Elijah emerged from the bath, droplets of water tracing the contours of his bronzed skin, his dark hair damp and falling over his sharp jawline. He tied his robe loosely around his waist, his every step exuding a commanding presence as he made his way into his chamber. The rich scent of spiced herbs still clung to him, mingling with the faint sandalwood aroma that always lingered in the royal chambers.
There, seated on the velvet chaise near the ornate fireplace, was Maximilian. Draped in robes of deep purple that shimmered faintly under the enchanted golden light of the room, his honeyed skin glowed like molten amber. His crimson red hair fell in soft waves over his shoulders, and his piercing eyes gleamed with an intensity that few could withstand.
Maximilian's lips curved into a subtle smile as he watched Elijah enter, his younger twin radiating the aftermath of a brutal victory. "Morning, Eli," he greeted smoothly, his voice a melody of warmth and authority. "How was the war?"
Elijah arched a brow, grabbing a towel from the nearby stand to dry his dripping hair. "Like any other," he replied, his voice low and steady. "We are victorious. The barbarians never stood a chance."
Maximilian chuckled softly, his gaze following Elijah's every move. There was admiration in his eyes, a quiet pride in his brother's strength, but also a hint of something else—something unspoken yet heavy.
Elijah tossed the towel aside and moved to the grand armoire, selecting a loose white shirt that clung to his muscular frame and a pair of fitted black trousers. As he dressed, the brothers fell into a companionable silence, the bond between them palpable even without words.
But Maximilian wasn't one to leave thoughts unspoken for long. His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back against the chaise, his voice soft but laced with curiosity. "So, what do you think of our little angel?"
Elijah stilled for a moment, fastening the last button on his shirt before turning to face his brother. Their gazes locked, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions.
"Our mate," Elijah said firmly, his voice carrying an undeniable weight. "He's ours. The bond was fated, and it cannot be broken. Not without consequences."
Maximilian nodded, though his expression remained conflicted. "We've hated the Angelic Realm for centuries. Their lies, their betrayal—it's in our blood to despise them. And yet…" His voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find the right words.
Elijah finished fastening his cuffs, his movements slow and deliberate as he considered his brother's words. "And yet, he is not like the others," he said finally. "He is ours. Whether we hate angels or not, the bond cannot be undone. If either of us rejects him, the pain would be unbearable—not just for us, but for him too."
Maximilian let out a long breath, his fingers trailing along the edge of the chaise. "A fated bond…" he murmured. "A curse, or a blessing?"
Elijah's gaze darkened, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Both.....The prophecy binds us. One of us could save the Realm, while the other could destroy it. But it doesn't tell us who is who. The former king ensured we ruled together, so neither of us could tip the scales alone. And now, Liam... He complicates everything."
Maximilian's jaw tightened as he sat up straighter, his robes pooling around him like liquid twilight. "Complicates?" he echoed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Or completes?"
Elijah didn't answer immediately. His thoughts were a storm, the image of Liam's delicate beauty flashing in his mind. The softness of his pale skin, the quiet defiance in his gaze, the way his very presence seemed to shine.
"He's an angel," Elijah said finally, his voice edged with disdain. "But he's ours. His body, his soul, his power—everything he is belongs to us. And we will have him. No matter what."
Maximilian rose from his seat, his tall form towering as he approached his brother. "Possessive as ever," he teased lightly, though there was no humor in his tone. His own thoughts mirrored Elijah's, his chest heavy with the unfamiliar weight of their shared bond. "But you're right. He's ours. He belongs to us, and we will take what is ours."
For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of their words settling between them like an unspoken vow. Despite their hatred for the Angelic Realm, despite the bitterness that lingered in their hearts, neither could deny the truth of the bond they shared with Liam.
Maximilian's hand brushed briefly against Elijah's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding and unity. "We'll figure this out," he said softly. "Together. As we always have."
Elijah nodded, his resolve hardening. "Together."
And as the brothers stood side by side, their thoughts intertwined, one thing became clear: no matter their hatred for angels, no matter the challenges that lay ahead, they would claim Liam. His beauty, his power, his very essence—they would make him theirs, wholly and completely. And no force in any realm would stand in their way.
Maximilian adjusted the elegant cuff of his robe as he turned to Elijah, his golden-honey skin glowing faintly in the sunlight streaming through the palace corridors. His voice, smooth and regal, broke the silence. "I've arranged a room for him," he said, his tone firm but carrying a rare trace of something softer. "Our little mate will be here by evening."
Elijah, leaning casually against the doorway with his damp hair still falling in loose waves from his earlier bath, gave a curt nod. "Good," he replied, his deep voice laced with authority. "We'll need to ensure his arrival is handled... delicately."
Maximilian gave him a pointed look, knowing the weight of Elijah's words. With a flick of his robe, he strode forward, and Elijah fell into step beside him. They walked through the grand halls, past towering windows and carved pillars, until they reached the king's working chamber—a space both brothers shared as rulers of their powerful kingdom.
The chamber was a masterpiece of demonic opulence. Dark velvet drapes framed tall windows, and the air was tinged with the faint scent of burning incense. A massive obsidian table stood at the room's center, surrounded by high-backed chairs adorned with intricate silver detailing. Elijah moved to his chair, his movements fluid and commanding, and settled into it with the ease of one born to rule.
Moments later, the flickering light from the nearest window dimmed as the shadows twisted and coalesced into a figure. A man, cloaked in black, kneeled before the brothers, his head bowed in respect. "Your Majesties," the figure greeted, his voice low and gravelly.
Elijah raised a brow, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Speak."
The kneeling figure, still bowed, continued. "Barbarians have been sighted on the path to the kingdom where Lynce is escorting your mate as we speak."
Elijah's eyes darkened at the mention of their mate. He exchanged a quick glance with Maximilian, whose expression remained unreadable, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly.
"Lynce is capable," Maximilian said coolly, stepping toward the large map spread across the obsidian table. "He earned his title as the Emperor's Mad Dog for a reason. No harm will come to our precious one under his watch."
Elijah's fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his chair, his thoughts betraying the calm façade he wore. "Still," he said finally, his tone dropping an octave. "Send a small troop to ensure they reach the kingdom unscathed. Kill anyone who dares lay a hand on what's ours."
The kneeling figure bowed lower, his voice resolute. "It will be done, Your Majesty."
With that, the shadowed figure dissolved back into the darkness, leaving the brothers alone once more.
For a moment, silence filled the chamber, broken only by the faint rustling of the drapes. Maximilian traced a finger along the edge of the map, his thoughts lingering on Liam. He couldn't stop picturing those soft, innocent eyes and the gentle way Liam had looked at them when they'd first met. A rare frown crossed his face.
"You can't deny it, brother," he said, finally breaking the silence. "He's already in your head."
Elijah leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant mountains visible through the window. "And yours," he replied simply.
The weight of their shared thoughts was heavy, the unspoken truth settling between them. Liam was theirs, and no one—angel or otherwise—would take him from them.
They were the demons who claimed everything that belong to them.....