I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 77: Chapter 77

Drake’s pov

I was summoned again.

The wax seal on the parchment was thick, black, and stamped with the triple-headed serpent of the High Council.

I rolled my eyes knowing I had no choice but to go.

...

I sat at the head of the heavy oak table in the council chamber, the high vaulted ceiling towering fifty feet above us into shadow.

Sunlight never touched this room; the only illumination came from the massive stone fireplace at the far end and four wrought-iron chandeliers dripping with black wax.

I didn’t want to leave Lysander especially at this delicate time. He needed me through his transition. But I knew he was safe back in the compound.

Opposite me stood three emissaries of the Elders. They wore formal robes of velvet over immaculate grey suits, their faces pale, ancient, and entirely devoid of human expression.

At their center stood Aethelgard, an eight-hundred-year-old elder whose skin resembled yellowed parchment pulled tight over bone.

It was disgusting to look at but then again, they were not pure blood like me.

"Why am I here?" I asked in a bored tone.

My gaze flitted over all of them, checking for the threat but sadly, none of them were.

"This is an official summon, we sent a messenger to you but you have disregarded which is a disrespect to the coven."

"I did not disrespect anyone. I simply declined your terms." I shrugged.

"The terms are non-negotiable, Lord Balthazar," Aethelgard said, his voice a dry, rasping rustle that sounded like dead leaves dragging across slate.

He reached into his coat and laid a heavy, official ledger bound in silver iron on the table between us. "The Council has issued an ultimatum. You will surrender the human boy into their custody before the next moon."

I didn’t make any attempt to touch the ledger.

I leaned back in my carved ebony chair, resting my chin on my laced fingers, looking at the three ancient creatures with cold detachment.

"The boy is marked," I said quietly, "He is my mate. Under the Edict of 1742, a marked companion is considered private estate. The Council has no legal grounds to seize him."

Aethelgard took a slow step forward, his milky, unblinking eyes narrowing. "A pureblood of your standing has no need for a fragile human pet, Drake. You have kept him for weeks. You have indulged your appetite. But he is a disruption to the world’s balance. He will be transferred to the central facility for evaluation and containment."

A slow, dark smile touched the corners of my lips, a look devoid of any warmth.

"Evaluation?" I purred, leaning forward slightly, my hands resting flat against the polished oak. "Let us drop the political theatrics, Aethelgard. You do not care about the world’s balance. You do not care about my appetite."

The three emissaries went entirely rigid.

"You are furious because a human laboratory succeeded where your alchemists failed," I continued, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp register. "You wanted a vessel. You wanted a hybrid built to accept pureblood venom without dying, capable of bearing pureblood stock. And you are rotting with envy because I found him, marked him, and claimed him before your Enforcers even knew his name."

The middle emissary, a younger, arrogant lord named Cassian stepped out from behind Aethelgard, his jaw clenching, his pale hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial silver rapier.

"He is an unsanctioned anomaly, Balthazar!" Cassian snapped. "He is a threat to our secrecy! If you refuse to conform to the Council’s mandate, we will not waste time negotiating. We will send an Enforcer to tear that boy from your bed, and execute him before your eyes!"

My hand clamped around Cassian’s throat, and the three-inch-thick table shattered down the center as I slammed his body into the slate floorboards.

The air temperature plunged eighty degrees in a single beat, freezing the liquid in the decanters until the glass shattered in sharp, deafening pops. The fire in the massive hearth was violently snuffed out, leaving only black smoke twisting in the sudden, arctic dark.

I drove Cassian into the stone, my grip crushing his windpipe until the cartilage groaned and shattered beneath my palm.

My human illusion dissolved completely. My eyes turned solid, blinding red, blood-red veins spider-webbing out across my cheekbones and temples.

My jaw unhinged as my fangs extended fully past my lower lip, dripping with clear, venomous saliva that hissed as it hit the floorboards.

"Say it again," I roared, a guttural, ancient sound that vibrated directly inside the skulls of every creature in the room. Dust rained down from the vaulted ceiling. "Say his name again, you pathetic worm!"

Cassian’s eyes bulged with terror. His hands clawed wildly at my iron forearm, his legs thrashing against the shattered wood, but he couldn’t move an inch. Black, ancient blood oozed from his nostrils and ears as the weight of my aura pressed down on his chest, collapsing his lungs.

Aethelgard and the third emissary stumbled backward, their hands flying to their weapons, paralyzed as they stared at me.

I lifted my free hand, my fingers curling into claws, positioning my razor-sharp nails directly over Cassian’s chest to tear his heart out.

Drake... please...

Lysander’s soft, raspy voice echoed through the dark corridors of my mind, a quiet memory from the night before, his small, fingers sinking in my shoulder as I impaled him.

I froze.

The image of Lysander sitting up in my bed, flushed, beautiful, and completely dependent on the sanctuary I provided flashed behind my eyes.

If I slaughtered a High Emissary, the Elders would declare open war. They would send armies and the chaos would put Lysander in danger.

With a low, vibrating growl that rattled the iron chandeliers overhead, I dragged my bloodlust back into the dark cage behind my ribs.

I lifted Cassian’s limp, choked body three feet off the floor and hurled him across the chamber. His body slammed hard against the granite wall, sliding down into a pathetic, coughing heap at Aethelgard’s feet, spitting up black blood onto the velvet hem of the elder’s robe.

I stood tall in the center of the ruined room, my dark coat billowing around my ankles as the crimson fire in my eyes slowly receded, settling back into two cold, fathomless pools of black. My fangs retracted, but my posture remained, towering over the terrified cowards.

Deep inside my chest, I felt the ancient, dormant power coursing through my veins, a terrifying, electric current of raw, dark energy that had been stagnant for over two centuries.

Before Lysander, my power had been fading, a slow decay of centuries. But the moment I had taken that boy, the moment I had driven myself deep inside his body, drowning in the sweet, intoxicating nectar of his blood, my powers awakened.

His body wasn’t just a vessel; it was an amplifier. Every exchange, every night in his arms, was restoring my strength to levels I hadn’t possessed since the dawn of the Middle Ages.

The Council thought they were dealing with a powerful lord. They had no idea they were poking a god who had just been handed his crown.

"Listen to me carefully, Aethelgard," I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, icy whisper that was far more terrifying than the roar from before. "I am a pureblood of the First Lineage. The powers I command are way beyond your pay grade. If you send your Enforcers to this valley... if you lay a single finger on Lysander...."

I took a slow step toward Aethelgard, looking down into his pale, trembling face.

"I will tear down your towers, slaughter your Council, and burn your bodies until your bloodline is nothing more than ash on the wind. Tell the Elders that Lysander belongs to Balthazar. And what is mine stays mine forever."

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