The King's Pet

Chapter 1

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ྐ❤︎ 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 'ཀ'

The city's lights twinkled like distant stars, casting a soft glow over the sprawling penthouse that towered above it all. The night was quiet, the kind of silence that only money could buy.

Bruce turned away from the glass walls that offered a panoramic view of the sleeping city and focused on the figure before him.

A vampire-which Bruce had yet to name-stood there in the center of the room, shirtless. His beauty was otherworldly, like a forgotten deity who'd wandered into the wrong century. Even, Bruce, who had seen the wonders of the world couldn't help but pause at the creature's rare beauty.

As Bruce drew closer, he could see the subtle rise and fall of the vampire's chest, the way the vampire's muscles tensed slightly under his gaze. The creature was beautiful, undeniably so, but it was the vampire's power that intrigued Bruce the most.

The vampire that stood before him was no ordinary vampire. Born, not turned, He was a true vampire, born of ancient lineage, and his rarity made him legendary. In a world where vampires were hunted, captured, and auctioned off to the highest bidder, he was the prize Bruce coveted and this is what led Bruce to purchase this perfect specimen.

"Stand still," Bruce commanded, his voice echoing with a cold authority that had made men twice the vampire's size cower. "You have nothing to fear from me unless you give me a reason to punish you."

The vampire obeyed, spine rigid.

He circled his new acquisition, thinking back to last night and how the auction house had been abuzz when the vampire's lot came up, whispers of the vampire's rarity echoing off the gilded walls. The bidders had eyed him hungrily, their greed palpable. But Bruce had outbid them all. But it had come with a hefty price. Of course, the bloody bastard had cost Bruce a fortune-an exorbitant sum that would bankrupt lesser men. But Bruce paid no mind to the cost; What is money to a man with infinite wealth? He was the prize, and Bruce had won.

Finally, Bruce stopped with his assessment of his newly possession and now moved to stand in front of the vampire.

"You need a name." Bruce said, looking the vampire over; the tousled blond hair, the slender but strong frame, the captivating crimson eyes...

"Lucas," He said, the word spilling from his lips before he could stop himself. "I'll call you Lucas."

The auctioneer had promised a pristine specimen, but Bruce needed to verify. His fingers brushed over the ridges of Lucas's abdomen, noting the strength there. Bruce made a low noise of appreciation in the back of his throat as his eyes roved over Lucas's toned muscles and defined abs. His olive skin seemed to glow under the soft light of Bruce's expansive chamber. Bruce noticed the v-line that disappeared into the waistband of Lucas's jeans, a tantalizing invitation.

Slowly, Bruce pulled away, and met Lucas's gaze with a steely look which sent a shiver down Lucas's spine. He had finally noticed the smell...The stench hit Bruce like a punch to the gut. He'd tolerated a lot in his life-blood, violence, betrayal and more than one assassination attempt-but this ... this was something else entirely. Lucas, reeked like a sewer rat that had rolled in its own filth. It was enough to make the scar on Bruce's left eye pulse, the scar that he gained in battle that had costed him his vision in his left eye.

"Follow me." Bruce, instructed and without another word, he turned on his heels, his tailored shoes clicking against the hardwood. Bruce didn't bother to check if Lucas was following. He knew Lucas would. There was a quiet, compelling aura about him that didn't accept defiance.

"Where are we going?" Lucas asked, which made Bruce turn his head to face him. It was the first time, Bruce had heard the vampire speak.

He didn't bother answering. The vampire's curiosity was understandable, it was just not something Bruce was willing to indulge.

Bruce walked with a slow, steady gait, his hands clasped behind his back. His strides were long and confident, as if he owned the very ground on which he walked. Which, in a sense, he did. Everything around the vampire was Bruce's.

They walked until they reached a large double door at the end of the corridor. Bruce stopped and turned to face Lucas, his gaze as hard as steel.

"You reek." Bruce said outwardly, not wasting time for niceties. "You shall take a bath assisted by my maids who will later bring you the clothing I've ordered."

Bruce turned away from Lucas and barked out instructions, his voice raising. "Two maids," He paused, waiting for them to come to his aid before continuing. "Bring water, soap, and towels. Lucas needs a bath."

The maids scurried in, their eyes wide as they took in the scene. Bruce gestured to Lucas, who still stood there, bewildered. "Strip him down. Wash him thoroughly. And for fuck's sake, use the lavender soap."

Lucas's gaze darted between Bruce and the maids. He was probably wondering what kind of madman he'd ended up with. But he'd learn. He'd learn that in Bruce's house, there were rules. And cleanliness was one of them.

Bruce walked back to his office and sat down on his plush, leather couch before pouring himself a drink as he waited for Lucas to return, cleansed and ready for whatever Bruce had in planned for them.

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