I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Lysander’s pov

Everyone went quiet the second Drake’s declaration left his lips.

I remained on the hardwood floor at his feet, my forehead pressed near his leather-clad knee, his pale hand still tangled in my hair. The surrounding vampires watched from their velvet alcoves in silent, glittering curiosity, but no one dared to challenge him.

Without a word, Drake stood up. His long fingers slid from my hair to grip my elbow firmly, pulling me to my feet in one effortless motion. My knees buckled, stiff and trembling from the damp chill, but his grip held me completely upright.

He guided me out of the central booth, past the hushed tables and sharp, tracking eyes, leading me straight back through the heavy steel doors and into the quiet garage.

He opened the passenger door, guided me inside, and shut it before sliding behind the wheel.

The drive through the midnight rain was dead silent. I huddled against the leather passenger seat, shivering violently as the climate control hummed, watching the city lights blur through the water-streaked glass into long ribbons of crimson and gold. I didn’t ask where we were going.

I didn’t dare speak. The weight of what I had just done, dropping to my knees in front of a room full of predators, I had a faint idea of what that meant.

Twenty minutes later, the car glided into a private, underground garage beneath a sleek high-rise on the edge of the city. It was a different apartment than the one I was in last time.

Drake killed the engine. The quiet was immediate and suffocating.

"Out," he ordered softly.

I stepped out, my soaked sneakers squeaking pathetically as I trailed a pace behind him toward a keycard-secured elevator. The doors hissed shut, and the elevator rose in heavy, silent speed, bypassing every floor until it opened directly into a sprawling, shadow-drenched penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the sprawling neon grid of the city below, rain streaming across the glass in long, glittering ribbons.

The apartment was immaculate, cold, and dark, adorned in dark slate, polished obsidian, and understated, brutalist luxury.

It was a different interior from the last one too. Just how many places did this man have?

Drake stepped out first, unbuttoning his charcoal coat and draping it casually across the back of a leather sofa. I hovered near the elevator doors, my wet sneakers leaving faint, damp marks on the dark marble floor, my hands shivering in my pockets.

He turned to face me, "Let us establish the parameters, Lysander," he said, "You are here because you ran out of options. I am offering you sanctuary from Darius and your stepbrother. The estate cannot reach you here. My wards and my influence ensure that."

I swallowed hard, my raw throat aching. "And what do you want from me?"

"Total obedience," he replied plainly, taking a slow step toward me. "You will live under this roof. You will serve my needs and follow every directive I give you without question or hesitation. There will be no pretense of romance between us. You are seeking protection, and the price of that protection is total submission to my authority."

He stopped inches away, his towering frame blotting out the city lights behind him.

"Do you accept those terms?"

The choice was stark, but it wasn’t a choice at all. On one side stood Darius’s hidden lenses, Gideon’s violent hands, and the suffocating cage of the Thorne estate. On the other stood the cold, unyielding safety of the man in front of me.

"Yes," I whispered, looking up into his dark eyes. "I accept."

A faint, slow smile touched Drake’s lips,. "Be careful what you agree to so freely, Lysander. You may find you regret giving up your autonomy so easily."

He turned away, gesturing toward a hallway lined with recessed lighting. "The third door on the left is a guest room. There are clean clothes in the wardrobe. Wash the grime from your skin."

I didn’t wait, I ran to the room.

The shower was scalding, washing away the dirt, dried rain, and the lingering, phantom feeling of hidden eyes on my skin. I dressed in a soft, oversized black sweater and cotton trousers I found in the wardrobe, then sat on the edge of the vast, white-sheeted bed. The silence of the penthouse was vast, but for the first time in days, my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.

I felt safe.

When the bedroom door clicked open at midnight, I didn’t startle.

Drake stood in the doorway, framed by the dark hall. He had removed his jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The color of his eyes had changed again, a deep, slow-burning crimson glowing softly in the dim room.

He didn’t speak. He walked toward the bed gracefully.

My pulse spiked, but I didn’t pull back. I stayed where I was, my fingers gripping the edge of the mattress as he leaned over me, his cool shadow blocking out the rest of the room.

When his hand came up to cup the side of my neck, his palm was icy, but his touch was firm and gentle against me skin. He tilted my head back, exposing the bare line of my throat. I let my eyes close, letting out a long, trembling breath, surrendering every last ounce of control I had left to the cold weight pressing down on me.

"You gave me your word," Drake murmured, his cool breath brushing against my pulse point.

"I know," I whispered back, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. "I’m yours."

Drake’s pov

I slammed him against the wall, swallowing the moan that left his lips. I grabbed his hands, placing them above his head to hold him in place, he submitted to me.

The dominant part of me sang whole heartedly. Seeing someone like him submit willingly, it made my cock strain hard against my pants.

I bit his lip and he returned the gesture when he bit mine harder, I felt the blood pool on my lips and smirked.

I guess I wasn’t the only one who liked it hard. I kissed down his neck, leaving love bites and heavy hickeys.

His hands reached out to caress the bulge, writhing himself against me like he wanted more than what I was offering.

He was fooling no one.

"I want you," he whispered against my lips.

"Patience," I whispered back to him before biting the shell of his ear. He whimpered, his hard buds, peaking against the thin shirt I gave him.

I circled the buds with my tongue through the shirt, his hands gripped my hair.

He was not patient, but that’s okay. He will learn to be with me, I wasn’t like the others that he let fuck him.

He whimpered again, the sound spurring me on.

Fuck being patient.

I grabbed him by the throat, enjoying the way his eyes widened.

I tightened my hands.

I shoved him, slamming his front against the wall again. Maybe if I don’t see his face, I will give him what he wants.

"You want it? I am going to give it to you."

He grunted when I ripped away his pants. His soft cheeks stared at me, so supple and ripe for the taking.

I squeezed them a little before spanking them, he jerked a little.

Rewarding me by arching his back and jutting out his ass towards me.

I ran a finger through his crack, smiling when he shivered against me. I spread them apart and the sight of pink greeted me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my knees with my face buried in between his cheeks, the sight drawing me in. My tongue darted out to taste him.

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