CAELUM POV

CAELUM POV

The breakfast unfolded exactly as expected, with resistance, pride, and that delicious flicker of humiliation I had anticipated.

He entertained me more than I planned.

Originally, he was meant to be nothing more than a birthday offering. A rare acquisition for a dear friend who collects beauties for collections. But now…

Now I found myself reconsidering. If he behaves well, perhaps I will keep him. If he breaks beautifully, I certainly will.

I nodded faintly at the thought and signaled one of my guards forward with a subtle motion of my fingers. He appeared at once and bowed.

“How is everything proceeding?” I asked without looking up from the book in my hand.

“He remains seated as instructed, Boss. No disturbances.”

“Good.” I turned a page. “Bring me the tablet.”

The guard straightened, touching the comm embedded in his collar. “Deliver the Master’s tablet immediately.”

While I waited, my mind drifted back to Khyronis. Even in that ridiculous floral shirt and shorts my stylists had chosen, he looked… otherworldly.

Silvery hair catching the light like moonlight on water. Stormy gray eyes burning with barely contained fury.

And yet I couldn’t stop asking myself: Where the hell did he come from?

“Search for information about him.”

He nodded once. At that exact moment, one of my men entered the room with the tablet I had requested.

With quiet respect, my subordinate offered the device to him with both hands and a slight incline of his head.

I leaned in and tapped open the camera feed. On the tablet screen, Khyronis sat in the changing room, looking completely lost.

He ran his fingers over the designer suits and trousers with visible disgust, as though none of it was worthy of his attention.

The poor maids hovered around him, struggling to coax him into changing, their voices polite but increasingly strained.

I sighed, rising from my chair in the study. “Enough of this.” My men fell into step behind me as I headed for the door.

I reached the changing room door, opened it, and stepped inside. The maids immediately bowed, murmuring respectful greetings.

Meanwhile, Khyronis sat in the velvet chair with his legs crossed like a spoiled child refusing to obey.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” I asked, stepping further into the room and walking slowly toward him.

Khyronis didn't even uncross his legs, he tilted his head. Those sharp gray eyes locking into mine with something close to boredom. “These rags?” He flicked a dismissive hand. “They smell of mortal desperation and cheap ambition. I won't wear them.”

One of the maids flinched beside me. I raised a hand and they immediately retreated to the door, leaving us alone.

I stopped just two feet away from him, close enough to see the faint pulse beating in his throat. “You seem to forget something important,” I said, my voice low and calm.

“I bought you. That means you wear what I tell you to wear. You sit when I tell you to sit. And right now, you’re going to get dressed.”

Khyronis’s lips curved into a slow, mocking smile. “Or what, Caelum?”

I ignored his question and grabbed the nearest suit jacket from the rack and tossed it onto his lap.

“Put it on. Now. I don’t have time for your tantrums.”

Khyronis let the jacket slide to the floor like it was diseased, his eyes flicked downward for a brief second as I adjusted my shirt.

The movement caused the waistband of my tailored trousers to shift lower, revealing the upper edge of the black ink tattoos that covered my lower abdomen and disappeared beneath the fabric.

Khyronis’s eyes narrowed. He stared at me hard.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, before picking up the jacket. Still, he gave me no answer. I stood him up, gripping his jaw firmly in my right hand.

“Next time I tell you to do something and you don’t, I’ll make sure to cut off your hands or lock you up without food and water for thirty days,” I said, frustration already boiling over.

Khyronis inhaled sharply. I could see the shock flash across his face. Without another word, I called the maids, and they hurried back in.

“Get him dressed,” I ordered as I sat down on the velvet cushion, crossing one leg over the other.

The maids hurried back in like startled birds, their hands trembling slightly as they took the jacket from my hand gently as they could.

Khyronis stood rigid, his eyes burning holes into me. Even in that absurd floral shirt and shorts that clung to his long legs, he carried himself like royalty forced into a circus costume.

It was almost endearing — how hard he fought to maintain that untouchable aura. The head maid approached cautiously, holding a crisp black dress shirt. “Please, sir… arms up.”

For a moment, I thought he might refuse again. Instead, he shot me one last venomous glance before slowly raising his arms.

The floral shirt slid off, revealing pale, flawless skin that looked as if it had never been touched by the sun.

My gaze traced the elegant line of his collarbones, the subtle muscle definition that spoke of something far older than this fragile human body.

As the maids worked, buttoning the new shirt with careful fingers, Khyronis’s eyes dropped again, this time to my waist.

I had leaned forward slightly, and my tailored shirt had ridden up just enough to expose the upper edge of my tattoos.

His brows furrowed. For a split second, his expression shifted from disdain to confusion, perhaps even recognition.

His eyes narrowed, locked onto the black ink as if he saw something moving beneath the surface.

Interesting.

I didn’t move. Let him stare. The tattoos had always been there — ancient-looking chains and runes I’d had since I was a boy, though I could never remember getting them.

Sometimes, they move on their own. Right now, under his gaze, my skin there felt warmer than usual.

Khyronis blinked hard, then looked again. Whatever he thought he saw, it vanished. His lips pressed into a thin line, as though angry at his own imagination. He quickly looked away, jaw tight.

I allowed myself a small smile. What are you, Khyronis?

“Enough,” I said, rising from the seat. The maids stepped back instantly. I approached him slowly, circling like a predator inspecting its newest prize.

The black shirt fit him perfectly and it hug his frame, the top two buttons left deliberately open to expose the elegant column of his throat.

I stopped directly in front of him. Close enough that I could smell the faint lavender from his bath still clinging to his skin.

Without warning, I reached out and adjusted the collar with both hands, my fingers deliberately brushing the warm skin at the base of his neck.

He stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

“Better,” I murmured, voice low. My thumb grazed just beneath his jaw in a slow, possessive stroke. “You clean up nicely for a wild thing.”

Khyronis’s eyes flashed with fury. “Do not touch me with your filthy mortal hands.”

I chuckled softly, refusing to pull back. Instead, I let my hand slide down to his shoulder, smoothing the fabric over the muscle there.

“These are the rules of my house, Khyronis. You belong to me now. You will dress how I wish. Speak only when I allow it in front of others. And you will never … ever … open doors that are not allowed to you.”

His breathing hitched slightly at. “There is an east wing in this mansion,” I continued casually, my fingers still resting on his shoulder.

“You will stay away from it. Pets who wander where they shouldn’t tend to lose privileges… fingers or limbs.”

I stepped even closer, our chests nearly brushing. My other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the fit of the trousers the maids had just helped him into.

I could feel the heat of his body through the fabric, the way his muscles tensed under my palm.

For a man who claimed to be a god, he reacted very much like a mortal — pulse racing, cheeks carrying the faintest flush of anger… or something else.

“Am I understood?” I asked, tilting my head to meet those stormy eyes directly.

He glared at me with pure hatred, yet he didn’t slap my hand away. “You are nothing but an arrogant mortal playing at power. One day, when my strength returns, I will crush you and this entire empire of filth.”

I smiled, genuinely amused. “I look forward to watching you try, angry bird.”

Stepping back at last, I gave him one final appraisal. He looked exquisite.

“Take him to the lounge when you’re finished,” I told the maids. “And prepare the second suite in my private wing. Starting tomorrow night, he sleeps closer to me. Better supervision.”

Khyronis’s head snapped up at that, eyes widening in fresh outrage.

I turned toward the door before he could let loose whatever venom was building on his tongue.

As I walked out, I felt that familiar pull in my chest again, the same one that had made me bid two hundred million without hesitation.