Chapter 50
The house felt skeletal without company.
Rain had spent years fantasising about having a place like this; a sanctuary far from the palace, far from the suffocating expectations, far from the constant hum of other people’s emotions. A place where he could finally breathe.
But now that he had it?
It felt like a cage.
A hollow, echoing cage where his mind had too much room to torment him.
The only nearby energy signature belonged to a lone shadow guard stationed at the community gate. The absence of others should have soothed him; should have given him the freedom to simply exist.
Instead, it left him feeling exposed.
Isolated.
Lonely.
He closed the lid of the half-eaten pizza box and nudged it away with a sigh.
Dinner had become his favourite time of day; the princesses giggling around the table, Briar arguing about who got the last slice, Rose humming softly, Ember curled against Snow, Scarlet telling stories with wild hand gestures.
This house had been alive.
Now it felt like a mausoleum.
Rain shoved his boots on and stepped out into the night, deciding that being surrounded by strangers in a bar was preferable to being alone with his thoughts.
The sky was heavy with low clouds, the air thick and humid, clinging to his skin like a second layer. It matched his mood—dark, oppressive, inescapable.
His mind spiralled.
He’d spent the entire afternoon on calls, and the over-stimulation had left him raw.
Henry had made it back safely—thank the Gods—and had already begun preparing the troops. Their call with King Taffy had started smoothly, Taffy calm and composed as always, reassuring Rain that Azrien had no grounds for suspicion.
But then Taffy had shifted the conversation.
To his children.
To Candy.
To the engagement.
To Rain’s “future role” in the Pink Kingdom.
Rain’s stomach had twisted.
He already had too much on his plate; too many responsibilities, too many secrets, too many lives depending on him. The thought of mentoring another empath, of entertaining an engagement he wasn’t ready for, of being pulled deeper into Pink politics…
It was suffocating.
Henry had stepped in before the conversation could escalate, suggesting they postpone any plans until after the princesses’ formal meeting on Cyrday. Taffy had been disappointed but Rain couldn’t bring himself to care. Not tonight.
He’d made the necessary calls regarding the release of the southern region, but the general had been nothing but hostile, chastising Rain for abandoning his squad, refusing to share intel, shutting down every attempt at communication.
Rain had hung up feeling more disconnected from his own kingdom than ever.
The Order of Aurora had been the opposite; warm, eager, reverent. They had assured him they were ready to serve, ready to follow, ready to rise when he called.
But even that reassurance couldn’t soothe him.
There had been no word from the girls.
No update.
No message.
Nothing.
Until he knew they were safe, he wouldn’t rest.
By the time Rain reached The Black Hole, thunder rumbled overhead, driving people off the streets and into the bar. The place was packed; bodies pressed together, energy buzzing, voices rising in anxious chatter.
Rain pulled his power close, scanning the room without letting it overwhelm him. Once he was satisfied there was no immediate threat, he locked his shield back into place.
He carved a path through the crowd, nudging bodies aside with subtle energetic pressure. A few people glared, until they recognised him and quickly looked away.
At the bar, two stocky men were causing a scene; yelling crude slurs at a bartender.
Elijah.
The poor man looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, eyes darting around for security.
Rain sighed.
Fine.
He could use the distraction.
He inserted himself between the men, draping an arm around each of their shoulders.
“Now, now,” he drawled, “that’s not how we get the attention of attractive young men.”
He winked at the bartender.
Elijah sagged in relief, mouthing a grateful thank you.
“I could offer you some tips,” Rain continued, “help you step out of the closet with confidence.”
Both men shoved him off.
The smaller one slammed his fist against the bar like a tantruming toddler.
The larger one turned; revealing a face that looked like it had lost a fight with a brick wall. A ghastly jagged pink scar split his forehead, his nose was a crooked mess of old breaks, and his wiry hair barely concealed his cauliflower ears.
A man who lived for violence.
Which mean his moves would be predictable.
He lunged, grabbing Rain by the throat.
Rain could have stopped him.
Easily.
But where was the fun in that?
A thrill shot through him; sharp, electric, welcome.
Finally.
Something he could hit.
His dark mood lightened.
He was more than ready to work off some pent-up energy
“You fucking faggit.”
