Alexios

  As the carriage rolls down the drive, wheels crunching over gravel until the sounds begin to fade, I watch from the top of the steps and can even see the dark curves of Arun’s horns through the glass even from this distance.

  When they finally pass through the gates of the property and vanish beyond the trees, I turn back toward the house.

  The manor isn’t exactly quiet without Arun, but it feels different. The voices are lower, the steps are lighter and the movements are more purposeful. I walk the east corridor first and pass two servants swapping out the draperies for heavier velvet ones. The gold embroidery catches the light, shimmering with each careful tug. One servant is balancing high on a ladder while the other folds the old fabric into squares on the floor.

  The air in the kitchen is warm and it clings to my skin. Copper pots hang in neat rows and I take a few moments to admire how they’ve been polished to a mirror’s shine. The fire roars on in the massive hearth and the smell of fresh herbs lingers throughout the room. The cooks are barking orders as their eyes roam the plates being lined up for inspection while their assistants rush to obey.

  I pass through the guest suites and catch a glimpse of a servant leaning out of an open window to shake away some dust. Another presses the cushions into shape and the dull thump echoes through the hall.

  Everywhere I look, small acts of preparation are being taken care of. There’s the sound of a broom sweeping in the far hall, the thud of logs being placed by one of the hearths and a few whispers of voices reading lists. The manor’s pulse before night falls is the rhythm I’ve always known since being here.

  The servants step aside when I approach, bowing their heads too far. That familiar fear hands between us. Especially tonight. I’ve always considered that fear useful and necessary, but tonight it feels… much heavier.

  By the time I make my way back to the study, the candles are neatly lit and the fire from the hearth casts beautiful light over the shelves and dark wood of my desk. The manor finally feels ready for tonight.

  I pour myself a glass of red wine and sink into the chair, desperate to feel a moment of silence before the hells break loose later. By the time every last piece is in place, the sky outside is nearly black. Every hour spent on tonight’s affair is necessary.

  I step into the hall and find the head servant waiting for me. He keeps his posture rigid and his eyes directed on something just past my shoulder.

  “Two things,” I tell him. My tone leaves no room for delay. “First, the staff is dismissed from the house for the night. No one comes inside until I say so. I don’t care if it’s for sweeping the floors or replacing a candle.”

  I can see that he’s curious, but far too disciplined to ask questions.

  “Understood, Master.”

  “Second thing… the gardens are to be locked at the southern gate. Absolutely no wandering.”

  He nods. I know he’ll pass it along and the rest of them will thankfully obey without a single question. They won’t know why and won’t care.

  They may imagine their own reasons and whisper their own silly theories in the servants’ quarters or in the corner of the kitchen tomorrow morning, but the truth will remain mine alone.

  Well… mine and hers.

  When a few of the servants leave, it almost feels like the house itself knows what’s coming and is holding its breath. I stand there a moment longer to listen to the quietness before continuing my tour.

  I move through each room, checking and rechecking every detail. The curtains are drawn to shut out the night while tables gleam under crystal decanters filled with whiskey that catches the light beautifully. Crimson and gold velvet cushions are arranged across the floor and along the lounges.

  The clustered candles flicker and the light hits the polished brass and goblets. Incense sticks curl in pale ribbons through the air, carrying a spiced sweetness that lingers in my nose.

  I adjust a pillow here and there. There won’t be any room for carelessness tonight. She expects perfection from me.

  When I pass a mirror hanging on the far wall, I catch my own reflection and admire the way the dark red robes frame my body, with its cuffs embroidered with silver thread. I’ve pulled back my hair from my face so there’s nothing to hide behind. It’s a rather calculated choice.

  The rooms look beautiful… and so do you.

  I look around at the silks, candlelight and the careful symmetry of it all.

  “Will this be enough?” I ask.

  It’s more than enough. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you look like this.

  I turn away from the mirror, unwilling to give her more satisfaction of watching me. The night is ready and all that remains is to see it through.

