Chapter 20
Heat still clung to his skin, the ghost of Kylix’s touch refusing to fade. The hum of engines below the arena matched the uneven rhythm of his breath.
Kylix leaned close as they stepped through the entrance.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, fingers brushing Mirel’s wrist. “Still thinking about earlier?” His mouth drifted near Mirel’s ear, voice low and teasing.
“You were shaking for me. I could make you beg again right here. Want me to tell you what I’d do if we weren’t walking into a crowd? ”
Mirel’s throat tightened. “N-no.”
Kylix chuckled. “Liar.” His breath warmed the edge of Mirel’s jaw. “Soon you’ll get exactly what you want.” His hand lingered a moment longer before the sharpness of command settled back over him.
Inside, the lounge of the arena was wide and bright, divided by glass cabins. Kylix gave a clipped nod to the others and guided Mirel toward the bar.
“I’ll have the usual. Plus two glasses.”
The woman behind the counter nodded and reached for the bottle.
Her eyes flicked to Mirel, a quick assessment that made him draw his shoulders in.
He looked toward the viewing panes, the noise and lights pressing against the glass.
How many times had he hidden under those same bleachers before, stealing crusts, watching the Aureates through cracks in the seats?
Never had he imagined standing here, marked by the man who led the Luminary and shared his bed, the one who had claimed him.
“Are you coming?” Kylix’s tone pulled him back.
“Y-yes.”
A group of Imperials entered, their capes catching the light, blood-red with black lining for the highborn, gold piping for those sworn to service, striped edges for the students.
“Family,” Kylix said. “Some go to the academy. Two serve under me.”
The newcomers were loud, laughing until they saw Kylix. Voices dropped. One of them, dressed in black and gold, stepped forward with a smile.
“Imperial Kylix.” His voice carried over the music, smooth and sure. “I thought perhaps this time you wanted me again. Or maybe you’d like both of us?”
Kylix’s mouth curved. “Not tonight, Jonah. Wait for Daven. Tell him I sent you.”
Jonah’s grin didn’t fade. “Always next time, sir.” His voice dipped, just enough for those nearby to hear the edge of it. “Unless you’ve changed the schedule. I was told it’s my shift tonight.”
Kylix’s mouth curved, lazy and unbothered. “Was that what you were told?”
Jonah tilted his head, the smile sharpening. “I’m a loyal man. I serve where I’m needed.”
“Then consider yourself off duty.”
“Of course, my lord.” Jonah bowed slightly, but his eyes lingered a moment longer than they should have. The exchange drew a ripple of amusement from the others.
Mirel stood still beside the bar, the words catching under his ribs. His shift. The thought sat heavy and sour. When Jonah turned away, laughter trailing him, Mirel’s pulse beat faster for reasons he didn’t want to name.
Yure and Vandor stood near the bar, passing a red-cinder cigarette between them. Two Luminary guards nearby were already talking, voices carrying just enough to be overheard.
“How’d it go yesterday?” one asked. “Find the prisoner?”
“Nothing,” the other said. “We were out there for three hours, raided half the district. No prisoner. No medic either.”
Mirel caught the exchange and felt the air shift. The laughter thinned, replaced by a strange stillness that tugged at him.
“There he is,” Aviel drawled. He stood by the bar, glass in hand, surrounded by guards. No one spoke to him. “Our frost baby.”
“Hi, Aviel.” Mirel’s gaze slid to Theo, who sat on a stool, back against Aviel’s chest, blond curls a sharp contrast to the tanned hand that had taken possession of them.
“Ever watched the Aureate from this side of the glass?” Aviel asked. His hand toyed with Theo’s hair. “It changes a man. Soon enough you’ll be down there yourself. I can’t wait to see what your element does when the crowd starts calling for blood.”
He tilted Theo’s head up by the curls, guiding him until Theo’s lips parted.
The kiss was slow but hungry, Theo moaning softly into the touch.
When Aviel finally pulled back, he looked at Mirel and smiled.
“Careful, little frost,” he murmured, words curling against his skin.
“Some fires don’t stay caged forever. When they break, they take the whole house with them. ”
The words stuck like ash. Aviel’s smile was a performance.
His eyes were not. Theo’s lashes fluttered against his hand.
Mirel felt as if he were standing beside a door that opened to heat, one the house pretended wasn’t there.
He looked for Kylix and found the same answer as always, a line of fire to stand behind, even when he didn’t understand it.
“Hey, brother.” Cyprian’s voice broke the tension as he and Moargan stepped into the lounge. The Imperial Prince veered toward the bar where Yure and Aviel sat, slid onto a stool, and ordered a bottle.
