Shadows Of Desire

It was dark when Rowan returned to the castle. He wanted nothing more than to bathe and then retire for the night. He’d skipped the evening meal but he was too sore and tired to even worry about that. The stables master had worked him harder than he’d expected, seeming to take great joy in ordering a Prince around. Still, Rowan did his work diligently and without complaint. Well, without much complaint.

He hated horses and the feeling was mutual. He’d never had cause to ride them really as he was never allowed on patrols or even hunting parties so the beasts weren’t used to him. He suspected that his presence made them nervous, not that he could blame them. They had the sense to know when they were in the presence of a dangerous predator. Not that he would ever kill one of the horses. The thought of feeding on a horse made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Actually the thought of feeding on any living thing make him physically ill. Yet another reason for him to lose favor with the King.

Not only was Rowan an omega, something extremely rare in his species and also something the King took as a personal insult to his noble bloodline, but Rowan was also, by all accounts, a piss poor excuse for a vampire. His father, the King, thought Rowan weak and too self-indulgent. He didn’t follow the rules and spoke his mind far too often for the King’s liking. As far as his father was concerned, Rowan should spend the majority of his time, hidden away in his apartments, where he wouldn’t be an embarrassment.

Rowan wouldn’t say that he nessasarily hated his father, he didn’t. Not really. But he found it safer to stay out of his father ways as much as possible. Ideally, being sent to Ravenskeep would be the best course of action but the King had refused and Rowan knew better than to press the issue. Ravenskeep was a large manor house on a massive piece of wild land on the outskirts of Basmorte near the border of Rosegate.

The mansion had been a wedding gift from the King to Lady Ellarian, who was Rowan’s mother. Rowan had been born there and raised in the Mansion with his mother until her death just six months after Rowan’s twelfth birthday. King Desmond reluctantly had Rowan brought to the castle then and there he had remained, much to the King’s displeasure. While Rowan didn’t really hate his father, he was positive that his father hated him.

Rowan missed his mother greatly. His life had been happy until her death. They had lived peacefully, though isolated, but had wanted for nothing. The King’s visits became fewer as the years progressed and Rowan suspected that it was partly because of him. His father always seemed angry to see him, spouting off about how disappointed he was at having an omega child. Rowan was worthless in his father’s eyes. The King had wanted a male heir to carry on his blood line and to rule over Basmorte when Desmond’s time had come to an end, but the birth of Rowan had squashed any hope of that as omega’s were not allowed to rule.

In Desmond’s four-hundred years, he had fathered twenty-six children and of those twenty-six children only one had been a male worthy of being the King’s heir. Unfortunately, his son and heir had been killed in battle with a local werewolf tribe some fifty years before Rowan’s birth, leaving the King once again without an heir. Rowan was meant to replace that son.

What a disappointment his birth must have been to old Desmond for in the King’s eyes, Rowan was little more than just another useless daughter. A burden that he would have to care for until he could find a suitable spouse to take him off his hands as he had done with each of his twenty-four daughters. The problem was, since Rowan was a male omega, who would ever claim him as a bride?

Rowan made his way down the east wing corridor on the second level, past the guest suites. His apartments were located on the third level, among storage rooms and some of the upper level servants quarters. His rooms were considerably smaller than the suites reserved for the royal family or even the guest suits but he didn’t care. He was far enough away from the King’s rooms that he rarely saw him and, being so far away from the royal family, he had all the privacy he could want.

Rowan had one servant, a young girl named Folen. Folen wasn’t a vampire. Rowan wasn’t sure what she was but if he had to guess, from her scent, he’d guess she was a Fae. He figured she’d been given to him because no one else would have her. It was unseemly for a Fae to serve royals or even nobles. They were seen as lower species and unanimously despised by all Vampires. All but Rowan. He didn’t mind her at all. In fact, he thought she was quite lovely. He suspected that assigning her as his personal ‘ladies maid’ was just another slight against him by the man who had fathered him. If it was meant to embarrass Rowan, then the joke was on the King, Rowan liked her.

