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It started as a whisper.

The change in the Kings.

The shift in their energy.

It was subtle at first, something in the way they carried themselves—sharper, heavier, like they were listening to a sound no one else could hear. Then it became undeniable. Men who once operated with precision were now distracted. Men who once spoke with authority now held tension in their jaws, as if silencing something they couldn’t control.

And Nidev?

Lyric didn’t know what she expected to see tonight. But she knew one thing—he wasn’t the same man he was a month ago. But… she wasn’t the same girl either.

She adjusted the strap of her leather satchel as she walked, the familiar halls of the Creole King Academy echoing softly under her steps. The school had always felt like its own world, separate from the chaos outside. A kingdom tucked away in the bayous, protected by the legendary men that built it.

Here, the gifted trained. The ones with voices that could break minds. The ones with hands that could heal or kill. The ones who could alter the very foundation of reality with just a thought. And above them all, the Creole Kings ruled.

It was a system that worked. At least, it had worked—until the Bayou Bishops came.

Their arrival had ripped the veil open, revealing flaws no one wanted to see. The prodigy program, the academy’s most ambitious attempt at creating an unshakable future, had been an abject failure. And not just for her.

She didn’t like thinking about it.

She didn’t like thinking about George.

Her boots tapped a steady rhythm as she moved past the dark glass of the grand library, her reflection barely visible in its polished surface. Maybe she was avoiding looking at herself.

Four years.

That’s how long she’d dedicated herself to this school, to its mission, to the Kings who shaped her. It was also how long she’d crushed on Nidev.

She let out a slow breath, willing away the heat that crept up her neck at the thought. It wasn’t like that anymore. She’d finally pushed through it, she had to. Once she’d decided to participate in the prodigy program, it cost her a thousand percent of everything. She’d wanted to succeed in that. And hadn’t.

She wasn’t into blaming herself for the heck of it but when it came to something like a marriage, the –it takes two –rule, was a fact, pure and simple. It would’ve helped to know what she’d done wrong. She ended it because having a shitty bond in the prodigy program wasn’t helping anybody and she wasn’t there to pretend to succeed and on top of that, the program required termination when you couldn’t resolve an issue after trying every measure. And she had. Many times in many ways.

Thankfully, their failure wasn’t a shock but for Lyric it was a massive disappointment. Every student who joined the program felt the pressure of the King’s hope. That’s all it took to rally every student to accomplish anything—a King merely needed to want it. It didn’t matter what it was, every student did what it took to please the heroes they loved. The Kings weren’t just powerful men, they were extraordinary men. They were like their fathers, teachers, and friends. The Kings didn’t realize why so few attempted the program. It wasn’t fear of marriage, it was fear of failing and disappointing them. Then it was the fear of marriage.

Needless to say, every failure brought the morale of both King and student that much lower. Those who participated walked around with an invisible we tried and we failed sign on their backs.

For months, Lyric racked her brain over what exactly went wrong. She didn’t understand it. Both her and George had given it everything they had. On the surface, they did everything perfectly. So, why didn’t it work? The parts matched but they didn’t fit, they didn’t form a solid connection. The only thing more embarrassing was what broke it. The sex. George had a problem with the pleasure of it. He tried but you could always tell that’s what it was. Always trying not wanting.

Lyric wasn’t a pretender and she surely wouldn’t be that in the prodigy program, not when doing things perfectly required success. Wanting the things that allowed it to succeed wasn’t a subjective decoration, it was mandatory. You had to want it, and George didn’t. Lyric never imagined the embarrassment that would come from that and may have even fudged the reasons on the exit form. She didn’t want to humiliate George or herself, so she selected one of the most generic reasons people exited the program. Incompatibility.

The guilt of lying about it was as heavy as her failure. And then there was that third thing that plagued her, way in the back of her mind.

What was wrong with her? Why didn’t George want her. Was it her body? Her looks? Her personality?

With King Nidev as her mentor and her ex-crush, she had to really dance a dance to hide her true feelings while also being upset over the failure. God bless him for eventually forbidding it to be discussed when he saw it interfering with her other studies.

She fingered the strap on her bag as her mind pivoted back to the Kings and their strange new… hunger . The bite had done something to them that wasn’t to be talked about but was, very discreetly behind their backs. Their hidden sources said it was supposed to somehow unlock their gifts and from what she heard, it did. But it also unlocked something else. Something that had the entire school gripped by the throat, leaving very little room for breathing.

The Kings thought the students didn’t know, didn’t see it. Of course they did. The Kings were being quietly stalked and studied by every eye on campus. Questions to be answered: What exactly was wrong with the Kings? What was it clenching their jaws? What caused tension to bleed through every conversation? What kind of battle raged inside them? And why did they refuse to name it?

