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L uminary guards strung the prisoner up by a chord from a hook out of the ceiling, laughing at his pleas and cries. Cyprian stood, mortified, and watched. Watched as they tested the ropes, watched as Moargan flexed his fists. His amethyst eyes shone wickedly, matching the gems in his mouth. Like this, with blond hair, flawless skin, and those brilliant eyes, he was the most beautiful man Cyprian had ever seen.

He was perfect. Wicked, possessive and powerful.

“Please!” The prisoner begged, now set loose and dangling from the rope.

Moargan didn’t say anything. Instead, he kicked the guy right in the jaw, making him yank backward on the chord, sputtering in pain. There was another kick and another, then the cracking of bone, followed by a howl.

Blood. So much of it, dripping from the prisoner’s nose.

“Fuckkk,” Moargan groaned.

Cyprian stumbled back to the couch, feeling light-headed. He…felt weird. The sound of pain should make him feel disgusted. And yet …

He was hard. Embarrassed, he quickly covered himself with his hand.

“Enjoying the show?” Milanov hummed. He sat across from Cyprian in the other chair with hooded eyes and a visible bulge in his pants.

“I…no?—”

Milanov waved him off. “Don’t deny it. It’s what you were born to be. I can’t wait to see what you’re capable of.”

“I don’t,” Cyprian whispered. He thought of the visions. Of the lightbulbs. Of the voices.

“Look at my son. He was made for this. Made to kill and love it.”

“What if he—” Cyprian couldn’t finish his phrase.

“What if he uses it on you?” The Imperial shook his head, smiling. “That’s impossible.”

Cyprian opened his mouth, but when the prisoner let out another breathless wheeze, his gaze shot back to see Moargan choking him with bright eyes and a devilish laugh.

Cyprian’s cock jolted in his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He had never approved of violence. And while he felt sorry for the prisoner, he couldn’t deny his attraction for Moargan. Not even now.

Especially now.

Unhinged and savage. He played with the pressure on the prisoner’s throat, tightening his hold only to loosen it, making sure to keep his victim alive under loud praise from the Luminary.

Cyprian felt like he was going to faint. The hand that covered his dick started to rub over his pants, the pleasure igniting a fire inside of him.

The pressure in his head slowly built up. He ground his jaw to steer the visions off, but when the room started to fade, he knew he’d been overpowered by whatever it was that was forcing access inside his head.

Stairs, so many of them. A labyrinth of floors, going down a myriad of directions. Cyprian chased the shadows.

Hold him!

The last thing he felt was his head lolling back in surrender, and then his eyes lifted and stared right into the blinding light.

Warm hands pried open his thighs, causing a burning sensation. Cyprian’s mind rose from those endless floors that he’d ascended in search of whatever it was that wanted to be found. He felt weightless, indefensible against the sinking desire that tingled down his spine. His eyes fluttered when a heavy breath spilled from his lips. His head settled back against the smooth leather couch. It was pounding, mind overstimulated, and his fingers itched to draw.

His cock…

Cyprian let out a startled cry of pleasure when a hot mouth engulfed his raging hard-on, sucking it greedily down.

“F-fuck…” He peeled open his eyes.

On his knees, between his spread thighs, sat Moargan, a blood-splattered face, and those sparkling lilac eyes. They locked on Cyprian’s, making his breath hitch and his mouth fall open.

“Moargan.” It was the only word that escaped Cyprian’s throat.

His angel smiled, the gesture in such contrast with the proof of violence he proudly wore, and his hands gently rubbed over Cyprian’s legs, warming his cold limbs. His amethyst stare bore into Cyprian’s while his mouth worked him into a frenzy. Licks of fire seared his insides and made pleasure flare. His scrambled mind couldn’t think, could only sink back into the thrums of need Moargan stirred. The Imperial Prince was a master of seduction. And he was out there to steal Cyprian’s heart.

“Good light.” Cyprian’s hips rolled in search of more friction.

Moargan flattened his palms on Cyprian’s thighs, sending sparks of pleasure onto his clothed flesh. Cyprian moaned when Moargan pulled off his dick, leaving a slither of glistening saliva before his tongue licked it all up and darted around the sensitive slit. His insides clenched, cock swelling as his balls drew up. Desire flooded him with the need to spill. He was not going to hold on any longer. The thought made his eyes jump up and around them. The Imperial was gone, there were no more Luminary guards, and the bloody rope was all that was left.

“Where is the prisoner?” Cyprian rasped.

Moargan pulled off his cock. “Gone.” Through his spread legs, Cyprian saw how he was jerking himself lazily, his cockhead slick with arousal.

“Dead?”

“Dead.” Moargan fondled Cyprian’s balls as he resumed sucking.

