The Vampire Prince's Toxic Consort (BL)

Lucius wasn’t sure how long he lay on the wet floor. He might have passed out for some time from losing too much blood, but eventually, he regained consciousness. He struggled up but had to sit back on the floor for a while as darkness enveloped his view from low blood pressure, and he felt so light-headed and cold, while a tight, burning sensation blazing in his lungs, and even drawing breath was strenuous and exhausting.

He staggered to the lounge room, grabbed a chocolate bar, and shoved it into his mouth. And then he gulped down a bottle of water, trying to alleviate the dehydration symptoms. He rested for a while, endeavoring to recover from the shock and processing what had transpired.

He did not doubt that Silvan had inferred the recipient of the blood, and though he might not know what exactly Anthor planned to use the First Generation blood on, it wasn’t hard to guess it wouldn’t be anything good for the vampires.

Silvan didn’t confront him right away but waited for two more days, which meant he probably had done some investigation regarding Anthor’s research on vampire blood.

But why didn’t he expose him right away? Division Nine’s Project Genesis targeted all vampires, not just his enemies.

Perhaps he didn’t know that much after all. Or perhaps...he was batshit crazy and didn’t care if humanity was planning something huge for his kind.

However, if Dorian knew about it, he definitely would unearth everything that Anthor had been planning, and it would be the end of all the efforts and the precious peace that his parents and his country sold him for.

Silvan knew the stake and wouldn’t want to show his hand so easily. He would grab the opportunity and coerce Lucius to work for him. Which meant Lucius was temporarily safe.

He needn’t panic yet. Perhaps it was even an opportune chance.

Lucius found some peace as he analyzed the situation. He got up and stood before the mirror hanging above a counter. Not much blood was left on his neck as Silvan licked them clean before he let go, but two tiny punctuated holes were still visible and would be even more visible once they began to swell.

How should he explain it to Dorian without giving out Silvan’s name? Even if he covered the wounds up, the scent of vampire venom was still basically a giant signature.

“Fuck...” He cursed under his breath.

Lucius took a shower longer than usual, cleaned up the wounds as much as he could, then put on his shirt and covered the bite mark with the collar. He looked almost unscathed, except a little pale.

Dorian was still in his study when Lucius went back to their room. Florian came in to deliver the newly ironed clothes, and he instantly noticed something was not right from the way Lucius almost jumped out of the couch when he opened the door, a haunted look on his face.

“What happened?” Florian asked.

“Silvan knew.” Lucius paced to and fro, “he followed me when I deposited the vial, and now he has the blood!”

Florian collectively placed the folded clothes on a chair and approached the restless Lucius, “Did he tell the Crown Prince or anyone?”

“No. He wants to use it to threaten me so that I will give him information about Dorian.“Lucius paused for a second and blurted out in humiliation and rage, “and the son of bitch fucking bit me!”

Florian’s composure cracked, “he what?”

“You heard me, don’t make me say it again,” Lucius said flatly, “but that’s the least worrisome part.”

“Let me see the wound.” Florian insisted.

Lucius sighed, undid the first several buttons, and pulled the collar down, revealing the two swollen holes.

Scolding anger flashed across Florian’s irises, “that bastard...”

“Do you hunters have any knack for making it less detectable? I really don’t want to explain this to Dorian.“Lucius inquired hopefully.

“Any ‘knack’ we have is useless in front of an apostle as powerful as your husband. Especially when he is a grand master of illusory magic.“Florian leaned in to examine the slightly torn wounds. Silvan was not gentle at all when biting down, and it infuriated Florian. If he still had his sword, he would have chopped the cheeky bastard’s head off for this.

He had been bitten against his will countless times by the Durchville Lady, but somehow it was less acceptable when he saw someone do the same to Lucius in his mind. He had grown increasingly protective of the consort without even realizing it.

“At least...I can’t let him know it’s Silvan. If Dorian goes to talk to him, shit will hit the fan for real...how long will the scent of an apostle’s venom wear off? I need to hide from Dorian before that.” Lucius mulled all his options over, “I should hide in your room. No vampire nobleman will go into a human slave’s room.”

“It can take from two hours to two days. How do you explain your absence?”

“Or I can find another vampire to bite me. Maybe once their venom mixed together, Dorian cannot tell anymore.”

“You have already lost a lot of blood. You will die if you let another drink from you!“Florian wondered just how crazy his master was. He thought himself reckless sometimes, but Lucius was entirely on another level. He pulled Lucius’s shirt back and buttoned it up, “Alright, you can rest in my room. I will figure something out.”

“But what if he asks you where I am?“Lucius questioned worriedly.

“Without the chip, I can do a lot more things. I will stir up some chaos to occupy his time,” Florian said confidently.

Most of the slaves in the Citadel were sleeping in the underground pens, but Florian got special treatment as Lucius insisted the Head Steward treat him like a servant. He was given a single room not too far from the slave pens and was allowed to go in and out freely, while the rest of the slaves were locked in like sheep and were only allowed to exit their pens during working hours.

Lucius followed Florian down some narrow, dark stairs, and as they passed -1 and approached -2 level, a dank, fishy, piss-like odor assailed Lucius’s nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, “what’s that smell?”

“It’s the smell of the pens,” Florian answered curtly.

No noble ever descended the dank, spiral stone stairs to the underground level, for it was prescriptively considered unseemly. Therefore, the guard at the bottom of the stair was startled when they saw Lucius.

None of these guards had seen Lucius before, and Lucius was wearing the protective ring Dorian gave him, so they mistook him for some curious vampire nobleman. They bowed to him and didn’t try to stop him.

The underground level was a completely different view from the upper levels, and it looked like a dungeon from medieval times. The floor was covered by unknown black smut. The corroded bare stonewalls were stained with soot and mold. And the hallways were narrow and low, with minimum illumination.