  Every candle burns steadily and every pillow is perfectly placed. I take another second to make sure every decanter is filled to the brim.

  There’s nothing left to adjust and yet…

  My thoughts drift, but I realize I’m not thinking about the guests who will arrive soon.

  I’m thinking of Arun.

  It’s almost strange to see the house without him in it. Even when he’s quiet, he leaves an imprint here whether it’s his steps through the hall, loose paper falling out of his sketchbooks or the soft movements he makes when he walks through the garden. I wonder if he’s enjoying the trip and if he’s smiling with Je Suis.

  I wonder if he’s thinking of me at all.

  You’re distracted.

  “I’m not,” I lie.

  You’re wondering about your little tiefling while I’ve given you a night of indulgence.

  I don’t want to answer her. There’s nothing I can even say without giving her more to sink those fucking fangs into.

  I push the thought of Arun down. Tonight, he’s far away and I have work to do.

  --

  The first knock finally comes and the moon is high in the sky, spilling beautiful silver light over the garden walls.

  I open the door myself and the man standing there is draped in midnight blue. His eyes move over me quickly before stepping inside. Eventually, other men follow in measured intervals. Some are tall and lean. Others are more broad-shouldered. Every one of them are dressed in fine silks or leathers with their faces half lit by candles moving from the sconces.

  A few move like they’ve been here before, carrying the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re walking into. None of them would ever speak of it outside of this house though.

  With every arrival, glasses are filled and laughter cuts through conversations. I greet the men with practiced ease, making sure to keep my words seductive and low. My gestures are rather purposeful. A clasp of the shoulder here, a shared glance held a heartbeat too long there and a smile that suggests a promise without ever even speaking it.

  By the time the final man steps through the door, the manor is alive with the burn of anticipation.

  I can feel my patron sighing in pleasure.

  This will do beautifully, Alexios.

  I take my place among the men and slip into that usual role that I’ve worn for her too many times to count. The candlelight seems to be doing most of the work right now though. It softens everything, especially the pretty faces and the lust in their eyes.

  Silks rustle when a few men shift on the cushions. Decanters move and dark wine pools into goblets. The low laughter almost seems to pulse like it’s breathing in time with the bodies filling the room.

  I move through the men like water and a hand brushes against mine as a goblet is exchanged as someone else’s fingers linger too long against my hip. Shoulders turn toward me when I pass and I can feel the weight of stares drag to me.

  I love how they look at you. You could have any of them and soon… you will. Just like I taught you, do you understand?

  I can feel the arousal course through my body and I know she can too.

  A high elf in pale gray silk leans in as he whispers something in my ear that I can’t completely hear, but the meaning is clear. Around us, I can see the other men closing in.

  It would be easy to let the room swallow me whole. I crave to give in to the slow pull of hands, the warm brush of breath and the delicious half-lidded stares that follow my every move.

  But indulgence without control is chaos and tonight is just… not for that.

  One moment, I’m kneeling on a cushion beside a dwarf dressed in a half-buttoned blue velvet robe, pressing a small vial beneath one nostril and then the other while I whisper for him to breathe deep. The next moment, I’m standing at the far end of the room, every gaze is drawn to me as if by instinct before they lower their eyes again to the trays and inhale the thin, white lines waiting for them.

  If I let my attention linger on one man too long, another might feel rather neglected, but if I move too quickly? The heat rising in this room could dissipate.

  I need the feeling of anticipation to work for me here. I want each man to feel as if the night is his, even as I keep them all balanced on the same wire.

  I can hear their voices dropping lower and their laughter becoming slower. When I settle at the center of a long couch, they all seem pulled toward me at once.

  This is the moment I know I have them completely and it doesn’t take long for one to break through to me.

  The elf is tall and his sharp features are softened only by the pretty red silk draped across his shoulders. His eyes track me like I’m already his.

  When I glance his way, he takes it as an invitation and crosses the room slowly, like a predator would so that his prey won’t run.