“Where is everybody?”

Moargan’s hand reached out to hold Cyprian’s shaft as he once more slid his mouth off his dick to reply. “Gone.”

“Dead?”

Moargan chuckled, then shook his head. “You’re funny when you’re aroused.” He dribbled spit onto his own shaft and resumed stroking himself. With one smooth suction, Moargan swallowed down his dick. Their eyes locked.

Cyprian let out a dirty moan, toes curling at the nearing orgasm. “Good light.” His eyes rolled back in his attempt to keep them focused on Moargan, and he cried out when his release exploded inside his body. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure went through his insides.

Moargan Moargan Moargan .

Moargan growled through his own release, the sound grounding him. His mind clicked back in place as all earlier threats of stairs and chains were replaced by a blissful feeling of belonging.

Silence.

An arm curled around his shoulder, a hand pressed against Cyprian’s cheek until he turned and faced a pair of lilac eyes. Lips pressed onto his, his tongue entered his mouth. The sensation gave him a warm glow and he eagerly tasted himself. Anything to be close to every single part of his prince.

Moargan pulled back a little, hand cupping Cyprian’s face. “Mine. My aeon .” He pressed a kiss onto Cyprian’s nose, then lifted himself off the couch. “I want to show you something. Come with me?”

They got dressed and then Cyprian followed Moargan out of the empty lounge and into a large corridor that gave way to two spiral staircases, climbing up toward the ceiling. A spacious, glass elevator stood in the middle.

Moargan pressed a button, and the glass doors slid open. “Aviel collected some more information for you on the adoptions.”

The elevator brought them up. “I didn’t realize this house had so many floors.”

“Well, believe me when I say this house has more surprises.”

When the doors slid open, the roof became visible. They’d barely made it two steps outside when Cyprian’s mouth fell open. “What’s that?”

“It’s called a Waltr, an oval-shaped glass house. Come. Let me show you.” They circled the structure that sat on the roof of the Imperial's mansion. “Some people use them to live in, others use them to hang out.”

“Remember the cabins we have in the arena? This is the same glass. Opaque. When you’re inside the Waltr, you can look outside. But those on the outside, can’t see what’s inside. Come, lover.” Moargan pressed his multi-slate against the slick cabin. The glass doors slid open, revealing a darkened space that lit up at the first step he took inside.

Cyprian followed Moargan inside the Waltr, which was surprisingly spacious. “It’s so pretty. What is this place?”

“This was my bedroom.”

Cyprian paused. Looked around him in awe. “Your bedroom? Really?”

“Really.” Moargan turned around, lips twitching.

“No, I—” Cyprian could only stare. At all the little details that filled the room. The miniature soldiers stood lined up in colour. Black, silver, golden, purple.

“I used those to beat Helianth’s ass whenever we played warzone.”

“You played warzone with miniature soldiers?” Cyprian chuckled. His eyes had found a list of books. “That’s so sweet.”

“Don’t tell me you’re already swooning. I should have taken you up here weeks ago instead of my mansion. Those—” He took out a book and showed Cyprian. “Were my mother’s. She loves stories.” Cyprian bit his lip as he looked at the book. It was a children’s tale. Moargan never mentioned his mother, but by the sound of it, she was still alive. “Nowadays, it’s me who reads to her.”

Cyprian flicked through the pages. He wanted to know more about Moargan’s mother, but it felt strangely intimate to pry for more information on her. “Is this your local tongue?” He asked instead. The language looked unfamiliar to him.

“It is. I’ll teach it to you one day if you want.”

“I’d love to.” Cyprian carefully placed the book back.

There was a king-size bed with black sheets and plenty of pillows. Furs with exotic animal skins were randomly placed. Cyprian lovingly touched the chair that stood in front of a desk. “Is this where you studied?”

“It is.” He took Cyprian’s hand and guided him toward the window. “Tell me about your room? ”

“There isn’t much to say, really. It doesn’t look like yours.” Cyprian tensed at the memory. “We shared a room that was probably about the size of this place. There were three bunk beds. The older kids slept on the top. We didn’t have any desks, so it was mostly just doing homework in bed. When I was older, I’d go to the library or to my friend Grady’s house. Spending time alone was scarce, which wasn’t easy for someone like me.”

“For someone who loves to lose himself in his own little world, you mean?” Moargan’s hand landed on Cyprian’s nape, and he started rubbing slow circles that made Cyprian purr.

“Maybe,” he admitted.

“I get it. I used to love being out most of the day. Dinners were always spent together with the family and our closest advisors and guards. But come evening, I’d be here, alone, listening to music and playing games. Sometimes I’d just sit here and stare outside.”