That last question was Lyrics. It was unlike the Kings to keep challenges from them. They always faced them together. As a unit, as a family. The fact that they hid it demanded answers all the more. And that was the unspoken assignment for the entire student body.

And Nidev.

She drew a breath and released it as the usual cacophony of emotions swirled about. It bothered her to see him unhinged when knowing who he was. An impenetrable fortress. A wall of logic and discipline, standing above all storms. He was their leader, their strategist, their unshakable standard of excellence. And she just… wanted to help him. They all did.

She knew the mentor meeting she was headed to was standard and yet nothing was standard since that bite. Was this him trying to hide it with normalcy? Or were they overcoming whatever plagued them?

Maybe it was something she’d done.

Either way, her friends were expecting answers.

She just hoped whatever she learned would be good news.

****

Nidev stood at the tall window of his quarters, peering into the swamp’s darkness. He focused on the weight of the world that pressed on his squared shoulders. For many, that burden was crushing, but for him it was an anchor that grounded him, a compass that centered him. But the context of that weight was another matter. One whose vexations came without stop, day after day, bearing weapons for which his mind had no defense. Like the shadows flickering behind him from the flame of his desk lamp, they bore the reflection of hard data but moved to the fire’s unpredictable rhythm.

That flame.

Love. Passion. Desire. Lust.

And that fucking bite.

The Bishop’s Belle Eveque had been right. Trying to produce outcomes in their prodigy program while lacking the essence needed to do that was destined to failure. He’d foolishly dismissed them as distractions. In strategy, passion was a coward’s weapon in war. Men fought men. Men fought wars. Women should be nowhere near those things and to throw one in the mix for gaining advantage was no different than throwing a baby at a soldier during battle. It was a dirty, weak move, and history was littered with those.

Passion belonged in bedrooms not on battlefields or sprawled out on the tables of strategy. And yet, it was his obsession with strategy and war that became his downfall in the prodigy program. He treated the success of these unions between the gifted as a war to be conquered. And in doing so, removed the essence that would have led them to victory.

Love and passion.

Now, those words, those weapons, were being handed to him. His problem with it had nothing to do with committing, he possessed godlike powers with such things. It was that he had zero knowledge about such love and passion. But seeing that it existed and thrived between the Marsh Kings and their women verified it was real. They were not using love and passion as a weapon or tool but becoming one with them. He might have thought it was restricted to their culture, but he watched with his own eyes as Rukem dared to challenge this missing key and ended up falling madly in love. A bullet and a chamber. Wood and flint. Paper and pen. Lock and key. Once joined, the power of the two unleashed a new power, directed by whatever the wielder wished.

And that was the real phenomena.

The power that tore down entire empires was also able to build them.

And Nidev needed this power. Now, not later. Which brought him to the set of weights burning through his muscle and straining his bones. Finding the perfect match while navigating the flames of that fucking bite.

His cock twitched at the mere thought of it, attempting to scatter his thoughts to the ends of the earth. He could surely not be defeated by this power while remaining strictly aware of the countless great warriors taken out by it. But everything was a potential weapon. This was no different. He’d hone it, find every advantage it offered. So far, the bite had given his gifts a razor’s edge, tripling his cognitive strengths.

His latest question was whether he could use it as a catalyst in celibacy. He surely intended to learn that very thing. The state of the world was not open armed to vulnerable connections. Those things a man would die to protect were prime leverage for his enemies and avoiding them wasn’t just logical it was humane.

He’d just recently barely subdued the monster in his cock, enabling him to function around females without scents or sounds throwing him into the flames of lust. The idea to cancel his monthly mentorship meeting with Lyric had hardened his resolve. That was precisely what he couldn’t allow to happen. His cock interfering with his duties and responsibilities to the students at the academy. Especially as the leader. Lyric was the perfect first test since she faithfully kept things very professional.

He slowly crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes, meticulously regathering all his data and firmly anchoring it by category onto his strategy board.

The students.

The Quantum Kings.

The Marsh Kings.

The nuns.

The burning world.

The coming war.

That damned prophecy.

His brothers.

The necessity of marriage.

Finding the perfect match.

The expected knock on his door flung all his pieces into a mental wall as he made his way to the entrance, gathering himself until his mind was a rigid, impenetrable fortress.

He opened the door, bracing for the onslaught of temptations.

“Mr. Nidev!”

Lyric’s joy bomb obliterated the usual lust storm as she flew past him into his apartment. As he shut it, that lust countered the attack and captured her scent.

He stood for many seconds as the two forces within him clashed. It left him with two options. Send her out immediately or double down in the fight.

He chose to fight.