IV: Remorse and Love of a King

*Capítulo Cuatro*

The grand hall had fallen silent. The flames of the moon goddess, which moments ago had raged like a storm, flickered back to their natural glow. Strangely, the devastation spared the people. Only the walls, the gilded pillars, the furniture-the very bones of the hall-had been scarred and blackened. All except Samael. His flesh had been burnt, torn open, bleeding freely. And yet, as though mocking the gods themselves, he healed within seconds. His body was whole again, but the taste of blood-Allistair's blood-still lingered on his tongue.

The nobles and elites, shaken yet alive, exhaled sighs of relief. Their murmurs rose like uneasy ripples, a tide of fearful speculation and hushed prayers. The king, eyes glinting with restrained fury, dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, leaving only himself and his most trusted friends in the vast and broken hall that was now fixed by him.

Caius was the first to speak, his sharp voice cutting through the heavy silence.

"You've gone too far, Samael. To attack the Rosewood heir-in front of Alexander and Raine? You may as well have raised your banner and declared war."

Rowan's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing like steel chains over his chest. His tone was calm, but his gaze carried an edge that could cut stone.

"Alexander will never forgive you for this."

Damian leaned casually against a pillar that had only just reformed from ruin, though his posture did not hide the tension stiffening his shoulders. His voice was biting, his words deliberate, but there was unease flickering beneath his composure."And yet here you stand, bleeding his blood, claiming him as yours. Do you even see the storm you've just invited?"

"And Samael-" Fierro's voice cracked like a whip, his usual restraint splintering. He stepped forward, face taut with anger. "Alexander is our friend. How could you do that to his son?"

Samael sat heavily on the grand sofa, the weight of his deeds pressing against his chest like iron chains. His jaw clenched. His face, usually cold and proud, was shadowed with something rawer-regret, or perhaps despair. He lowered his head, his voice breaking into a murmur, half-surrender, half-confession.

"Fuck... I don't know. I don't even know why I did that. My beast-my wolf-they just... snapped. I-" His voice faltered. He dragged his hands through his hair, trembling with something dangerously close to defeat. "I lost fucking control."

Fierro's jaw tightened, anger finally breaking through his calm façade. His words lashed like a whip. "Tsk. You always lose control when it's him, Your Majesty. Always! And now you've gone too far. You marked him. Maybe it's not permanent, but it's still a mark. In front of his family, in front of the many people!"

Samael let out a laugh-but it was not joy. It was a dark, bitter sound, thick with frustration and surrender.

"I'll figure this out. I will. I'll... eventually." His voice trailed into silence, lost even to himself.

Inside him, Lucan stirred, his beast snarling, restless, clawing at his insides like a caged demon. Ours. He is ours. Claim him again. Tear down anything that stands in your way.

Morgan's voice, smooth yet equally insistent, echoed alongside the beast's rage. I can feel it he is our mate. Stop resisting the bond. Stop pretending you don't feel it. Every breath he takes is a call to you. He belongs to us.

Samael closed his eyes, shuddering as memories washed over him. The taste of blood, warm and sweet, sliding down his throat. The broken moans of Allistair, half agony, half ecstasy. The shiver of delicate skin beneath his fangs. His beast and wolf whispered the same truth, maddening, undeniable, echoing in every fiber of his being.

Ours. He is ours.

His friends exchanged uneasy looks-fear, pity, disbelief. For the first time, they no longer saw the untouchable king. They saw a man unraveling, shackled to desire that consumed him, a desire he could neither deny nor control.

Meanwhile, in the Rosewood mansion, silence reigned heavy as the family gathered around Allistair's bedside.

Raine sat closest, silver light flickering faintly from his palms, bathing his son in a soft, healing glow. He cooled Allistair's fevered skin, mended torn flesh, yet the bite mark on his neck resisted his power. It remained-angry, red, undeniable-a temporary alpha's claim that no light could erase. Quiet tears slid down Raine's cheeks, soaking into the sheets, grief unspoken in every drop.

Alexander paced the room like a beast denied its prey, golden fire sparking at his fingertips with every restless step. His face was carved with rage, his eyes wild with fury. Allex sat at her brother's side, clutching his hand as though anchoring him to the world, her expression torn between rage and helpless fear.

Allistair stirred faintly, lashes fluttering. His breaths came shallow, uneven, caught between exhaustion and the lingering ecstasy Samael's bite had carved into his body. His lips parted, whispering broken words no one could understand. His body trembled-not from pain, but from a sweetness that clung to his bones, refusing to fade.

Alexander froze, his fists clenching so tightly sparks of golden flame bled from his palms. His voice cracked with fury, raw and trembling. "He marked him though it was just a temporary mark it's still a mark and he's not my son's mate. That bastard marked my son before the gods themselves confirmed his fate. I'll kill him."

