The King's Pet

Chapter 11

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

Bruce wasn't one for distractions, but there's a certain... presence that's become his exception. Lucas. He was used to taking what he wanted, bending the world to his will, but Lucas... he had Bruce wanting to bend.

Even now, as Bruce sits at the head of the table-his hands resting on the ornate cane-he can sense him nearby... He pushed those thoughts aside for now and glanced up, his gaze sweeping across the room, ensuring everything is in its rightful place.

The servants move silently, well aware of the consequences of any misstep. They place the dishes before him, each one a masterpiece. There is a platter of roasted pheasant, its skin crisp and golden, served with a rich, dark gravy. Beside it, a bowl of mashed potatoes that looked creamy and delightful to the eye. And finally, a delicate soufflé, its top a perfect golden brown, promising a light and airy finish to the meal.

As the last dish is placed before Bruce, he gave a soft grunt of appreciation, a rare acknowledgment of their efforts. The servants bow deeply, retreating to the edges of the room, their eyes downcast.

Bruce picked up his fork and knife, the silverware gleaming in the candlelight. As he chewed, Bruce pondered over the irony. Here he was, a man who could intimidate with a glance, feeling utterly disarmed by this vampire who had somehow wormed his way into his heart...

Once he had finished his meal, he placed his cutlery down. The servants moved forward to clear the table, their movements silent and efficient. He leaned back in his chair, his hands once again resting on his cane. With a mere flick of his finger, Bruce beckoned to one of the servants, and the servant rushed to his side, head bowed.

"Tablet." Bruce commanded, his voice deep and gravelly as he stuck out his hand, impatiently waiting for him to hand Bruce the tablet. The screen turned on, highlighting the servant's anxious face. Bruce took it without a word, his eyes narrowing as he watched the live feed of Lucas, pacing around like a caged animal, his muscles tense and his shoulders taut, his red eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist.

Bruce pressed a button on the laptop, his voice echoing through the small speaker in the corner of the room. "Lucas," Bruce said, his tone cold and authoritative. "Stop pacing and listen to me."

He froze and for a moment, he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"I need you to come to my chamber, right this instant."

With a press of another button, a hidden door in the white room slid open, revealing a hallway that had not been there before. Lucas hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the newly revealed passage, before he stepped forward and began to walk down the hallway.

The walls were covered with paintings and sculptures, each piece carefully chosen to reflect Bruce's impeccable taste. The floor was covered in a thick, luxurious carpet that felt like walking on clouds.

Finally, he reached the door to Bruce's bedroom. He paused for a moment, debating whether to enter the room or not before pushing it open and stepping inside.

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