Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/alessandra-hazard/page,11,561046-princes_master.html
“You are delusional,” Castien said. “Delusional and foolish.” He glared at Eridan, tension rolling off him in waves. “If I wanted to fuck you, I would have. It’s as simple as that. No one would have stopped me, because you are mine. You have as many rights as I give you.” Something cold and mean flickered in his eyes. “Yes, I want you—physically. You are truly delusional if you think that means anything. I am a healthy man, and you are disgustingly pretty; that is all it is. You, Javier, someone else—it does not matter to me. I will not be a slave to my base urges. If I choose not to touch you, it is for a reason, and my body’s desires will not change my mind.”
“Enlighten me, then,” Eridan said. “If there is no difference between me, Javier, and some other whore, what’s stopping you from using me like you use them?”
Something flickered in Castien’s eyes. “That is none of your concern. I do not owe you any answers. This conversation is over.”
“Fine,” Eridan bit out, and smiled brightly. “I guess I’ll find someone else to entertain me. My ‘disgustingly pretty’ face is good for something.”
Castien’s face was like stone. “I am sure it is,” he said flatly. “Except you and I both know you cannot desire meaningless intercourse with a stranger. You are a throwback.”
Eridan glowered at him, smacking him telepathically. “Fuck you. I’m more than just my biology. You think I can’t get laid just because I’m a throwback? I can. I will!” He stormed out of the house, fuming, hurt and rejection making his chest tight.
Screw him.
Gods, he hated him.
Chapter Nine: Ice Prince
Eridan barely remembered getting to the apprentices’ district. His house was cold and dark and unlived-in. Eridan marched straight to his rarely used bedroom and searched for the most immodest clothes he could find in his closet.
Those happened to be a tight pair of dark pants that accentuated his ass, and a half-sheer black shirt. He’d bought those clothes last year, but there had not been any occasions to wear them. He didn’t have friends, so he had never been to any of the nightclubs in the apprentices’ and initiates’ districts. But he had heard of them, of course. Everyone had. Eridan was sure all Masters were aware of those nightclubs—they had been apprentices once, too, after all—and just feigned ignorance. The Chapter wasn’t stupid: so many teenagers and young adults would go crazy in an isolated town like this and do something stupid if they weren’t allowed to unwind. Eridan suspected there were such establishments in the Masters’ districts, too, but he didn’t know where they were located.
He didn’t need them, anyway. The one in the apprentices’ district would do just as nicely.
Pulling his hair into a bun, Eridan stared at the purple gemstone resting against his throat with mixed feelings. He should probably remove it. Castien’s telepathic mark would make it obvious who his Master was and would likely scare off most men. But on the other hand, did he want to sleep with anyone scared of his Master?
The mere thought of sleeping with some stranger made his stomach turn, but Eridan pushed through his discomfort. He was more than his biology. He could have sex if he decided to. So what if according to the Order’s research, eighty-five percent of throwbacks needed emotional intimacy for sex? Maybe he was among the lucky fifteen percent who could fuck anyone they wanted. Ironically, those fifteen percent of throwbacks were the ones who gave all throwbacks such a bad reputation. Wet slut, boypussy, back whores: those degrading terms existed entirely thanks to the fraction of throwbacks who biologically had an extremely high sex drive and didn’t need any emotional intimacy for sex. And never mind that those terms couldn’t have been more wrong for the majority of throwbacks.
Ever since Eridan could remember, he had hated it, hated being a throwback. Children could be cruel, and the humiliating nicknames had only bothered him more with the years, especially since they were so unfair and inaccurate. Sometimes he almost wished he were as promiscuous as the throwbacks’ reputation was: at least then he wouldn’t feel dirty for things he didn’t do. When other teenagers had been making out and having sex, he’d had no sex drive to speak of. He was a very late bloomer: he started getting urges only after becoming his Master’s apprentice.
Eridan tried not to think about what that could mean. It was natural that his body had mistaken their deep training bond for emotional intimacy. It meant nothing. His Master was an emotionless bastard who wouldn’t recognize emotional intimacy if it hit him in the face.
Stop thinking about him, damn you, he told himself, annoyed. He could totally have sex with a stranger if he decided to. He was going to prove Castien wrong and then rub it in his face, coming home smelling of sex and some stranger.
Ignoring the unease churning in his gut, Eridan headed out.
The club was called Ice Prince, in honor of the Crown Prince of the Third Grand Clan, one of the most gorgeous men on Calluvia. Eridan had never met the prince, but he had seen him on the news. Prince Jamil really was drop-dead gorgeous, but hilariously, he couldn’t be more different from the establishment named after him. Eridan wondered what that prim, proper prince would think if he found out that there was an illegal establishment for sex, dancing, and drinking within the Order named in honor of him. The thought was funny.
Eridan winced as he entered the club. He had never felt comfortable in big crowds, his empathy becoming a huge disadvantage. Other people’s emotions pushed at him from all sides, making him feel a little claustrophobic. He reinforced his mental shields, his hand instinctively flying up to his thaal. Fuck. Stop being so pathetic, damn it. He shouldn’t need the comfort of his Master’s mark as soon as he was out of his comfort zone, especially since he’d come here to prove to his Master that he didn’t need him.
