My feet were killing me—ironically, given that I was a vampire. New ventures meant more dirty work for me. Usually, I didn't mind. I wasn't the sentimental type, and killing didn't affect me much these days. But sometimes, like today, I hated it. Why? Because I felt more and more like their slave—a pawn in their games rather than their lover, husband, and friend. I felt used.

My daily routine consisted of waking up and heading straight to Anthony's study, where he'd give me my orders. They always involved shooting someone, threatening them, or forcing them to do something they didn't want to. Afterward, I'd come home to Luis, who would still be in bed, whining about life in England not being as luxurious as it had been in France.

Lately, even Anthony had been keeping his distance from me, busying himself with Lumiere and their new project. I was glad to see Lu and our master getting along again. They'd drifted apart after we moved, and I'd noticed my brother withdrawing. In his weakest moments, I'd caught glimpses of his thoughts—jealousy and even the idea of leaving us. Marianne had helped keep him on track. She was more than just a project to him; she had awakened something inside him. Perhaps it was love, though it was too early to tell.

"Theodor?" My master's voice echoed down the hallway, and I immediately turned to meet his cold gaze. "Back so soon?"

"Yes, Anthony," I sighed. "We've built a reputation—no one dares to question us anymore," I added with a tired shrug.

He moved closer, his steps slow and calculated, until he stood directly in front of me. Too close. My nose nearly brushed against his Adam's apple, and his presence immediately overwhelmed me.

"We?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, and I realized my mistake instantly.

"You," I corrected quickly, keeping my eyes fixed on the pristine collar of his shirt.

"That's better," he warned, raising a hand to thread his fingers through my hair. "Luis spends his days and nights in bed. I told you to deal with it."

"It's not helping. You should talk to him." I muttered, irritation flaring like wildfire as I thought about my husband—childish and indifferent to the things happening around him. Things I cared about, like Lumiere.

"He's your husband." 

I shook my head. What could I say? Should I tell him the truth? Would he understand, or would he strangle me on the spot? "I'm tired of his childish behavior," I mumbled, closing my eyes as a sigh escaped my lips. 

 "You and me both," Anthony laughed softly. Suddenly, his hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer until my forehead rested against his shoulder. "Luis acts like a child because he's never had to work for anything. I've handed him the world on a silver platter, including you." His fingertips traced slow lines up and down my neck, and for a moment, I relaxed into his touch. 

"He doesn't understand what I..." I hesitated, drawing in a long breath. "What we both sacrifice every day. How exhausting it is." 

 "True," he said, his voice gentler now. "So, what do we do about it?" 

 I exhaled deeply, attempting to take a step back, but he held me firmly against his chest. "There's nothing to do, my lord. He is who he is." 

 "My lord?" He chuckled. "Why so formal, Theodor? Am I making you uncomfortable?" 

 My heart began pounding in my chest. No, quite the opposite, I wanted to tell him—but I couldn't. Not again. His arms tensed as he held me, and that's when I realized he had read my thoughts. 

 "You will always be mine," he whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers across my skin while igniting a fire inside me. "I won't let him ruin you as though you were a mere toy. You're far too valuable to me, Theodor." 

 "I wish—" I began, but he silenced me with a subtle shake of his head. I stood there quietly, waiting for him to continue, relishing the feeling of his arms around me. 

 "I know," he said, his voice laced with pain, "and knowing that torments me more than anything else." He tilted my chin up so our eyes met. "And you know why, don't you?" 

 I nodded faintly, but before I could respond, he bit into his own lip with a sharp fang, drawing a single drop of blood. It lingered there, tempting me to taste it. "Good," he whispered before leaning down to press his lips against mine. 

 They were soft and warm compared to the rest of him, and I wanted to pull him closer, to feel more of him. My body ached for him, my heart screaming at me to give in. But that single drop of blood rushed through me, sending an immediate surge of energy that left me dazed. 

 Seconds later, I found myself alone, disoriented in the dark corridor. My head spun, and my chest felt hollow. I knew this wouldn't change anything. We had buried our feelings for each other for decades. But something about him felt different now—protective in a way I hadn't seen before. And I had no idea how to respond to it. 

 I sighed and began walking toward the bedroom, my steps slower than usual. Much slower. I wanted to go back, back into Anthony's arms. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I didn't care that he was my maker. I loved him, no matter what. But I didn't. I remained loyal to our code. If he had been different, maybe he would have defied everything and claimed me as his own. But Anthony always followed the rules. No exceptions.

As I walked into the bedroom, I almost ran straight into my husband's back. He was getting dressed in front of our large, golden mirror, and I mumbled an absent-minded "sorry" before kissing his bare shoulder. 

 "For what?" he asked with a sly smile. "For bumping into me, or for drinking my brother's blood?" 

 "For not noticing you when I walked in," I explained as I collapsed onto the bed with a satisfied smile on my lips. "The blood was well-deserved. I'm exhausted." 

 "I see," he said as he strolled to the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry my blood doesn't have that effect on you. I'd let you drink from me every day, my love." 

 "Thank you," I said with a smile, reaching out to caress his cheek. "But it's not necessary." 

 "Was the kiss and the touching necessary?" he muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. 

 "You watched us" I asked cautiously. 

 "No, but I can smell him on your skin." 

 I rubbed my hands over my face in frustration and sighed at his jealousy. "It doesn't mean I love you any less." 

 "Hah! But I will never mean as much to you." He laughed bitterly. "But that's nothing new. He's never done anything like this before, though." 

 "And it won't happen again," I assured him. 

 He had been pacing back and forth along the edge of the bed while we talked, but now he stopped and studied me. "And that disappoints you, doesn't it? Knowing he'll never show that kind of affection for you again." 

 I closed my eyes. Whatever answer I gave, it wouldn't satisfy him. He'd twist my words until he could turn them into something negative to throw back at me. Unfortunately, that was what we had become. His bitterness about the life we lived, and my frustration, were killing the love we once shared between us, bringing out the worst in each other. 

 "Yes," I answered blankly, bracing myself for judgment, but nothing happened. Instead, he left the room in silence, and somehow, that felt even worse.

______

A/N - How do we feel about Luis and Anthony?  

Wishing you all a happy holiday ❤️