I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 97: Chapter 97

Drake’s pov

The meeting was taking too long.

I shouldn’t have agreed to it because I was bored now. I should have stayed home with Lysander.

I sat at the head of the table in the council chamber, staring down at the parchment maps spread before me, but my mind wasn’t on the topic at hand.

Deep in my chest, the fresh bond forged during the Mating Rite vibrated with a quiet, persistent hum. Lysander was still near the main bar where I had left him, his pulse steady and his aura calm.

I thought he would have a hard time adjusting to the club. I didn’t want to leave him there but I couldn’t bring him in here.

Leaving him at home was not an option, he would go crazy. So, I stayed assured when I felt his presence close to me.

Until I didn’t.

A sudden, strange numbness swept across the bond, muffling Lysander’s presence like a thick curtain dropping over a flame. My hand froze over the item in my hand.

A hiss left my lips immediately as I sought within me to uncover the mate bond and find out where he is.

"Lord Balthazar?" the head enforcer asked, pausing mid-sentence. "Is there an issue with what we are saying?"

I had no response for that.

I reached deeper into the link, searching for the sweet resonance of my mate’s thoughts, but I met only an unnatural, dull fog filled with chemicals.

A chemical that had me gritting my teeth

Paralytic.

I stood up so fast my heavy leather chair crashed backward onto the stone floor, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room like a gunshot.

"The meeting is adjourned," I growled lowly, barely able to control myself. The rest of the vampires at the table instantly dropped their eyes.

"Drake?" Vesper asked, stepping forward with a deep frown. "What is it?"

I hissed at him to back away but Vesper was a stubborn son of a bitch, he walked further and placed an arm on my shoulder to ground me.

"Someone touched him," I spat.

I cut through the curtains and burst out into the crowded VIP mezzanine, my vision rimmed in crimson. The air was thick with hookah smoke, cheap gin, and sweat, but my eyes went straight to the main bar.

It was completely empty. Lysander was gone.

My chest heaved, a dark, primal rage coiling tightly in my gut. I pulled my phone from my coat pocket. A single text from fifteen minutes ago sat on the screen:

I’m sitting in the back alcove near the VIP stairs with a guy named Matt and his friends. Having a drink while I wait for you.

I shoved the phone away and marched straight into the crowded alcove. I grabbed a young vampire bartender by his collar, lifting him six inches off the floor with a single hand, pinning him against the wall.

"Where is he?" I snarled, my fangs extending, my voice vibrating through the stone floorboards. "The boy who was sitting here. Who took him?"

The bartender choked, his eyes wide with blinding terror as my aura crushed the breath from his lungs. "I—I don’t know, my Lord! I didn’t—"

"Speak!" I roared, throwing him into a nearby booth.

A human server sitting nearby scrambled backward, trembling violently as she held her hands up. "I saw!" she shrieked, her voice shaking. "I saw him, sir! A vampire named Matt... he slipped something in his drink! He led him away toward the back of the private suites!"

I blacked out for a second as my rage engorged every part of my body till all I could see was black. Someone dared to take my mate?

The audacity of a low-level leech laying hands on my mate in my own territory made my blood boil with murder.

I stepped closer to the bartender, "Are you sure?"

She nodded quickly, "Yes sir."

Vesper blocked my way, nodding at the girl to go away. He looked me in the eye, "Drake, look at me."

Against my better judgment, I did. He looked angry but he curbed it on my behalf.

"Vesper, let me go."

He tightened his grip on my arm, "Calm down and think properly. I don’t need you destroying a whole city because of one puny human."

I growled, "Watch what you call my mate."

"I am sorry but listen, I will go take care of that leech and his partners for you but I need you to not go off the rails, that never ends well. Control your temper."

"I will try."

That seemed good for him.

He called the bartender over and asked her to describe how they all looked like.

I didn’t waste another second asking questions. I flared my nostrils, filtering out the heavy scent of spirits and hookah smoke, locking onto the specific, intoxicating scent of Lysander’s blood.

There. A faint, lingering trail of his scent led away from the alcove, mixed with the synthetic stench of a wolf-line paralytic and the stale, bitter odor of the leech named Matt.

I followed the trail down the narrow carpeted hallway leading toward the private guest suites, my speed blurred to a shadow. My jaw was set so hard my fangs pricked the inside of my lip.

I tracked his scent all the way to an uncompleted loft eight miles away from the club. I entered the building and channeled my senses into finding him.

I followed his scent to the right, halfway down the hall, the faint scent of Lysander’s blood changed.

He was bleeding.

Along with the scent of my mate’s blood, another scent hit my nose, a wretched, familiar stench of cologne, sweat, and rotted ambition that I loathed.

Gideon.

The bond in my chest, muffled for the last twenty minutes, suddenly exploded into a jagged, screaming flare of pure rage. A voice, raw and desperate, echoed through the corridor from behind a locked mahogany door at the end of the hall:

"Help! Help me!"

A sharp thud followed, the sound of a body hitting the floor, accompanied by the muffled, arrogant sneer of Darius’s son.

I stopped two feet from the door. I raised my boot and kicked the heavy mahogany door off its iron hinges.

The heavy wood shattered inward with a deafening, explosive roar, splintering into raw kindling.

Through the dust and flying debris, my glowing red eyes locked onto the scene inside.

Gideon was on his knees near a shattered glass table, his shirt torn, his face bleeding from fresh claw marks. His heavy fist was raised in the air, hovering an inch above Lysander’s face.

And my mate was beneath him, bruised, bleeding from his nose and lip, his eyes wide with terror as he looked up at the doorway.

The temperature in the room plummeted till it could freeze a stone.

"Remove your hands from my mate," I purred, the window frames rattled under my voice, "Before I tear your arms from your socket."

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