CHAPTER 93: READY TO BE CLAIMED

[Rynthall Estate, Elise’s Nursery, Night]

Lucein tucked the blanket snugly around Elysia, brushing a stray lock of hair from her little forehead before stepping back from the crib. The moment he straightened, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him flush against a warm chest.

"Did she sleeeep?" Silas’s voice was low, but the eager tone was impossible to miss.

Lucein nodded without turning around. "...Yes."

"Good." Silas’s embrace tightened, almost possessive. "Then... it’s my time."

Lucein froze mid-step, brows furrowing. "...Your time? What in the name of the heavens does that mean?"

Before he could even turn to look at him, Silas leaned forward and deliberately licked the back of his neck—slowly.

"It means... it’s time for you to serve me, my love."

Lucein’s entire expression deadpanned. Then, without a word, he kicked backward—hitting Silas square on the shin.

"OWWW—!" Silas yelped, immediately hopping on one leg like a giant, wounded stork. "It hurts, it hurts, it huuurts!"

Lucein spun around in a flash, slapped a hand over Silas’s mouth, and hissed like a furious librarian.

"Shut up!" he hissed, the words a furious whisper that sliced through the air. "Are you trying to wake the tiny dragon? Do you have any idea what it took to get her to sleep?"

Silas muffled something against Lucien’s palm that sounded suspiciously like you’re cruel, before he gave a pitiful whimper. His eyes went wide, ridiculously shiny—like an abandoned puppy in the rain.

Lucein stared for two seconds... and then chuckled despite himself. "You look ridiculous."

Silas narrowed his eyes but kept holding his shin dramatically. "So you are

enjoying your husband’s pain... my love?"

Lucein rolled his eyes and pushed at Silas’s chest until the man stumbled back. "I’m enjoying the peace. Now move before I really make you limp for a week."

Still pretending to be gravely wounded, Silas clutched his leg like he’d been mortally injured in battle. "Cruel. Heartless. A tyrant in silken robes."

"Keep talking," Lucein warned in a low voice, already walking toward the door, "and if she wakes up because of you... I will personally bury you beneath the rose garden."

Silas paused. "...At least pick a spot with sunlight."

Lucein didn’t dignify Silas’s wounded puppy act with an answer—he was this close to tossing the man out of the nursery when Silas suddenly latched onto him again like a barnacle.

"C’mon, my love..." Silas’s voice dropped into that pleading, dangerously persuasive tone, "It’s been sooo long since we... you know... slept together."

Lucein gave him a flat look. "We sleep together every single night, Silas."

"That’s not what I mean," Silas pouted, leaning down until his forehead almost touched Lucien’s. "You’re always busy with Elysia...you don’t have time for me."

Lucein’s eyes narrowed into slits. "...Are you seriously jealous of your own daughter?"

Without hesitation, Silas nodded gravely. "Yes. I feel like she’s... stealing you away from me. Every day. Every hour. Every precious second that should be mine."

"...You are so clingy. And so cringe," Lucein muttered, but there was a faint pink creeping across his cheeks.

Silas only tightened his hold.

Lucein sighed, softening just a little. "I can’t just leave her alone here, Silas. When she opens her eyes, I want her parents to be right beside her—not... anyone else."

A sly glint sparked in Silas’s gaze. "I already asked Father to stay with her tonight. He should be arriving any minute now." He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of Lucein’s ear. "So... please..." His teeth caught gently on the curve of Lucein’s ear. "Let me have... just a little taste of you."

Lucein’s breath caught, heat rushing to his face. "...You... you’re such a... horny duke."

"That’s a yes," Silas smirked, and before Lucein could argue, he scooped him up effortlessly into his arms.

Lucein’s fingers curled into his husband’s shirt, his voice dropping into a muttered, embarrassed admission. "...I suppose... I can’t control my hopelessly lustful husband."

Silas grinned like a man who had just won a war. "Exactly. And now I’m going to collect my victory prize."

Without another word, he strode out of the nursery, carrying Lucein straight toward their chambers—door slamming shut behind them with an unmistakable click.

