The Tyrant's Pet

Abel wasn’t crazy.

He does crazy things, but he knew he was sane — whatever sane even meant. However, for the past several days, he believed he had a glimpse of the line between sane and sanity.

It was very clear.

Over that line was just a vast, empty expanse.

If Abel didn’t see Aries or hear even her breath for one more day, he was certain he would go beyond the line of insanity and search for her over there. Funny that her absence was something he could bear for several days only. More than that? Even Abel’s people weren’t safe — Conan, for example. He nearly died, if not for Isaiah.

Abel stared at Aries for a very long time while squatting beside the bed, cupping his cheek with a satisfied smile plastered across his face.

‘How cute,’ he thought. ‘Should I kiss her to wake her up? But it seemed she’s exhausted.’

Honestly, he was even surprised that he hadn’t woken her up. He missed her so much, to the point he didn’t know how to express it. He was afraid that if he hugged her right now, he would hug her so tight she would suffocate to death or kiss her until he sucked the life out of her.

What a deadly existence.

“I’m so excited I can’t meet you with all these heightened emotions,” he mumbled, pouting, a bit disappointed to know himself more than anyone.

Just then, an idea suddenly crossed his head. The corner of his lips curled up into an evil smirk as the side of his eyes crinkled. Abel licked his lips, opening his mouth while letting his fangs grow.

When his fangs let themselves known, Abel pressed his thumb against it until a droplet of blood oozed from his thumb. He then extended his arm, pressing his thumb to her forehead while chanting inaudible words under his breath.

Nothing happened even when he withdrew his thumb, pushing his thigh to stand up. As soon as he did, all windows and even the door of the balcony suddenly opened, letting in the night breeze, extinguishing all the lights from the candelabras in the room.

Abel then walked around the bed and stood on the side where Joaquin was sleeping on. He bent over, blowing gently at the latter’s eyes to wake him up. However, Joaquin was still deep in his sleep, causing Abel to frown as he glanced around.

Aries’s scented candles were too potent to inhale. Although he wasn’t worried about his darling since Dexter helped her concoct this poison recipe, those who weren’t resistant to poison like Joaquin wouldn’t wake up.

“What a bother. I just want to talk.” He frowned, but then squeezed his bleeding thumb and let it drip into Joaquin’s mouth. “Darling, you should thank me later for resetting his system. We can’t let him gain resistance to poison as a side effect of these candles, correct?”

Dexter and Aries were aware of these side effects, but they had planned many ways to counter it. Still, Abel thought it was better for Joaquin to have a zero chance at all. Well, actually, that wasn’t really his intention.

Feeding Joaquin a bit of his blood would cleanse Joaquin and could make the latter strong for some time.

A perk that ran in Abel’s blood. A poison and an antidote.

“Wakey, cakey,” Abel crooned as he retrieved his thumb, resting his hand on his thigh, eyes on Joaquin. “Isaiah, silence the entire imperial palace for… probably ten minutes. Let everyone have a good night’s sleep.”

Although Isaiah wasn’t anywhere around him, Abel still spoke out his orders. He once again blew at Joaquin’s eyes, watching his brows wrinkle as the latter grunted.

“Time to wake up, dearest crown prince.” The corner of Abel’s lips stretched broader as Joaquin opened his eyes.

As soon as the latter caught the figure hovering over him and those pair of glowing red eyes, a surge of panic crawled up his spine. Abel hopped back when Joaquin jolted up in defense of the danger right before him.

Joaquin’s eyes studied the figure of the man standing at arm’s length away from the bed, unable to see his face with only the light from the moon shining through the open window and the balcony’s door.

“Who are you?” asked Joaquin, cautiously reaching for his sword that was just near the nightstand.

Myriads of questions and conclusions hovered over the crown prince’s head at the situation he awoke to. He already believed Abel was an assassin sent by Ismael.

Abel cocked his head, blinking twice with genuine wonder in his eyes. “You don’t seem very concern about your wife.” He glanced at Aries’ back, feeling a bit sad for her because she married an absolute asshole since Joaquin didn’t even glance at Aries despite mentioning her.

“You…” Joaquin breathed out, containing his anger as his fingertips touched the scabbard of his sword. As soon as he grazed his sword, he didn’t hesitate to snatch it and unsheathed it, swinging it at Abel at the same time he lurched out of the bed.

“… how dare you target me, the crown prince?!”

Drip… drip… drip…

Joaquin’s breath hitched as his eyes slowly dilated, pulling his sword back, but to no avail. His eyes fell on the blood dripping on the floor, raising his gaze to the bare hand holding the blade as if it was nothing. When he lifted his head, the light from the outside shone on the left side of Abel’s face, granting Joaquin to see a little bit of the “assassin’s” face.

Abel was unsmiling while looking at him dead in the eye. “I’m sorry, crown prince,” he hummed, pulling the blade along with Joaquin. The second he did, he raised his free hand and a resounding slap landed on the crown prince’s cheek.

CLAP!

Taken by surprise at the ringing flat line in his ear, Joaquin couldn’t even feel his cheek when another slap landed on the side of his head. Upon the second slap, Joaquin’s eyes went round as he gazed up at Abel blankly.

“Awake now?” Abel cocked his head, batting his eyes almost innocently. “Eight minutes, Your Highness.”

His lips curled up as his eyes squinted and glinted menacingly. “I’ll introduce the longest eight minutes of your pathetic life.” This time, Abel pulled the blade and grabbed Joaquin’s collar with his free hand until Joaquin’s feet left the ground.

“What are you —!!” Joaquin struggled, holding on to Abel’s sleeve but to no avail.

Abel carried him out to the balcony while saying in a lazy tone, “we can’t disturb my darling while we have a boy’s night, Your Highness. Indulge with me for eight minutes.”

Even though Joaquin was in a slight state of shock, he knew only the worse awaited him.