Connection - Golden Lycans Sequel 3/3 [Complete]

Bloom

***Ophelia***

“Your mother was once Fae?” I ask, eyes wide, my curiosity peaking.

I remember my own mother confronting Augustus at Vale, accusing them of turning Fae. Aurelius nods, and I see anxiety flicker across his expression.

“Apologies. My father strictly forbade me from ever speaking about her,” he says, biting his lip, “but... as you might imagine, meeting someone else raised by one—I couldn’t help myself.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Aurelius,” I assure him, hoping he believes it, "would you like to talk about her? Now that you have brought her up?”

He eases slightly, nodding.

“My father was infatuated. In the early years of his existence—back when he was the only one of his kind.”

He exhales deeply, pausing, clearly weighing how far to go. But then his eyes meet mine again, and his expression softens—something behind that mask becoming disarmed, something surrenders...

“She wasn’t interested at first. But he persisted—but not in a forceful way. Over time, she allowed a friendship to form. The Fae were always cautious, even back then when numbers of any species were so few. That friendship...it became something more. She believed him to be human, but there came a moment when he couldn’t suppress his instincts anymore. He fed from her. He’d fed from humans, animals—but her blood was...wildly different. It changed him. Strengthened him beyond anything he’d ever known. He couldn’t stop. She nearly died. And then, something else took over—a new urge he'd never had before—an urge to give her his blood in return.”

Aurelius pauses again. His red eyes meet mine again.

“My father is the first. My mother—the second. They lived together in happiness for centuries... but over time, she faded. She missed who she once was.”

Everything in his posture speaks of the sorrow he carries. Without thinking, I reach for his hand and squeeze gently. He looks down at the contact, and I immediately pull away, uncertain if I’ve overstepped.

“W-where is she? Why wasn’t she at the Ball?” I ask, feeling nervous again after my potential faux pas. To speak to a woman like that, who was early one of the very eldest Fae... would be incredible. Aurelius smiles faintly.

“She doesn’t like crowds. Large or small. She’s...depressed. Having me gave her purpose again, but her patience is thinning. That’s why I did what I did. Why I studied, why I spent time in that other realm. Time is everything. I think most wouldn’t want to lose their mother, but...she is a library in herself. Her memory is sharp. She’s lived through more than I can fathom. The world would be richer if she could return to her Fae form. She had unique gifts. Part of why my father fell for her, I think.”

He falls quiet, eyes drifting toward the window.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” I say softly, warmed by the weight of what he’s shared, "I’d love to meet her.”

His features brighten, his smile so genuine.

“She would love to meet another faerie. Of that, I am certain. Perhaps one day, you might,” he adds with a slight pause, "but who can ever know what the future holds?”

We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment. I feel strange—but not in a bad way. In a way that makes my heart beat faster.

“Umm... so your parents are also the parents of the entire vampire race, essentially?” I ask, fascinated. I know he shouldn’t be telling me any of this—but I’m grateful he is.

“They are,” he confirms, "from them came the first others. And from their union—me. All because of your mother. That she enabled a pregnancy in a turned vampire... in a body over twelve and a half thousand years old...is miraculous. It suggests there’s more.”

“My mother longs to understand your kind,” I say, almost pleading. He nods.

“I know. I have met her. I told her what I’m trying to do—what I need to do for my mother... and maybe for others, if they choose. But she doesn’t know my mother was once Fae. I fear she wouldn’t take it well,” he says, then his expression hardens with quiet resolve.

I step closer, sensing he’s about to say something important.

“I want to cure her. I want her to live as a faerie again. I want her to feel the world like she used to. I know it’s almost hopeless... but I do have hope.”

I nod with force. I understand that hunger more than I can say. After only a few years of knowing I couldn’t connect with nature... I can’t imagine bearing that for millennia. I feel for him—this stranger who isn’t a stranger anymore.

“You and my mother...you both feel the same kind of loss. I see that now,” he says quietly, echoing my thoughts.

“I hope you succeed. I hope she feels that connection again. Because whenever it’s felt within reach for me...that’s when I’ve felt the loss the most. Almost having it, but never managing to,” I admit, voice thick with feeling, "I don’t even have light in me, like the Fae do. I feel...broken. No wolf. No light. Nothing about me is Fae. My identity is just...lost.”

The confession spills out before I can stop it.

But I don’t regret it. Something about Aurelius makes me want to be real.

He looks at me again, his gaze flickering over me like he’s reading every part of my soul.

“I don’t know what it should look like. I’ve only just started seeing auras. How does light appear? Is it different for everyone?”

