Suffer

Zeff

The ascent up the steps of Liliam's old house felt like a pilgrimage to a forgotten shrine, each creaking board a mournful hymn. The house, a silent sentinel in a tranquil neighborhood, bore the deceptively placid facade of normalcy. But I knew the truth, the chaos that had ripped through its walls, leaving scars that time could never fully erase.

I had pulled strings, leveraged favors, and wielded my influence to acquire this house. Damage control, they'd called it. The neighbors, their curiosity piqued by the unsettling noises that had emanated from this place, had been easily swayed by a carefully crafted narrative of sudden relocation and unforeseen circumstances. It was a lie, a carefully woven tapestry of deceit, but it was easier than the truth, easier than admitting the monstrous reality that had unfolded within these walls.

The door groaned as I pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty house, a hollow, mournful sound. The silence was oppressive, a tangible weight that pressed down on my chest, a stark contrast to the cacophony of memories that swirled within me. Everything remained as it had been, frozen in time, a tableau of abrupt interruption. Papers lay scattered on the floor, furniture stood slightly askew, remnants of a life violently disrupted.

Then, it struck me—the scent. Liliam's scent. Blackberries. Sweet, warm, enveloping me like a ghostly embrace, a phantom limb of her presence. My wolf, Gaius, whimpered within me, a soft, mournful sound that mirrored the ache in my own heart. He stirred, restless and longing, his need to be near her a raw, untamed yearning. The bond, still a faint, trembling thread, pulsed with a desperate, heartbroken rhythm.

I sighed, the weight of grief and loss pressing down on me, and made my way to the master bedroom. The room was a chaotic reflection of the night's events, the bed unmade, as if she might return at any moment and smooth the crumpled sheets. I stood in the doorway, my chest tight with a pain that was both sharp and dull, a constant, gnawing ache.

Slowly, I walked to the bed and sat down, my hand reaching out to touch the covers. The fabric was cool beneath my fingers, but as I moved my hand to the side where Liliam used to sleep, I could almost feel the lingering warmth of her presence, a phantom heat that sent a jolt of pain through my chest. I couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped my lips, a sound heavy with sorrow.

I leaned down, resting my head on her pillow, the scent of blackberries growing stronger, more intoxicating. It surrounded me, filled me, a bittersweet symphony of her essence. I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, the hot, stinging moisture that pricked at the corners of my eyes. The pain of losing her, of failing to protect her, tore at me from the inside, a raw, gaping wound that refused to heal.

I wanted to believe this was a nightmare, a cruel, twisted illusion. I longed for the moment when I would wake up and find her beside me, her soft smile erasing the fear and pain, her presence a beacon of warmth and comfort. I wanted to hold her again, to feel the gentle curve of her body against mine, to hear her laughter, a sound that had always filled me with joy. But the reality was a cold, harsh truth, a desolate landscape of loss and despair.

I stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, my face buried in her pillow, my heart aching with every beat, a relentless, throbbing pain. At least I had this—the scent of her, the memory of her touch, the echo of her voice. It was all I had left, a fragile, ephemeral connection to the woman I loved. I clung to it desperately, hoping, praying that somehow, someway, this was just a nightmare, a cruel trick of the mind.

But deep down, I knew the truth. The reality was a heavy, suffocating weight, a burden I was forced to carry. The pain was unbearable, a physical manifestation of my heartbreak. It was a pain that went beyond the physical, a deep, soul-crushing agony that threatened to shatter me completely.

The silence of the house pressed in on me, a suffocating blanket of grief. I was alone, utterly and completely alone, in a place that held the ghosts of what could have been. The scent of blackberries, once a source of comfort, now felt like a cruel reminder of what I had lost. I was a broken man, adrift in a sea of sorrow, clinging to the wreckage of a love that had been ripped away too soon. Each shallow breath was a testament to the agony that consumed me. The tears that I tried to hold back, finally escaped, hot and stinging, tracing paths down my face. I was lost in a sea of grief, and there was no land in sight.