Rowan wasn’t interested in females. Probably another reason why a female had been assigned to him. There was no chance that Rowan would take advantage of her and no chance that some random male servant would get Rowan pregnant. Not that he’d allow that to happen anyway. He liked kids, as most omegas did, or so he’d read in a book somewhere, but had no desire to have any of his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want children someday, he did, he just wasn’t keen on the birthing aspect of it. He’d seen plenty of pregnant women in his nineteen years and had heard the servant girls screaming while in labor. It sounded extremely unpleasant and not something he wanted to experience.

He knew he wouldn’t die giving birth. Vampires were very resilient, and healed quickly. They didn’t get sick or have to worry about diseases and could heal from most injuries. That didn’t mean they didn’t feel pain though. They did. Rowan knew this from personal experience. He and pain were on a first name basis now. He was used to it. It wasn’t the pain that he feared though. It was the way it made him feel. Weak and powerless. If he winced or cried out in pain he would be rewarded with a look of complete and utter revulsion from the King. Vampires were supposed to be strong, fearless, and Rowan was not.

He hated himself for his weakness. He hated that, as his father’s only surviving male offspring, he wasn’t good enough. Would never be good enough. Nothing he could do would change that. He was an omega and omega’s were weak. That would be his cross to bear for the rest of his life and, as a vampire, that could end up being a very very long time.

As he moved down the darkened corridor, lit only by the lanterns hung from the stone walls, he was surprised to hear music coming from one of the guest suits. Following the sounds of the music he saw a light creeping out from under one of the doors. Strange, he thought. He hadn’t known that the palace had any visiting nobles. Not that he would have been told about any guests anyway. News seldom reached his ears first and what he did learn he learned from the gossiping servants.

Inching closer to the door he listened to the sounds coming from within. The sounds of a piano playing could be heard as well as something that he assumed to be a lute most likely. The music wasn’t slow and somber as it would be in the great hall. It was faster, most jovial, and with it came the sounds of laughing and singing. He also heard people talking. Both male and female. It sounded like a party.

Rowan had witnessed only two parties since coming to live in the palace. One celebrating the arrival of Lady Caroline. An engagement party of sorts. Rowan had been in attendance long enough to be introduced to his future step mother and her daughter, the Lady Emilia, then he was quickly banished to his apartments. He was glad for that. The party was boring. The guest list was full of old ones. Some even older than his father. All nobles and aristocrats of course. Those who referred to themselves as pure bloods. High born vampires. Continuing on a lineage of more pure bloods.

High born vampires were all about propriety, order, and tradition. Rowan found them cold and hollow. They no longer lived. Just existed. Centuries of sameness had killed the spark of life within them making them dull and lifeless. They were walking corpses, nothing else, and Rowan couldn’t stand them. His presence wasn’t missed though so he was able to excuse himself easily enough and retreat to the one place inside the palace where he felt safe. The only place he could go to be at peace, curl up next to his fire and lose himself in one of his many books.

The second party had been Emilia’s fiftieth birthday celebration. To a human that may seem old but as a vampire, she was in the prime of her life, full of vitality and youth. She was also full of something else that need not bear repeating. She was beautiful on the outside. Even Rowan couldn’t deny that. But on the inside, she was as ugly as her vile mother. The two were a perfect pair. Each one cold and cruel and so sure of their own superiority. Emilia already considered herself a Princess and never missed an opportunity to let Rowan know that she felt him beneath her.

He ignored her for the most part but there were days when he wanted nothing more than to slap her across the face as he had her stupid mother. Neither Caroline nor Emilia would raise a hand to Rowan yet. He was still a Prince and no matter how much either of them disliked him, that fact would never change. Once Caroline was married to his father though she would be crowned Queen and the crown would no longer protect Rowan.

Rowan dreaded that day and each day leading up to it. As his father’s impending marriage loomed before him, Rowan grew more and more nervous. He feared his life might actually be in danger, especially if Lady Caroline produced the male heir that Desmond so desperately wanted. Rowan knew his only chance of freedom was if he could leave the palace, find some safe and isolated place out of his father’s reach, and start a new life for himself. That, unfortunately, was easier said than done. Ravenskeep, though he loved the house and surrounding land, would be the first place his father would look for him and so yielded no chance for escape. He’d need a miracle.