“It appears in anyone’s as shimmering bands of white, according to my mum. She said it’s unmistakable—beautiful. I used to have light. A lot of it… maybe too much, until I got sick around ten and a half years ago,” I explain.

At that, Aurelius seems to sharpen, leaning in slightly, his gaze narrowing with intent.

“Ten and a half?” he repeats. I nod.

“Yes. My mum only told me the full story recently. She thinks maybe I had too much light—that it made me sick. Hybrid biology is messy. Our bodies are always in some quiet war, each half pushing against the other. To balance both is... hard. But I was in the hospital where she worked, and at the peak of it—when I was at my worst—I suddenly got up and ran. Down the corridor. They chased after me and found me... smiling at a newborn in a cot. A baby boy, black hair,” I pause, sighing, "something happened in that room. I went in sick, full of light. I came out well—but empty. No light. And nothing’s been the same since.”

Aurelius turns away from me sharply, staring out of the window, his thoughts clearly racing.

“The world is full of mysteries,” he murmurs, something dark in his tone.

“Come, I’ll show you some of the other rooms.”

...

***Ares***

The whole time I’m showing Ophelia the music room, the kitchen, my father’s car collection, and his ostentatious office, my mind reels.

Ten and a half years...

A baby boy with black hair...

At Ella Landry’s old workplace...

My pulse won’t settle as we climb the stairs, because now I know where I’ve seen her eyes before. That vivid sea-green. That’s why she looked so familiar the day we met.

Because we had met before.

When she finished her story, a memory had stirred—one I shouldn’t have. I was less than a day old, and yet I remember a little girl with the lightest curls hanging over me, her eyes wide with wonder. She touched me, and I was filled with warmth—tingling, like something electric, something I’ve never felt since. Something I can’t explain, even with everything I now know about biology.

I glance sideways at her as she walks ahead. What did I do to her? Did I take something from her, even then? Her light... her peace?

Why do I keep hurting her?

“This is my room,” I tell her as I open a set of double doors.

It isn’t my bedroom. That space is bleak—impersonal. No one could believe someone grew up there. This room, though... this one has traces of me in it.

Ophelia steps in, her smile immediate as she notices the setup near the window.

“Your room is a painting room?” she asks, laughing lightly.

“Where I sleep and become unconscious is irrelevant. This tells you far more about me,” I say, nodding toward the canvas on the easel.

Her eyes move across the painting, and I watch the wonder spread across her face.

“Oh, wow...” she breathes, "is this a real place? The colours... the composition... it’s beautiful.”

My heart kicks at her reaction, and I suddenly wish I knew what she thought of the drawing. Had she seen it?

“It’s from the other place. I remember the area so clearly, I don’t need a reference. Just beyond the tree—where we stand now, really. Just in another realm.”

“Do you paint people?” she asks, her voice more thoughtful now.

“Not usually. I was alone, mostly. I sketched. Pen or pencil, until yesterday. Then I tried watercolour. This”—I gesture to the canvas—“is acrylic.”

She looks at me then, and there’s something in her expression—soft, open—that makes it impossible not to smile.

“You only started using paint yesterday?” she says, clearly impressed, "maybe you should be an artist, not a doctor. It looks like a professional’s work—and I’ve grown up around real art. I know talent.”

“That’s kind of you. Thank you. But this is how I unwind and relax. I study medicine because I want to heal.”

“I understand that. I should want to lead my pack—but I don’t feel that urge. Instead I feel drawn to life. To healing, nurturing... my Fae side at work, I guess.”

She lights up when she says that. Her joy is stunning—quiet and sincere.

“I wouldn’t mind painting you,” I say honestly, "you have the most enchanting eyes that I have ever seen.”

She freezes slightly, surprised, but not displeased. Her smile grows, and a flush warms her cheeks. I laugh softly, half-regretting the boldness, half-glad it’s been said. I have wanted to say that to her so many times before now.

“That’s very kind of you,” she replies, her voice gentler now.

“Can you draw?” I ask, shifting the topic before I say too much.

“God, no. Stick figures are my limit,” she grins. I laugh and gesture out the window.

“I imagine this might be a hard pass... but would you like to go outside?”

She looks across the dark grounds, where flames flicker along the walkways.

“Yes... yes, I would,” she says, quiet but sure.

I draw in a breath and hold my hand out to her, this time without hesitation. She places hers in mine without pause, and I grip it firmly—savouring the sudden, soft rush of happiness that blooms in my chest at the contact.

I lead her out, back into the corridor.

As we descend the staircase together, the foyer now quieter than before, I start to wonder if outside was the right choice. What if she’s too cold? What if it’s too much? But no—I push those thoughts aside.

Whether it’s the right choice or not... I need this.

I need to be with her like this—Real.