Deep down, I knew the truth. And it hurt. It hurt more than anything I'd ever felt before.

Liliam

I woke up alone in bed. The sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. For a moment, panic gripped me—the familiar oh-shit-I'm-late-for-work feeling. But then it slowly faded as the events of the past few days crashed back into my mind. I groaned, feeling the weight of everything.

My job. I'd completely forgotten. Well, there goes my job out the window, I thought with a sigh. At this point, paying bills and other responsibilities seemed like the least of my problems.

But the bed was empty, and I was alone. I frowned, pulling myself up. William had been here last night, hadn't he? I was surprised we hadn't done anything intimate. In our dream, things would get… interesting, to say the least. But maybe having each other in real life now made those dream encounters less necessary. He must have been exhausted; that's the only reason I could think of why he hadn't tried anything. Still, his scent lingered on the sheets—a mix of passion fruit—and I found myself relaxing into the warmth of it.

"Good morning, Lady Luna."

I jumped, startled by the voice. A servant stood near the door, holding a basket filled with bath utensils and clothing.

I flushed. "Morning," I mumbled, trying to pull myself together.

"King Kane sends his apologies," she said softly. "He had an early errand to attend to. He sent replacements for your amenities." She gestured to the basket.

King Kane? So that was William's first name. I hadn't even thought to ask. It felt odd hearing it now. "I have hot water running so you can prepare for breakfast."

"Thank you," I replied, still trying to process this new reality. After years of waking up and diving headfirst into a day filled with work and responsibilities—cleaning, making breakfast, planning lunch, and all the rest—it was disconcerting to suddenly have none of that. Here, someone else was taking care of it all for me.

As I showered, letting the hot water soothe my tense muscles, I couldn't help but notice the clothes the woman had laid out on the bed. They were simple yet elegant sun dresses. Who wears this for breakfast?

I dried off and wrapped a towel around myself before stepping out. "Do you have something more simple? Like jeans?" I asked, feeling out of place in this world of luxury.

The servant looked surprised but nodded. She walked over to a dresser and opened a drawer. "Your Grace had these stored here last week."

I moved closer and peered into the drawer, finding a few pairs of jeans and comfortable shirts that looked much more like something I would wear.

I smiled, feeling a small surge of relief. At least William—or King Kane, I supposed—had thought of this. As much as I was trying to adapt to this new world, I needed a piece of my old self, something familiar to hold onto. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a simple blouse, feeling a little more like myself.

"Thank you," I said again, this time more genuinely, as I began to get dressed. It was strange, adjusting to this life, but I was slowly starting to find my footing.

I followed the servant down the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone steps. The castle was even more breathtaking in the daylight. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, casting intricate patterns on the floor from the stained glass. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting various battles and victories, and I couldn't help but run my fingers along the smooth banister, feeling the coolness of the polished wood.

Behind me, Agon trailed like a silent shadow, his presence both comforting and unnerving. I couldn't quite get used to the idea of having a bodyguard, let alone one as intimidating as Agon. But he was there to protect me, I reminded myself, especially now that things were far from normal.

As we reached the dining room, I was struck by its sheer size. It was vast, with a high, vaulted ceiling and a massive chandelier hanging in the center, made of what looked like delicate crystal. The long table stretched almost the length of the room, covered with a pristine white cloth and set with silverware that gleamed in the morning light. Large portraits of past rulers lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow me as I moved through the room.

"Please, have a seat, my lady," the servant gestured towards a chair near the middle of the table. I nodded and settled into the seat, feeling the weight of the grandeur around me.

I hadn't expected to feel so small in a place like this. Everything was larger than life, designed to impress, to intimidate even. I glanced around, taking it all in—the intricate carvings on the chair's armrests, the golden inlays in the wooden floor, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. This was nothing like the life I knew, and yet, here I was, trying to find my place in it.

