Chapter 25: 25 You Breathe Because I Permit It
Lucien didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep in Elian’s room... on a chair.
He fell asleep!
He thought he was dreaming when he heard the familiar whispery voice saying his name, but when he opened his eyes, he was immediately sucked in by those beautiful blue eyes.
It was no dream. Elian had really said his name.
"You’re awake," Lucien spoke, voice groggy from sleep.
He stood, the sunlight kissing his skin through the windows as he blocked Elian from it, eyes scanning like a hawk.
Elian swallowed hard, breath catching in his throat as he found himself unable to look away from the godly man.
"I..." he gulped, mentally kicking himself for suddenly not knowing how to speak.
"What are you doing here?" Elian questioned, finally tearing his eyes off Lucien.
Lucien studied Elian for a while and moved in, leaning down to stare at his face.
"Do you think you can move?" he asked calmly, his eyes glancing down at the covered part below Elian’s waist. "Does it still hurt much?" He arched his brow, returning his gaze to Elian’s face.
"You are to reply to my questions, Elian," Lucien stated, frowning as he saw Elian staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.
"Are you..." Elian narrowed his eyes at Lucien, "worried about me?" he questioned quietly, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as he immediately regretted asking such a dumb question.
Lucien paused, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Am I worried about you?" he asked Elian in return.
Elian sighed and shook his head. "It is impossible," he replied.
Lucien nodded, a slow smirk lifting the corner of his lips. "Then why do you ask such?" he murmured, holding Elian’s gaze.
Elian clenched his fist under his pillow. "Nothing. I misunderstood," he muttered, looking away.
Lucien’s hand suddenly reached out, taking Elian’s delicate chin between his fingers. "I need you, Elian..." he whispered, watching as Elian’s lips parted in a small gasp, eyes searching his.
"I can’t let anything happen to you. Not when I haven’t gotten what I want through your abilities. Until then, I need you in your best shape." He spoke so gently that his tone contradicted his words.
"I understand," Elian said, moving his chin out of Lucien’s hold.
"Good," Lucien nodded, but made no move to leave the side of Elian’s bed.
"You need to clean yourself. Get up," he instructed, watching Elian as if he was some kind of interesting piece of art.
Maybe he was.
Elian took a deep breath and nodded. He braced his hands on the bed and tried to lift himself up.
"Ugh..." he groaned and fell back onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he gritted his teeth in anger.
His lower back felt like it was being torn by tiny sharp, pointy blades, and any tiny movement pushed the blades deeper.
Lucien stared at him, wondering what question Elian would ask him next if he offered to help him up.
"Get yourself out of the bed, Elian. Do not delay," Lucien stated and straightened.
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Elian to struggle on his own.
"Bastard Duke," Elian muttered into the pillow.
Taking a deep, sharp breath, he rolled himself to the side, gritting his teeth as pain shot through him like an arrow.
Breathing hard, he managed to lay on his side, staring at the wall as he tried to figure out his next move to stand properly.
Looking around, he found nothing of aid and knew he had to lift himself some way or the other.
"Damn it," he pressed his hand firmly on the bed in front of his chest and with a loud grunt, he pushed his upper body off the bed.
"Fuck!" he cried in agony. "Ahh..." he sobbed, uncontrolled tears rolling down his eyes.
He was going through all this for nothing, putting him through hell for the wrong reasons. He was going to find the real culprit; they were definitely still walking free in that mansion.
And after he’d proved to Lucien that his father had been killed unjustly, he would kill him, together with that bastard who thought they could get away with what they’ve done.
Inhaling shakily, he was about to take his legs down to the floor when he realised he was naked.
He gasped, his eyes widening as a very unbelievable thought formed in his mind.
What had the Duke done to him last night?
Why had he ended up naked in bed, and why was Lucien sitting half-naked in his room this morning?
Rage filled him as he glared at the door Lucien had walked through.
He couldn’t endure their maltreatment, insults, and accusations, but if Lucien dared to take advantage of him in his wounded state, if the Duke thought for once that he had the right to his body, then someone was about to die.
And Elian wasn’t even joking.
This was the highest form of abuse!
His anger seemed to cloud his pain because in the next second, he was on his feet, gently wrapping the soft material around his waist and limping toward his door.
He pulled it open and stepped into the hallway. Not hesitating, he lifted his hand and knocked on Lucien’s door.
He was about to knock again when Lucien pulled the door open from inside.
Lucien regarded Elian with an unbothered gaze, his face unreadable.
"You made it—"
"Pardon my interruption, Your Grace. But, upon leaving my bed, I find that I am without my clothes, and seeing you in my room at dawn, I am forced to think that... that you did something to me," Elian murmured the last part, lowering his eyes to the floor as he suddenly felt embarrassed by his words.
The silence stretched between them, Elian’s pulse racing as Lucien’s gaze grew heavier on him.
"Something?" Lucien finally spoke, his hand circling Elian’s wrist and gently leading him into his room.
"No, I’d rather stay outside—"
"Shh..." Lucien pulled him in and shut his door, facing Elian with darkened green eyes. "You have made such treacherous accusation, young Morel. I need you to specify exactly what you think I did to you," he said, not letting go of Elian’s wrist, rather pulling him closer.
"I am asking, Your Grace, not accusing," Elian winced as his back hurt from lifting his head to look at Lucien.