...

***Ophelia***

Aurelius leads me to the doorway I’d entered through only hours ago. As he opens it, a sharp rush of cold air cuts across my skin, stealing my breath for a second.

“Now I fear it’s far too cold for you,” he says, eyes catching on the goosebumps that rise along my arms.

“No, it’s fine,” I reply quickly, brushing it off, even though the chill bites deep, “I was born to be outside, wasn’t I?”

He doesn’t argue, only smiles—and then, without hesitation, he takes my hand again.

His grip is warm, his hand larger than mine. It feels steady and comforting. I don’t think he even realises how easily he does it now. My heart stutters at the touch, and I allow myself to lean into the moment as he leads me down the steps and onto the torch-lit path. The flames sway gently in the breeze, casting golden ripples across the stone and stretching toward the orchard, where the wisteria tree waits like something from a dream.

As we walk, he begins to speak—softly at first, then with growing ease. Stories from his childhood spill from him like water from a long-closed spring: tales of climbing trees in the orchard, of daring walks along the stone walls. He speaks with a quiet sort of joy, and it’s clear to me these memories have lived long in silence, waiting for someone to be shared with.

Something tightens in my chest. There’s a loneliness in his words I recognise. A familiar ache. He grew up surrounded by books and silence, chasing a goal that consumed everything else.

Eventually, we reach a wide, circular space crowned by a wrought-iron gazebo.

“This... is my mother’s pride and joy. In the summer, of course,” Aurelius says, sweeping his arms around the space, “in a few months, it’ll be bursting with plants, all chosen to attract butterflies. They come in early summer, all colours. They’re her favourite thing.”

My thoughts flicker to the butterfly enclosure with Ares, and then to the blue morpho that appeared in my bath.

Tonight, I feel like one of them—winged and free. Somehow, this stranger has made me forget what’s missing. He has listened to and seen what I am, not what I’m not. Even when I laid myself bare, he didn’t flinch.

He saw me... and stayed.

Suddenly, Aurelius draws me into the gazebo, a smirk tugging at his lips. There’s no hesitation—one smooth motion and I’m pulled flush against him, his hands sliding confidently into place like he’s done this a hundred times before.

But it’s not the movement that steals my breath—it’s the way his touch sparks something deep and unfamiliar inside me. Something that makes my chest tighten and my skin feel a little too warm.

He starts to dance with me again, slower this time.

Just us, surrounded by shadows and torchlight, no music or anyone else. I smile without meaning to, unable to resist the innocent intimacy of this. The ballroom had shimmered with grandeur and expectation—but here, in this quiet space, there’s nothing to hide behind. No one to perform for.

We stumble once or twice, bumping into each other with clumsy feet and uncoordinated turns, laughing softly like it’s a secret meant only for us.

I feel it growing—that gentle, electric pull that’s been building between us all night.

Each misstep draws us closer. Each twirl unwinds something in me, until there’s nothing left but the warmth blooming steadily in my chest.

He dips me, sudden and playful, and I shriek with laughter. But then... he holds me there. Suspended. His grin fades just a little as his gaze lingers on mine. When he finally pulls me back up, I stumble into his arms, heart hammering against his chest. His breath brushes over my face, so close I could count every eyelash. Closer than we had been so far.

My smile falters, not out of discomfort—but because something’s shifted. The mask that's shielded him this entire time—I need it gone.

I need to see what’s behind it.

I want to see him—all of him.

To look into his eyes with nothing in between.

"Could you please take off your mask? I wish to see your face," I ask, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them. And in that moment, I decide—I won’t ask without giving.

I turn from him, fingers trembling slightly as I peel my own mask away, placing it gently on the bench behind me. When I face him again, his eyes widen. For a moment, he just stares.

Then his lips curve into a soft, open smile.

"You... are incredibly beautiful," he almost whispers, the words simple, but raw and honest—completely unguarded.

The warmth that rushes through me at his words is immediate, a soft flush blooming across my cheeks, creeping down the skin of my chest.

"Please remove yours," I say, my voice lower now, more vulnerable, "I want to know you."

Something shifts in his face. He looks torn, jaw tightening as if bracing against something. His eyes search mine.

"I can’t," he says at last, gently shaking his head.

"But why not?" I ask, the question leaving me sharper than intended, my breath catching with frustration.

"Because...here, tonight, I am Aurelius Katz," he says quietly, like the name is something fragile, "out there? I am someone else. Aurelius is my middle name, not my given one. I attend university, but no one knows what I really am, or who my father is. Because I’m afraid."

I pause. I hadn’t expected that kind of truth. But I understand it.

"You’re afraid of people judging you?" I ask, softening.