"No." Raine's voice was soft, but resolute. He shook his head, eyes wet yet steady. "If you fight him now, you'll break our son further. He bleeds from more than wounds. He bleeds from within."

Allex's grip on her brother's hand tightened. Her voice was quiet, but her gaze burned with conviction.

"Zaney... you'll be fine. I'm here. We're all here."

Allistair only answered with a soft hum, his eyes slipping closed, surrendering at last to slumber.

Alexander's shoulders shook. His face crumpled as his voice broke. He pressed his hands against his face, tears spilling silently.

"This is my fault. I... I shouldn't have forced him to attend the banquet. Shouldn't have forced him home. I... I destroyed him."

Raine wrapped his arms around him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. His voice was gentle, steady, like water on fire. "Mio, stop blaming yourself. You only did what you thought was best. All we can do now is love him more, understand him more. That's what he needs."

"Yes, Father." Allex's voice was firm, a vow written in steel. "We just have to love and protect him. That's all that matters."

The family quieted, emotions tempered by grief and love. After tucking Allistair in and ensuring he was comfortable, they left the room, each carrying their pain in silence.

But Allistair's sleep was not peace.

He found himself once more in that place-roses submerged in a sea of blood, their petals wilting black, their thorns tearing his skin. He lay naked upon a bed drowning in crimson, and over him loomed the faceless phantom, relentless, consuming.

The phantom's voice was low, guttural, vibrating through his bones.

"Amor meus... divine sapis." (My love, you taste divine)

The phantom thrust into him with animalistic ferocity. Allistair clung desperately, body arching, surrendering to the raw pleasure that shattered his sanity. His lips bled under bruising kisses, blood sucked greedily as if it were nectar.

"Uhhn... f-fuck... too fast... n-not good..." he moaned, voice breaking, but his body betrayed him, yielding, craving more.

It whispered again, closer, hotter, dripping with possession. "Why resist, my love? You are already mine. Every drop... every breath... every trembling sound is mine."

Allistair shuddered, his body betraying him further, his chest heaving, caught between terror and longing. Tears mingled with the blood at the corner of his lips, yet even as he turned his face away, his hands betrayed him-clutching, clinging, desperate not to let the phantom go. He accepted every thrust delivered. The cock inside him just slid in and out. He let the phantom fucked him to oblivion.

The phantom laughed low, a sound like cracking earth and thunder. It bent closer still, until its formless face brushed against his ear, whispering in a voice that shook him to his marrow:

"You will break, Amor meus... and when you do, you will never want to be whole again."

Meanwhile, in Casa Del Fierro, Samael sat alone in his massive bedchamber. Draped in a black silk robe that revealed the chiseled perfection of his body, he looked every inch the god-king, yet his expression betrayed chaos. A wine glass of the finest crimson swirled in his hand, but the taste was ash compared to the lingering sweetness of Allistair's blood.

His thoughts raced, spiraling. He hated Allistair-or so he told himself. He hated the boy who had burned his treasures, who had turned his world to ash. And yet... he burned for him. Desired him. Wanted to own him body and soul.

Go to him. Morgan's voice whispered darkly, velvet over steel. Go, claim what is yours. You know you want to.

"Hah, you're whining like a dog in heat," Lucan snarled.

"And you're not?" Morgan shot back, amused. You crave him as much as I do. Stop pretending.

"Tsk. Don't deny it, King. We both want him. We all do. Take him. Fuck him. Make him yours."

Their voices pounded against his skull, demanding, insatiable. Samael cursed under his breath, massaging his temples. His eyes glowed with a dangerous shade of black-the warning sign that Lucan was close to taking control.

"God-damned beasts..." Samael muttered, fury and despair twisting his words. "Do you think I don't want him? That I don't crave him? But he destroyed my treasures... a painting of my mother, gone. My last memory of her, burned to ash." His voice cracked with grief.

"Pft. It was just a painting," Lucan mocked, rolling his eyes in the dark of Samael's mind.

Morgan's voice, sharp and cold, cut through. You don't know how to value family shut up Lucan. But I'll agree with him on this one Samael. He can be your treasure now. Paintings can be remade. But him? You'll never find another like him.

Lucan rolled his eyes but growled in agreement. Exactly. Stop whining. Go to him. Now.

Samael's eyes flared crimson, his fangs extending. The scent of roses and vanilla, carried only by memory, made his senses snap. With a curse, he gave in-teleporting in a blur of shadow and flame straight to Rosewood Mansion.

He appeared in Allistair's room, and the sight struck him like lightning.

Allistair lay writhing in sleep, whimpering, moaning, lost in dreams that reeked of lust and surrender. And he doesn't like it. Thinking that someone is able to make Allistair like that even in his dreams. The room was heavy with the scent of vanilla and roses, intoxicating, maddening. Samael's eyes burned crimson, his fangs aching to pierce again.

