Page 52 of Blinding Light

“Touché,” Moargan growled in his ear, the vibration making him tremble despite his fury. “Although it seems you left me another surprise there.”

“What do you mean?”

Moargan leaned back. “If you’d help us out, you’d know. Now, I came to pick you up. My father wants to meet you.”

Cyprian flinched. “Yourfather? Why? Have I been reported?” His own words made him cringe even harder.

“Reported?” Moargan raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a refugee, remember?”

Moargan slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t. You have officially been claimed by the Imperial Prince of Helion. My father simply wants to know the guy I have claimed as mine.”

Cyprian huffed through his unease as he looked outside contemplating his options. Ahead of them, the nightlights of Zephyr are already in view. The earlier meeting, followed by that weird vision, left him vulnerable. He just wanted to go back to the mansion and hide away in the guestroom the entire night, drawing. But there was no way he’d be able to convince Moargan of that. “I can’t come with you looking like this,” he croaked instead, and he turned back to face Moargan. “You might look all dazzling, but I can’t meet the Imperial in my school uniform.”

“You think I look all dazzling?” Moargan gave him a cheeky smile.

Cyprian flipped him off. Moargan’s attitude did not help. It made him scared. And when he was scared, Cyprian snapped. “You know what I mean. And I don’t like your jokes about feelings and all, and I don’t want you or your guards to follow me around, and no…” He took in a deep breath, panting. “That guy wasn’t flirting. He was just being nice.”

“Was he now?” Moargan watched him from across the seat, lips pressed tight and a dangerous flash in his amethyst eyes. “A stranger who smiles at you, touches you, asks you out for a drink, is not flirting with you? He wanted you, lover, and I understand why. But he can’t have you, can he? BecauseIhave you, and onlyIget to touch you. OnlyIget to own you.” Without waiting for an answer, Moargan held up his hand. The hover car changed lanes last minute and headed back into the city. “We will pass by our home to get you some clothes. Idon’t want you to feel uncomfortable when you meet my father.”

Cyprian bristled, fuming internally when Moargan didn’t even react. He just gazed outside the window, allowing for silence to creep up inside the car as they continued their journey.

When they stopped by Moargan’s house, Cyprian tried the door. It was locked. A Luminary guard handed Moargan a bag that he tossed into Cyprian’s hands. “Get changed, lover, give me a show.”

“A show,” Cyprian huffed, then rolled his eyes when he took out the clothes. “Leather pants?”

Moargan casually hung back in his chair, piercing eyes fixed on him. He widened his legs, lips curling when he caught Cyprian watching. “That’s what you wanted, right? To make yourself pretty for me?” He lit a cinder cigarette, exhaling a ring of red smoke. “Show me.”

Cyprian flushed when he took out the rest of the clothes. Ignoring the way Moargan was openly ogling him, he managed to change before they reached the Green Mansion, the Imperial’s premises. The smooth pants and white button-up hugged his skin, making it feel even more sensitive, and the black, velvet scarf tickled his flesh. He felt aroused. Nervous as hell too, but that didn’t stop his cock from standing proudly at half-mast, no matter how much he hated it.

“We’re here,” Moargan announced.

The Green Mansion looked everything like the estate Cyprian had imagined. Much like Moargan’s manor, the place was made of glass and iron, of stones and chrome. It was a symmetrical building that oozed supremacy and Cyprian’s stomach dropped.

Fear was all that was left. And a feeling of self-loathing for being so scared.

Was Moargan truthful about his father wanting to meet himabout his new status as Royal Consort to the heir? Or was it all a game to them, and had they always intended for him to be sent back to Tulniri and straight to death?

He couldn’t be sure.

Imperial Milanov Zephyranth was already waiting by the impressive front door, flanked by two Luminary guards.

Cyprian had only ever seen images of Helion’s leader in his research books, and then when the man had made his public statement. Both hadn’t done him justice.

Moargan and Helianth definitely resembled their father, with similar blond hair and amethyst eyes, striking family traits. It left Cyprian to wonder what their mother had looked like. Or perhaps she was still alive? She hadn’t been mentioned in any of the research, and Moargan hadn’t spoken of her.

Milanov’s hair was swept to the side and he wore a similar white cloak Cyprian had seen Moargan in on the spaceship. He held his head high above broad shoulders, his violet stare already on Cyprian.

Moargan curled a firm arm around his shoulders, pressing him close as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. “Father.”

Milanov smiled, grabbing his son's hand and pulling him in. The air crackled with energy as his gaze swept thoroughly over Cyprian, from head to toe. “And this is Cyprian Creighton,” he said.

“I am, sir.” Was he expected to bow? To speak only when spoken to? He decided to go for a little bow, much to the amusement of both men.

“He never does that with me,” Moargan joked, and Cyprian flushed.

Milanov let out a laugh, but his eyes never left Cyprian. “So, it’s him you’ve chosen.”

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