Rowan leaned his ear against the closed door, intrigued by what he’d heard inside. He knew he shouldn’t be there but curiosity had gotten the better of him. Never in his life had he heard such merry making. It was a welcomed change from the drab and dreary existence he led and he wanted so desperately to join in. That was dangerous though. His father would never allow such revelry to take place in his palace. It was a wonder that he hadn’t put a stop to it already. That could only mean that he had yet to be made aware. Rowan puzzled over who would be brave enough to indulge in such frivolity and right under the Kings nose.

Rowan was startled out of his thoughts when the door was suddenly pulled open and a mortified looking servant ran out into the hall, stumbling and falling to his knees before righting himself once more and then scrambling away, leaving the door wide open. Rowan hid against the wall watching the youth in his rush to get away. He didn’t even notice the young Prince standing there.

Roars of laughter escaped the room and though Rowan knew he should hurry on up to his own rooms his curiosity, further piqued, would not allow him to move. He just had to know what was going on in that room. Stealing a breath, Rowan stepped out from the shadows and crept ever so carefully towards the door and peeked into the ante chamber of the room.

The ante chamber looked just like every other one he’d ever seen. Ornate rugs covered a stone floor. A couch and two cushioned arm chairs sat before a roaring fire. There were several small tables sat around the room and the usual decorative paintings hung on various walls. The only difference Rowan could see was that the room was untidy and there were no servants waiting for their master to call on them. Aside from a few articles of clothing strewn over the chairs and the multitude of empty wine glasses cover the surface of the tables, it looked like any other room.

Nothing so remarkable about it at all. That was, except for the slightly opened door that lead into the receiving room just on the other side. A flickering light danced across the floor as it escaped the sliver of opened door. Rowan moved closer, drawn to the sounds, and lights, and movements that he could scarcely make out within. Finally, when his curiosity could no longer be controlled, Rowan carefully slipped into the room and over to the door where he could better peek inside. What he saw inside that room though was more shocking than anything his young and sheltered mind could comprehend.

It suddenly made sense to him now why his father had kept him so isolated from the outside world. Hate him or not, his father had always been protective though Rowan figured it was more for the Kings benefit than Rowan’s own safety. The Prince’s actions reflected on his family and King Desmond would not allow for his son to create a scandal that would tarnish the name of Rochfort, and Rowan could now see why that was such a concern. The debauchery taking place in that room was disgraceful.

The room was filled with people in various stages of undress. Men and women alike. Painted women with large breasts sat on men’s laps drinking wine while the men fondled them. One woman lay naked and sprawled on a chase lounge while a naked man, nestled between her legs, his face pressed into her privates while he pleasured her with his tongue. She moaned and writhed beneath him. One hand kneaded the inside flesh of her thigh while the other pinched her nipple. She seemed to be enjoying the attention immensely by her reaction. Her legs quivered and her back arched and Rowan thought for a moment that she might actually jump off the lounge.

Another man, shirtless, was bent over a topless female, her skirts pushed up revealing her naked backside while the man pressed into her, furiously thrusting in and out while the woman wailed and moaned, begging him to fuck her harder and faster. He didn’t disappoint, increasing his momentum until the female he was thrusting into went weak in the knees and collapsed against him. He held onto her hips then howled as he ejaculated.

When he was done, he dumped the woman on the floor then walked to a table of filled wine glasses, his pecker still hanging out of his opened breeches, and picked up a goblet of wine, sloshing it around as he stumbled to an arm chair and collapsed, breathing heavily. Rowan knew he should have looked away, hell he should have ran for the door and straight to his rooms but he couldn’t. As sinful as the sight was it was still so fascinating. This was the first time that Rowan had ever seen another man’s organ and it was so much larger than his own, he couldn’t help but stare in awe. He’d be spending the better part of the morning in confession after this.

The rest of the room was more of the same. People drank, ate from the various trays of sweets, and fucked while bored looking mistrals played their jovial tunes from the corner. Rowan had had his fill of watching the ‘festivities’ and was about to turn to leave when he noticed the door to the bed chamber open and a man walked out with a beautiful and effeminate youth, he looked about eighteen, on his arm. The youth was nude save for a red sash tied about his waist. His face was also painted up like many of the women that, by now, Rowan had suspected were prostitutes.