“Well, this place sure has a magnificent view.” Cyprian gazed outside and at the mountains. “That’s not the capital city, is it?”

“No, Zephyr is on the other side. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but the Green Mansion is on the far edge of the city, right by the hills. The city is at our feet.” Moargan hunched down and pressed his multi-slate against a panel, making the room fill with soft music. “I’ve got us something.” When he stood, he held a data chip in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“Let me show you.”

Moargan entered the chip in a holo computer and the projector lit up with a report.

“Are those handwritten reports?” Cyprian asked.

“Zimeon is an old dog,” Moargan chuckled. “He used to love writing everything down on paper. Still does. This is the original contract signed by your father.”

There was a jumble of important-looking curls and dots, and Cyprian had to squeeze his eyes to catch the actual meaning of those words. “It’s hard to read.”

“It is. Part of the game, undoubtedly. Write something they can’t read, don’t give them the full information, and have them sign regardless.”

“Is my name in there anywhere? Like, my real name?”

Moargan looked up, a soft glow in his eyes. “Your name is perfect, lover. It suits you.”

Cyprian smiled. His heart fluttered at the words. “Does it say the name of my mother?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Moargan tapped his finger on the holo screen. “Look at that address. That’s not where we went the other day. Looks like your father moved afterward. At least you weren’t born in that shithole.” They scrolled down to the end. At the bottom of the document was Ludo’s signature. “There’s no sign of your mother. I wonder if they accepted the babies even without the agreement of both parents. Aww…look at that.” Moargan scrolled lower, revealing the image of a newborn. “Baby Cyprian.”

Cyprian’s throat locked up, chest tightening dangerously and his eyes burned.

Baby Cyprian. A chubby, little creature laid in a cod, dressed in nothing but a diaper. Curly handwriting said: Dariux 36.

“That’s me.” Cyprian’s fingers reached for the projection, flitting his tips over the lines of the baby. His little frame, small head, a tuft of dark hair. “Sold to the laboratories.”

“ Survived the laboratories,” Moargan corrected. “You are part of us, aeon . You are Dariux. You are part of the few artificially gifted people who were made to rule this world.”

Cyprian looked up from the holo screen. A tear rolled down his cheeks. His chest hurt. Perhaps it was because of the contract, so carelessly signed by Ludo Fandi, or to see himself as a helpless baby, brought to the laboratories, ready to die. Moargan was right. He hadn’t died. He was still here. But right now, with the bitter truth projected right in his face, that didn’t make him feel any better. “Visions and voices. Exploding light bulbs. That’s all I can do. What if I’m defective?”

Moargan’s eyes flashed. “You are not defective.”

“No.” Cyprian looked back at the report. Part of him knew that, and realized what was happening inside of him. But that other part, that boy from Tulniri who had left his past behind to understand his future, was afraid. “I’m scared. I’m sorry—” He wiped his eyes.

“Don’t be scared. We will find all your truths.”

“I still have questions. I know I should be grateful for the answers I have so far, but…I want to know where my mother is.”

Had she wanted him?

“Where are my siblings?”

Were they still alive?

Cyprian looked around as if taking the room in for the first time. “I want to know who you are.”

“Your bonded, lover, that’s who I am. Your prince. And you are my chosen one. My Royal Consort.” Moargan crawled back onto the bed until he reached the headboard.

“My bonded—” Cyprian gazed outside the darkening sky. That made him feel better. In a ridiculous kind of way. He wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve. “Helion light truly is fascinating.”

Behind him, Moargan chuckled. “I don’t know, lover. What’s the light like where you’re from?”

“It’s different, I don’t know. My eyes used to burn so much more at the jester. Especially when we were sent to the attic for punishment. As if they wanted to leak boiling water. It was awful.”

“What’s it like growing up with punishments?” Moargan asked.

“Horrible.” The visions were way too clear in his memory. Cyprian turned around, watching Moargan light a red cinder cigarette. “What’s it like to grow up hearing other people’s heartbeats?”

Moargan shrugged and took a drag. After he slowly released the smoke, he said, “Maybe it was weird when I was a child, but I don’t remember. For the rest, it has just always been there.”

Cyprian picked up a framed photo of a younger Moargan and Helianth, glaring into the camera. “And what about your brother? Can you hear his heartbeat too?”

“Hmm,” Moargan exhaled, leaving a smoky circle in its wake. “Yeah. Everybody’s, even my father’s. If they’re close enough.”

“And what about…” Cyprian put the photo back and turned his entire body, facing Moargan. He gestured shyly to his mouth, making Moargan smile.

“My teeth?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s an entirely different story. Come.” He patted the sheets between his spread thighs. “And let me tell you. I won’t bite, I promise.”