A flicker of greed flashed in Lycius's crimson eyes before he swiftly mastered himself, exhaling slowly as he reined in his desire.
Patience, Lycius… He reminded himself. Elizabeth will be claimed—soon. But not yet.
Clearing his throat, he shifted seamlessly into his 'nephew' persona—the voice they adored, sweet and affectionate, yet tinged with unwavering strength. A voice befitting his royal bloodline, the rightful heir to the Demon King's throne.
"Aunt Elizabeth," he spoke with warmth, his tone gentle yet regal. "Had I known you were present, I would have spared you from such an indecorous display."
A flicker of surprise crossed Elizabeth's face, quickly replaced by something far less subtle—disappointment.
She had expected the voice he used when he conquered. The voice that dripped with command, that stole reason and bent wills. The voice that made submission feel like the sweetest of luxuries.
But Lycius had no intention of using that tone on his aunt. Not yet.
Not on her.
Not on his mother.
They were his. That much was inevitable. But for now, he remained their cherished 'sweet pumpkin'—strong, doted upon, and undeniably precious.
Yes, once they belonged to him, once they've accepted their place beneath him, his tone would shift. The authority, the dominance—those would come in time.
But for now, he would let them adore him as they always had.
Dominion over them was a bridge to be crossed later.
_________
Lycius and Elizabeth exited the royal bedchamber, the morning air crisp with the lingering traces of last night's indulgence. Their intended destination was the kitchen, but Lycius's steps slowed as his gaze flickered toward the door next to Xylara's room—Vynessa's chamber.
A smirk curled his lips.
How convenient.
Without hesitation, he twisted the handle and stepped inside, Elizabeth following close behind, curious about his sudden diversion.
What he found inside made his grin widen.
Vynessa, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, her sleeping posture utterly chaotic—one leg dangling off the bed, her short pajama top riding up just enough to expose her soft midriff, her silver hair messily strewn across her pillow.
Lycius raised a brow, a chuckle slipping past his lips. So, she's back to her old habits. Good.
Gone was the pretentious girl who sat upright, waiting for Xylara's pity.
She was comfortable here now. She belonged.
But that didn't mean he was going to let her rest in peace.
A sudden shift in Lycius's demeanor made Elizabeth take a cautious step back. The air thickened—not with murderous intent, but with the unmistakable weight of childish mischief.
Then, with a simple flick of his fingers—
SPLASH!
A conjured wave of ice-cold water materialized out of thin air and crashed over Vynessa's bed.
A piercing scream split through the room as she shot upright, her two-piece pajama set clinging to her damp skin.
"LYCIUS!!" she screeched, her violet eyes blazing with fury as they locked onto his laughing form.
She looked absolutely feral, her face flushed, strands of soaked hair sticking to her skin, fists clenched so tightly they trembled.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was already doubled over in laughter, barely holding herself up against the doorframe.
Vynessa's chest heaved, her face an unreadable storm of anger and mortification.
"You. Little. Shit."
Lycius, still chuckling, crossed his arms. "Oh? What happened to 'I want to be strong, I want to prove myself'?" His smirk widened. "Didn't expect a little splash to break you."
A dangerous glint flickered in Vynessa's eyes.
Lycius had no idea what he had just unleashed.
Without another word, her fingers danced through the air, intricate symbols forming at her fingertips. A sultry, almost hypnotic whisper left her lips—
"Celestial Succubus—First Spell, Seductive Imprisonment."
Reality cracked.
The air shimmered and warped around Lycius as the world around him bent to Vynessa's will.
The illusion was no simple trick—this was real.
A prison crafted from Lycius's deepest temptations.
The atmosphere thickened with heat as phantom hands—soft, warm, and maddeningly delicate—slid over his body, tracing every inch of him. A honeyed voice, sultry and irresistible, whispered in his ear, drowning him in sweet promises.
The surroundings had completely changed.
Velvet sheets.
A dimly lit chamber filled with the scent of something dangerously familiar.
And in his arms—
A woman.
Not just any woman.
Older. Wiser.
Her body entangled with his in the most intimate way.
Her violet eyes, hooded with desire, gazing up at him with absolute devotion.
Vynessa.
No doubt about it.
For a moment—just a fleeting moment—Lycius's breath hitched.
The illusion was near-perfect.
But that moment was all it took.
Vynessa felt it—the slight delay in his reaction, the minuscule pause. He was falling for it.
Her heart pounded.
Even with his Draconic Eyes, his overwhelming dominance, wasn't an immediate escape.
But then—
CRACK.
Lycius tore through the illusion with sheer force, magic and willpower colliding in a brutal display of dominance.
The air exploded back into normalcy, and suddenly—he was back in Vynessa's chamber, panting slightly, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Vynessa, on the other hand—
Deep red.
Completely flushed, her hands trembling as blood dripped from her nose.
Lycius's golden eyes gleamed with amusement as realization struck.
"Oh?" His smirk returned, wicked and knowing. "What exactly did you see, little Vynessa?"
Vynessa clutched her nose, her voice caught in her throat. She shook her head violently, but her expression betrayed her.
That wasn't just a random illusion.
It had been a glimpse—a vision of something inevitable.
And the worst part?
She had liked it.
Lycius leaned closer, his voice a low, teasing purr. "Let me guess… me? But older?" He grinned. "And you? Also older? In my arms… completely claimed?"
Vynessa let out a strangled noise, her face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled fresh blood.
He laughed.