The thug’s rancid breath hit Rain’s face; hot, sour, and far too close. His meaty hand clamped around Rain’s throat, pinning him back against the bar with the kind of force meant to intimidate.
Rain didn’t flinch.
Instead, a slow, cocky smirk curled across his lips.
He leaned into the grip, tilting his head just enough to angle his jaw in a way that was almost… seductive. His tongue swept lazily over one canine, a deliberate taunt.
“You bad boy,” Rain purred, voice low and sinful. “We missed a few steps. I suggest you buy me a drink first before we move onto the kinky stuff.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.
The man recoiled, releasing Rain with a look of disgust; the kind that came from someone whose worldview had just been personally offended. His hand dropped, and he glanced around, suddenly aware of the eyes on him.
Rain’s smirk sharpened.
“Then again,” he added, letting his gaze drag over the man with theatrical disdain, “you’re not my type. I prefer my men to be more…”
A beat.
A slow, deliberate once-over.
“…refined.”
The man growled, humiliated. His pride already fragile, snapped. He shot a desperate look at his friend.
“Karl, grab ’im. Let’s teach this pretty boy a lesson or two.”
Rain laughed; loud, obnoxious, intentionally provoking.
Karl lunged.
Rain didn’t even blink.
“Karl. Sit.”
His power snapped out like a leash.
Karl’s body obeyed instantly, slamming down onto the barstool behind him with a force that rattled the legs. His eyes bulged in horror, hands gripping the seat unable to fight the invisible command.
“Good boy,” Rain said sweetly. “Calling me pretty isn’t going to get you into my pants either. I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The thug; too stupid or too drunk to recognise the danger, swung a fist at Rain’s jaw.
Rain caught it effortlessly in his left palm.
His right elbow snapped forward, cracking into the man’s cheekbone with a sickening thud. The thug stumbled back into the crowd, dazed.
Rain’s expression shifted.
The playful arrogance drained away, replaced by something cold.
Predatory.
His green eyes iced over, and the energy around him thickened; swirling with a threat that made the hairs on the back of necks stand up.
Several men caught the thug and shoved him upright. He staggered, clutching his head, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“That wasn’t wise,” Rain said, turning his gaze to Karl. “Was it, Karl?”
Karl shook his head so fast it was almost comical.
The crowd pressed back, fear and fascination mingling in the air. No one wanted to leave but no one wanted to be too close either.
The thug found his footing and charged again; a clumsy, rage-fuelled tackle with no strategy behind it.
Rain grinned.
He dropped his stance, bracing himself.
At the last second, he drove his shoulder into the crook of the man’s neck.
A loud crack echoed through the bar.
The man’s collarbone snapped like dry wood.
He collapsed to the floor, howling in agony.
Rain rolled his shoulder back, shaking off the impact as he loomed over the writhing man.
“Honestly,” he said, voice dripping with disdain, “we’re just not compatible. How a person fights is often indicative of how they perform in the bedroom.”
He paused, letting the crowd hang on the words.
“And you, I’m sorry to say, are blandly predictable, painstakingly slow, and disappointingly limp. We’re complete opposites.”
He winked at a woman in the front row. She swooned.
Finally, an armed shadow guard pushed through the crowd, followed by two security staff. Their demeanour shifted the moment they recognised Rain.
“Your Highness,” the guard said, bowing his head before stepping beside the groaning thug. “Was this man disturbing you, sir?”
Rain offered a faintly amused smile.
“Hardly. But they were making lewd remarks and making the bar staff feel unsafe. Him and his lovely friend Karl here—”
He slapped Karl’s shoulder. Karl flinched violently.
“—thought they could… what were his words, Karl? Teach me a thing or two?”
The guard scanned the room, assessing the mood, then leaned in slightly.
“I can have them locked away for the night, if you prefer, Your Highness.”
Rain hesitated.
He was feeling more forgiving than usual, but the guard’s tone intrigued him. A hint of mischief. A shared understanding.
“Perhaps a night behind bars would give them time to contemplate their decisions,” Rain said. “That one may need a healer. I believe we broke something on impact.”
The guard nodded. The men were apprehended, dragged out through the crowd as the bar slowly returned to its chaotic rhythm.
Rain returned to the bar.
A glass was pressed into his hand.
The bartender; a woman in her thirties with Elijah’s same warm complexion, offered him a grateful smile.
