-Lucien-

The meal was quiet, a thick, unyielding tension more than present in the room despite Adelyn's best efforts to start up some sort of small talk.

She sat to my right, Layla sat hunched and absolutely silent across from me at this rectangular table, and Evelyn sat across from Adi.

Then, of course, Cylas Bronwyn, Lord of this territory, sat at the end closest to his daughters, facing us all.

I couldn't look at him. I was simply just chewing and swallowing out of pure necessity, I couldn't enjoy the food no matter how good it tasted. It was a miracle I could force myself to do even that.

I could feel their stares. Every single one varied in intensity and meaning.

Adi's hopeless pity, Cylas' pure, burning hatred, and everything in between from the rest.

I blocked it out. I had to focus.

Focus on calming the instincts that knew full well what was coming, and dealing with that chaos within me that already insued the closer the time I was dreading came.

I awoke feeling average but knew that whether today started as a good day or not, it definitely wasn't going to end like that.

I blew out a silent breath, daring my eyes up to catch my youngest sister's and seeing that same, tight expression of pity that I hated so much.

All of them were wearing it today, even Evie let hints of it slip through her otherwise stoic face.

I despised every glimpse, every little reminder of what my life was.

The way my sisters picked at their plates to only delay the inevitable while he just sat and stared through the deafening silence, surely planning whatever course of action I'd be wrung through today.

I forced mine down as fast as vampirically possible, knowing that I'm going to need the energy for strength.

I came to this dinner prepared with clothes that wouldn't scratch and my hair tied back to save time later.

Now to just... get on with it.

It was all I wanted, and I could only convey as much through pointed glares at them and their plates.

It felt like it had been another forty-five minutes of the same shit before he finally spoke the words we were all waiting for in one form or the next.

"Ladies, you are excused."

___ __ _ __ ___

I dragged my feet while he lead me to his throne room. The room where he liked to be whenever he had a chance to show off his power as Lord.

Stepping into the darkness of it, a broad stroke of dread blew over me, nearly forcing me to a stop.

The door closed and I was enveloped in it, seeing him turn so two pairs of golden eyes met each other.

Even with the night vision of a vampire, the feeling of darkness wasn't something that we could ignore.

I stopped walking under his ever-narrowing glare staring right through mine.

I often wonder if he sees my mother's eyes through mine. It'd explain that dejection I'd see pass through his eyes amongst the rest of the anger and hatred.

Squaring my shoulders, I refused to back down until he was going to make me. I had to keep as much pride as I possibly could.

"Alright boy," the cynicism ran quickly through his tone, "You know what I want.'"

I gave a single, slow nod.

"Get on with it then," I spoke.

He let out lone laugh, that pull of his lips turning the energy in the room into a stale, chilling void.

Then his pupils thinned into near nothing, and my splinter-thick pride in front of him snapped.

I sucked in a harsh breath, staggering and only barely catching myself as the shooting sting worked its way through my body, and grabbed a hold of my muscles.

It was like a part of him had shot through my chest and wrapped tightly around my heart, grabbing and squeezing it, making my body kneel into submission.

The pheromones of a Lord... were something that deserved to be feared, and with this is was like he had to hold me still my force to make my body submit to his needs.

He felt a need to make sure of some things every single time this night of ours appeared.

He knew that some part of me, biologically speaking, was an heir. The one born to take the throne when he was done.

He worried about his future, he worried about me somehow getting in the way of Adeline's future reign. As if I'd even want to.

Truly I don't think any part of my body could handle it if I did. I was barely scraping by as I was.

Part of me was the true heir, yes, but my better half, the one that didn't torment me nearly as much, was right where I felt I belonged as the third born.

That didn't matter to him through, and he knew now how to dig deep into my entirety with his pheromone to find both halves of who I was, wrap his power as a lord around it, and weaken it through pure force.

To ensure that I was truly not even half a threat to our true heir.

It wasn't permanent by any means. Which was why these visits happened so frequently.