As they passed the gate to the slave pens, Lucius paused. He could hear some strange sounds coming from the depth of the cell, somewhat like moaning or weeping. He realized that he hadn’t got a chance to see what the slave pens were like yet, and it bothered him.

He noticed a surveillance station outside the gate, and the guard, who was leisurely drinking blood-mixed tea and watching some tv show on one of the screens, quickly stood up to greet him.

Lucius stood in front of the station and took a good look at the real-time footage.

The slave pens were ancient prison cells repurposed. Passing a heavily surveilled salle port were numerous tiny cells on both sides of the hallway. Six bucker beds crowded inside each cell, with a shared toilet, which was basically a filthy hole in the ground, and a washing sink. The space between beds was so tiny that a grown-up could barely turn around.

It was during working hours, so only the very sick slaves stayed behind. They curled up on the hard and cold steel cots without a blanket covering their shivering bodies. They were so emaciated that for a second, Lucius thought some of them were corpses and skeletons.

“Are they still alive?” Lucius asked the guard. Trying to keep his tone flat and uninterested, pretending to be a curious but not sympathetic young vampire noble brat.

The guard answered smugly, “they are, but probably not for long. Usually, if they can’t work for more than a week, we will feed them to the orges. Keeping them longer wastes fodder, and no one wants to drink their blood.”

Lucius wanted to slap him in the face, and Florian noticed it.

“We should keep moving.” Florian reminded him quietly.

Lucius knew that Florian was right. A vampire noble coming down to the slave pens was already unusual. It would arouse too much suspicion if he stayed here for too long.

But the unimaginably horrible living conditions of the human slaves made him sick and angry. He knew he couldn’t do anything because his position was perilous, and he could be arrested and sentenced to death anytime now. But he vowed silently that one day if he managed to escape the predicament, he would change all of these.

Florian’s room belonged to one of the janitors, as all the janitors were moved to the servant quarter upstairs after they complained about their living conditions. All the adjacent rooms were empty, and normally no guards patrol this area.

“The door has a lock. And it’s usually pretty quiet here.” Florian said as he unlocked the door, with a peculiar subtle embarrassment.“it’s a bit...messy. I didn’t expect visitors.”

Lucius chuckled, “you should’ve seen my room back to Anthor...” But then he halted, suddenly realizing that he had never told Florian about his true identity.

He had gotten so comfortable with Florian that he had completely thrown his fake identity out of the window.

The room was about the size of a small bachelor’s apartment and was not messy at all. There was not much furniture, only a bed, a desk, a chair, and a cloth rack with two sets of servant uniforms. The bed was well made. Some small tools were scattered on the desk. And on the floor were some used milk jugs and water dispenser jugs filled with sand, and a metal bar was nailed on the washroom door frame, probably all makeshift workout or training equipment. On the floor were a basin of shirt and underwear soaking in water and a bar of soap next to it.

Florian closed the door behind Lucius and said awkwardly, “it’s not much.”

“It’s the cleanest guy’s room I’ve ever seen.” Lucius looked around curiously. He went ahead and tried to lift one of the sand-filled water jugs and failed miserably, “damn! You can lift this?”

“Yeah,” Florian said as if it was the most natural thing. The often confident and assertive ex-hunter stood cluelessly in the middle of the room as if a stranger in his own place, “um, do you want some water?”

“Nah, I’m fine.“Lucius suddenly felt a rush of dark clouds engulf his vision, possibly because he unwisely tried to lift the water jug when he had lost a considerable amount of blood. He had to steady himself by propping himself against the desk so he wouldn’t faint.

Florian was at his side immediately and guided him to the bed. He tucked Lucius into the bed and said, “you should get some rest. I will bring back something for your wound.”

“Ok.”

“I will lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone.”

“Ok.”

“And one last thing. Can I borrow that ring?” Florian pointed at the ruby ring Dorian gave Lucius, “I promise I will return it without a scratch in the morning.”

Lucius hesitated momentarily before pulling it off his finger and putting it into Florian’s palm.

The way Lucius nodded compliantly and looked at him with unreserved trust engendered something soft and tender in his chest, pulsating in a forgotten rhythm from a bygone time.

Florian locked Lucius in his room, the only private place where he could find relaxation and his old self. And yet he felt strangely ok with it.

Florian was exceptionally busy for the next few hours, setting turmoil into motion. And as the sun rose and the Citadel gradually settled back into slumberous tranquility, he finally got a chance to return to his room with a first aid kit and some food for Lucius.

The consort was still sleeping as he opened the door. He locked the door, put things on the table soundlessly, and sat on his bed.

He was about to wake Lucius, but his hand paused in the air. Lucius slept soundly. The long eyelashes cast a faint shadow on his ivory skin, and his thin, soft, and dewy lips opened slightly. Lucius undid several buttons before falling asleep, and the pearlescent, well-defined chest rose up and down with his slow breath, and the red bite mark on his neck added a smudge of seductiveness.

It was not the first time Florian watched Lucius sleep, but the first time he watched him sleep on his bed. At this moment, his supposed master was his and his alone, completely under his mercy.

And the memory of when Lucius shoved the blood into his hand and told him to run. The brilliant light in those hazel eyes when the seemingly weak young man decided to die for him...it was a sight that Florian could never get out of his mind since.

Florian’s finger lingered on Lucius’s lips, and the sensation was as good as he imagined. He leaned in, closer and closer. But at the last moment, he paused and drew back, feeling ashamed.

It was not right. He couldn’t steal something that didn’t belong to him. At least, not yet.

He couldn’t risk ruining the trust. This young man who married the vampire Crown Prince under a fake identity was his key to avenging everyone he had lost in the war, and possibly even planting a seed to recover the lost sovereignty.