Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 89 - 84: Unexpected guest (4)

Chapter 89: Chapter 84: Unexpected guest (4)

Damian’s chamber doors slammed open with such force that they rattled the fixtures, leaving a sharp echo in the still air.

Damian barely raised his gaze from the whiskey glass in his hand. He was sitting comfortably by the fireplace, fresh from his bath, dressed in a dark robe, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead. He exhaled, swishing the amber liquid lazily.

Two palace guards groaned on the ground near the doorway, their weapons scattered about them. Charles von Jaunez stood just beyond the threshold, his coat slightly disheveled, a reflection of the difficulties he had encountered on his way here. His glare was nothing short of murderous.

"Let him go." The words were low, biting. A demand, not a plea.

Damian took his time placing his glass on the side table before looking up, his expression unfazed. "Charles," he greeted smoothly, "I see you’ve decided to make a dramatic entrance. How many guards did you knock over on your way here?"

Charles didn’t take the bait. "Gabriel is going home. Tonight." He did not want to let his guard down, but he was relieved Damian was in his chambers alone. He prepared for the worst.

Damian tilted his head, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Is he? I don’t think so."

Charles took a step forward, but Damian didn’t move; he wasn’t so much as tense.

"He is my mate, Charles, and it does not matter if you or anyone else disagrees." Damian was playing with the liquid in his crystal glass.

Charles’ hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body taut with barely restrained fury. "You don’t have the right," he seethed.

Damian chuckled, low and rich, completely unimpressed by Charles’ rage. "That’s where you’re wrong. I have every right. The bond—" He lifted his glass slightly, watching the whiskey swirl in the firelight. "—doesn’t care about people’s expectations. As an Alpha, you should know that."

Charles took another step forward, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. The guards at the doorway shifted uneasily, waiting for an order.

"I don’t care about your bond," Charles spat, his voice sharp. "You think you can just claim Gabriel and that’s the end of it? That he’s just going to accept this like some docile little thing? You don’t know him."

Damian finally looked at him fully, his golden gaze piercing, calculating. "And you do?" His lips curled into a smirk. "Tell me, Charles, where was this righteous fury while he was suffering under Olivier?"

Charles stiffened, the words striking like a dagger to the gut. The past clawed at him, memories of Gabriel’s silent suffering, the things he should have noticed sooner, the signs he had ignored. Guilt burned through his rage, but he refused to let it consume him.

Damian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepling together. "I admire your devotion as an older brother, truly. But you’re too late." His voice dropped, laced with a quiet menace. "Gabriel is mine, and I am not Olivier."

"No, you aren’t. You are far more dangerous than him." Charles’ breathing was ragged, but he forced himself to meet Damian’s eyes. "Did you tell Gabriel?"

Damian’s expression didn’t shift, but something colder settled in his gaze. "Tell him what?"

Charles clenched his jaw. "That you spread rumors about his mark. That the entire aristocracy is whispering about how the Emperor claimed him."

Damian swirled his whiskey slowly, unbothered. "What difference does it make?" His control was inhuman, his irritation barely visible beneath the surface, but Charles knew better. It was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting, as his fingers pressed just a little tighter against the glass and his golden eyes gleamed with something calculating.

Charles took another step forward, his voice low but seething. "Gabriel isn’t some pawn for you to manipulate. Did you even bother telling him?

Or were you too busy ensuring that every aristocrat in the capital had something scandalous to gossip about? Did you hear them?"

Damian let out a soft chuckle, tipping his glass slightly as he studied the way the firelight refracted through the liquid. "You think Gabriel is oblivious? That he hasn’t already pieced it together? You underestimate him, Charles." He turned his gaze back to him, his expression unreadable, but his golden eyes gleamed with sharp amusement. "Or perhaps you simply want to hear it from my lips so you can cling to your righteous anger a little longer."

Charles clenched his fists. "It’s more than just the mark. There are rumors that Rosaline is pregnant with your child and Gabriel is your plaything. Did you think they would think that two days ago he was on the balcony with you only to talk? Or that they saw you today carrying him? Do I have to repeat what disgusting things are said about my brother?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed, his golden gaze sharper than a blade as Charles’ words hung in the air. The firelight flickered between them, casting brief shadows on Damian’s face, but his expression remained impassive, cold, and calculated. He did not flinch at the accusations, nor did he let a trace of regret or guilt seep through his composed demeanor. Does he even care about Gabriel? The von Jaunez did everything in their power to not let their youngest hear any rumors, but Damian didn’t care.

"Your brother is not a child, Charles," Damian stated evenly, his tone a mix of amusement and something darker, far more dangerous. "And those rumors... they are nothing more than noise. It is what happens when powerful people are close together. The truth doesn’t matter, only the whispers. I’ve heard them all."

Charles’ control snapped. He surged forward, ready to strike, ready to do whatever it took to get Gabriel away from him.

He barely registered the force slamming into him until his back cracked against the opposite wall of the chamber. The breath was knocked from his lungs, and invisible restraints tightened around his limbs, keeping him pinned like an insect caught in a web.

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