004

Season’s flourished, days progressed to weeks, weeks to months, a year, two, three until eighteen years had passed. All the children raised in the Blackwell villa aged with beauty and grace and young passion blossomed as well.

In the beauty of spring at the Blackwell’s home, servants scurried the halls, quick on their feet to complete their morning tasks on time. The sight was satirical to witness, their faces alight with joy and anticipation for a very important visitor.

The sounds of two horses galloping grew louder as their riders waved to the gardeners watering and trimming the plant paths until they stopped at the doors of the grand villa.

Nathaniel dismounted his white horse and grinned at his childhood home. Asides age, the house retained its charm. The once dull and dry vines were now vibrant green with purple flowers and small sprouts of mushrooms on it. It had become this way under the tender care of a cute lunari.

He was home.

A young maid knocked on Lucian’s study and entered. She bowed slightly and announced, “Prince Nathaniel has returned, Your Grace.”

Sarang gasped with glee and scribbled on his paper. He slammed the papers before Lucian and sprinted.

“Sa–”

But Sarang was already out the door. Lucian slouched on his seat and picked up a portrait on his desk. The children, age fourteen and fifteen were smiling with Lucian’s arms placed on their shoulders. It had been four years since his son left for Oxford. How fast time flies.

“Easy on the stairs, buttercup.” Nathaniel said and Sarang skipped the last stair, leaping into his arms.

Nathaniel twirled him around, laughter spilling from their lips before he set Sarang back on his feet., Sarang embraced him and Nathaniel embraced him back with a smile on his face.

“You grew taller.” Nathaniel teased, ruffling Sarang’s hair.

“You noticed?” Sarang asked cheerfully.

“I meant your hair.” Nathaniel confessed with a smirk.

Sarang frowned, fists clenching as he fought the ticking impulse to hit him. He bumped Nathaniel’s chest playfully before turning to the gentleman behind him.

“Welcome, sir.” Sarang said, bowing politely.

“So, you are the Sarang.” The gentleman said, extending his hand towards him. “Gregory Pemberton. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Sarang smiled politely, shaking his hand. “The pleasure is mine.”

“Nathaniel.” A deep voice called from the top of the stairs, capturing everyone’s attention.

Lucian Blackwell stood in his glory at his fifties. He barely looked a year over thirty, but the streaks of grey hairs in his brown hair and beard betrayed his age. He was still as healthy, strong, and handsome as the day Sarang first saw him.

Lucian descended the stairs, his head never cowering with each step. He glanced at Sarang whose hands were clasped behind his back with a mischievous smile playing on his lips then shifted his focus to his son, who had grown taller than him–a sight that amused Lucian.

“Father.” Nathaniel said, his voice filled with affection and Lucian patted his shoulder.

“Welcome home.” Lucian replied, a genuine smile warming his features. He looked at the gentleman accompanying Nathaniel. “You must be the third son of Earl Pemberton of Hounds. Gregory.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Gregory said.

“Stay for lunch. I want to hear about you and my son’s adventures in Oxford.” Lucian said and faced Sarang. “Except you. Go to the study and finish your test properly. Sebastian will stand as my charge.”

“Master,” Sarang whined.

“If you whine, I’ll increase your workload until dinner.” Lucian said, a glint of warning in his eyes. Sarang pouted but Nathaniel patted his back with a gentle smile.

“Go and finish your lessons. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Nathaniel leaned closer and whispered, “Meet me at our spot by midnight.”

Sarang lips stretched as he nodded. He bowed at Lucian and hopped up the stairs, humming with excitement. Nathaniel chuckled, casting a glance at his father, whose expression had shifted to something unfamiliar as he watched Sarang’s playful departure. Nathaniel felt a nagging curiosity, but his father’s eyes averted from Sarang and moved on, which bothered Nathaniel who trailed behind his father.

***

Sarang glanced at the clock–fifteen minutes past midnight. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and stuffed pillows beneath the covers. He snuck out of the villa through the back door, mindful of the guards patrolling. He used a secret path to the garden which he had created by planting more trees to conceal the bare patches of grass. Overtime, the thick foliage allowed him to sneak out for late-night stargazing without interruption.

The trees and grasses rustled against his body until he entered the pavilion. Nathan jerked up when he saw Sarang. They embraced each other tightly, unrestrained by appearances or people as earlier. Nathan rocked Sarang gently as he buried his face in Sarang’s hair, inhaling the scent of his hair.

“I’ve missed–”

Nathan cupped his cheeks, locking their lips together, and cutting Sarang’s words. The softness of Nathan’s lips, the warmth from his tongue, and the cold night air against his flushed skin overwhelmed him as soft gasps escaped in between each short breath. His thoughts dissolved, leaving only the heat of the kiss and the intoxicating pull of Nathan’s pheromone.

Nathan hesitated, pulling back just enough to peck Sarang’s button nose. His eyes roved over Sarang’s features, tracing the lines of his delicate face–his small stature, his blue eyes, floral scent, white hair, pink lips, and warm pale skin. He had spent his childhood, tenaciously wooing Sarang who rejected him countless times.  After two years of persistence pursuit, Sarang accepted his feelings and they became lovers. If Sarang had not been his father’s slave, they would have married that same year.

