I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 66: Chapter 66

Lysander’s pov

When morning came, I was still curled under the duvet in Drake’s bed, my skin sensitive and warm, my body aching with a deep, satisfying exhaustion.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, the tight, suffocating knot of panic behind my ribs was completely gone and in its place was an euphoric feeling.

The door clicked open, and Drake walked in.

He had showered and changed into a dark, unbuttoned silk shirt and black trousers, his damp hair brushed back from his forehead.

He carried a silver tray with a small porcelain cup of espresso and a glass of ice water, setting it down on the bedside table before sitting smoothly on the edge of the mattress beside me.

I pushed myself up against the pillows, pulling the sheets up over my bare chest, my face flushing slightly as my gaze met his dark obsidian eyes.

"Good morning, little bird," he murmured softly. He reached out, his cool fingers gently cupping my chin, tilting my head so he could inspect the pale skin of my neck. The puncture wounds from his fangs were faint pink dots now, completely sealed under his venom. "How does your body feel?"

"Good," I rasped out, my voice still rough from the night before. I reached up and placed my hand over his on my jaw, leaning into his palm. "I... I feel safe."

A faint, slow smile touched the corners of his thin lips. "You are safe. Gideon has crawled back to the estate, and Darius knows better than to step out of line again. Your old life is officially over."

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. His eyes darkened and the familiar redness gave my heart a sudden, familiar flutter.

"Now that you are settled, there is a final layer of our bond we must complete," he said quietly, "You have taken my mark, and you have given me your blood. Now, you must take mine."

I blinked, my hand tightening slightly on his wrist. "Your... your blood?"

"A vampire blood exchange," Drake explained, his long fingers trailing down my jaw to rest over my collarbone, his thumb pressing lightly over my pulse.

"When a human drinks from their master, it isn’t simply nourishment. It is the deepest intimacy our kind can offer. My blood will cleanse the lingering exhaustion from your body. It will extend your youth, strengthen your immune system, and tie your mind directly to mine. It creates a physical and emotional tether that cannot be broken by mortal hands."

My breath hitched. The thought of drinking his blood sent a strange, dark shiver straight down my spine. It felt taboo, terrifying and irresistibly intimate.

"Does it... hurt?" I whispered softly.

"Not for you," he purred, his eyes glowing brighter in the dim room. "For you, it will feel like nothing you have ever experienced."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver pocketknife with an intricate, antique handle.

Effortlessly, he flipped the blade open and dragged the sharp edge across the pale skin of his left wrist. Dark, thick crimson blood immediately welled up from the clean slice, smelling sharply of ozone, copper, and a sweet, intoxicating scent that made my mouth instantly water.

The aroma hit my senses and my head spun, my mouth flooding with saliva as my pupils dilated. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to lean forward.

Drake held his arm out toward me, his expression calm and confident..

"Drink, Lysander," he commanded softly.

The last shred of my restraint dissolved as I reached up, my hands wrapping tightly around his forearm, pulling his bleeding wrist directly to my mouth. I parted my lips and pressed my tongue against the open cut.

The moment his blood touched my tongue, my entire world shattered into brilliant, blinding color.

It didn’t taste metallic or harsh like I knew blood tasted like, it tasted like liquid fire, honey, and crushed velvet, exploding across my senses with a wave of pure, overwhelming euphoria.

A sudden, intense heat flooded my veins, rushing straight from my chest down to my toes and pooling heavy and hot in my belly. My eyes flew open, but my vision went hazy, the edges of the room blurring into warm, gold-and-crimson light.

I let out a shuddering, breathless gasp against his skin and began to swallow, greedily lapping at the rich, dark crimson.

Every swallow was like a drop of liquid ecstasy poured directly into my nervous system. My body went completely limp, my muscles melting into the mattress as a dizzying, weightless high washed over my mind.

I felt his thoughts brushing against the edges of mine, a vast, ancient, cold presence that wrapped around my conscious mind like a heavy velvet blanket, comforting me, claiming me, holding me entirely within his grip.

"Slowly, my beautiful boy," Drake murmured above me, his voice sounding like it was floating through deep water.

I couldn’t slow down. I couldn’t stop. I clutched his arm with desperate, trembling fingers, my tongue licking at his skin, trying to swallow every single drop he offered.

My core throbbed with a heavy, aching heat, my brief-clad hips arching rhythmically off the sheets as the overwhelming pleasure of the blood sent wave after wave of intense arousal straight through my lower body.

My mind was floating, completely pliant, completely high. I was entirely his, not just because he was stronger, but because my body and soul were actively begging to be consumed by him.

After what felt like an eternity of pure bliss, Drake gently pulled his wrist away from my lips.

"Enough for today," he said softly.

"No—please," I whimpered, a desperate, pathetic whine escaping my throat as I reached out with weak, shaking hands, trying to drag his arm back to my mouth.

My head rolled back against the pillows, my face flushed, my eyes glassy and unfocused as I stared up at him in helpless, shivering withdrawal. "I want more. Please, Drake... give me more... please..."

Drake let out a quiet, dark chuckle, leaning over me. He ran the tip of his thumb over the slice on his wrist, his supernatural healing sealing the skin shut instantly, leaving not even a scar behind.

He brought his damp thumb up to my mouth, pressing it against my lower lip, letting me taste the last lingering traces of his blood.

"You cannot take too much at once, little bird," he purred, his large hand sliding under my back to pull my pliant, heat-flushed body flush against his chest. "Your mortal heart would burst from the power. But do not worry. We will do this regularly. With every exchange, your life will lengthen, your body will heal, and you will become even more closely tied to me."

I nodded like a compliant dog, my brief dampening as fluid flowed from my asshole. My body trembled from the lingering, euphoric aftershocks of his blood.

I felt completely intoxicated, utterly pliable in his arms, every thought in my head reduced to a single, burning desire to stay right here, bound to him forever.

I buried my face in his neck.

"I’m yours," I slurred out softly, my eyes fluttering shut as the deep, narcotic warmth pulled me toward sleep. "Forever... master... I’m yours."

Drake wrapped his long arms tightly around my waist, holding me pinned against his cold frame as the sweet, heavy darkness finally pulled me under. "Yes, my little bird" he whispered into my hair. "You are."

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