  “Kept me waiting,” he says.

  “Patience,” I respond as I lean back slightly so the candlelight has the opportunity to frame my jaw and throat. “It makes the reward sweeter, yes?”

  He smiles and moves onto the couch to straddle me. He moves closer until I can feel our cocks pressed together. His hand finds my hip and I’m assuming it’s to test a boundary. I let it stay.

  The first kiss tastes like wine and with the second, I let my hand slide into the back of his blond hair, tightening my grip as I take a moment to pull him even closer.

  I can hear the conversations stumbling and a few glances are tossed our way before drifting back into their own area, but I know they’re watching.

  He grinds against me and I let him think he’s leading, but every shift and every angle is mine.

  When I kiss him again, it’s rougher and I can feel exactly how much he wants this… and me.

  I switch our positions, leaning up as I push him onto his back and straddle him instead. Two others are already reclined on the couch too. They look up, eyes sharp with interest, before shifting to make more room.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  There’s hands on me immediately and the man below me moves his lips from my jaw to my neck. I let them touch and take what they think is theirs, but really… it’s still my rhythm and my pace.

  The rest of the men around us shift closer and it feels like the entire room is breathing and moaning in unison.

  The man still pressed underneath me kisses like he’s trying to steal the fucking breath from my lungs while the hands of others move over me. Broad palms move across my shoulders before sliding down my arms and tracing the lines of muscle through my open robe. It’s hard to tell where one touch ends and another begins.

  I wrap my hand around the man’s throat softly, holding him there to let him know without words that I’m not done with him.

  Take what you need, Alexios.

  Two other men lean into me, one on each side, and the scent of wine, sex and incense becomes a single unit. A mouth presses against my jaw while another is at the curve of my throat.

  I choose to let myself sink into it but not in a mindless way. I’m still fully present and in control as I guide their touches, pulling them in exactly where I want them and when I want them.

  I intend to make every moment count.

  New hands join the first and I feel more fingers brushing over my ribs and a palm sliding over my thigh. The couch feels smaller with each passing minute and I can’t get enough of it.

  I glance toward one of the tables and see one of the men refilling goblets. His hands move lazily and there’s a faint, glassy haze in his eyes. Another nearby leans too far into his neighbor’s shoulder, smiling at nothing while he blinks slowly.

  These are the moments I’ve been waiting for.

  The poison in the wine isn’t deadly, of course. It’s a slow pull meant to tempt them deeper into warmth and want. An illusion that nothing exists beyond the bodies in this room.

  Another man settles behind me and he drapes his arm over my shoulder in a show of possessiveness. I’ll let him think it’s his choice while my other hand reaches for the nearest goblet of wine, offering it to the man still under me. He drinks it without hesitation.

  Moans come heavier as the laughter slackens even more. The movements between men become slower. The daze is spreading.

  I tip my head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded. Every touch and glance are feeding into a single current now and I’m at its center. It’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

  As I push myself off the man underneath me, another takes it upon himself to keep my full attention. He kneels between my knees and takes my hardened cock into his mouth. His touch is practiced in a way that tells me he’s clearly showing off for the others as much as for me. I can’t help but moan as he takes me even deeper.

  Eventually, I grip his hair and pull out of his mouth, motioning for one of the other men to hand me another small vial from the table. He follows the order and presses it firmly into my grip.

  I tilt the head back of the man kneeling between my knees, my thumb stroking his jaw gently.

  “Breathe deep for me, okay?” I whisper as I uncork the bottle. The sharp scent fills the air as I bring the opening to one of his nostrils, pressing the other closed.

  “In,” I command softly as he inhales before switching to the other nostril. “And again.”

  I can see his world slow for a moment as the rush hits him and his pupils dilate, a wave of warmth spreading through his body. His body relaxes even more and I set the vial aside so my hands can return to his hair, pulling him down to take me in his mouth once more while another man begins to tongue messily at his entrance.