As I reached for a piece of fruit from a nearby platter, I heard voices coming from an adjacent room. Hard, clipped voices, speaking in a low but urgent tone. I strained to listen.

"…the patrols need to be doubled, especially near the eastern borders," I heard William's voice, sharp and authoritative.

"We've already increased security, but if Cerberus makes a move, we'll be ready," I heard another voice replied, his tone just as firm.

My heart quickened at the mention of Cerberus. I knew from the bits William had told me that this vampire king posed a significant threat, and the tension in William's voice made me uneasy.

I kept my eyes on the table, trying to appear focused on the breakfast in front of me, but my ears were tuned to their conversation. The men continued discussing patrols and defensive measures, their voices a steady murmur of concern and strategy.

Then, suddenly, there was a pause. I felt the atmosphere shift slightly, and I looked up to see William standing in the doorway, his stern expression softening as his eyes landed on me. His lips curled into a grin, and his posture relaxed.

"Liliam," he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. The man beside him, who I assumed was one of his commanders, glanced at me, his eyes lingering with curiosity before he gave a curt nod.

"Good morning," I replied, managing a small smile as I tried to shake off the tension from moments ago.

William strode over to me, his steps confident and assured. "I see you're settling in," he said, his grin widening. "I hope the accommodations are to your liking?"

I nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his sudden shift in demeanor. "Yes, they're… quite something," I said, my voice trailing off as I tried to find the right words. "This place is incredible."

William chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm glad you think so," he added, his gaze softening, "it's your home too."

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Was this really my home now? Could I truly fit into this world?

"Thank you," I managed to say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's… a lot to take in."

He reached out, his hand covering mine in a comforting gesture. "Take all the time you need," he said softly. "You're safe here, I promise."

I nodded, his words soothing some of the unease that had been brewing inside me since my arrival. But there was still a lingering doubt, a question I wasn't sure how to voice.

"What were you discussing?" I asked, glancing briefly at the other man before looking back at William. "You mentioned Cerberus…"

William's expression grew serious again, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Just some precautions," he said, his voice low. "We need to be prepared for any potential threats. But don't worry," he added quickly, "you're safe here. I'll make sure of it."

I nodded again, trying to take comfort in his assurance, but the mention of Cerberus left a chill running down my spine. This wasn't just about finding a new home or adjusting to a different life. There were real dangers out there, and I had no idea how deep I was already in.

William sat down beside me, dismissing the other man with a subtle wave of his hand. With a curt nod, the man turned and left, leaving the two of us alone in the vast dining room. I poured myself a cup of coffee, my eyes never leaving William. "Where were you this morning?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

He served himself a generous helping of eggs and meat, his movements unhurried. "We werewolves work out every morning," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I can go as many as three times a day."

I almost dropped my knife in surprise, the clatter of silverware against porcelain loud in the quiet room. Three times a day? No wonder these men were built like Greek gods, all muscle and strength. My mind drifted to Zeff, wondering how he managed to fit in three workouts a day when he worked with me for ten-hour shifts. The thought of Zeff brought a sharp, unexpected pain to my chest, a tightness that made it hard to breathe for a moment. I winced, my hand instinctively moving to my chest.

William's eyes sharpened with concern, his teasing smile fading. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low and soft, a stark contrast to his usual commanding tone.

I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak right away. "Yeah, just… a bit overwhelmed, I guess," I said, trying to brush it off. But the truth was, I wasn't just overwhelmed by the grandeur of the castle or the constant tension of being here. It was everything. The new reality I was living, the danger lurking around every corner, the choices I'd made that led me here.

William reached out, his hand gently covering mine. "I know this is a lot to take in, but you're not alone," he said, his thumb brushing softly over my knuckles. "I'm here. You have me, and you have this place now."

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt or insincerity. But all I saw was sincerity, a genuine concern that made my heart ache a little less. I wanted to believe him, to let myself feel safe and protected here, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being caught between two worlds—one with William and the other with Zeff. The one I left behind.