The man that he was with, obviously a noble, walked to a large arm chair and sat down. The man was handsome with his shoulder length blond almost white hair and sharp blue eyes. He looked slightly familiar to Rowan though he couldn’t quite place him. The man opened his breeches and pulled out his massive cock, already erect and dripping. It bobbed in the air for a moment then the youth at his side quickly knelt before him and took the entire thing into his mouth. The boy sucked with urgency as the noble gripped him by his hair and pressed his head down lower, nearly choking the boy.

The noble then closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he continued to guide the boys head up and down on his cock. Rowan watched as the mans bare chest moved breathlessly as the sensation intensified. He tightened his grip on the youths hair and the boy yelped which earned him a quick slap across the face from the noble. The boy, with tears in his eyes, staggered back a moment then sputtered, “I...I’m sorry, Lord Thorn. Please forgive me.” The noble glared at him and growled low then pushed the boy’s head back down on his cock.

“And don’t neglect my balls.“Lord Thorn rumbled as he leaned his head back once more.

Rowan gasped. Lord Thorn? Was that man Lord Killian Thorn? Rowan knew of him, who didn’t? He was one of the high born vampires and from one of the most wealthy of noble families. Rowan had only seen him maybe twice in his entire life but those times had been at court and never in a situation like this. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. If the King knew of this ‘party’ he’d be furious and would probably banish Lord Killian from the palace.

Should he go and tell someone? No. Best just to leave. Go to his apartments and forget everything he’d seen. Rowan stumbled back from the door but in his haste to leave he accidentally knocked over a small round side table full of empty glasses. The table crashed to the floor, glasses shattering and small shards flying in every direction. Rowan scrambled for the hallway door when the door to the receiving room suddenly flew open and a man wearing nothing but a knee length tunic grabbed Rowan by the arm and pulled him forcefully into the room.

“What do we have here?” The man slurred. He was staring at Rowan with a lecherous grin and licked his lips hungrily. “You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you. You’d feel real good on the end of my cock.”

Rowan suddenly spun around, glaring furiously at the man. “Unhand me this instant!” He hissed.

The man bellowed a laugh and tightened his grip on Rowan’s arm, causing him to wince. “Oh, a feisty one. I’m going to have fun with this one.”

The man harshly pulled Rowan against him and Rowan could feel the hardness of his erection through the thin fabric of the tunic. Rowan’s eyes went wide and panic gripped him as he realized this foul thing of a man meant to rape him. He narrowed his eyes into two angry slits then quickly brought his knee up between the man’s legs with as much force as he could muster. The man screamed and let go of Rowan as he dropped to his knees, hands cupping his injured dick.

“Whore!” The man wailed in rage and pain. “I’ll have you whipped for this!”

Another man, younger and dressed in a vassal’s robes ran to what Rowan assumed was his master. He looked down at his whimpering master than to Rowan and before Rowan could process what was happening, the vassal raised a hand to strike Rowan. Rowan closed his eyes and braced himself for the slap that he was sure was coming.

“Stop!” A voice bellowed angrily from the crowd.

Rowan opened his eyes and watched as everyone froze. Lord Thorn had taken notice of what was happening and after shoving the youth off his cock, stood, adjusted his breeches, then casually strode across the room to where Rowan stood, cowering against the wall. Thorn looked from Rowan to the servant and then, without warning, back handed the vassal so hard across the face that an audible crack echoed throughout the room and the vassal was thrown a good six feet across the room, smashing into the stone wall near the bedchambers opened doors.

“My Lord.” The man who has accosted Rowan pulled himself shakily to his feet and addressed Lord Thorn. “This Molly assaulted me.” He growled angrily, pointing a finger at Rowan. “I demand he be punished for this insult!”

“Baron Carney.” Thorn turned and looked at the man, frowning. “What punishment do you propose I order for this boys transgressions?”

Baron Carney grinned, maliciously. “Grant me an hour with the lad.” He ventured. “I’ll show him his place, and then some.”