"Careful now, little Vynessa." His voice dropped, seductive yet mocking. "You're acting exactly like that time when you screamed about wanting to be 'claimed first'—without even knowing what claiming meant."
Elizabeth, who had been thoroughly enjoying the scene from the sidelines, finally collapsed against the wall, gasping through her laughter.
Vynessa, her hands still covering her face, screamed.
"SHUT UP, LYCIUS!!"
But it was far too late.
He had won.
Vynessa bolted from the room, her silver hair hair a wild mess as she fled, still clutching her face.
Her shout echoed down the hall, loud enough to stir the slumbering succubus queen next door.
Lycius, though still basking in his childish amusement, never lost awareness of his surroundings. And his surroundings were much broader than most could fathom.
This ruined kingdom was part of him.
His Aetherius granted him extra eyes—uncaring of color, yet perfect in their function. Through them, he instantly saw the exact moment Xylara awoke, a pleased, utterly sinful smile curling on her lips before it was swiftly erased by the realization that she was not alone.
A wicked smirk slithered onto his face.
Elizabeth, still sprawled on the floor, barely able to contain her laughter, knew exactly why he was grinning.
She had watched this boy grow, and no matter how secretive he thought he was, both she and Lana could read him like an open children's book.
"Not going after Vynessa?" Elizabeth teased, wiping a tear from her eye.
"Later," Lycius mused, his smirk deepening. "Right now… I have more delicate matters to attend to."
Elizabeth chuckled, shaking her head. "I'd go with you, but…" she inhaled deeply, the unmistakable scent of Lana's cooking invading her senses, "…your mother is cooking. And I'm starving."
Lycius chuckled, though the temptation of food was strong, playing with Xylara was far more entertaining.
Besides, he had an announcement to make.
Without further ado, he vanished, stepping back into the royal bedchamber
Xylara stirred, her body still tingling from the dream she had just experienced.
No.
Not a dream.
A torment.
A beautiful torment.
Her lips parted, her breath still uneven as she tried to piece together the fragments of lingering pleasure and longing. The intoxicating presence in her dream—warm hands, firm touches, a golden gaze that saw through her soul…
Lycius.
Her eyes widened, her smile twisting into something pleased—thrilled, even—until a presence intruded upon her chamber.
The same presence.
All traces of pleasure vanished, her heart hammering in her chest.
Her head snapped up just as Lycius strode into the room, his golden gaze calm, too calm, yet filled with that ever-present authority.
Her breath hitched.
He doesn't know… does he?
She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to sit upright, but Lycius was already approaching, slow, measured steps bringing him closer.
Then—
A single touch.
Fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his piercing gaze.
"Did you sleep well, Xylara?" His voice was soft, yet undeniable—like a lullaby laced with danger.
Xylara froze.
Her mind betrayed her, dragging her right back to her dream, to the way those hands had roamed her body, the husky whispers that had unraveled her from the inside out—
Her face burned.
"I…" She struggled to answer, biting the inside of her cheek, willing herself to remain composed. "I… suppose."
Lycius tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing her lower lip—a movement so subtle, yet it sent a shudder down her spine.
"You suppose?" he murmured.
His thumb lingered, pressing ever so slightly.
Xylara hated this.
Not the touch.
No.
She hated that her body craved more.
He was barely doing anything, yet she felt like screaming.
"I had… a strange dream," she admitted, trying to steady her voice.
His lips twitched upward, oh-so amused.
"Strange?" His voice was rich, deep, filled with dark amusement. "You'll have to tell me about it sometime."
He knew.
Or at least, he was toying with the possibility.
Xylara gritted her teeth. "It's irrelevant."
"Mmm." His fingers traced down, feather-light across her jaw before pulling away.
Gone.
The warmth—his touch—gone.
And she hated it.
Her body tensed involuntarily, a sensation she despised creeping through her veins—disappointment.
Lycius smirked. He knew.
"That's a shame," he mused. "I rather know that... I'd enjoy hearing about your dreams."
Xylara's fists clenched the sheets beneath her, but she forced herself to not react.
Damn him.
Before she could regain any semblance of composure, Lycius straightened. "I came here to inform you…" He paused, making sure she was hanging on his every word before continuing.
"You are now allowed to roam the palace."
Xylara blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift in conversation. "I—wait, what?"
Lycius smirked. "You are free to move as you wish… within the palace. You are not to leave it."
Before she could even respond, his voice echoed telepathically throughout the minds of everyone in the palace—
"Xylara is now free to roam the palace as she pleases. However, she is not permitted to leave the premises. Do not interfere with her."
The announcement rattled through her mind, solidifying his decision.
At first, excitement flared in her chest.
She could finally move.
Wait.
A slow, dreadful realization crept in.
Lana.
Elizabeth.
They were both here.
And they were both still furious.
Xylara stiffened, her excitement draining in an instant. "Actually… I think I'd rather stay here."
Silence.
A shift in the atmosphere.
Xylara hesitated, her eyes flickering up just in time to see—
Lycius's golden eyes darkening.
Disapproval.
Pure. Absolute.
It was just a flicker—barely a second—but it was enough.
Something cold curled in her gut.
"…On second thought," she quickly corrected, sitting up straighter, "perhaps I should… get accustomed to the palace again."
Lycius's smirk returned, though his eyes still held that ominous gleam.
"Good girl."
Xylara hated the way her stomach fluttered at those words.
Damn him.
___________________
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