Elias blinked, his head swimming. The wound in his side was no longer screaming; instead, it hummed with a low, rhythmic warmth that felt terrifyingly familiar.
"I am Lord Percival, and I find your presence in my foyer quite the conversational centerpiece. Though, I must say, you're a bit... large for the furniture."
Percival stood up, swaying just enough to suggest the bottle of cognac on the table was his closest friend. He adjusted his monocle and peered at Elias. "You have the look of a man who fights tides. Fortunately for you, I have a friend who is quite obsessed with such... rarities."
Percival led him—or rather, wobbled ahead of him—into a solarium that overlooked the entire shimmering skyline. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass was a man who seemed to swallow all the light in the room.
He was tall, with a lean, soft build that moved with a grace no human should possess. His hair was a dark, silken waterfall that spilled over his shoulders, framing a face so flawlessly beautiful it looked like a masterpiece carved from moonlight.
But it was his eyes that stopped Elias's heart—they were a piercing, glowing yellow, like twin suns burning in the deep.
"My dear Caspian," Percival slurred, gesturing grandly at Elias. "I found this stray on the doorstep. He has a fisherman's shoulders and the eyes of a cornered wolf. I thought he might be best suited as another of your... guards. To add to your collection of statuesque protectors."
Caspian didn't look at Percival. He looked only at Elias. His smile was subtle, a mere curve of the lips, but it felt like a hook sinking into Elias's chest.
"He is perfect, Percival," Caspian's voice was like velvet sliding over steel. "You may leave us. I shall handle his... orientation."
"Splendid," Percival chirped, already turning back toward the decanter. "Do try not to break him too quickly. He's much more aesthetic than the last one."
As soon as the door clicked shut behind the staggering Lord, the air in the room changed. The jasmine scent of the High Sector vanished, replaced by the sudden, overwhelming smell of deep-sea salt and ozone.
Before Elias could take a breath, Caspian moved. He didn't walk; he flowed.
In a blur of motion, Caspian's hands were on Elias's waist. He pulled the boy forward with a strength that felt like the crushing pressure of the abyss, pressing Elias flush against him. Elias stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the solid, cool heat of the man's chest.
Caspian leaned in, his long dark hair brushing against Elias's neck. He leaned his lips right against Elias's ear, his voice dropping to a predatory, velvety whisper.
"I did say I would find you, little spark."
Elias's blood ran cold. The dream. The tongue. The warmth. This wasn't a man, and this wasn't a job. The Leviathan hadn't just marked him—it had come to claim its prize.
...