For now, they were satisfied with their secret affair.

“I’ve missed you terribly, my love. I was tempted to kiss you the moment you leaped in my arms.” Nathan confessed and hugged Sarang.

“I missed you. Four years without you, your letters were the only things to comfort me. I would be insane if you stayed a year longer.” Sarang confessed and gripped his shirt.

Nathan buried his face in Sarang’s shoulder, his breath warm against his skin. Sarang giggled at the tickling sensation, and Nathan smiled into the curve of his neck. “I missed your pheromone. The scent of lavender drifting in the gentle breeze.”

“If mine is lavender, your pheromone is rosemary, addictive and pleasant.” Sarang replied, nuzzling his neck.

Nathan’s gaze drifted to the collar around Sarang’s neck, his fingers traced the leather band. “Father’s collar, have you ever thought of taking it off? I’ll buy you a new collar if you must protect your nape.”

Sarang caressed the cool leather on his throat. There was no burning sensation, scarring from the leather, or discomfort in his eyes.

“Never. If such desire comes, I feel queasy. Master’s collar is part of my character design, I am used to it.” Sarang joked with a soft smile.

Nathan frowned. “Now I’m jealous of my old man.”

Sarang chuckled softly, cupping Nathan’s face. “You don’t have to. I may belong to master, but my heart belongs with you, Nathan. It has from the day I said yes.”

Nathan’s expression softened. “And mine is yours, always.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small white box. “I brought you a gift.”

Nathan opened the box, revealing a delicate gold bracelet adorned with tiny precious stones. Nathan took his hand, gently fastening the bracelet around his slender wrist and kissed his knuckles.

“It’s beautiful.” Sarang praised, fondling the bracelet.

“I’m glad you like you it. In Oxford, there are a lot of beautiful women and handsome men from different families and background.”

“More beautiful than I?”

“They can’t compare. When my mates frequented brothels during their leisure, I thought of you all day. I bought this bracelet, dreaming of the day I return home, today, to give this to you.”

“I’m reminded again why I love you.”

“Because I’m handsome, tall, and smart.” Nathan bragged with a cocky grin.

“No. You are a hopeless romantic.”

“Is that bad?” Nathan asked, flustered.

“It’s part of your charm.” Sarang replied and pecked his nose.

They sat on the bench, hands intertwined as they chatted about the previous four years. Sarang narrated his affairs, smiling as he recounted his life while Nathan was away. Halfway through, Nathan’s expression turned serious.

“What’s wrong?” Sarang asked, pausing mid-sentence.

Nathan’s furrowed brows relaxed; he laid his head on Sarang’s thigh and stretched his legs. Sarang combed his fingers through Nathan’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“I will be twenty-five soon and questions about marriage are becoming unbearable. I have nothing against it, but your status complicates matters.” Nathan explained.

“I understand. As a slave, any child I birth is still a slave. I wouldn’t want my child to be bound by such fate even though master is kind.” Sarang said and stopped stroking his hair. “There are times I wonder if master would free me if I found a partner but it’s funny; I’ve never imagined a life away from this family.”

Nathan sat up, taking Sarang’s cold hands in his. “I want to tell father of my intention to marry you.”

“What?”

“We are not children anymore, Sarang. Father doesn’t control our lives. I’m afraid if I wait any longer, I’ll lose you.”

Sarang’s gaze softened, “You won’t lose me. I’ll always be here.”

Nathan frowned, his voice quiet. “It’s why I’m afraid.”

He thought of his father’s gaze earlier, the collar on Sarang’s neck, and the control he had over Sarang.

Sarang opened his arm with a gentle smile. “Come here.”

Nathan leaned into his embrace as Sarang patted his back, humming softly. They stayed at the pavilion for a while, savouring the night before they returned to the mansion, ignorant of the shadow observing them from the window.

“Goodnight.” Sarang whispered as they stood outside his room.

“Goodnight.” Nathan replied, and Sarang opened his door.

“Would you like to spend the night with me?” Sarang’s cheeks flushed slightly pink.

Nathan shook his head and replied, “Not tonight, lest I succumb to my desires.” He kissed his forehead tenderly. “Go inside now.”

Sarang entered his room and locked the door behind him.

Nathaniel headed to his room in the other wing. He paused when he saw his father’s butler walking down the quiet halls with a small candle in hand.

“Young master, trouble sleeping?” Sebastian asked, his eyes narrowing as he approached.

“Yes. I went out to enjoy the night breeze.”

“Alone, I assume.” Sebastian inquired with a stern gaze.

Nathaniel was silent. Sebastian walked beside him, casting a knowing look at the young man who bore a striking resemblance to the his late mother, Grace. He had witnessed his birth–an ugly, squalling newborn, and nurtured him along with his father into a fine young man. He adored Nathaniel, perhaps almost as much as Lucian did. But there was one thing Sebastian did not approve of.

“I am glad you have returned home, but things are different now. A word for the wise, you are not the master, therefore it is not yours to frolic with. Never forget, young master.” Sebastian’s voice was calm, but firm. “Goodnight.”

Nathaniel clenched his fists until they trembled, then exhaled. Without another word, he marched toward his room.