  The golden candlelight seems to drip over bare forearms, unfastened robes and the lean lines of men who have long since given in to the warmth and pleasure of the evening. Some are in different corners of the room, lost in their own private entanglements.

  But one man hasn’t moved much. His dark hair falls into his eyes and that same slow, dazed smile dances on his lips. I think he’s been watching me for a while now. The way his eyes search my body tells me he’d willingly let me lead him anywhere I choose.

  The quiet ones are always the sweetest to break.

  I meet his eyes for the briefest moment and it’s just enough for a connection to spark there. I lean subtly into the man between my thighs and thread my fingers through his hair again so he thinks my attention is completely his… but my true first target is in the corner of my sights.

  My eyes move to the quiet one again and this time, I let it linger before I speak.

  “Come closer, sweetheart.”

  He hesitates for a moment before setting his goblet aside. There’s a subtle sway in his step, but I don’t think it’s from nerves. It’s the wine and the poison laced within it that’s softened him.

  As he approaches, the other men notice and a few lean back to give him space. The man in between my legs glances up but before he can speak, I grip his hair tighter and pull him aside.

  The dark-haired one stops in front of me and his eyes are even heavier when I see him up close. I lean back on the couch and hold my hand out in invitation. He takes it without question and moves next to me as if it’s where he’s always belonged.

  I let my hand rest against the side of his neck so my thumb can brush the beat of his pulse. His skin is so warm under my hand and the rhythm in his throat pulses steady against my thumb… for now.

  I keep my movements gentle to reassure him and let the intimacy unfold like petals of a flower. Around us, the other men’s whispers and moans fade to what feels like background music at this point.

  I lean in and brush my mouth against his earlobe.

  “You’ve been watching me all evening,” I whisper.

  I hear him swallow nervously.

  “Hard… not to.”

  One of my hands settles on his hip so I can anchor him close, feeling the weight of his focus narrow onto me entirely. Everything else in the room dissolves for him exactly the way I want it to.

  I reach for another decanter and pour the wine into a goblet before handing it to him. His fingers brush mine as he takes it, eyes locked on me the entire time. He drinks it without hesitation and the light hits the red wine, making it look like beautiful garnets.

  The poison is already in his system, but this will deepen its hold.

  I ease him back against the couch and lean over him so I can make sure his sightline is full of me and me only. My hand slides up the center of his chest and I can feel his heart pounding just a little harder now from the intense push of desire.

  Make sure he feels chosen until his very last breath, yes?

  I obey and guide his head back, letting my lips ghost over his throat. I press a kiss just beneath his ear and feel the small shiver it pulls from him. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as his lips part.

  “You’re… unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he says. I can hear his words slurring slightly.

  I glance up, meeting the eyes of another man across the room. He’s watching us both, clearly drawn in by the performance. I let him watch as my hand trails down the dark-haired man’s chest, fingers gently brushing over a nipple.

  His body sinks deeper into the couch while his head tips back so I can have more space to touch. I feel the shift in his breathing. It’s slower and heavier now. He’s all mine now.

  I press one more slow kiss to his throat and let my hand slide to his jaw, cradling his head as though I’m going to kiss him again.

  Instead… my fingers curl slightly to hold him still. I whisper a short, almost affectionate phrase in his ear and with it, my spell slips in like silk, invisible to any possible watchful eyes.

  The spell seeps into his blood and steals the breath from his lungs before pulling the strength from his heart one beat at a time. I see his pupils widen and he sighs into me, almost as if he’s just in bliss.

  I keep my face close, whispering soft words so that if anyone glances over here, it’ll just look like a conversation between two lustful lovers caught up in pure intimacy.

  He exhales… and doesn’t inhale again. His body slackens and I tuck a lock of hair from his face like a gesture of care. To everyone else, he simply looks like nothing more than a man overcome with wine and pleasure.

