"My mother?..."
Moulin's voice was a low whisper as he spoke. There was a part of him that was confused and bewildered. Disbelief seemed to cover his face like a veil. Silver eyes strained at the man slowly walking across the room. A regal air surrounded him, emanating the masculine pheromone of a dominant man. Hadrian's eyes were tender as they laid on the young man's figure, sitting on the bed.
The Lord's eyes met the gaze of the frail man on the bed, and Hadrian bent his head to him. There was no hostility between them. It was as if they had finally settled their differences and chose to co-exist with each other peacefully. Lord Dontae nodded to him.
"What do you mean?" Moulin finally found his voice and spoke up. He questionably eyed Hadrian.
Wearing a faint smile, Hadrian moved beside his lover, keeping his eyes on Moulin dotingly. "Your father worked hard to discover an ancient artifact within one of the temples in Thundralln."