Lucien chuckled. "I didn’t believe you think so highly of yourself, young Morel." He tapped Elian’s chin with his index finger. "Do you really believe I would touch you in that manner? Do you think of me in that manner?" His voice dropped into a husky whisper, his thumb drawing lazy circles inside Elian’s wrist.
Elian shuddered slightly, shaking his head vigorously. "I do not think of you that way... I do not think of you at all. I was just... I just needed to know if you did something to my body—"
"And if I did?" Lucien cut him off in a deep voice.
Elian snapped his head up, eyes welling up with tears of anger and hate, lips wobbling with sniffled sobs.
"You’re a monster!" Elian screamed, and before he could stop himself, he found his hands hitting and slapping against Lucien’s broad chest, rage leading him on.
Lucien was taken by the sudden attack, his eyes darkening in dangerous rage.
For a complete five seconds, he watched Elian cry and hit his chest.
He thought his anger would lead him to hurt Elian... as it should. However, he found himself reaching for Elian’s wrists and holding him in place.
"Let me go! Let me go, you evil Duke!" Elian struggled but only got Lucien’s hands to tighten against his wrists.
"Do you wish for death, Elian?" Lucien’s gravelly voice throbbed against Elian’s ear. "Because I’m one step away from snapping your neck in half," he threatened.
"Do it!" Elian dared, glaring at Lucien. "Do it, you devil! I’d rather die than live with the knowledge of what you have done—"
"Enough!" Lucien snapped, pushing Elian away from himself.
"One more word, Elian, and I’ll take you down there and make you a spectator of your mother’s death," he snarled.
Elian was panting, still very much enraged. "With due respect, Your Grace, fuck you—uh!" He didn’t get to finish his insult when Lucien’s hand shot out and seized his neck, choking him.
"You really do wish for death," Lucien murmured darkly, the green in his eyes swirling between dark and deep green.
He didn’t loosen his hold, fingers clenching angrily around Elian’s neck.
Elian tried to breathe but only choked harder, air suddenly not so common. He reached up, tapping Lucien’s hand to release him, but it only got tighter.
"Lu... Lucien, please..." he choked out, eyes almost rolling back.
With a shove, Elian fell to the floor. "Hhaaa..." he forcefully dragged air into his lungs, holding his neck as he heaved, tears falling in abundance now.
Lucien’s shadow fell over him, dark and mysterious.
"You will understand that you breathe because I permit it. Not the other way around," Lucien reminded in a dark voice, coldly staring at Elian as he tried to catch his breath.
Elian bit his lip, refusing to acknowledge the demeaning order.
’How could someone be so wicked? Did he not even have a heart beating in him?’ Elian thought, balling his fists beside him.
"I just wanted to know what you did with me—"
"Your defiance will be the end of you," Lucien said, frowning. "You are, however, asking the wrong person." He walked over to his desk to pull his gloves on.
"You should save your questions for the doctor. I have no business with your body, Elian. You’re as filthy as can be," he said, walking into his washroom.
"Come in here, Elian," he called as he walked through the door.
Elian sat on the floor, a deep frown etched on his face as he thought about what Lucien just said.
The doctor?
Does it mean he’d assumed wrongly?
"Oh, no," he murmured, dragging his hand over his face.
He felt both embarrassed and stupid. Why hadn’t he thought carefully before marching to the Duke’s door like some lunatic?
He recalled collapsing in Lucien’s arms last night; maybe he had laid him on his bed and fetched the doctor, who he assumed undressed him to treat his wounds.
"Oh, no," he murmured again, shame wrapping its arms around him in a tight hug.
A question suddenly bugged his mind... why hadn’t Lucien killed him for accusing something so outrageously?
"Elian," Lucien called behind Elian, causing the younger man to freeze with shame and shock.
"Your Grace?" Elian answered in his smallest voice.
"Get up," Lucien commanded.
Chewing his bottom lip, Elian pushed himself off the floor, grunting quietly. He slowly faced Lucien, his gaze cast down as he couldn’t bring himself to look into those green eyes.
He had made a complete fool of himself, and until he breathed his last, he would never be proud of those few seconds.
"Follow me," Lucien demanded.
Elian heard Lucien’s footsteps walking away and finally lifted his face. He saw Lucien walk into a room and wondered where that was.
Having no more strength to fight or argue, he followed, his eyes glancing at the large king-size bed in the middle of the room as he walked past it.
The moment he approached the door, he froze.
He was in Lucien’s washroom.
"Get in," Lucien said from beside the long bath, pointing to the clear water with a few bubbles floating over the surface.
"Your Grace?" Elian asked, sounding very apprehensive.
"I won’t ask again," Lucien threatened.
Sighing shakily, Elian summoned his courage and stepped inside.
Elian stepped into Lucien’s washroom and stilled.
The space was vast—far larger than any room he had ever bathed in. Polished marble stretched beneath his feet, cool and gleaming under the soft glow of mounted lamps. A deep bathing pool rested at the center, its surface still as glass, faint steam curling into the air.
Shelves lined the walls, holding crystal bottles filled with oils and scents he couldn’t name. Everything was arranged with unsettling precision—untouched, controlled... just like the man who owned it.
Even the air felt different—clean, sharp, carrying a faint trace of something dark and expensive.
Elian swallowed.
Nothing in this place felt meant for someone like him.
"Get in," Lucien murmured beside him.
