Chapter 61 A Subtle Change
One would think that Elian would be swooning over the Duke by morning.
No.
He hated him more than ever.
"Bastard," Elian muttered, rolling out of his bed with reddened eyes.
"Ah," he paused, bending over the bed for a few seconds to let the ache between his legs settle.
Lucien hadn’t gone easy on him last night, and after that, he had sent Elian away.
Elian had cried himself to sleep last night after the Duke so coldly withdrew from him and ordered him to get out of his chamber.
No explanation.
No sympathy.
No second to rest or recover.
Elian had to leave the chamber with barely his trousers on, and Lucien had turned his back on him as if his mere sight cursed him.
He gently walked into the washroom, discarding his clothes as he entered the bath. No one told him that it felt this way afterward. The ache, the soreness, the tiredness—he felt like he had been run over by an elephant.
"It had felt so good," he murmured, gently running his fingers over the water, smiling sheepishly.
"But he had been so cruel..." His smile dropped instantly.
"What was I expecting from a man like Lucien?" He chuckled. "What exactly?" He sighed, picking up the cloth to scrub his body.
As he scrubbed his thighs, he recalled the way Lucien’s seed had trailed down his inner thighs after Lucien pulled out of him. He would never admit it, but that feeling of having the Duke’s seeds inside him and on his thigh was a source of arousal for him.
Shameless, yes. But the body already wanted what it wanted, and he was in no condition to stop it. The only thing he could guard was his heart, which thankfully still hated the Duke.
The flesh might be weakened, but the soul is driven.
After his bath, he dressed himself in a clean white shirt, making sure he left the last three buttons undone, showing that distracting smooth skin on his toned chest. He paired it with white pants and white sandals, smiling as he stood in front of his mirror.
"What?" He suddenly frowned at himself. "Don’t be an idiot." He scoffed and moved away.
He used his favourite lavender oil on his hair, combing his soft brown curls out. He paused, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he recalled the way Lucien had bunched his hair last night, thrusting into him with such force that he was both scared and aroused.
"I’m just dressing up... like everyday," he said to himself, resuming his hair routine.
He wasn’t doing any of these for Lucien; why should he?
Did he have no shame?
Did he have no dignity?
Why would he try to look appealing for a man who sent him out like a used whore after fucking the life out of him?
"The Duke is a devil... a devil I’m going to—"
"Elian, His Grace demands your presence in the dining hall," Ms. Beck announced behind Elian’s door.
Elian quickly ran his fingers through his soft hair and placed the comb down on the table.
’Time to show him just how much last night was a regular night to me as well.’
He walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Good morning, Ms. Beck," he nodded politely.
Ms. Beck simply nodded, heading toward the stairs.
Elian followed her, staring at the woman, wondering if she ever dreams of being free from her obligations to the Duke.
Does she have children? Husband? Family?
Why does it feel like everyone inside this manor had abandoned something precious to them to be in here?
That’s probably because they have. No one in their right minds would willingly want to live here; it was lifeless, threatening, darkening—every negative thing one could think of, the Stonewall Manor had it, and it was all because of the devil king who resided in it.
They walked through the final door and Elian heard Finn saying something like a joke to Ms. Beck; she laughed softly, before telling Finn to have a nice day.
He took a deep breath and walked out. This time, he did not hide his eyes or face from Finn; he faced the young man squarely and smiled.
"I hate it here," he said.
Finn smiled. "How do you look so beautiful each day?" He smirked. "One might think you’re the heir to some throne," he teased.
Elian kept his smile on. "Delusion. I’m sure you know what that is?" He arched his brow.
Finn nodded. "That’s everybody’s life in this mansion... Delusional. Except for the Duke, of course. He knows exactly what he’s doing," he replied lowly.
Elian’s face got serious, his interest piqued. "What exactly is he doing?" He got closer and lowered his voice.
Finn shrugged. "You would believe me when I say I do not know. I am not like you who sees pasts and futures by a single touch; I can only sense someone’s emotion," he explained.
"And why would I believe you?" Elian asked, peering at Finn’s warm hazel eyes.
Finn smiled. "Because you have touched me, and you have seen everything I’ve experienced."
Silence.
Elian sighed. He also forgot how Lucien used Finn to expose his secret ability. He indeed did see Finn’s memories.
"I’m sorry. You should never have gone through that—"
"Oh, please. She wasn’t all that, either." Finn shrugged.
Elian frowned. "I understand. But I am never a party to killing. Whatever your mother did, your father should have forgiven, or left her. Not tried to murder her by burning your home and tying her in it," he stated.
