บททั้งหมดของ His Straight Pet: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Jude’s POVThe room smelled of fire roses and ancient incense. I stood tall, motionless, as the maids worked around me with silent, careful precision. The ritual of being dressed in Lord’s attire was not something I rushed. It was tradition. Power wrapped in velvet and shadow. And tonight, of all nights, every fold had to be perfect."You look so good, sir," one of the younger maids whispered, her voice full of awe as she adjusted the edge of my collar."Thank you," I answered, my tone soft, but regal.My eyes caught my reflection in the full-length obsidian mirror that stood at the far end of the chamber. The figure staring back was something even I barely recognized. Not just a vampire. Not just a Lord.Royalty.My Lord’s attire had been crafted centuries ago by the blind tailors of the Moon Forge, stitched with thread laced in night-silver and lined with fabric spun from shadowmoth silk. The coat itself was deep maroon—so dark it looked black in certain light—with an underlayer of

Raymond’s POVI waited.And waited.And then kept on waiting, until waiting wasn’t just a thing I was doing—it was a state of being. A condition. A curse.I’d been told by Jude himself, straight to my face, that I was going to be brought into the meeting."At the right moment," he’d said. "Only when it’s safe. Only when the atmosphere is controlled."And I believed him. Because he doesn’t lie. Not to me.But here I was, three hours later, still sitting in this room. Still watching the same pale moon drift higher into the velvet night sky.And then I saw it.The first shadow moved across the driveway.I was at the window, as usual. Half out of boredom, half out of habit. I don’t know what I expected to see—maybe Jude’s signal. Maybe Xalor coming to fetch me like before. Maybe nothing at all. But what I did see made my stomach turn.The Lords.Leaving.Not just one. Not just two.All of them.I counted the black vehicles sliding down the marble drive, slow and silent like predators retu

Raymond's POVI slammed the door shut behind me, not caring how loud it was. Let them hear it. Let them know I was done with their lies and fake rules. I stormed down the hall, full of rage, but no matter how fast I walked, I couldn’t escape the heavy feeling in my chest.Five days.Five days before I’m forced into a blood tournament I never agreed to.I clenched my fists as I reached the big staircase. The whole place felt like a tomb, empty and cold, like it had already given up on me. Just another piece in a game I never wanted to play.Jude’s voice played over and over in my head."It’s not a choice anymore."Yeah, right.I had to believe I still had a choice.But every plan I thought of only made me feel worse. If I stayed, I was a target. If I left, I was bait. The Crimson Court didn’t ask for me. They asked for Jude. But I knew better now. Being his blood meant I was already doomed.The floor felt wet under my shoes. Maybe it was sweat. Or fear. Didn’t matter. I had to get out.

Jude's POVThe mansion’s walls reverberated with every heavy step I took. The air was dense with the scent of his blood—Raymond’s—clinging to my skin, sinking into the fibers of my shirt. It lingered in my senses, feeding the storm brewing beneath my surface. I didn’t calm. I didn’t want to. Not yet.He was reckless.He was brave.He was infuriating.And yet, he was mine.I pushed open the office doors, the carved sigils of my House groaning under the force. Xalor was already inside, standing by the far window, his gaze fixed outward as though watching for the fallout of my wrath.He didn’t turn as I entered."Did it work out well?" he asked, voice neutral.I closed the door behind me, the click of the latch sealing the conversation from prying ears.A smile—sharp and predatory—curved my lips. "Perfectly."He finally faced me, and for the first time tonight, there was a glint of satisfaction in his otherwise stoic features.We didn’t need a toast. We didn’t need words.But I reached f

Jude’s POVThe office was quiet when I returned. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was thick, heavy. The kind of quiet that came before a storm. I walked straight to the sink in the corner, turning the faucet. Cold water gushed out, washing over my hands.Blood.It clung to my skin, dried in streaks and patches. Some of it was mine. Most of it wasn’t.I scrubbed harder.The sink stained pink as the water carried it away. I watched it swirl down the drain. No matter how much I washed, it still felt like it was there. It wasn’t about the blood itself. It was about what it represented.Challenges.Tests.Defiance.Behind me, the door creaked open. I didn’t need to turn to know it was Xalor."You let them bleed," he said, his tone even. "But you didn’t kill them all."I dried my hands slowly, folding the towel with precision before placing it on the counter. "Killing them would’ve been a waste."Xalor stepped into the room, his boots clicking softly against the marble. He stood a few feet be