The King's Pet

Chapter 5

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

Hours passed, and gradually, Lucas started to stir. He found himself laying on a comfortable bed in an unfamiliar room.

As his senses slowly returned, he could hear the steady ticking of a clock on the wall and felt the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun seeping through the closed curtains. There was a glass of blood on the bedside table, its contents still warm to the touch...

*

Bruce sat in his office, idly twirling a pen in his fingers as he waited for Lucas to summon the courage to leave the bedroom. His eyes remained fixed on the computer screen, watching closely as the corridor camera feed showed Lucas approaching.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, waiting. The moment Lucas crossed the threshold, the trap was sprung. Silver chains shot up from the floor, wrapping around his limbs and torso, rendering him immobile.

Bruce stood, the leather of his chair creaking softly, and walked over to the decanter on the side table. He poured himself a drink and took a sip, savoring the burn, his back still facing Lucas.

"Good evening, Lucas," Bruce said, his tone casual, almost conversational. "I trust you slept well?"

Lucas struggled against the chains, but they held firm, their silver links glinting in the low light.

"Don't even bother," Bruce said firmly, taking another sip. "Those chains are blessed chains... Made of the world's strongest metal." He finally turned around to face Lucas, his gaze firm. "Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared after last night?"

Lucas's breath came in quick, shallow gasps. "Master, please..."

Bruce raised a hand, silencing him. "Hush now. There's no need for pleading. You know how much I enjoy our little games."

Lucas looked up at him, his red eyes filled with a mix of fear and helplessness. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

Bruce sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t. That’s the problem with you, Lucas. You’re too innocent, too kind. It’s almost… endearing. But we both know that’s not who you truly are.”

Bruce placed his glass of whiskey down on the table with a soft, 'clink', noise—the amber liquid swirling gently before settling.

Stepping closer, he could see the pain etched across Lucas's face but his gaze held something different—concern. For Bruce. The bandaid on his neck, where Lucas had nearly drained him dry, seemed to trouble Lucas more than his own suffering.

Without a word, Bruce reached out and roughly grabbed Lucas's chin, forcing him to look up at him. The concern in his eyes shifted, replaced with an uneasy awareness as Bruce gripped his jaw. Lucas's instincts, honed by centuries of existence, warned him:

Danger.

Yet, here he was, unable to move, unable to fight. The silence in the room hung thick, heavy with the weight of their roles. A mere human, wielding the leash to a creature of ancient lore. Yet, the thrill of dominance burned bright, a flame that had been stoked by centuries of mortal fear.

"Are you scared of me, Lucas?" Bruce asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Should I be?" Lucas retorted, the slight French lilt in his voice betraying his heritage, not his courage.

But Bruce could see the tremors that ran through him, betraying the pain he must be feeling. Silver was Lucas's weakness, and it was cruelly efficient. His skin, that perfect olive canvas, was now riddled with dark, veiny black lines. And yet, as Bruce watched, fascinated, his body began to fight back.

Bruce couldn't help but let out a chuckle, the sound dark and void of any real amusement. "Most men tremble before me," he continued, stepping closer, the difference in their sizes more pronounced. He towered over Lucas, his broad shoulders and bulky physique a testament to the power he wielded, the power he was born into and the power he took for himself.

Lucas tilted his chin up, meeting his height with the poise of a prince. "I am not most men," he declared, his voice steady.

He observed his burning red eyes, a sign of Lucas's heightened emotions and vampire heritage, and Bruce suppressed a smirk. It was clear that his words had riled him up, effectively awakening the beast within.

"No," Bruce agreed, his hand coming up to rest against the wall beside his head, "you certainly are not..."

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