Forcing himself to let go of his thaal, Eridan moved forward, toward the bar. Ordering a random drink, he looked around, trying to distract himself from the onslaught of other people’s emotions. There was a surprisingly large number of adults in the club, despite it catering to apprentices and initiates. He wondered if those adults were Masters or members of the servicing department. Since everyone was wearing casual clothes, it was hard to tell. Either way, no one seemed to care for rank, which was both very freeing and weird, considering how much one’s rank was important in the Order’s social ladder.
“You look like you’re new here,” the guy beside him said, making Eridan flinch.
He turned his head and eyed the guy. He looked a little familiar—Eridan must have seen him around the town—but he was pretty sure they had never spoken. He looked around Eridan’s age, maybe a little older. Curly dark-brown hair, sharp amber eyes, a strong jaw. He was tall and broad-shouldered with some nice muscles. He was very handsome, and didn’t seem like a creep, but he wasn’t really Eridan’s type. Not that he had a type, but theoretically, he wanted to sleep with someone… older. More built. Besides, he didn’t like brown hair.
“Not interested,” Eridan said, turning back to the crowd.
The guy snorted. “Has anyone told you that you need to work on your social skills? Not everyone who talks to you wants to bone you, friend.”
Eridan made a skeptical noise. “People come here to hook up.”
“Do they? You don’t look like you want to hook up. Your body language is all wrong. You look like you’ve come here for some unpleasant task.”
“One doesn’t necessarily exclude the other,” Eridan said, flicking his gaze to the tall man some distance away who was staring at him. Those pecs were nice. But his face… hmm… too soft and friendly. It was off-putting.
“It’s pretty damn sad if you really think that. You should hook up only if you really want to. But then again, wanting apparently isn’t enough, either.” A wave of bitterness rolled off the guy.
Eridan shot him a curious look. There was a story there. “What is your name?”
“Kyran,” the guy said. “Yours?”
“Eridan,” Eridan said, trying to hide his surprise. It
couldn’t be some other guy named Kyran, because every child brought to the Order got a unique new name. It was a pretty freaky coincidence that he’d stumbled into this guy just after Javier told him about him. But then again, Hronthar was a pretty small town.
Kyran glanced at him and snorted. “So you’ve heard about me, I take it.”
Eridan just nodded, not knowing what to say.
For a while, they stood at the bar without talking, nursing their drinks. Finally, Eridan’s curiosity got the better of him. “Did your Master really take advantage of you?”
Kyran’s jaw worked. “No, he didn’t. That’s bullshit. Have you met my Master? He’s the gentlest, kindest man in this whole fucked-up place. He wouldn’t have been able to take advantage of me even if he wanted to: he’s half my weight. And no, he didn’t fucking groom me, either. If anything, it was I who took advantage of him.”
Eridan looked at him with interest. “What do you mean?”
Kyran heaved a sigh. “I literally climbed naked into his bed and put his cock into my mouth while he was sleeping. If there was coercing, it was done by me. But the Chapter doesn’t give a shit about the truth when they have their own agenda. My Master annoyed too many of those assholes with his reforms.” There was fondness in his voice, and annoyance too, as Kyran launched into a tirade about his ridiculously idealistic Master, but Eridan could barely hear what he was talking about.
I climbed naked into his bed and put his cock into my mouth while he was sleeping.
The mere idea… was outrageous. Outrageous and wrong. Outrageous and wrong and arousing.
If he dared to do that to Castien, his Master might literally kill him.
“It’s more than just idle curiosity, isn’t it?” Kyran said, probably noticing the speculative look in his eyes.
Eridan hesitated. But Kyran was probably the last person who would report him to the Chapter, all things considered. “I want to sleep with my Master, too. But he’s being an ass.”
Kyran didn’t look surprised. “Who’s your Master?” he said, sipping his drink.
“Castien Idhron.”
Kyran choked on his drink and started coughing. “Seriously?” he said at last, still sounding strangled.
Eridan was a little amused by that reaction. “You know him?”
“I know of him,” Kyran corrected. “Who doesn’t?”
Eridan had to concede the point.
“Don’t even think about trying to do what I did with Master Idhron,” Kyran said, grimacing. “Are you crazy? My Master forgave me because he’s a nice man, a very kind man, too kind for his own good. Master Idhron is—definitely not one.”
Eridan nearly laughed. He definitely wouldn’t call his Master a kind man. Eridan wasn’t sure Castien even understood the concept of kindness.
“You’re right,” he mumbled, but the idea stuck in his head, refusing to go away.
He was still thinking about it as he left the club hours later, his virginity very much intact, to his annoyance. It wasn’t for lack of offers. He had flirted with five different guys, but not a single one of them had spiked his interest—or his libido.
The few older men that he found physically appealing had taken one look at his thaal and quickly distanced themselves from him, clearly recognizing Castien’s telepathic mark. It was beyond annoying.
So after swapping communicator numbers with Kyran, Eridan left, deciding to take a walk.
He wandered the streets of the town, his mind racing. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite let go of the idea Kyran had put into his head.
