining against the deadbolt before settling back into place with a hollow click.

"I know you’re sitting right behind that door," Gideon’s voice murmured softly through the wood, a terrifying edge of quiet satisfaction lacing his words.

"Open up, Lysander. Father made me bring you your daily vitamin and pain relief. He was very specific about me handing the bottle directly to you."

I swallowed hard, my throat raw as I pushed myself off the floor and slowly unlocked the door, opening it just an inch on the security chain.

He stood in the dark hallway, his jaw tight, extending a small amber prescription bottle through the narrow crack between his long fingers.

The moment my fingers brushed the plastic to take it, Gideon’s hand shot forward, gripping my wrist in a sudden, bruising squeeze that pulled my face closer to the opening.

"Look at you," he hissed under his breath, his dark eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated venom as he took in my smeared lipstick and ruined wig. "Running to my father like a loyal little dog the second things get rough."

"Let go of me, Gideon," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs as I tried to yank my arm back.

"Enjoy the protection while it lasts, little brother," Gideon purred low, his grip tightening just enough to leave a red mark before he slowly released me, letting the pill bottle drop into my palm. "My father can’t guard your door forever... and you still have to sleep eventually."

He offered a cruel, sickening smirk, tapping two fingers against his temple in a fake salute before turning on his heel.

The footsteps outside slowly receded down the hallway, leaving me trapped in the pitch-black room with the amber bottle in my trembling hand.

I just knew I wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

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