Cyprian hugged him. “Did you have a good day with Professor Kiba?”
“Y-yes.” His gaze dropped to the white fur draped over Cyprian’s shoulders. “You look… different. The cape.”
Cyprian laughed softly. “It’s what we wear during formal events. You’ll soon have a black one yourself.”
Moargan threw a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t be fooled, Mirel. Under that garment he’s naked and shivering, waiting for me.” He grinned, lifting a glass toward the window. “Come on, lover. Daven’s already in the sand. Air-boy’s a showman. You’ll like him.”
Mirel watched them go, gaze sliding over Archer and Helianth in a far corner. Helianth whispered something that made Archer blush to the tips of his ears. When Archer caught Mirel’s eyes, he smiled and gave a small wave.
Kylix set a hand at the small of Mirel’s back. “Let’s go,” he said. “The show’s about to start.”
“Aviel said something… strange.”
“He always does. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
“No, I mean…he said the fire doesn’t stay caged. It felt like a warning.”
Kylix snorted. “He’s a sadist, not a prophet. Forget him. Let him play with Theo if he needs an audience.”
Mirel nodded, though the words still scraped at the back of his mind. They left the bright ring of talk and stepped through a glass door into a smaller viewing room. The noise of the lounge dimmed, replaced by the low hum of vents and the distant rise of the crowd outside.
“This is my booth,” Kylix said, nodding toward the window that curved across the front wall. A narrow bench ran beneath it, polished and cold.
“D-do you always have company?”
“What, jealous?”
Mirel looked away. “N-no.”
“You don’t look like it.”
Kylix poured him a drink, the motion smooth, almost lazy.
The amber liquid caught the light as he turned, stepping in close enough for Mirel to feel the heat off his body.
He planted his hands against the window and looked outside.
The arena spread beneath them, filled with faces.
He watched a mother stroll by, two children laughing, unaware.
“From down there, behind those bleachers, it’s difficult to tell how many people there are,” Mirel murmured. “But from up here…”
“Impressive, right? All these people who’ve come to see their heroes and the cruelty they’re capable of. Show me where you used to hide, little darae.”
Mirel searched until he found the narrow trench of broken seats. They were the only ones empty. “T-there.”
“So my little ghost used to hide there, watching the show? Did you enjoy the violence already back then?”
“No. I came here to escape the graveyard. Be less l-lonely.”
The drink burned. Kylix was right, he had enjoyed the cruelty back then. He’d just never given it thought.
A soft click came from the wall vent, filling the space with opium-laced vapour. The haze coiled low, sweet and metallic, thickening until the booth breathed with it.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Kylix said. “Outside, the show begins. Inside, you and I will start our own. Start by getting undressed.”
Mirel swallowed. His cock, that had never truly deflated, stirred with interest.
Kylix pressed his chest against Mirel’s back and let his mouth dip against his ear. “Stay there and look outside. Keep your hands on the glass, just like that.”
Clasps clicked free under patient fingers. Fabric slid down his arms and pooled at his feet. Only his underwear clung, thin and pale against his skin. Kylix’s knuckles traced the new line of exposed flesh, pausing at the small of his back. “Better,” he murmured.
“You know they can’t see us,” he said softly, “but I want you to feel like they can.”
Outside, soldiers entered the field, dragging a struggling prisoner between them.
“Tonight’s prey,” Kylix hummed. “His mother knows him well. She got him a pretty one. That means Daven will be out there soon.”
The arena hushed. Flags fell still, as if the air itself held. For a breath the city leaned in, waiting to be told what it was.
A band followed the soldiers onto the field and started the national hymn. The crowd sang along in vivid devotion.
“The Helion national hymn,” Kylix mused, purring the words in Mirel’s ear.
When the song finished, the crowd gave a thundering ovation. The guards bowed in unison, then marched away, leaving the prisoner alone, like a chained, terrified heap. Dressed in a purple jumpsuit, his gaze fixed in pleading, as if he truly expected mercy.
“See that first row?” Kylix murmured. “That’s where his family sits. They get the best seats to watch him die.”
“That’s so cruel,” Mirel whispered.
His knees felt weak, incisors itching. The haze deepened, his skin turned electric.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not.” Kylix blew warm breath on Mirel’s skin, making it tingle.
From the rim gantries, aluminium casings unrolled, showing holo-screens that projected the Imperial’s image. Milanov Zephyranth smiled down.
“Dear fellow Helions.”
The crowd roared.