"She cheated," Finn provided.
Elian paused, doing an instant self-reflection in one second.
Cheating.
What he had done with Lucien last night: cheating on Rowena.
But, in his defense, the Duke asked for it; it was, and will never be, his idea to have sex with the Duke.
"Are you okay?" Finn questioned.
Elian cleared his throat. "I am. I’m really sorry about your parents," he said.
Finn nodded. "It is alright now," he murmured.
"What do you sense in me?" Elian suddenly asked.
Finn tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Elian. "Nothing unusual."
"What does that mean?" Elian folded his hands on his chest.
"It means you’re still filled with hatred and confusion. Although, I think your confusion is overtaking because you seem to look really lost and drowning. As if you could really use a saving any moment now," Finn spoke calmly.
Elian smiled. "I could really use a saving right now. I’m fucking drowning."
"You curse?" Finn blinked in shock.
"You don’t?" Elian retorted.
"That’s fair," Finn muttered.
"Elian Morel," Edgar’s rough voice called from the end of the hallway.
"Oh no," Elian shut his eyes, praying he’d imagined it in his head.
"Good luck, mate," Finn whispered.
"Follow me, Morel," Edgar demanded.
Elian gulped and slowly turned away from Finn, his eyes instantly locking onto the tall guard’s mean face. He hadn’t seen Edgar or any of those mean guards after they beat him; he almost thought they left the manor, but alas, they have returned.
"What do you want?" Elian asked, not so rudely, but not polite either.
"Follow me," Edgar repeated and walked into the grand hall, heading straight for the stairs.
Elian sighed, ’He was just bringing me to the dining hall.’
The guard opened the door the moment he saw them, and Elian surprisingly stood by the side of the door, waiting for Elian to enter first.
Elian hesitated, glancing into the hall with uncertainty.
"Enter," Edgar said.
Elian blinked, adding an inch before he reluctantly dragged his feet through the door.
The moment he entered, his eyes found the man at the end of the table. Dressed in black and looking like sin wrapped in beauty.
A little devil in black.
Elian paused, feeling Lucien’s sharp green eyes do a slow drag over his entire body.
He felt it when Lucien nodded at the man behind himself; the next thing he heard were Edgar’s fading footsteps and the door closing.
"Come over here, don’t just stand there," Rowan called.
Elian snapped out of it, looking away from the man who had impaled him mercilessly last night. He didn’t even realize that Rowan sat by the side of the table, his royal velvet shirt popping out his brown eyes.
Elian quietly moved forward, two pairs of eyes watching him closely, but one closer than the other.
He paused beside Rowan’s chair, not daring to meet Lucien’s consistent gaze, using his curls to block his face from view.
"Good morning, Your Grace. Rowan," he greeted politely.
Rowan stood, pulling out a chair by his side. "Sit down," he said, eyes scanning all over Elian’s body.
"Um..." He glanced toward Lucien, meeting his eyes for just a split second.
The last time he dared eat from their plate, he nearly lost his life. But Lucien said nothing, making him even more apprehensive.
"Hold on," Rowan murmured, placing his hand on Elian’s shoulder to turn his face to himself.
"Elian?" Rowan called softly.
Elian furrowed his brows. "Yes?" He could not understand why Rowan was scanning him.
"Damn... when are you gaining your freedom? I need to take you home," he smirked, his fingers brushing Elian’s chin.
"Button up," Lucien’s cold voice echoed.
Elian cleared his throat, slowly stepping away from Rowan.
"He looks perfect, cousin. Learn to appreciate beautiful things—"
"Button up, Elian," Lucien repeated, voice taking a darker turn.
Elian swallowed hard, his hands moving up to his chest.
"I’ll help you—"
"Rowan," Lucien called slowly, eyes burning into Rowan’s hands that were already reaching for Elian’s shirt, "He can do it himself. Sit," he ordered.
Rowan rolled his eyes and helped Elian anyway, buttoning his shirt to the collar. "Please, sit. Have a proper breakfast with us... Rowena is not here," he whispered the last part into Elian’s ear.
Elian smiled softly, nodding slowly. "Thank you for inviting me—"
"No, not me. Him," Rowan pointed at Lucien.
Elian’s heart skipped a massive beat, curling his fingers beside him. Why would Lucien invite him for breakfast?
"Thank you, Your Grace," he murmured softly, biting his lower lip.
"Sit. Eat," Lucien said, not lifting his face from his plate, even though the entire time, he noticed that slight limp in Elian’s steps.
A testimony to his claiming.