Chapter Three

When I was small, my birth mother said something to me.

At the time, I didn”t understand it. But as I grew up, after she died and I was left to the care of the state of Michigan, her former words bloomed in my mind, like a sunflower. Fast and big.

”Nothing happens by accident.”

I”m sure you can understand my childhood confusion. I was only six when she said this to me, and I was eight when she died. But it wasn”t until four years later, when I was twelve and landed with foster parents whom I believed would be my forever family, though they ended up becoming much more than that in my story, that it finally clicked.

I was born in Forest Park to a single mother who was a dope fiend. She died of an overdose when I was a child, and after that, I bounced in and out of various group homes until I was sent to live with the Lannisters.

The Lannisters, however, were not good people. But it was in their home, surrounded by sudden, unexpected torment and emotional plague, that I met him... My brother. Drake.

The events of the following years were what solidified my birth mom”s words. As much as I would have loved to believe it at the time, none of those things happening to me occurred by accident. No coincidence, no happenstance or dumb luck.

Nothing happens by accident. Not even the worst kinds of pain, apparently.

My life, my struggles and my redemption were planned out long before my mother got drunk and had a one-night stand with a stranger nine months prior to my arrival on this big, stark-raving mad planet. I”m only guessing this is what happened, since she never told me who my father was, other than a mistake.

Yet still, I was manifested as an idea before creation, in the large scope of the universe.

Sure, to an Outsider, I probably sound bat-shit crazy right now. And maybe that”s part of it. Actually, I”m sure it is. The theoretically sane ideas of the world are typically recycled and plagiarized, in my opinion, anyway. You want real thoughts, you”re gonna have to raise a few eyebrows.

I”ve continued on this path since I was a teenager, following my destiny alongside the one person I could never have survived without...

Glancing up across the dinner table, my eyes linger on the empty place setting. The chatter is lively tonight, and for some reason, it”s irritating me. Well, I do know why. I know damn well...

“She said she wouldn”t be that stupid yet there she goes again.” Alissa”s voice catches my ear, and my gaze darts diagonally across the table. ”It”s always a matter of time with her.”

I roll my eyes. I really shouldn”t do it. I”m the Head Priest, and Head Priests shouldn”t roll their eyes, but I can”t help it. She gossips too much. The rest of them don”t participate often, I assume because they know I don”t like it, but still. Alissa”s judgmental ways could influence others in the Regnum, and we can”t have that.

”Alissa,” I snap, and her voice cuts out, face turning to mine with a purely guilty expression resting on it. ”Is there something I should know about Jane? Something that could negatively affect The Principality?”

My wife gapes at me for a moment, as if stunned, and a bit confused by my question. She even looks to Lauris for a moment, who is sitting at my right, as usual.

”Don”t look at Lauris. Look at me,” I demand, quietly, though the bite is there, and I know she can feel it. ”Answer my question.”

”No, sir,” Alissa squeaks, her reprimanded tone such a contrast to her typically loud persona.

”Good,” I hum and lift my glass of wine. ”Then let”s keep the conversation productive, shall we?” I sip, eyeing her over the rim of the glass while she nods in acceptance.

I hear Lauris whisper amen to that, and I have to shoot her a quick look, though there”s amusement dancing in my eyes. Those two aren”t exactly besties, and I”m well aware it”s all too satisfying to Lauris, and Gem and Emithel as well for that matter, when Alissa and Kiara are brought down a peg.

I sigh internally. My wives... all so different. You”d think the variety would give me some much-needed satisfaction, but it doesn”t.

Speaking of satisfaction... I glance at the empty place setting once more.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Drake doesn”t join us for dinner often, although he does show up when he knows I need him. Which is definitely now. Yet he”s missing in action.

A movement catches my eye, and I glance up to find one of my Domestics shuffling in, balancing some plates of what appear to be blueberry cobbler on his forearm. My favorite.

I squint at him, watching his steps as he approaches the table and delivers dessert. Mine first, then he goes to Lauris, then Gem. He seems a bit more rigid than usual, and I don”t know why, which of course is driving me insane. Normally, I would know. I could hear it, and his thoughts would give me solace. But right now, I only hear murmurs, like a heart”s cadence, and the unknown sets my teeth on edge.

Without glancing my way, the boy darts back toward the kitchen, brushing his silky blonde curls away from his face. My gaze lingers, and I can”t make it stop. Seeing him, seeing anyone, without knowing their truths brings on waves of my own insecurities.

I”m no King. I”m no Head Priest. I”m just a fraud.

A scared boy running barefoot through the woods.

I shake myself out of my thoughts and take another sip of my wine. It”s cool, crisp, with notes of apple and honey. A great batch from Carlito, which will certainly do good this month. When I look up again, I catch the tail-end of the boy Domestic looking at me with those big, sparkly green eyes. Like jasper, minerals found in the earth. Precious stones.

I”ve known Abdiel Harmony since before he was Abdiel Harmony. I was there when he was born, actually. Well, not there there, but I came afterward to hold him, say a prayer, and congratulate his parents. I knew Jenny and Lars well. In fact, I adored them. Which is why it was so tragic when they passed...

