Chapter 96 96
ENZO
I return with rage pulsing through my veins, the memory of that brat Aidan’s flames burning in my mind like an insult. He escaped. An insolent wolf pup who dares to burn under the sun and defy me. Does he think he can run from me? Pathetic. There is no corner in this world that will hide what is mine from me.
My domain awaits—an empire of shadows and blood that I bend with a snap of my fingers.
My farm. My throne.
Let anyone who dares cross me tremble.
The path twists between barren hills, a labyrinth no wolf has the courage to profane. The air carries my scent, a perfume of death and power that subdues even the wind. I reach the edge of the valley, my hand brushing the black stone arch, runes glowing red like fresh blood under my touch. The collar around my neck hums, an enchanted toy that lets me laugh at the sun. I am more than they are. I always have been.
“Open,” I command, and the stone obeys, sliding aside with a groan that sounds like a plea.
The valley unfolds before me, a dark jewel beneath a sky that never dares to shine. Falsely living green fields stretch like a tapestry, dotted with white towers, tall and sharp as fangs. Humans swarm below, insects in my hive, their lives a pulse I control with a thought.
They are not victims.
They are livestock.
And I, their eternal king.
“My lord,” Levana greets, bowing with that tremor that amuses me. Her silver hair falls like a curtain, and her violet eyes try to read me, but they cannot. No one can. “Everything is ready. The harvest awaits your approval.”
“Of course it’s ready,” I reply, my voice a blade slicing the air. “I tolerate nothing less. Show me.”
We descend into the valley. The humans move among the towers, slow, their minds trapped in a spell I wove centuries ago. Women sew in silence, men carry sacks, children laugh without knowing why. There are more than five hundred of them, bred from the womb, stolen from forgotten miserable villages. I don’t kill them. Why would I? Death is waste when I can harvest them eternally. A sip here, a swallow there, and they heal, docile, mine.
“The new batch,” Levana says, pointing to a line in front of one tower. Twenty young ones, eyes vacant, bodies firm, aligned like statues of flesh. “Ready for the first draining.”
I pass the first, a male with weathered skin, dark hair. My finger traces the air above his throat, and his pulse flutters, weak, insignificant. I smile, my fangs grazing my lip.
“Perfect,” I say, and my tone is a verdict. “The children?”
“Ten born this week,” she answers quickly, as if she fears my patience. “All strong.”
“Good,” I reply, and my gaze pierces her. “Stronger than you, I hope. I want one now.”
I move among them, dismissing the weak with a glance. Then I see him. Tall, broad shoulders, hard muscles straining beneath a white tunic that clings to his skin. Black hair, short, and vacant eyes that still hold a faint spark beneath my spell. It’s him.
“To my chamber,” I order, and my tone leaves no room for anything else.
The guards seize him, and I follow. We climb to my tower, the chamber at the top a nest of shadows: black walls, an ebony throne, red carpets spread across the floor. The door slams shut.
“Out,” I hiss, and the guards vanish.
He stands there, chest rising slowly beneath the fabric. I look at him, and my mouth curves into a smile. He is a damned banquet, and I am starving. I rip his tunic away in one pull, leaving him naked, his taut skin gleaming in the dim light. I shove him against the throne, and he falls, arms dangling, body open before me.
“What a view,” I whisper, and my voice vibrates with hunger.
I shed my cloak, my shirt, and my pale skin flashes in the gloom. I seize him by the throat, lifting him from the throne, and spin him, slamming him against the wall. My body presses to his, my cold chest against his hot back, and the heat shoots through me like lightning. I thrust hard inside him, my cock forcing its way in, and he lets out a moan that fills me with pleasure, his walls clenching around me with every stroke as I make room inside him.
“Like that,” I growl, and my fangs graze his shoulder.
My hands slide to his hips, gripping them, and I thrust again, deep, his body trembling against mine. His fingers claw at the wall, searching for something, and I lower my mouth to his neck, my fangs claiming his blood. I bite, and the taste explodes on my tongue, hot, thick, while I keep moving, my pelvis slamming against him. I suck, letting the blood flood me, and his moan breaks, a sound that sets me ablaze even more.
I turn him, pushing him to the floor, and he kneels before me, chest heaving. I look down at him, his skin marked by my teeth, and my hand fists his hair, yanking his head back.
“Open your mouth,” I say, and my eyes glow red.
He obeys, and I push all the way into his mouth, my cock filling him. I watch his eyes, glassy, his mouth struggling to take me, unable to contain my size. He gags, saliva dripping down his chin, and I pull back for a second, letting him breathe. I look at him—his wet mouth, the desire burning in his gaze even though his mind is lost in my spell. He is perfect.
“Again,” I whisper, and I push back in, my hand guiding him.
His tongue moves, clumsy but alive, and my hips follow, every thrust a fire racing through me. My other hand slides to his chest, raking, leaving red lines that bleed beneath my nails. I bite his shoulder again, sucking while I take him, my body vibrating with the pleasure he gives me. His blood and his heat fill me, and I let him know it with every thrust, every drop I drink.
I pull out, panting, and lift him, throwing him onto the carpets. I climb over him, knees on either side, and enter him again, hard, my hands pinning his wrists to the floor. His moans echo in the chamber, and I thrust, my fangs finding his neck once more, biting deep. Blood runs down his skin, staining the carpets, and my pleasure rises, a roar building in my throat.
“What fucking pleasure,” I growl, and my body tenses, exploding inside him.
I stay there, breathing heavily, my mouth still at his neck, sucking the last of his blood. Then I pull away, letting him drop, his body trembling on the floor, marked, sweaty. I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and my laughter fills the air, a cruel sound that cuts through the room.
“What a feast,” I say, and my voice drips with lust. “You’re a good meal, human.”
He lies there, gasping, blood and sweat gleaming on his skin, and I sit on the throne, crossing my legs, my gaze fixed on him.
This has distracted me, but only a little. I still have to deal with Aidan’s disappearance… and wait for the humans to track him down.
I need him. I need him here, because I won’t rest until this… imitation of whatever he pretends to be is back where he belongs.
Under my dominion.