Elijah strode into the grand palace, his presence commanding awe as he moved through the royal corridors. His dark hair, streaked with blood from the battlefield, fell in loose waves over his broad shoulders, and his piercing crimson eyes seemed to burn brighter against the golden glow of the palace's enchanted torches. Whispers followed him, the court members and servants gazing at him with admiration and envy. Elijah, the ruthless demon king, had returned victorious from the brutal war against the barbarians, a conflict that had left no room for mercy.
His every step exuded raw power and regality, but beneath his hardened exterior, his mind was consumed by something far softer, far more unexpected. Liam. The thought of his mate's gentle beauty lingered like a ghost, refusing to be ignored.
As he turned down the hallway toward his chambers, a young maiden—her delicate features flushed with nervous excitement—stepped into his path. She bowed deeply, her voice trembling as she spoke. "My King, shall I prepare your bath and attend to you?"
Elijah's crimson eyes swept over her briefly, impassive and cold. She was beautiful in her own right, like many who sought his favor, but she was nothing compared to the image of Liam that haunted his mind. His voice was a low, velvet growl, tinged with disinterest. "No. Leave me."
The maiden's face fell, but she curtsied gracefully and stepped aside. Elijah continued toward his chambers, his strides unrelenting, as though determined to escape the whispers of desire that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
When he reached his grand quarters, he paused briefly, his sharp gaze scanning the opulent room. The dark wood furniture gleamed under the light of floating crystal orbs, and the intricate carvings of demonic runes on the walls pulsed faintly with energy. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled for the attending maids to come forward.
"Prepare my bath," he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. The maids scurried to obey, filling the marble tub with steaming water infused with glowing herbs and shimmering oils that filled the air with a heady, spicy fragrance.
Elijah waited in silence, his back to the flurry of activity, his thoughts elsewhere. When the bath was ready, he dismissed them all with a curt, "Leave me."
The room fell silent as the last of the maids scurried out, and Elijah stood alone in the vast chamber. He reached up, undoing the clasps of his bloodstained armor and letting it fall heavily to the floor. His battle-worn garments followed, revealing his chiseled form—a body honed by centuries of war. Scars from past battles etched faint lines across his bronzed skin, each one a mark of his unyielding strength.
Grabbing a robe from the nearby stand, he draped it loosely over his shoulders and stepped toward the adjoining bath chamber. The space was as grand as the rest of his quarters, with walls of polished obsidian and a large circular tub carved from a single piece of onyx, its surface shimmering faintly in the flickering light.
Elijah sank into the steaming water, letting it wash away the grime and blood of battle. The tension in his muscles eased, but his mind remained restless. He leaned back against the smooth edge of the tub, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, where enchanted constellations twinkled faintly.
For the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to relax—but it wasn't the battle or the barbarians that occupied his thoughts. It was Liam. The angel's ethereal face, his soft blue eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance, had rooted itself in Elijah's mind. He was a puzzle—one that Elijah wasn't sure he wanted to solve.
A deep growl rumbled in his chest as frustration hit with an unfamiliar ache.
Closing his eyes, he allowed the heat of the water to seep into his skin. But even in the stillness, Liam's image remained, his delicate beauty haunting Elijah like a forbidden melody.
"Mine," Elijah whispered to the empty chamber, his voice low and resolute. "I will claim him , his body , soul and the power those angels are so proud of."
The declaration echoed softly, swallowed by the shadows that danced across the chamber walls. Elijah didn't care if Liam belonged to both him and Maximilian. In his heart, all he wanted was what's his and the immense power.
----------------------------------------------------------
Elijah stood up from the bathtub, water still streaming down his body. The droplets trailed from his bare muscular chest to his sculpted V line, which disappeared into his thick pubic hair. His thighs were thick and strong and his body a work of art like a statue of ancient god of beauty . Elijah's dick began to harden slightly as thoughts of Liam lingered on him. He couldn't resist it and took his semi hardened dick in his hand.
He closed his eyes and thought about the perfect beauty of little angel that he saw yesterday. His lean figure, tender skin, white pale complexion ,pink cheeks . He touched the tip of his dick, which had a thread of precum from thoughts of his mate . He, then thought about Liam's peachy soft lips that looked so delicate and juicy to him like a ripe peach and started rubbing and stroking his pennis.
Elijah moaned as he stroked his long thick dick, imagining of shoving it in Liam's mouth up to his throat .He continued to stroke himself while thinking about Liam's tongue swirling around his shaft, his lips wrapped tightly around its head. Elijah groaned as he thought about Liam's mouth, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.
After stroking for a while and moaning, Elijah shot a thick thread of cum. He opened his eyes, coming back to his senses, and couldn't believe what he had just done. He thought it was just lust carved by his body.
He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the feeling. He had been too focused on the war, too busy with his responsibilities, that he hadn't let himself experience anything like this in so long. His desires had been buried under all the stress, and now, finally, they had resurfaced.
"It's just because I've been deprived for so long," Elijah thought. "It's not about him. It's about me not having time to let this rampage out."
But even as he tried to convince himself, he couldn't ignore the truth. The way his body had reacted to thoughts of Liam wasn't something he could easily explain away. There was more to it than just frustration. And that thought bothered him more than anything.
Elijah stepped out of the steaming bath, the warm water cascading off his skin as droplets glistened in the dim light. His body was sleek and sculpted, the lines of his muscles catching the faint glow from the lanterns around the room. He stood for a moment, letting the air cool the warmth that clung to him, his chest rising and falling as the water dripped down in slow streams.
The scent of herbs and cedar still lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a faint embrace. With a quiet sigh, he grabbed a soft towel, its plush fabric warm against his skin. He began to dry himself, the towel gliding over his broad shoulders, down his chest, and then his toned abdomen. As he wiped away the remaining water, he couldn't help but feel the tension in his body ease, though his mind remained clouded with thoughts of the angel.
Each pass of the towel only seemed to intensify the image of Liam, his beauty, his innocence. Elijah could feel his heart hammering a little faster, though he tried to suppress it. He finished drying his body, tossing the towel aside with a flick of his wrist, but the weight of what had happened lingered. His thoughts were still tangled, as if the lingering warmth of the bath could cleanse his body, but not his mind.
He turned toward the mirror, gazing at his reflection. The man before him was powerful, a warrior forged by battle, yet the turmoil swirling inside felt unfamiliar, unsettling. Elijah knew he couldn't avoid it much longer. The bond with Liam—this inexplicable attraction, this pull—was more than just physical.
With a quiet, frustrated breath, he wiped the fog from the mirror, his dark eyes meeting his own gaze. "What is this?" he muttered to his reflection, though he knew the answer would only complicate things further. The journey ahead would demand more than just strength—it would demand control. And Elijah wasn't sure if he had enough of it left to keep his desire at bay......
While Liam covered his journey without knowing what awaited for him.....