I”m still not entirely sure I”m over it, and it”s been seven years. Their little boy was shattered, naturally so, because they were good parents, unlike those Drake and I have known in our lifetimes.

Gina and Paul took Abdiel in, which was a blessing. I know they would have done so without me asking, but I felt a responsibility to the boy myself, what with some of the history... But despite that, I”ve always kept a special eye on him. From afar, of course. I hired him as my youngest Domestic when he was only fourteen, and he”s since become a crucial member of the family.

I”ve come to rely on him, maybe unwittingly, and right now my frustrations are breaking me down. His eyes lock on mine, only for a split second, but I hear nothing. Then his dart to the floor as he continues bringing dessert plates to my wives, while my fist clenches under the table.

I can”t deal with this right now. Where the fuck is Drake??

I endure more conversation with the five of them for the next fifteen minutes, remaining quietly pensive and not by choice, until we finish eating and adjourn to various parts of the house. Everyone goes their separate ways, and I decide to head into my lounge, likely in hopes Drake will show up.

He knows where to find me.

I saunter into the room and flop down onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. Silence. No echoed voices I”ve come to need. No hushed whispers of secret thoughts.

Nothing at all.

Scrubbing my eyes with my fingers, I let out a long breath. Where are you, brother? Can you hear me?

”I”m right here, needy. God.”

I spring up, hands flying from my face to find the pale skin, dark hair, and unusual snake eyes I know so well. My brother from another mother, literally.

I smile, though trying hard to crush it. ”I was waiting for you.”

”Yea. I heard.” He steps into the room, tinkering with things on all the dressers and shelves, as if he hasn”t been in this room a zillion times in the last twenty-some-odd years. ”What”s wrong?”

I open my mouth to grunt that he knows damn well what”s wrong, but before I can say anything, Kiara comes sauntering through the doorway with Alissa on her arm. She just walks in like she owns the place, brushing past Drake and taking a seat at the edge of the bed, with Alissa so close she”s almost on her lap.

”Good evening, my Lord,” Kiara whispers, well aware I hate it when she calls me that, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear as she blinks at me.

”Can I help you?” I sit up and purposely try to put distance between us, though the girls aren”t having it, leaning back on their elbows so they’re almost lying next to me.

”You can,” Alissa answers, her fingers walking up the bed, inching closer to my leg than I”d like them. ”You know you can. But you won”t, and it”s making us sad.”

She pouts, her lips looking even fuller than they already are. I”m sure many other men would be driven mad by the temptation of that mouth. But for me... Well, it”s more complicated.

Yes, they”re my wives. Yes, I married them, and yes, I”m sure I should be entertaining whatever salacious ideas they”ve been concocting together; my two wives who secretly despise one another, though they have a tendency to work together on a joint objective... Like getting their husband to fuck them.

But I can”t. We”ve been married for three years, and I still can”t make myself do it.

Why can”t I? What”s the big fucking deal? Just stick my dick inside any one of the five women I”ve dedicated myself to in holy matrimony long enough to make a baby and shut everyone up. It should be so easy. But again, for me, it”s the most complicated thing a King could face.

”Why don”t you show him what he”s missing out on?” Drake”s voice slithers, quite literally, at us from the corner, and we all glance up. “It could help your cause.”

I glare at him, shooting a look he doesn”t need spoken words to hear, and he smirks at me. Evil motherfucker.

But Kiara and Alissa appear enticed by this idea, and they waste no time at all touching each other, sensually running fingers through one another”s hair, down arms, onto waists and such. Alissa, being the more assertive one, grabs Ki by the face and hauls her in for a kiss. Kiara returns it, though looking much more seductive with the slow build-up. Unlike Alissa, Kiara is a silent assassin. She”s like Drake in that way. Quiet and calculating, but every bit as manipulative when she needs to be.

Drake is watching them kiss attentively, cocking his head to the side as Lissa”s hands grip Ki”s waist and tug her closer, Ki writhing into their little makeout session.

But I barely notice it. I”m too busy watching Drake in agony over the damn silence in the room. It’s suffocating. There are faint murmurs still, but I can”t make out any actual words. I hate this.

I”m desperate.

Kiara crawls on top of Alissa, sliding the front of her top down to expose her breasts. Then she trails her lips down Alissa”s neck, leaving a dull red from her lipstick all over Lissa”s tits.

My eyes slink back to Drake, and he”s already looking at me, his tongue gliding over his lower lip. My patience has worn out, frustrations bubbling over.

”Leave us,” I bark at the girls, and they immediately pull apart, breathing heavily as they get up and do as I say, closing the door on their way out.

No surprises there. For all their errant behaviors, I”m still the goddamn King of this castle, and I”m not to be argued with.

Drake huffs a small chuckle, stepping over to the bar to pour himself a drink. ”You seem on edge.” He lifts the glass and swirls it before taking a small sip, eyes flickering at me. ”In need of some... solitude, my King?”

My jaw goes tight. Any time he calls me that, it”s laced with sarcasm. Drake is the only person in my Regnum who doesn”t worship me, in a sense. And that”s because he”s basically my brother. He knows me unlike anyone else.