“I see.” Lord Thorn folded his hands behind his back, looking the Baron over thoughtfully. “And, what punishment would you suggest for a low ranking buffoon of a nobleman who willfully assaults a member of the royal family? A Prince no less.”

Baron Carney stared at the Lord, stunned into silence. “A...a Prince?” He stammered, beginning to shake.

“Yes, Baron Carney. A Prince. Prince Rowan Rochfort to be exact. The only male child of King Desmond Rochfort. Surely you recognized him, or are you to daft to know Royalty when he stands right in front of your stupid, fat, fucking face?”

Carney’s eyes went wide with fright and he quickly dropped to his knees once more. “I..I...forgive me, your highness. I beseech you. Please, be merciful. I’ve had much to drink this night and so lost my wits. I did not at first recognize that it was you.”

Rowan scowled at the man. He was furious. His hands shook with rage as he balled them into fists. “You!” He screamed at the man. “You, are a disgrace! A filthy, disgusting, lecherous rake, undeserving of my mercy!”

Carney began to shake as tears filled his eyes. “My Lord, please. I have a wife. I have children...”

“And what would they think of you you now?” Rowan spat at him. “You were ready to defile me without a moments hesitation.”

“I didn’t know.” The man pleaded. “I thought...” He stopped, scared to say more.

“What?” Rowan demanded. “That I was some whore? Do I look like a whore to you?”

He glared angrily at the man but Carney said nothing.

“Answer me!” Rowan screamed.

The man broke down, weeping uncontrollably. Before Rowan could speak again Lord Thorn placed a hand over his chest. “Calm yourself, my Prince.”

Rowan stared at him, his expression stern, then he brushed his hand away. “I am not, you’re Prince.” He growled.

Lord Thorn chuckled. He allowed his eyes to move up and down Rowan’s body, taking him in, then he met Rowan’s eyes and grinned. If Rowan hadn’t already been backed against the wall he would have taken a step back and away from the man. The look in Thorn’s eyes was one of a predator, sizing up its prey.

“I can see why the Baron seemed so taken with you. You are, Dear Prince, quite lovely.” He reached out and took a lock of Rowan’s hair in his hand, moving the strands between his fingers before bringing the lock to his nose and inhaling deeply. “And you smell...delicious.”

Suddenly, Rowan grabbed Thorn’s wrist and squeezed hard, his nails digging into the mans flesh. Rowan raised his head and snarled. “Do not play games with me, Lord Thorn. I am not some helpless Human that you can toy around with, nor do I appreciate your unwanted attentions. I’ll ask you to keep your hands to yourself where I am concerned.”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that?” Thorn laughed again, further sparking Rowan’s anger. “Why don’t you come in. Have a glass of wine and allow me to entreat you to a night you’ll not soon forget.” He leaned in close, brushing his lips against Rowan’s ear and Rowan shivered. “I can show you pleasures you’ve never dreamed of before.”

Rowan shoved him back hard, glaring daggers at the man. “Watch yourself. Sir.” Rowan hissed. “All of this...” He waved his hand in front of the room of guests, illustrating his point. “It’s debauchery at its worst. Disgusting and immoral.”

“You say so because you’ve never experienced anything like it before.” Thorn pointed out. “You see the world through virgin eyes but I promise you, allow me to free you of that condition, let me enjoy your body, and you’ll crave my touch for the rest of your life.”

Rowan shook his head in disbelief. “You make me sick. You have one warning, stay far away from me or my father shall hear of this!”

At that a chorus of loud laughter echoed throughout the room. “You naive child. Your father has had many a young fop on the end of his royal cock. Do you think the old King is ignorant of my, debauchery, as you call it? Go an ask Madam DruMora. Your sainted father has visited her house of ill-repute on more than one occasion. In fact, I hear he’s her most loyal patron.”

More laughter escaped the room as Rowan shoved his way back out into the hall. As soon as he’d cleared the ante-chamber door he ran. He ran as fast as he could down the corridor until he reached the third floor stair well then ascended the stairs at a speed that amazed even him. Once he’d reached his own rooms he slammed the door closed, locked it, then collapsed on the floor in front of the fire and began to weep.