He was so busy arguing with himself about why he shouldn’t do it that it took him a while to notice that he was being followed.
Eridan tensed, but before he could decide what to do, a gruff voice said, “Halt.”
He stopped and slowly turned around.
Eridan’s stomach sank when he saw the helmeted face of a guard. The Order’s guards were a cross between security and law enforcement. More importantly, they were servants of the Grandmaster.
“His Grace is summoning you,” the guard said.
Glancing behind him, Eridan saw another guard.
“Now?” he said, stalling. “It’s the middle of the night. I will go to him in the morning—”
“Now,” the guard cut him off, grabbing his arm.
Eridan shot the hand on his arm a withering look. “Let go of me,” he said coldly. “I can walk.”
After a moment, the guard let go but pushed him toward the nearest t-chamber. The other guard took point. Reluctantly, Eridan followed him, dread gathering in the pit of his stomach.
What could Tethru possibly want from him in the middle of the night? Eridan had a few ideas, and none of them were particularly comforting.
By the time they arrived at the castle, he was a wreck of nerves, his palms sweating and his heart beating fast.
“Master,” he called out mentally, but the bond remained quiet. He was probably too far from Castien’s mansion for the bond to work as a means of communication.
He was marched through the Grandmaster’s personal wing of the castle. Finally, the guards pushed him into a room Eridan had never been in.
He had expected that he would be brought to Tethru’s personal office. But it was a bedroom.
Eridan’s stomach plummeted.
“Leave us,” Tethru said, his gaze on Eridan.
The guards left and shut the door.
Eridan took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing. Maybe if he pretended that there was nothing wrong with this, Tethru would behave decently, too.
But that hope was crushed when he saw Tethru’s gaze on his body. Fuck. He now regretted dressing so provocatively.
“Does your Master know what a naughty boy he has for an apprentice?” Tethru said.
“My Master will be here soon,” Eridan lied without blinking.
That seemed to take Tethru aback for a moment. But then he shook his head. “If Idhron knew about this, he would not let you come here alone. He has always tried to keep you away from me.”
Eridan frowned and said nothing.
“Truth be told, if he were not so determined to hide you from me—from everyone—I would not be so interested in you. I have wondered for years what he could possibly be hiding.” Tethru walked closer, eyeing Eridan’s face in a way that made his skin crawl. “Some of my associates think Idhron is just protecting you from my… attentions, but I do not think so. Castien is many things, but he is no sentimental fool. He would not care about such things. No, he is hiding something, and I think it has something to do with your past.”
Eridan’s forehead wrinkled. What was he talking about?
Tethru walked around him, like a predator circling its prey. “You are startlingly beautiful,” he said in an almost absent-minded voice, stroking his beard. “Even for a throwback, your physical appearance is remarkable. It makes me think you are the product of very expensive genetic engineering.”
What?
“Such advanced genetic engineering is usually available only to members of royal families,” Tethru said.
Eridan laughed. “That’s quite a leap, Your Grace.”
Tethru smiled with just his lips. “Perhaps. But I find it curious that there was a royal child about your age that went missing around the time Idhron brought you to the High Hronthar.”
Eridan stared at him. “My Master brought me to the Order?”
Tethru chuckled. “Were you not aware of it? Poor child.”
Eridan glared at him. “I’m not a child. And if my Master didn’t tell me about it, I’m sure he had valid reasons. It’s not my place to question him.” Of course he was going to question Castien, but that was their business, not this creep’s.
“Such loyalty is admirable,” Tethru said, stepping closer and taking Eridan’s chin. “And foolish.” His grip tightened, becoming painful. “You will tell me what he is planning, boy.”
“I don’t under
stand,” Eridan said.
Tethru glowered at him, his genial mask leaving him completely. “Don’t play an idiot. Idhron didn’t even fight for the position of Grandmaster. Why?”
“It’s just a word,” Eridan said. “What does he need the title for when everyone already treats him as the Grandmaster?”
A punch to his gut wasn’t unexpected. Eridan grunted in pain, suddenly glad that Tethru was too close to deliver a harder punch.
“You impertinent brat,” Tethru hissed into his face. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson.”
Before Eridan could wonder what that could possibly mean, Tethru slammed his mouth against Eridan’s, shoving his tongue inside it.
Nauseated, Eridan bit hard on his tongue, causing Tethru to howl and remove his vile mouth. “You little piece of shit,” Tethru hissed, grabbing his hair and yanking Eridan’s head aside. He latched onto Eridan’s neck, biting so hard Eridan cried out in pain. Tethru laughed, shoving him against the wall. “Cry. I like it when little boys cry.” He ground his erection against Eridan’s stomach. “Can’t wait to stick it into your cunt.”
“MASTER!” Eridan screamed through the bond. “MASTER!”
Tethru laughed. “He will not come. He will not hear you. By the time I’m done with you, you will be sloppy with my semen, and he will only throw you away.”
Panic, rage, and disgust filled his body, his vision going red, and before Eridan knew what he was doing, Tethru was making strangled noises.
When he came back to his senses, Tethru was a dead weight on top of him.