Free Web NovelChapter 386: You are a monster
Aurelian lunged out of the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor with a dull thud. He staggered toward the washbasin in the corner of the room, his messy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he gripped the porcelain rim so hard it groaned under his weight.
He splashed the freezing water directly onto his face, desperately trying to wash away the phantom taste of that thick, iridescent fluid from his tongue. But the cold water did nothing to soothe the frantic roaring in his ears.
I am the Emperor, his mind screamed, a desperate, clawing attempt to reassert his ego. I am the sovereign of Viremount. Everything beneath the sun belongs to me.
But as he looked up into the mirror, his reflection offered no comfort. His golden eyes were bloodshot, his lips slightly swollen, and his chest was marked with faint, dark smudges where the god’s tanned fingers had dug into his shoulders during those first thrusts.
He hadn’t just taken what he wanted; he had been enticed, manipulated, and systematically dismantled by an entity who had used his own blackhearted sadism against him.
A soft, rustling sound from the bed made Aurelian’s entire body freeze.
Norx stirred against the ruined, tangled blankets. The god slowly rolled over onto his back, his wild dark hair splaying across the rumpled pillows.
He let out a long, heavy yawn, his arms stretching high above his head as if he had just enjoyed the most refreshing, mundane slumber of his eternal life.
As he blinked his crimson eyes open, the lazy, familiar glint of petulant amusement instantly rushed back into his pupils.
He sat up, completely unbothered by his bare body or the graphic, dark purple bruising wrapped tightly around his throat, or the fact that there were still dried sticky liquids leaking out of his hole.
He reached up, casually scratching the dried bite mark on his shoulder, and looked across the dim room at the rigid, terrified profile of the Emperor.
"Well," Norx hummed, his voice incredibly raspy and rough from the prolonged strangulation, though his smirk was as wide and annoying as ever. "You certainly look like a man who just realized he played right into a villain’s hands."
Aurelian did not turn around. He kept his back rigidly facing the bed, his knuckles turning white against the washbasin.
"Get out," he hissed, his smooth voice fracturing into a dangerous, ragged whisper. "Get out of my quarters before I have my guards flay you alive."
"Oh, please. Your guards couldn’t even scratch my fingernails, and you know it," Norx scoffed, sliding out of the bed with that same gravity-defying, fluid grace.
He didn’t bother fixing his torn garments, simply levitating them and letting the fabric drape loosely over his hips as he strolled across the room, stopping just a few feet behind the sovereign.
The god leaned to the side, peering at Aurelian’s pale, sweat-slicked reflection in the mirror.
"Look at you, shadow-chaser. You’re terrified," Norx murmured, his tone dropping its sharp mockery and replacing it with that heavy, ancient depth that always made Aurelian’s skin crawl. "You’re terrified because you liked it. You’re terrified because for the first time in your miserable life, you actually let yourself feel something raw, instead of pretending everyone is a wooden piece on your little board."
"Silence!" Aurelian roared, finally snapping. He spun around, his arm flying out to strike the god, but Norx simply tilted his head back, letting the Emperor’s fist cut through the empty air inches from his nose.
"I won’t be silent," Norx said, his crimson eyes locking onto Aurelian’s gold ones with an unshakeable, possessive weight.
He reached up, his tanned fingers lightly tapping the fresh, swelling marks on his own neck. "You wanted someone to break, Emperor. You wanted to release that ugly, suffocating frustration. I gave you a canvas. But don’t you dare look at me like I’m a victim. I allowed you into my space so you wouldn’t touch theirs."
The reminder of Julian and Alaric—the realization that the god had literally offered his body as a shield to protect their domestic sanctuary—struck Aurelian like a physical blow.
His jaw twitched, his breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps as the sheer, unyielding lack of control suffocated him.
"You are a monster," Aurelian whispered, his chest heaving.
"I’m a fallen god," Norx corrected flatly, a small, knowing smirk returning to his lips as he turned toward the arched window. "And you have an empire to run, shadow-chaser. I suggest you clean yourself up. D-Day is tomorrow, and I’d hate for you to look this unraveled when the curtain finally rises."
Aurelian’s heart pounded violently against his ribs. Panic, hot and desperate, surged through his veins, overriding his usual detached demeanor. He stepped forward, his voice dropping into a fierce, threatening hiss.
"Do not dare say a word about this to anyone," the Emperor commanded, his eyes wide and piercing.
He was too profoundly embarrassed, too utterly horrified at his own lack of decorum to ever let a single detail of this night slip out. If the court or anyone—if Alaric—ever found out what he had done to this creature in the dark, his dignity would be permanently ruined.
Norx paused, turning his head back. He let out a loud, mocking scoff, tossing his head back in genuine irritation.
"Why would I go around telling any mortal that I got laid by you?" Norx grumbled, his raspy voice full of an equal amount of stubborn pride. "It is a complete disgrace for others to know that I, the creator, got dominated by a mere shadow-chaser. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll keep mine."
A wave of profound relief washed over Aurelian’s chest. He let out a slow, shaky breath, relaxing his shoulders just a fraction. Thank the heavens. They both had their pride. They both had everything to lose. It would remain a dark, buried secret between the two of them, never to surface—
Click.
The heavy brass handle of the suite doors turned smoothly.
Aurelian’s relief shattered into a million jagged pieces. Before either of them could even blink or scramble for cover, the double doors swung wide open, and Duke Alaric stepped directly into the room.
"Aurelian, I need to speak with—"
Alaric’s deep voice abruptly cut off. The Grand Duke froze entirely at the threshold, his massive frame locking up as his sharp blue eyes took in the scene before him.
The room was utterly damning. Aurelian was standing near the washbasin, completely naked, his pale skin flushed and his hair a tangled mess. Norx was hovering just a few feet away, his garments torn to ribbons, his bare torso covered in iridescent, dried fluid, and his neck aggressively ringed with heavy, dark purple bruises that perfectly matched the size of the Emperor’s hands.
And right past them... the giant four-poster bed sat in absolute, chaotic ruin, the sheets tangled and stained.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The air in the room turned entirely ice-cold.
Alaric stared at his brother, then his gaze slowly drifted to the bruised, smug-looking deity, and finally back to the ruined bed. A look of profound, stunned disbelief settled over his rugged features.
For a single, agonizing second, no one breathed.
Then, without a single word of accusation, Alaric calmly took a step backward into the corridor. His face remained perfectly unreadable as he reached out, grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden door, and began to pull it shut.
"I will apologize for interrupting your business," Alaric said, his gravelly voice entirely flat, devoid of any emotion. "Carry on."
Bang.
The door clicked firmly shut, the latch locking back into place with agonizing finality.
Aurelian stood frozen in place, his hand hovering in the air, his mouth open but completely empty of words. The absolute absurdity, the catastrophic horror of the timing left his brilliant mind entirely blank.
Just now... what the hell had just happened?
