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C yprian jerked awake. Blinking open his eyes, he swept his gaze to the large windows. One of the curtains wasn’t drawn, showing green trees and the peaceful sound of pattering rain.

Back home in the jester, everything had been grey. Grey apartment blocks, a grey sky, a grey life. But here…

The sheets were soft. Smooth and warm, just like the firm arm that was wrapped possessively around his naked waist.

Cyprian flinched as unwanted memories started filling in. He closed his eyes once more as if trying to shut them out. It was futile.

He’d been in Archer’s apartment when they’d burst in. Luminary. They’d brought him to the Imperial.

The chase.

Cyprian groaned. So much for staying in the shadows. He had left everything behind to come here and find where he belonged, only to be stopped in his tracks by the most powerful family of Helion.

He gingerly looked over his shoulder, half expecting those mocking, purple eyes to be on him. They weren’t. Moargan was asleep, his face smooth and slack as he lay on his pillow, breathing softly. He formed the perfect charcoal drawing. Like this, his blond hair swept out of his face, ears adorned with jewels, he looked young, and innocent.

Which was laughable.

Carefully, Cyprian removed Moargan’s arm and got out of bed in search of his clothes. He needed to get the hell out of here before Moargan woke up. He found them discarded on the floor and slipped on his underwear and pants. He groaned when he saw the result of his shirt. There was no way he could go to the academy like that. Entering the dubious dressing room felt uncomfortable, and Cyprian kept his gaze fixed on the wardrobe, ignoring any other shady item that lay spread out in the open.

Flicking through Moargan’s clothes, he had to swallow that nagging feeling of envy at the ridiculous amount of everything. Cyprian and his siblings had owned two of each piece of clothing except for underwear, of which he’d had 5.

Moargan Zephyranth had enough to dress himself for what felt like a lifetime without needing a single wash.

Cyprian chose a plain white shirt and slipped it on before throwing his school jacket over it. This would have to do.

In the bathroom, he relieved himself and quickly dipped his face under the cool water, before he snuck back to the front part of the house. He had reached the front door when he caught sight of his backpack. Relief washed through him before he frowned. More details from last night flooded his mind.

The Imperial Prince had purchased Archer’s apartment.

No, no, no, no, no.

Had they taken all his stuff from the house?

The data chip.

He dove for his backpack, realizing too late that he wasn’t the only one in the kitchen. Grabbing the ratty bag with both hands, he pushed himself against the wall.

“Well, good morning.” It was the guy from last night. The one with the black curls and the video camera. He stood behind the kitchen island, a steamy mug in his hand. His eyes flashed brilliantly and Cyprian blinked, heart racing. The backpack slipped from his hands and fell with a thud to the ground as a strange, prickling sensation fluttered his insides.

“I—I was just on my way out,” he muttered.

“Want some coffee? You look like you could use some.” The guy chuckled and started filling another mug. He slid it toward him on the kitchen island. “Here.”

Cyprian stood glued to the wall, eyeing the drink as if it were a cup of poison. One he was desperate to drink. But no, he should go.

“Bacon and eggs? Or do you want some tiganos?” He started taking out ingredients and lit up the fire. “I hope you had a good chase, uhm, night.” He grinned, batting his own words away. “Sorry, don’t mind me. I’m having too much fun. So, what’s it going to be, sweetheart?”

This guy was trouble. That much was clear from the way he spoke, smirked, and looked at him with those brilliant eyes. And Cyprian didn’t want to complicate things even further.

He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I need to go.”

“Why? It’s only six o'clock. The academy doesn’t open until seven. The apartment where you stayed is sold, and your room is gone.” He started breaking eggs in a pan. “Just saying. It doesn’t seem that you have anywhere to go. You might as well have some breakfast with me. I won’t bite, promise.”

Well, Cyprian didn’t care. He was not going to stick around. He would call Archer and together they’d sort out this mess. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Then they could get things back to normal and Cyprian could slip once more into the background and continue his research.

“Where are the rest of my things? ”

“It’s Aviel, by the way.” He pointed the spatula at his chest, grinning. Then he pointed it toward the corridor behind Cyprian. “And your stuff is in the guestroom, second door to the left.”

“I will have someone pick them up as soon as I have found appropriate accommodation.” Cyprian stepped out of the kitchen, only to halt in his tracks at the sound of a cruel chuckle. Turning over his shoulder, he watched with surprise at the way Aviel had transformed in less than five seconds. His golden eyes burned as if they…as if they had molted into actual fire.

“I don’t think you understand,” Aviel rumbled. “You don’t make the rules here, Xander.”

Cyprian blinked and everything was back to normal. What the hell was happening to me?

First, the Axe, now the opium. He was probably still high on drugs, hallucinating. It made him afraid. And fear made him angry. “No, you don’t understand,” he balked, clutching the strings of his backpack tight around his hand. Desperation clawed at his insides. “I have come here to study. I am a free being.”

