Chapter 6

The Chrysanthemum Room

Dante rode the elevator back down to Sky Castle’s basement levels, this time to level B3, where he’d likely find King Luther. The first of the basement levels, B1, was used for general building maintenance. The second level, B2, where Dante had whipped his rebel, was for prisoners and punishments, and executions. The third was for pleasure—depending on your perspective.

Two security guards greeted Dante as he exited the elevator. Dante nodded and continued down the long corridor. Nondescript doors lined the walls, each named after a flower. Luther called this place his garden, the twisted fuck.

Sure enough, standing in front of Luther’s favorite room was a royal guard. The guard acknowledged Dante and stepped aside. Very few were permitted access to King Luther’s harem. Dante pushed down the handle and let himself into the Chrysanthemum Room.

Dante was met with the sounds and sights of unrestrained hedonism. King Luther sat in one of the leather armchairs, not actively participating at the moment but watching as three of his harem boys fucked on the bed. Another slave knelt at his feet while he stroked her long hair and sipped on a glass of wine.

The smell of sex and blood was almost too potent for Dante’s vampire senses. As a virile being, his cock reacted, but nothing he saw was as tempting as what he had in his own bed upstairs.

“Dante,” Luther drawled in greeting, his voice carrying over the moans and slapping flesh. “Please, sit down, my friend. Marcus has told me the most interesting things.”

Dante bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, then sat in the other chair. Luther may have called him “friend,” but that didn’t excuse a lack of decorum. Even the king’s brother was made to bow and use official titles.

Luther gestured to the bed with his hand still holding the wine. “Would you like one to service you?”

He’d rather not. But Luther would find it suspicious. One does not refuse a king’s generous offer.

“I’ve made good use of my new toy, but the blond one can warm my lap.”

Luther laughed, and the boy disengaged from the others, proving how attentive he had to be, even while sucking another’s cock for the king’s entertainment. He was lithe and pretty, sidling up to Dante and settling on his lap.

“Marcus mentioned this new toy of yours,” Luther began, watching as Dante made a show of stroking the boy’s velvety skin and pinching a pert nipple. The slave was skilled at pressing his body into Dante and moaning low, so as not to be annoying but still pleasing enough in his responses.

“He’s a beautiful creature. I couldn’t help myself and made him my thrall.”

At that, Luther paused mid-sip, his eyes widening just slightly. He placed the glass on the side table and stopped petting the slave girl’s hair. “I would offer congratulations, Dante, but… I can’t say I understand the merits of keeping the rebel alive, let alone keeping him in your bed. Even if he’s a pretty one.”

Now, the game began in earnest. Since deciding the save the boy, Dante had already crafted his argument. A single misplaced word could see his little rebel executed at the king’s behest. But if he spoke too highly of him, the king might insist on keeping the boy for himself. Fortunately, Dante was well used to walking such a tightrope.

“I was going to kill him,” Dante began. “I couldn’t get any useful information out of him. The torture would have been a waste of time if it weren’t for the lovely way he screamed and thrashed”—here is where the dried blood looked most effective on his white shirt—“then I had a taste…”

Luther leaned forward, his black eyes even blacker, matching his soul. “His hole or his blood, Dante?”

Dante pushed down his disdain. “Both, of course. I was going to drain the boy dry. Turns out, he’s a highblood.”

And he was. The faint taste of the boy’s blood still taunted Dante. Highbloods were valuable. Even as a wild rebel, a highblood wouldn’t be so quickly executed.

Luther leaned back, relaxing again and resuming his wine. He was contemplating.

“Then I thought…” Dante went on. “If anyone could tame a rebel, it’s me. He’s skilled with a blade. Fast and agile. Aside from his tight ass and valuable blood, he could be useful. What if we take him with us to Palace Black?”

Dante knew the moment he had Luther convinced. The king continued stroking the slave at his feet, and a slight grin tilted his thin lips. “Isaac practically allows his slaves free reign. The boy could wander around…”

“Exactly,” said Dante.

“You have a month, Dante. Make him entirely obedient by the time we leave for the Black Territory.”

“Done,” Dante said. Relief rushed through him, though he did not let it show.

“Sara, my dear,” Luther said so the slave girl. “Fetch Lord Dante a glass of wine. He is to be congratulated on his acquisition. A new thrall is something to celebrate.”

The girl rose flawlessly, and her honey-colored curls swayed down her back as she walked to the sideboard. Dante had kept his hands on the boy in his lap for the entire conversation. The slave’s cock was hard, and Dante began slowly stroking his length while Luther watched.

Sara returned with the wine, delivering it to Dante then resuming her place by Luther. Dante drank the high-quality wine, then offered a sip to the boy. It dripped from the corner of his mouth, over his collar, and down his throat. Dante licked it from his skin, drawing an unfettered moan from the boy.

“Should I let him come, sire?” Dante asked Luther.

“When our conversation is concluded—if he’s earned it,” Luther said. “Keep stroking him.”

Dante did, but eased his pressure and slowed. The slave whimpered and leaned his head against Dante’s chest.

“The shipment went well? Despite the interruption?” Luther asked.

“My men handled it. This lot was more lucrative than expected,” Dante smoothly lied. In truth, he’d been dipping into the Vittori Family fortune to make up for his losses. Though it hardly made a dent in his money, Dante would drain his vaults dry to keep Luther unsuspecting and unaware. “Your treasurer should be satisfied this quarter.”

Luther’s smile dripped with greed and hunger. He’d been stealing slaves from the neighboring Black Territory and Timber Ridge and handing them over to Dante for disposal on the black market. The Vittori Family had long ruled the underworld. But the Vittoris were all dead, and only Dante remained. Luther did not know that Dante was nothing like the bloodsuckers who had made him.

“That is indeed good to hear. We’ll get another batch of slaves to you soon.” Luther set his wine on the table and stood, gesturing for Dante to remain seated. “He can come now. Do stay and help yourself to any others.”

With that, King Luther left. Dante increased the pace of his hand. The boy tensed, and on a guttural cry, jets of white cum spilled over Dante’s hand and the boy’s stomach. He then sagged against Dante.

“Thank you, sir,” he panted.

“You did good, boy,” Dante said. “You can all do as you want.”

The girl helped the boy off Dante’s lap. Together they went over to the bed and lay down. The two other slaves were already spent and lying sprawled across each other. Dante couldn’t leave for a while, and he wasn’t interested in sating himself in any of them, so he might as well let them rest.

Luther’s harem slaves were restricted to level B3, unless accompanied by a vampire. Dante had been a vampire for a long time, about a hundred and fifty years or so, but he’d never forget what it was like being a slave. The Vittori Family had owned him long before the supernatural rising of 1915, when the whole world found out about the existence of vampires. When his mistress, Donna Isabella Vittori, made him a vampire, she gave Dante the means to exact his revenge on all of them.

The four slaves on the bed began to collectively breathe more evenly, dozing in pure bodily exhaustion. Dante finished his wine and wondered when his little rebel would wake. A small smile gathered at the corner of his lips as he imagined the boy’s response to Dante’s “taming.”