  His body is still warm under my hand when I rise from the couch. For a few heartbeats, I just… stand there, letting the sight take root in me.

  The other men are in varying states of collapse around me. Some are slumped sideways against their companions while wine stains drip down their chests from careless spilling. Others are staring into nothing, eyes battling to stay open as the poison runs deeper. The moaning has dwindled into sluggish whispers.

  I move toward the next victim. A pretty and blond human with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile on his lips. He’s seated on the edge of another couch with his legs spread in an unconscious invitation. I take a knee in front of him and slide one of my hands along his thigh. I can feel the tremor in the muscle beneath my palm as his eyes try to focus in on me slowly, pupils blown wide.

  “You look delicious right now,” I tell him gently. What I’m saying is true though. There’s almost a beautiful fragility to him now. It reminds me of a porcelain doll on the verge of cracking.

  I twine our fingers together and guide his hands up to my mouth, pressing my lips to the back of his hand. The spell slips through that point of contact, threading up his veins and pulsing in his chest. I hear him gasp frantically before his breathing stops altogether. The tension in his hand drains away and I lower it gently into his lap before standing again.

  The third man is watching me. Well, at least he’s trying to. His head lolls back against the couch and I cross the room carefully. I slide onto the couch next to him, my shoulder brushing against his as my fingers graze his jaw so I can turn his face toward mine. I kiss him slowly like there’s no one else in the room.

  While our mouths are together, I draw the last of his life out through the kiss itself. When I pull back, his head tilts away with his mouth still parted.

  One by one, I move through the rest of the men.

  I choose to take some of them by the hand as the spell seeps into their bodies while I keep my fingers stroking theirs.

  Others are touched briefly. A whisper in the ear or even the barest press of lips against their skin. Each gesture is made to look like nothing more than intimacy in the dimly lit room.

  A few of the more handsome gentlemen are pulled into my embrace instead. I hold them as if I’m comforting them, but their hearts begin to slow against my chest until I can’t hear them beating anymore.

  There’s no flailing or even crying here.

  It’s only the gentle and subtle surrender of beautiful bodies too far gone to resist my power. To an outsider, I assume this just looks like the end of a decadent night.

  My hands are covered in body oil and the scent of wine trails with me too.

  The last victim is slumped in a velvet chair and I crouch before him, resting my hands on the arms of the chair to cage him in. His eyes open slightly and I hear him try to whisper something, but it’s purely incoherent.

  I press my forehead to his briefly and then close my hands over his. The spell is swift and efficient. It takes his life without a warning and I watch as his smile fades into stillness.

  When I step back to admire my work, the room is silent.

  Every beautiful man in this room will never rise again.

  “Twenty,” I whisper. “Just as you asked for.”

  I stand in the center of it all, breathing slow and steady, while the scent of wine, sweat and sex clings in the air.

  Arun must never know.

  --

  It’s a few hours before dawn and thankfully, too early for the kitchen staff to be awake and too late for most eyes to be open.

  It’s perfect.

  The air outside is damp and all too heavy, but I move quickly and silently as I roll a few of the covered bodies onto the heavy cart. The wheels groan under the weight and I keep to the narrow path that winds behind the stables and away from the servants’ quarters. Hopefully, it’s far enough that even the lightest sleeper won’t hear the carts movements.

  The bog waits at the edge of the property, still and dark. It’s a place that swallows things whole and gives nothing back.

  One by one, I drag them from the cart. The first body slides into the water and ripples fan outward as low movements glide beneath the surface. The alligators have thankfully already noticed. A strong jaw snaps somewhere just out of slight.

  The second body follows, then the third.

  By the fourth, the water near the edge is thick with movement and I watch as the alligators circle the newest offerings. The body is gone in seconds, sucked beneath the surface along with the cloth its wrapped in.

  I work methodically, keeping my movements controlled as I go back to house to roll more bodies onto the cart. My gloves are slick by the seventh body and I can almost smell blood being carried in the breeze.