Aviel clacked his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Tell me, Xander, where are you from?”

“That’s—”

“Do you know where you’re from?”

“Aviel?” Moargan called through the corridor, making them both freeze. The other man recovered faster, face splitting once more in an obnoxious smile.

“Oops,” he gloated. “Might as well stay for breakfast now.”

Cyprian dashed for the front door. Aviel’s laughter echoed through the corridor, intermingling with the approaching set of footsteps and the beating of his heart as he slid his ring over the sleek metal. Finally, the door opened, revealing heavy rainfall and a stormy wind. The perfect autumn day to stay inside.

A day that was about to get worse.

Luminary were scattered all over the gardens all the way to the open gates. They were watching him, but strangely enough, nobody stopped him from leaving the Imperial’s property. When Cyprian finally passed the open gates, he stepped onto the road. Soaked. He had no clue where he was.

After a half an hour wait, the bus finally arrived, and only when he took a seat in the heated cubicle, did he let out a relieved sigh. Since public transport was free for students, Cyprian was tempted to keep his seat and drive around the city for the next hour until the Academy opened, but once the building appeared, he changed his mind. He was too hungry, and hopefully, the restaurants were already open and serving breakfast.

Security didn’t flag him and he headed straight for one of the smaller bars that had a special breakfast menu. Tiganos and coffee. That sounded like music to his ears and tasted even better.

As soon as the art building opened, Cyprian walked in. His clothes were wet and rumpled, and he sat down on one of the heaters in an attempt to dry them before class started. He thought of his friends back home, of Grady and Juri, of the good times they’d had before his foster parents had thrown him to the wolves in an attempt to climb the social ranks. The Devils. Fuck them…

He called Archer, but he didn’t pick up. Cyprian hoped he was okay.

“Good morning, Mister Devers. You are early.” Processor Dai passed by, jacket folded over his shoulder, his umbrella in the other hand. He looked crisp and awake, everything Cyprian wasn’t.

“Good morning, Professor.”

“I’m going to grab a coffee, but the door’s open. You can continue working on your drawing if you want. ”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Flicking on the light in the classroom, Cyprian eyed the empty place. It looked different like this, without anyone else present. His gaze looked over the drawing he’d made of Nikkie. Suddenly, he felt like crying. His entire life he’d known he was different. And it hadn’t just been the colour of his eyes, though that had led to others treating him like an outcast. But it was as if he needed more affection. A physical touch and sense of belonging, the reassurance that he was good . That he was worthy.

In foster care, there was no space for a child like that. Homes were overcrowded, and genuine caretakers were scarce. Trauma fought trauma, and bullies were cruel.

This— here —was supposed to be his escape.

Cyprian looked through wet eyes. The tears had finally come. He had prepared himself for years, had saved money, and had searched for information on planets where people with yellow eyes lived when he had stumbled across an illegal resource from Helion. Hope had latched onto that piece of information because it was the only grounded intel that he had found. That data chip had become priceless, the only object he trusted with his secrets.

And after years of safekeeping, it had taken him exactly one day on Helion to lose it. His research . He barely owned anything. Clothes, books, his pride, the prince had taken everything from him.

“Why?” He whispered through his sobs. “What do you want from me?”

The memory of last night burned his insides. Moargan was the most handsome guy he’d ever seen. And the most forbidden. The way he had touched Cyprian had made him light up as if he had been locked away in darkness until that moment, catching sight of the brightness for the very first time.

He looked at the drawing of his baby sister and the sudden feeling of homesickness made his chest pang. He had wanted to make her proud. Had wanted to find his truth, or anything really, that could explain why he had always felt the way he did.

Could it be…his hands fisted at the thought. Could it be that someone was still missing him out there? He was someone’s son after all, wasn’t he?

He needed to get himself together. Classes were about to start.

Later today he’d head back to Archer’s apartment to try and retrieve the chip. Perhaps the Luminary hadn’t emptied the apartment yet. And even if they had, and they had found the chip, none of the research saved on there could be directly led to him. To Cyprian Creighton, yes. But not to Xander Devers.

That should reassure him, but then he thought of the expression on Aviel’s face.

Those eyes…. it made his own eyes burn.

Do you know where I’m from?

Other students walked into the classrooms, some holding paper cups with coffee as they got settled. This was only the second day, so there wasn’t much more than a polite greeting and a wave for him.

“Good morning, class.” Professor Dai walked in. “We’ll start today by discussing yesterday’s artwork you made.”

There was a shout outside and all gazes turned to the window. A student ran away, followed by two Luminary. Professor Dai continued talking as if nothing had happened, but Cyprian couldn’t look away, his eyes glued to the unfolding scene outside. It was not a fair competition. The student was brought to his knees, head tilted by platinum blond curls that made him think of Bekn.

