Elias didn't speak to Varian for the next few hours.
He sat on the edge of the massive bed, arms crossed over his chest, naked beneath the dark silk sheets, glaring at the door as if his anger alone could burn a hole through it. But he could still feel Varian's lips on his, the heat of his skin, the pulse of the collar reminding him who held the power.
He hated him.
And he hated the part of himself that trembled when Varian got close.
Eventually, the door creaked open. Elias braced himself.
Varian didn't enter alone.
A creature followed behind him—a tall, slender figure cloaked in shadow and gold, face hidden behind a porcelain mask. It bowed once to Varian and then set down a tray of food: fruits, strange dark bread, meat that shimmered slightly under the candlelight.
"I thought you might be hungry," Varian said casually, ignoring Elias's scowl.
"I'm not eating anything you give me."
Varian sighed dramatically. "You mortals are so suspicious. It's not poisoned. I need you alive. What would be the point otherwise?"
Elias didn't answer.
"Fine," Varian said, sitting down beside him on the bed. Too close. Always too close. "Then we'll go over the rules."
Elias stiffened.
"Rule one," Varian said, reaching to tilt Elias's chin up. "You belong to me. As long as the collar is around your neck, you serve. That doesn't mean you're a slave—it means you're mine. There's a difference."
"There's not," Elias muttered.
Varian chuckled. "Rule two: No lying. I'll always know when you do."
He dragged a claw lightly down Elias's chest. Elias jerked away, heart hammering.
"Rule three: You do what I say. Especially when I say it sweetly."
Elias shoved him away. "Why me?"
Varian's smile faded just a little. "Because you opened the book. Because your blood called me. And maybe…" His gaze dropped. "Maybe because I like the way you look when you're defiant."
Before Elias could retort, Varian cupped his cheek again.
"You're not the first to summon me," he said softly. "But you're the first to fight me this hard. That's why I can't stop looking at you."
And then—another kiss.
Slower this time, but no less possessive. Varian kissed like a storm—demanding, consuming. Elias tried to resist, fists clenched, but the warmth of it, the way Varian tasted like fire and something sweet—he hated how his lips trembled open anyway.
Varian pulled back just enough to whisper, "One day, you'll kiss me first."
"I won't," Elias said, voice shaking.
Varian only smiled. "We'll see."
He stood, trailing fire with every step. "Rest now, Elias. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
As the door shut behind him, Elias touched the collar around his neck and whispered to the empty room:
"I have to find a way out."
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