My legs began to tremble through the at the feeling of it, and my fight to keep standing was fleeting quickly.

It was a pain both physical and so much deeper, taking my sanctity, the deepest and most protected part of our very beings, and opening it up to him.

It was a forced vulnerability, and never one that ended well.

It was like my very life essence was fleeting, dampening any normalcy and crushing it to dust.

I could feel that percentage I give myself drop and drop the longer he had his grip on me.

He had to have done it on purpose, I don't think that simply forcing access upon my instincts would include this much-added agony.

My teeth clenched, claws not even able to release with the pheromonal hold he had over me.

Hissing breaths passed through my fangs, watching him begin a slow approach through his onslaught.

As if what he was doing to me wasn't enough, he loved just adding and adding as much as he possibly could.

I tried in vain to fight when he grabbed my wrist, extending my arm and facing it upwards.

"We need to make sure that you're not completely useless, now," he spoke, claws extending.

I barely had it in me to feel anything regarding it. I couldn't move, couldn't pull away, couldn't break from any of it. I had no shot.

He couldn't have a bastard son that posed a threat, and yet couldn't have a bastard son that was weak in the public eye.

Somehow I was both and none.

I could only watch as his claws slowly descended upon my forearm near the elbow, piercing the skin and drawing up toward my wrist.

I could only wince, not even make a sound.

"Heal," His command was concise, admiring the crimson lines in my pale skin, spilling blood I couldn't afford to lose.

The second he spoke, his pheromone came to an end, leaving me crumbling down to my knees, hand wrapping tight around the wounds on my forearm.

My breaths were a battle to take as I merged back into control of my own self, never mind the gashes.

Heal... I couldn't. Not in this position. I had nothing left.

Even regardless of my current circumstances, healing was not something I excelled at.

My remaining energy was stored in the blood I was losing, and each drop that fell was a minute longer that this hell was going to continue. A minute longer that my recovery after this was going to take.

The mix of it all, the helplessness, it brought out something that I absolutely hated.

Fear.

Vampires weren't meant to feel fear. Not in this pure, life-threatening case. We had so many measures against it. We had our wings, we had our instinctive takeover that could get us out of nearly everything.

Yet unfortunately for me, mine was faulty. My entire system was screwed beyond repair, especially right now

So instead I just sat here. Frozen. Malfunctioning. Unable to do anything but clench my fists and pray that it'll come to an end soon.

I was helpless, completely useless even to myself.

Taken down and reduced to nothing too easily.

Leaving me fighting to even breathe, unable to move. It was a reality I only faced here and each time it was devastating and left me begging internally for some sort of release.

He wouldn't kill me despite the few instances where I'd asked him to. The few moments of my life where I didn't see a better option and just wanted it to end.

That was the hidden norm among royal vampires in this situation. Eliminate the bastard children to keep the family line clean and clear. But mom kept her little secret just long enough for that to not be an option.

Long enough to where the city had celebrated my and Layla's existence. It was too late to rid of us now.

I knew that I couldn't do it myself. My instincts were fucked up beyond repair, but they would still do anything to keep me alive.

They were broken, but they weren't quitters. There were some points where I hated that about them.

Fuck.

"Heal!" His voice boomed through the ringing and racing heartbeat in my ears while I just stared at my wounds.

The pain couldn't even be felt anymore, just the depletion of myself, gathering as a puddle of crimson near my knees.

"I... can't," The words were no more than desperate pants, a surrender unto myself. I suppose by default to him.

"Of fucking course you can't," His hold released with a pull, sending me fully onto the ground, "Don't quit on my now, boy, we're not done."

The world went hazy the second I met with it, nearly causing me to welcome the sensation of what was to come.

It came quickly, snatching me away and leaving me limp on the cold marble floor, hoping that the blood I lose and force my tired body to replace will be merciful to me as soon as my consciousness returns.

The powers of a lord were great, but not great enough to force consciousness into a body that had nothing left, and that, for now, I could be grateful for.