  When the very last body slips beneath the water, I stand for a moment and listen. Splashes, low growls and the wet slap of tails in the water make the night rather loud now, but I think it’s the kind of noise that likely won’t travel far.

  I step back and scan for any possible signs that I’ve been here. Maybe a footprint in the mud or even a scrap of cloth could lead back to me. I smooth the path with the heel of my boot and throw branches down where the cart’s wheels have passed. Then I watch the bog until it swallows the last ripple.

  The sun is just beginning to come up as I push the cart back toward the manor. I see a candle burning in one of the windows of the servants’ quarters, but I choose to keep my eyes forward again and my pace even.

  All gone… as if they never existed.

  I wish I could believe her.

  By the time I roll the cart back into the storage shed and lock it, the sunlight begins to hit the upper branches of the trees, but the manor’s windows are still dark. Thank the gods.

  The satisfaction of the kills can’t linger right now though. I need to move fast.

  The back entrance is quiet when I slip inside and my shoes leave muddy prints from the bog. I’ll need to clean that up as soon as possible. I head straight for the washroom in my bedroom, not bothering to light a candle or even a lamp until the door is locked behind me.

  The gloves go first, landing in the sink with a wet slap. My robe is next and it sticks to my back before finally pulling free. The stench rises with it. I can smell blood, wet ground and that tang of the laced wine still lingering on my body and in my hair.

  I drop every bit of it in a basket with the purpose of burning it soon.

  --

  Once the bath is prepared, I step in and sink low, allowing the water to cover me up to my shoulders.

  Eventually, I submerge fully, running my fingers through my hair so I can feel the residue loosen. I scrub my body next and work at my skin until it feels almost raw. My hands work longer at my forearms and under my nails.

  When the surface of the bath cools, I let the bath drain entirely before refilling it with fresh water. The second soak is slower. I lean back and close my eyes, desperate for a few moments of pure silence.

  By the time I step out, there’s not a trace on my skin and no unwanted scent clinging to my hair. A fresh robe hangs nearby and I take a moment to appreciate hoe soft the fabric feels against my newly scrubbed skin.

  I glance at the clock briefly. Arun and Je Suis should be back in the evening. The manor need to be spotless and the air should be free of anything that might betray me.

  Beautifully done, Alexios.

  --

  By time the sun is fully up, the manor gleams.

  I’ve walked every hallway twice and even checked every floorboard and corner of all the rugs. Any trace of the night has been scrubbed, swept or polished until it looks like the event never even existed.

  Only then do I give the word for the servants to come back inside. After a bit of time, they file into the house slowly, looking rather cautious as they fill the space once more.

  I don’t explain a thing. I just tell them what I need done. Extra linen changes, floors to be cleaned again and rooms to be aired out so I can send them on their way.

  By the middle of the day, I’m back in my study and a stack of reports waits on my desk. I read them without absorbing even one word. The routine is an act of “normalcy” and it’s been perfected over the years. Ink flows across the pages beneath my quill and I turn papers when I should, signing my name in all the right places.

  Lunch is made, but I decide to eat alone. The dining room is just… too empty without Arun here.

  The afternoon turns into evening and the manor grows even quieter as the servants finish their tasks. I choose to light the lamps in the hall myself. Finally, I hear the sound of a carriage being pulled over the gravel road.

  I rise from my desk before the knock even comes at the door. The carriage waits in the evening sun, lanterns swaying gently as Je Suis steps down first. Arun follows with his sketchbook clutched close to his chest.

  Je Suis walks forward, greeting me with a hug and that warm smile of hers. Arun’s eyes stay on me for a moment longer than I even expect, but I can see he’s still hesitant. He says nothing to me.

  “Welcome back,” I tell them both.

  I feel warmer somehow, but I can’t decide if it’s because of their safe return or just the relief of the night being over.

  All I know is that I missed him. My beautiful Arun.

  ...

  Gods, I really did miss him terribly.