All Chapters of His Straight Pet: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Raymond’s POV“Raymond.”The sound of my name in Jude’s voice always felt like a command and a promise at once. Tonight it landed heavy, filling the space between us as I stood stiff in his chamber. He was already dressed, silver-threaded black cloak falling sharp around his shoulders, his hair tied back like dark steel. I still had no idea why I’d been summoned so urgently.I cleared my throat. “You called for me?”His eyes flicked over me, quick as a blade. “You’ll stand beside me tonight.”I blinked. “Beside you? At the gathering?”“Yes.” His tone gave no room for refusal. He fastened the clasp at his neck, the silver sun emblem catching the torchlight. “It is time.”“Time… for what?” I asked. My pulse hammered. He had never once taken me into those chambers, never once let the Council see me as anything but a shadow following behind.He looked at me, eyes steady and unreadable. “Time for them to see you.”The mark at my throat burned in answer, hot and insistent. I lifted a hand t

Chapter 84Raymond's POV"Jude”My voice was too loud in the empty corridor. It shattered the silence like a blade, and I wished afterward that I hadn't spoken them.But he did not turn. Not yet. Standing in the bright room before him, his back exposed, his muscles tense like stone beneath his pale flesh, he moved slowly and with care. A sword flashed in his hand, whistling across the ancient night air, slicing shadows that crept too near."Why are you up?" he asked finally. He spoke quietly, but it seemed incredibly powerful, like one of those voices that just makes you want to hear him."I couldn't sleep." I edged nearer, standing with my feet on the hard ground. The mark on my throat ached and pulsed with each movement, as if it were alive. It seemed to want to be closer to him.Jude’s sword stilled. He tilted his head slightly, just enough for me to see the faintest curve of his profile—jaw shadowed, mouth severe, eyes catching firelight like cold steel."He indicated that the sig

Jude’s POVThe air was iron-thick with the scent of blood before the first body had even fallen. That was the truth of this place: even empty, the arena stank of death.I came before the dawn, when the stars were still clawing at the sky and the moons hung pale over the spires of the Crimson Court. The gates groaned open at my approach, ancient steel runes flaring briefly at my passing, recognizing my mark. The arena lay hollow, but not silent.They were already at work.Dozens of servants moved across the sand, shadows gliding in ordered precision. Most were little more than husks—mortals drained of will, their eyes clouded, branded with the crimson crest so deep it shone even through the pallor of their skin. Others were half-blood thralls, faster, sharper, capable of lifting the iron barricades and dragging the weapons into place. Their silence was absolute. Not one dared speak above a breath, not with the wards watching.I stood at the edge of the pit, gazing down as the preparati

Jude’s POVThe horn split the air, jagged as a blade.The break was over.I stepped back into the arena, my boots dragging trenches in the blood-soaked sand. The roar of the crowd slammed into me like a wave. A thousand eyes tracked me, hungry, expectant. Some jeered, some screamed my name, but most were waiting to see me fall.The poison still burned in my veins, a fire crawling under my skin. My sword felt heavier than lead, but I lifted it all the same. Because if I walked back into the pit unarmed, it wasn’t just my life Calix would spit on—it was my will.Dante came for me first. Of course he did.He was a beast of a man, broad shoulders glistening with sweat and blood, his axe already raised. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t circle—he charged, a mountain of fury.“Die slow, boy!” he roared, his voice cracking the air.The axe fell, splitting the earth where I’d been standing a heartbeat before. I rolled, sand grinding into my open wound, my lungs burning. The impact sent shards of bon

Jude’s POVThe silence after the roar was the loudest sound I had ever heard.I was on my knees in the sand, my claws still buried in my father’s chest, his body pinned beneath mine. My breath came in ragged bursts, each one tasting of copper. Blood slicked my face, my arms, my tongue. My body was little more than shreds of muscle held together by will and venom.And yet—I lived.He did not.Calix of Thorns, my father, my Lord, the Supreme who had ruled a hundred years in shadow and terror, lay broken beneath me. Not dead—death was forbidden in the Culling. But immobilized. Defeated. Banished.The law was iron.And iron always rusts in blood.The crowd broke then. Some screamed my name, chanting it like a hymn. Others shrieked in horror, clawing at their throats, unable to bear the sight of their god stripped bare by his own son.But all eyes turned upward. To the Crimson Court.The Five Thrones sat above, their figures cloaked in scarlet shadow. When they rose, the very stones trembl