Another uniform appeared. Black curls, flashing eyes. It was unmistakenly Aviel. He held out his palm against the guy’s forehead. A few seconds later, the blond slumped forward.

“Xander?” Cyprian startled. The last thing he saw was how the guy was being carried away. “Do you want to start?” The professor smiled.

“Uhm.” Cyprian’s hands started sweating as he looked around. “I don’t, I…”

The door opened with a bang and in strolled Moargan Zephyranth. The other students gasped. Cyprian’s ears buzzed as he fought the desire to hide under the table.

Moargan was here to punish him. He was here to make him suffer from fleeing his bed. Cyprian stared down at his hands, blocking out his surroundings. He couldn’t think straight anymore.

Professor Dai piped up. “What a pleasant surprise, Imperial Zephyranth. Take a seat and join us. Our students were about to discuss what brings them inspiration. Xander, will you start please?”

Cyprian felt like throwing up when Moargan sat down. One glance at the door showed a Luminary guard. Just like on the spaceship, there was no way out. His eyes found the drawing, but what had been a way to connect to the person he cared for most, had become an unwanted void.

Someone giggled.

“I, uhm…”

A fake yawn, followed by more snickers. Then the scraping of a chair. Cyprian jumped when Moargan got up and approached his drawing. “Hmm,” he hummed, taking in the lines of his sister’s reflection. When their eyes met, his flashed dangerously. Moargan was challenging him and had come into his class to show him he could do whatever he wanted. “Who’s that?”

Cyprian shrugged. “No one I know.”

“I don’t like liars.”

The class fell quiet.

“I, uhm—it’s Nikkie,” Cyprian managed. His mind filled with memories of her smiling face.

“Who’s Nikkie?” Professor Dai asked.

“My sister. My favorite sister.”

Moargan raised his eyebrows. “How many sisters do you have?”

“I’ve got three. They live with my parents back home.”

Moargan hummed again. “And where’s home now, Xander?” Their eyes met.

“In a small place, in Tulniri,” Cyprian stammered. Good light, he knew something. Cyprian was sure of it.

“...in Tulniri?” Moargan cocked his head, amethyst eyes flaring with annoyance. “That’s not true, and you know it. I’m going to ask you again. Where’s your home now, Xander?” His voice had faded to a menacing volume that only increased the tension around Cyprian’s heart.

Professor Dai took that moment to jump out of his seat. He clapped his hands. “Alright class, let’s get back to our work. Perhaps you can show the Imperial how you work, Xander, while the rest of us continue our next class? You are more than welcome to stay, Imperial Moargan.”

Moargan didn’t as much as flinch, his gaze locked with Cyprian’s. Around them chairs scraped the floor, followed by the Professor’s voice. It was nothing more than a background noise to the rattling of his mind.

Cyprian turned to his canvas, his charcoal already between his fingers. His hand was shaking. “Let me show you my technique.” Lifting his pencil, he brought the tip closer to Nikkie’s mouth, ignoring how his body reacted to Moargan as he came up behind him. Goosebumps prickled the back of his neck, and he could swear he felt the brush of lips on his nape. The hand on his ass could not be imaginary. The touch warm and possessive.

“Your home, Xander,” Moargan growled in his ear. “Trust me, you don’t want me to repeat my question a third time.”

Cyprian breathed in the scent of sea char in an attempt to calm his overstimulating mind. “What do you want me to say? ”

“You know what I want to hear. I staked my claim on you last night.”

“You can’t just—” Cyprian turned over his shoulder.

“Finish your phrase,” Moargan hissed. “If you dare. You think I can’t claim you?” He let out a forced laugh that made the others look up.

Cyprian’s face flushed with embarrassment and something else. Something that was too close to a sick version of hope and had to be smothered in its fragile wake. The hand on his ass clenched tighter, and Moargan pulled Cyprian closer to his chest. “With you,” Cyprian whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure if this was what the other man wanted to hear.

“That’s right.” Moargan dipped his chin, brushing his lips over Cyprian’s throat for the entire class to see, halting at that same spot where he’d bruised his skin during their first encounter. It was still tender. His teeth scraped the skin, nipping and biting until he drew blood. Pain and pleasure made Cyprian’s toes curl, and he swallowed a moan before the others could hear. “So I suggest you come home tonight, or I’ll have to come out and drag you back to my lair. See you later, little aeon . Then you can explain about your art in the privacy of our home. Oh, and don’t walk away like that anymore. It’s useless and time-consuming. If I have to chain you, I will. Have I made myself clear?”

A hand wrapped around Cyprian’s clothed, hard dick and he hissed. “Yes.” His admission sounded like a heated moan.

Moargan chuckled. “That’s a good boy. Just remember, beautiful. You are mine.”