“Cheers for taking out the trash.”
Rain raised his glass in acknowledgment and took a sip.
She leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“I was wondering if I heard you right,” she said. “Hmm… what was it you said?”
Rain arched a brow, unsure where this was going.
“That’s right,” she continued. “You said our rowdy customer was predictable, slow, and limp—suggesting you were anything but. What would that make you, exactly?”
Rain nearly choked on his drink.
Her flirtation caught him off guard; a reminder of how much he relied on his power to read people. Without it, he was flying blind.
He cleared his throat and leaned in, closing the space between them until his words brushed her skin.
With a smirk, he murmured:
“Wild, fast, and excruciatingly hard.”
Her plump mauve lips curved into a slow, flirtatious smile.
Perhaps the night was about to take a brighter turn after all—
A cloth snapped through the air, whipping toward the bartender, pulling her away from the moment with a jolt.
Eden’s smile widened mischievously just as Elijah swooped in, his voice cutting through the moment with a subtle warning and a flicker of unmistakable possessiveness.
“Eden, people are waiting,” he said, tone deceptively light but edged with a protective undertone.
Eden rolled her eyes dramatically at him, snatching a cloth from the counter with a huff. She shot Rain an apologetic look—a silent sorry, another time—before turning her attention to a waiting patron.
Elijah stepped into the space she’d left behind, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and refilling Rain’s glass with a practiced flick of his wrist. The gesture was quiet, deliberate, and oddly intimate; a silent claim, or perhaps a boundary.
Rain lifted the glass, studying Elijah over the rim.
“Is everything alright? You’re usually more than eager to share,” Rain asked, curiosity threading through his voice. He took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in his chest as he watched Elijah’s reaction.
Elijah was proudly, unapologetically polyamorous; a trait Rain had always enjoyed and admired. His energy was sensual, fluid, magnetic. He moved through the world with a confidence that made people orbit him. Rain had been drawn to that ease, that freedom, that lack of emotional entanglement.
It was exactly the kind of distraction Rain usually sought.
But tonight, Elijah’s energy was… off.
“Babe, Eden is my sister,” Elijah said pointedly.
Eden, still within earshot, glanced over with a smirk as she worked the tap.
Rain exhaled slowly, offering Elijah a sheepish grimace.
“Got it. Hands off,” he said lightly, though the resignation beneath the humour was unmistakable.
Eden’s disappointment flickered across her face; brief but visible and Rain felt a matching pang. She was beautiful, bold, and exactly the kind of uncomplicated company he usually welcomed.
Disheartened, he tipped back his glass, draining it in one smooth motion. The warmth of the liquor spread through him, dulling the edges of his thoughts, softening the sharp ache in his chest. Elijah kept the whiskey flowing between customers, attentive in a way that felt almost protective.
Rain welcomed the distraction.
“Is there some kind of event I’m unaware of?” Rain asked as Elijah poured another generous measure. The bar was packed; more than usual, even for tournament season. Something felt… off.
Elijah nodded, mirroring Rain’s confusion.
“I know, right? It’s crazy. It’s always busy around tournament time, but nothing like this.
” He leaned onto one hip, scanning the room with a practiced eye.
Even in jeans and a simple t-shirt, Elijah radiated flamboyant confidence; the smoky eyeliner framing his dark eyes only amplifying the effect.
“I’m guessing Red are doing particularly well this year?” he added.
Rain’s attention snapped away from admiring Elijah’s aesthetic.
He scanned the crowd; really scanned it and suddenly noticed what he’d missed earlier.
Red.
Red everywhere.
Red identifiers.
Red accents.
Red energy signatures.
He opened his shield, inhaling deeply as he let the collective energy wash over him.
Hundreds of emotions flickered through him; excitement, tension, drunken bravado, irritation, curiosity.
A few flashes of distaste aimed his way; typical for Red citizens who recognised him but nothing overtly hostile.
Still…
Something felt wrong.
A chill crept up his spine; subtle, insistent, impossible to ignore.
His instincts whispered that something was off.
Something beneath the surface.
Something he couldn’t yet see.
Despite the reliability of his power, despite the calm he sensed in the room, the unease lingered; a quiet warning threading through his veins.
Rain straightened slightly, his senses sharpening.
Whatever was coming…
He could feel it brewing.
And it wasn’t good.