And I”ve always seen us as equals, too. I mean, all human beings are equals, I know that. But I”m also the leader of this community, and to a certain extent, I”m seen as a King, which is why I play the part.

But Drake and I... That”s something different.

It makes me sad at times that no one other than my brother truly knows me. Being the Head Priest is a lonely calling, but it”s one that chose me. I have to respect the wishes of Mother and care for her people as she has assigned me to.

Drake wanders over to the edge of the bed, and I crawl closer to where he stands, tilting my face upward.

”Give me a hit,” I demand, and he raises a dark brow. I grit my teeth. ”Please.”

He lurches over where I”m kneeling on the bed and leans up against the post. He slips a finger under my chin, tilting me even more, so that my throat is angled up to him. Then he slides his hand down, curling his fingers and holding right over my Adam”s apple. I can”t help but swallow, and it bobs beneath his palm.

I”m suddenly so much warmer, burning inside my clothes while he does that slow-blink at me. ”Mmm... nah. Not in the mood. How about tomorrow?”

I growl out of frustration and back up, slapping his hand away from me.

”What do you mean tomorrow? I didn”t ask you, Drake. It was an order. I need a goddamn hit. Now.”

”And I said... tomorrow,” he hisses.

My fingers rake through my hair, displaying my agony. It”s no use hiding it from Drake. He already knows what I”m thinking.

”Why are you toying with me?” I rumble, chewing the inside of my cheek. ”Just give me some now. I can take it without all the extra games, you know that.”

He grins, a wide, evil-looking thing and leans over me until I have no choice but to back up. ”Aww, brother... Where”s the fun in that?”

I wish I could find it in myself to be repulsed, or angry about this shift in power. But I can’t ignore the flutter in my stomach at his words.

And the anticipation he builds for me to get what I want; what I need.

Tomorrow.

The truth is, I wouldn’t want Empyrean without the way Drake gives it to me. It’s my superpower. My ultimate connection to Mother. But when it comes paired with a dose of my foster brother, it’s like breaking my inner light free from chains, if only for a few hours. I really can’t resist.

We’ve so woven ourselves up into something tangled beyond rationale, like a web of sensation and mind-altering completeness, that I can barely tell what’s Empyrean and what’s Drake anymore.

He is Empyrean. Empyrean is him.

And I think he likes that.

So Drake and I agree on tomorrow. I may or may not threaten him with death if he doesn’t show up after dinner, and he laughs it off, but agrees. Then I go upstairs to try and get some sleep; to rest away my unease in the comfort of my master bedroom, which is different from my lounge. Sure, the lounge has a bed in it, but it’s not typically used for sleeping like this room is.

With the moon glowing in through my skylight windows, it’s not long before sleep steals me, and my mind is quiet. That is, until I’m awoken by a figure climbing into bed with me.

My eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of light, but when I take notice of the short black hair of the culprit, I sigh in realization.

“Em, what are you doing?” I whisper while she nestles up to me, pressing her breasts to my chest and whimpering at the contact. I swallow over guilt, doubt, and a myriad of other insecurities.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she breathes on my clavicle before placing a soft kiss on my neck. “I know I’m not supposed to be doing this, but I… I need it.” Her hands glide up the front of me, taking my hand and placing it on her waist. “I’m aching, my King.”

Mother, why must you test me like this? Why must you make me feel worse than I already do?

“Em…” I sigh, shaking my head and taking my hand back. I pull away to look at her, but she won’t stop kissing my neck.

I really would love to give her what she needs, but what she’s begging for right now is a lost cause.

I’ve tried before. Believe me, I have. I’ve come as close as I ever will, and it nearly crippled me.

Taking Emithel’s face in my hands, I force her to look at me. “I can’t.”

She looks less hurt and more sexually frustrated, which eases the guilt a bit. I’m not sure if any of my wives are actually in love with me, but they definitely want to fuck me, and I can’t help them with either.

This was a mistake. I shake away the thought before it gets too loud.

“Lauris and I talk…” she murmurs, blinking her large blue eyes at me. “You’ve tried before.”

“Foolish on my part.” My tone is firm, to get my point across. She’s just staring up at me and the silence is deafening. “Em, I’m not sure what to say. But you can’t come into my bed like this. Do you understand?”

My wife furrows her brow, appearing as though she might want to keep trying, keep pushing for something. But eventually, she looks down and nods.

My thumb slides over her lower lip. “Thank you. And I’m…” The word gets caught in my throat. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I can understand what you’re feeling, and I sympathize. Do whatever you need to do, just… be discreet.”

“Like you are?” She gives me a pointed look.

I know she’s not trying to call me out or anything. It’s a delicate situation I’m desperately trying to dig my way out of, so rather than scolding her for the comment, I simply nod for her to get out of my bed, which she does, leaving quietly with her tail between her legs.

After that, you bet your ass I can’t sleep. I’m wide awake, all night. Lying surrounded by secrets, lies, and waves of silence.

How the fuck am I going to fix this?