***

[Silas’s and Lucien’s Chamber, later]

Silas shoved the door open with a force that made it crash against the wall—then slammed it shut so hard the sound echoed through the chamber. The impact reverberated up Lucien’s spine as his back met the solid wood, trapping him there.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick—heavy with something unspoken. Silas loomed, his broad frame casting long, possessive shadows over Lucein. His gaze was unrelenting, sweeping over him like he was something rare... something he intended to devour whole.

Slowly, his thumb lifted—brushing against Lucien’s lips in a languid, deliberate drag, the kind of touch that wasn’t gentle so much as it was measuring. His eyes darkened further, pupils blown, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost dangerous.

Then Lucein felt it—an invisible pressure sinking into the room, coiling around his body like a phantom weight. His breath hitched. "Wait... Silas—are you... in heat?"

A sharp smirk tugged at Silas’s lips. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze Lucien’s skin, the tip of his tongue slowly tracing the seam of his mouth.

"Does it matter, my love?" His voice was a deep, sinful drawl. "You feel it too... so why not—" his mouth curved into something feral, "—just enjoy the moment?"

And before Lucein could answer, Silas closed the space between them in one decisive step.

One hand clamped firmly around the back of Lucein’s neck, holding him still—not hurting, but leaving no room for escape. The other slid in a slow, commanding path along the curve of Lucein’s waist, fingers splaying possessively against his side.

Then he kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was possession—a hard, searing press of lips that swallowed the air between them. Silas’s tongue slipped past with ease, tasting him deeply, greedily, like he had every right to take what he wanted.

"Silas...slow...ughh..."

Lucein’s hands flew to his shirt, clutching at the fabric as if to steady himself, but Silas only pressed in harder, chest to chest, heat rolling off him in waves that felt almost tangible.

"Wait..."

The kiss deepened until breathing became an afterthought. Silas angled his head, lips sliding against Lucein’s with precision, coaxing a sharp, unguarded gasp from him. He caught it—drank it—like it was something that belonged solely to him.

His hand slipped from Lucien’s jaw to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him exactly where he wanted him—pinned, grounded, claimed.

"Mmph...Silas...slow..."

The door shuddered faintly under the force of them, but Silas didn’t even register it. His entire world had narrowed to the taste of Lucein—every slow surrender of breath, every shiver under his touch. The way Lucein’s body tensed as if to resist... and then yielded, helplessly, to the pull he had over him.

It was intoxicating.It was his.And in Silas’s mind, no one else would ever have him like this.

When Silas finally wrenched his mouth away, the sudden absence of heat between them felt almost violent. Lucein drew in a ragged breath—like he’d been drowning—and collapsed forward against Silas’s chest.

"Hufff...huff...you are too much..."

Today... there was something different.

Silas’s pheromones were saturating the air, thick and heady, wrapping around Lucein like invisible chains. An Alpha’s presence was already overwhelming on an ordinary day— but now, in rut, it was relentless.

It pressed against him from every direction, curling into his lungs, sinking under his skin, making his thoughts slow and heavy.

His knees buckled once, twice, before Silas’s arms tightened around him, keeping him upright.

A low, almost animal hum rumbled in Silas’s throat as he bent down, lips brushing the shell of Lucein’s ear. "Tonight..." he murmured, every word laced with heat and promise, "...I will mark you as mine, my love. Completely."

Lucein’s breath stuttered. He glanced up, lips still parted, chest rising and falling far too quickly. His cheeks were flushed, his legs trembling—not just from the kiss, but from the invisible weight that Silas’s presence pinned him under.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes—half defiance, half inevitability—told Lucein he knew exactly what was going to happen to him tonight.

And that he wasn’t going to stop it.

And then...

Silas’s lips ghosted along the edge of Lucein’s jaw, the heat of his breath making his skin prickle. He lingered there, close enough for every syllable to curl directly into Lucien’s ear.

"Why don’t you..." his voice dropped into a dark, velvet growl, "...suck me tonight, my love?"

Lucein’s eyes flew open, the flush in his cheeks deepening until it crept down his neck. "W—what!"

The word cracked in the middle, caught between outrage and something dangerously close to anticipation. Silas only smiled—slow, knowing, and predatory.

The kind of smile that promised the night was only just beginning.