Slowly, he stalked closer, every step a battle against his own restraint. He reached the bed, gazed down at the fragile boy, and bent to kiss the mark he had left on his neck. His tongue traced the scar, tasting ownership.

Allistair stirred. The phantom in his dream faded, replaced by warmth-wet lips on his neck, a scent so familiar it made his eyes fly open. Sandalwood and fire.

Samael.

His eyes widened in horror. Samael knelt beside him, clothed in silk, his hand already caressing his thigh, his mouth pressed to the mark he'd made.

Allistair tried to push him away, but Samael was faster. Golden shackles materialized around his wrists, binding him. Samael crushed his lips against his, devouring him, sucking his tongue like a starving man who had found his only meal.

The kisses trailed lower, to his neck, his collarbone, where Samael bit and sucked until bruises bloomed. His voice was thick with intoxication.

"Fuck, baby... you taste so good."

Allistair's body betrayed him, heat flooding his skin, but his will surged. He shoved weakly against Samael's chest, voice hoarse, trembling.

"Fuck you! Get off me!"

Samael paused, panting, his grip unyielding. He forced Allistair onto his lap, holding him tightly.

"Sshh, baby. Calm down. Let's talk, hmm?"

"Talk?" Allistair spat, tears burning his eyes. "You conceited, selfish prick-let me go! What more do you want from me?" He thrashed against Samael, fists striking his chest. "You burned down my house! My paintings-my life! You son of a bitch!" His voice broke into sobs. "We were even... why can't you just let me go?"

Samael let the blows land, unflinching. His arms only tightened around Allistair's waist. His voice dropped to a whisper, ragged and raw. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I swear it."

Lucan snorted in his head. Pathetic. Begging? To a boy who hates you? Just take him.

Morgan's voice was softer, thoughtful. And yet, maybe this is the only way you won't lose him. Grovel, Samael. Show him your throat. You've already shown your fangs. Now show him your heart.

Allistair froze. His body was trembling, but not entirely from rage anymore. His breath stuttered, lips trembling as his eyes darted away. Samael saw it-hesitation, doubt, the faintest crack in the wall of hatred.

He said sorry wow the almighty King said sorry. Allistair thought.

"You-" Allistair's voice wavered. "You don't get to be sorry. Not after what you've done. You ruined everything. You marked me even if it's temporary, you're not even my mate. You made me... feel things I didn't want to feel..." His voice broke again, shame and anger tangled in his throat.

Samael cupped his face, thumbs brushing away his tears. His voice was low, desperate, almost begging.

"I know. I know I ruined everything. I was blinded. I lost myself. But Allistair, when I'm near you... the voices stop. The fire in my blood quiets. You're the only one who makes me feel alive instead of hollow. I can't-" His voice cracked. "I can't let go of that. I don't know how."

Allistair shook his head violently, tears streaking his cheeks. "Stop it. Stop saying things like that. I hate you. I should hate you."

"But you don't," Samael whispered.

His words pierced like a blade. Allistair's breath caught, his chest heaving as if the air had betrayed him. He wanted to deny it, to scream-but the bond burned too deep. His body trembled, his heart racing wildly against his will.

"I-" he gasped, then bit his lip hard, silencing himself.

Samael pressed his forehead to Allistair's, his voice raw.

"Let me stay. Just tonight. I won't touch you if you don't want me to. I swear. Just... don't push me away."

Inside his head, Lucan and Morgan was anticipating too. Lucan the beast was pacified to the point that he want to be with Allistair all the time.

For a long moment, only their breaths filled the room-shaky, uneven, desperate.

At last, Allistair whispered, voice fragile. "If you touch me again, I'll scream. My father will kill you."

Samael's lips curved into a broken smile, his entities howl in happiness inside him, tears shimmering in his golden eyes.

"Then I'll hold myself back with everything I have. For you."

Slowly, gently, he released the shackles on Allistair's wrists. He guided him back to bed, tucking the sheets around him with trembling hands.

Allistair lay stiff for a moment, glaring at him with misted eyes. But exhaustion claimed him, his lashes fluttering closed. Still, before sleep dragged him away, he whispered-barely audible.

"...don't leave."

Samael's chest tightened. He sank into the chair beside the bed, his hand hovering just inches from Allistair's. He didn't dare touch. Not now. He simply sat there, watching him, guarding him.

And for the first time in centuries, Samael prayed-not to the gods, but to the boy who unknowingly held his soul.

"You say you're not my mate but you are mine Amor meus. You are my mate and I know that " Samael whispered and his beast and wolf purred inside him agreeing to what his saying

"Yes Ours."