I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 98: Chapter 98

Drake’s pov

The scent of blood in the room made the monster beneath my skin roar, but I kept my pace slow as I surveyed the room for potential threats.

Gideon stayed frozen over Lysander, his fist still trembling in the air.

"I knew you were stupid but not this stupid. Remove your hands from him," I repeated, "I am going to enjoy punishing you for this."

Gideon’s jaw worked silently for a second before his eyes narrowed, hardened by that pathetic, desperate arrogance that I hated so much.

He didn’t move away like u asked, instead, he grabbed Lysander by the throat, pulling him half an inch off the floor, using my mate’s body as a shield.

The beast in me snarled, wanting to taste his pungent blood. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of tasting his disgusting blood.

"I’m not going anywhere without him," Gideon spat, his voice shaking despite his sneer. "He belongs to my family, you fucking leech!"

"Leech?" I let out a laugh, "That’s a new one, I haven’t heard that one before."

"You are a fucking leech, you destroyed my family!"

I cocked my head to the side, unable to resist the curiosity crawling up my veins, "Pray tell, puny human. How did I destroy your family?"

Gideon looked mildly surprised I was engaging him in his silly little rant. He took a deep breath, and faced me,

"The second you came, you destroyed everything. My father is a coward, thanks to you and what you did to me that day, it has ruined my life."

"Ruined your life? That’s interesting." I drawled, "I remember you liking it."

"I didn’t like it!" He yelled, "You took me against my will. I didn’t want you."

"Is that so? Lysander didn’t want you either and yet, you took him against his will."

Gideon gaped at me, his eyes widened per second when he realized the irony. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled to process that I had him by the balls.

"That’s not the same and you know it," he gritted out.

"Humor me, how is it not the same?"

He choked on his words till there was none to say, he sent me a glare before his hold on Lysander tightened.

Lysander choked out a faint gasp under his grip, his fingers clawing weakly at Gideon’s wrist.

The air in the room temperature plummeted to freezing. Frost began to spiderweb rapidly across the glass table shards on the floor.

"You think he actually wants you?!" He yelled, his face blotchy and bleeding from Lysander’s claws. He gestured wildly with his free hand. "Look at him! It’s obvious you compelled him! You dragged him to your fucking altar and mind-wiped him into submission!"

I tilted my head, a slow, dark smile curving my lips. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That the boy you love to fuck likes getting fucked by me."

"I know what you are!" Gideon shrieked.

With a sudden, violent twitch, Gideon released Lysander’s throat, letting him slump to the carpet, and reached into his inner coat pocket. He whipped out a heavy glass vial filled with clear fluid and splashed it straight into my face.

"Drake!!" Lysander sobbed.

The liquid hit my cheek, dripping down my jaw onto my clothes.

I simply reached up, wiped a drop of the clear water from my lip with my thumb, and brought it to my tongue.

"Holy water," I murmured, a small laugh of disbelief bubbled from my throat. "A centuries-old human myth created by terrified priests. How remarkably foolish."

Gideon’s face drained of color, his eyes dilating as he panicked. You would think he would stop but his desperation drove him further. He reached behind his waist, pulling out a solid silver trench knife, its nine-inch blade gleaming sharply as it caught the light.

"Die, you monster!" He screamed, lunging forward with a desperate, clumsy thrust aimed straight for my chest.

I rolled my eyes and raised my bare right hand, my fingers wrapping around the gleaming silver blade mid-air, stopping the weapon dead an inch from my shirt.

The silver hissed faintly against my skin, attempting to burn the flesh, but the raw, surging power of the Mating Bond surged through my veins like liquid steel. I was at full strength now that I was bound to Lysander.

I tightened my grip.

CRACK.

The solid silver blade fractured under the crushing pressure of my fist, shattering into jagged splinters that rained down onto the carpet.

Gideon stared down at his empty brass hilt, his chest heaving, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Before he could process the horror, I stepped into his space. My left hand shot out, slapping the side of his head with open-palmed force.

THWACK.

The force of the strike sent Gideon spinning horizontally through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed violently into the leather sofa, flipping over the back rest before slamming face-first against the far wall.

The impact left a web of cracked plaster and a smear of fresh blood on the paint before he slithered down onto his knees, gasping for air, clutching his shattered jaw.

I didn’t give him time to recover. I crossed the room in a fraction of a second, grabbing him by the back of his hair, yanking his head backward until his spine popped.

"You fought valiantly for a hound," I purred into his ear, my fangs brushing the sensitive skin below his lobe as he whimpered in pain. "But your little crusade ends here."

I dragged him up by his collar, hauling his half-conscious frame across the room like a sack of trash, throwing him into the corner near the shattered door frame where two of my guards were already standing at attention.

"Take him to the basement in the main house," I commanded the guards coldly. "Lock him in the iron cell beneath the courtyard. Keep him alive until I come down."

"Yes, sir," the guards barked, dragging Gideon’s limp, bloodied body out into the corridor.

I turned back to the room. My heart squeezed as my eyes landed on Lysander, sitting bruised and trembling against the broken table.

I dropped to my knees beside him, my anger evaporating into thin air, replaced by the soft, warm hum of our bond.

I gathered him gently into my arms, lifting him bridal-style against my chest. He buried his face into the nook of my neck, his small hands clutching the lapels of my coat as his body shook with soft, quiet sobs.

"I’ve got you, little bird," I whispered against his wet hair, pressing a firm kiss against his forehead. "You’re safe."

I carried him out of the room, stepping over the shattered glass and silver dust, walking through the quiet corridor.

As we reached the heavy iron doors leading out of the subterranean level, I paused, turning my head slightly toward Vesper, who had appeared suddenly after his errand.

"Call his father," I ordered, "I need to have a word with him concerning his son’s behavior."

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