"Yes... but it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what I am," His voice grows heavier with each word, raw with a pain I hadn’t realised he was carrying. "I don’t just want to cure my mother. I no longer wish to be this way myself!"

He exhales, like the admission costs him something profound.

"What would you rather be?" I ask, stepping closer. His eyes flicker to mine, and something inside them hardens, like a decision snapping into place.

"Just... human."

His voice is barely above a whisper.

And something in me rebels against it.

"But WHY?" I demand, my voice trembling now, "your father and brother came to my university. They showed us what vampires can do. You're amazing! Why would you want to cast that aside?"

Emotion is rising in me like a tide, unrelenting and clear.

"Some of us are desperate to become what we’re meant to be—not hide from it. Why can’t you just embrace it? Because I assure you, you are perfect the way you are, Aurelius. It is who you were made to be."

I draw in a breath, stepping close enough that I feel his warmth again.

"Embrace ALL that you are. With every fibre of your being!"

I immediately regret my impassioned words, afraid I’ve pushed too hard—afraid I’ve hurt him. But instead, he steps forward suddenly, getting so close that I gasp. The movement is fluid, almost predatory, and just like that, the air between us shifts, becoming charged and tight.

His scent—warm and heady—floods my senses, and a sharp jolt of something electric shoots through me. I feel it low in my stomach.

Heat.

Want.

He’s so close now, I can feel the subtle brush of his breath against my lips, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he stares down at me.

His glowing red eyes locked into mine, hungry and unblinking, and my heart pounds harder in response.

I can’t look away.

Because I don’t want to.

My gaze drops, lingering on his lips—on the flash of his pearly fangs, barely hidden, a whisper of danger behind that beautiful mask of his. A reminder of what he really is, of what he could do.

Of what he wants.

I force myself to look back up, but his gaze has only intensified. The torches flicker in the garden around us, and the light dances in his eyes, casting shadows across his sharp features.

"To embrace myself..." he murmurs, voice low and rough, "would be to taste you, Ophelia."

The words land like a strike of lightning, and the silence that follows is thick, pulsing.

I should be afraid.

But I’m not.

Because fear is nowhere to be found in the heat that floods through me now, in the way my skin prickles with awareness, in the way my whole body responds to the raw hunger in his voice.

What I feel instead is something else entirely.

Desire.

Pure and unshakable, and dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

I want to give myself over to this man—this stranger who feels anything but—to lose myself in something wild and unknown. My breath hitches as I tilt my chin toward him, my gaze falling to his sculpted lips, parted ever so slightly, and my heart hammers violently against my ribs.

An urge rises—sudden, fierce, and impossible to reason with. My body moves before thought can catch it. My hands slide up, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his collar before settling at the sides of his neck, the warmth of his skin beneath my touch grounding and electric all at once.

I pull him toward me and rise to my toes, pressing my lips to his—firm, purposeful.

It’s a solid gamble.

A reckless one after only four hours of knowing him.

I don’t even know his real name. I haven’t even seen his face.

But somehow... none of that matters.

Because despite the strangeness of it all—his mystery, my caution—everything with him has felt easy.

Unfiltered.

Unforced.

Like every brush of his hand and every quiet word had already been written long before this night began.

It doesn’t feel like a beginning.

It feels like a continuation; natural and inevitable.

This intriguing young man returns my kiss with a bold intensity, sparking something primal deep inside me as his strong hands grip my waist—possessive and hungry. It’s mad, reckless and unlike anything I would normally do... but maybe that’s the point. Maybe tonight is about surrender. And gods, how right it feels as a delicious, slow-burning heat begins to roll through my body, pooling low and pulling me deeper.

I pull back for only a breath, meaning to speak—to ask again about the mask—but before the words can form, he’s already reached out and dragged me back towards him, snagging my lips again with a feverish urgency.

His arm slides tighter around my waist while the other cradles the back of my head, anchoring me to him entirely, as if letting go would be unbearable. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, how utterly wanted I feel—how deeply desired. It’s a power I’ve never claimed before, and I find myself surrendering to it, to him, with startling ease.

My lips part, and I seek out his tongue with my own, hungry for more. The rhythm comes quickly, instinctively, so easily. His body presses flush against mine, and our hands explore—adjusting, clutching, gripping—searching for something we’ve already found. Every brush of his fingertips feels electric, each kiss more consuming than the last. My thoughts dissolve, lost in the heat and the breathless pull between us, in the sensation of finally being seen, felt, wanted.

Too soon, he eases me back, and a soft, involuntary sound escapes me—a sigh of loss. I stare up at him, flushed and breathless, drawn into the glow of his vivid red eyes, unsure why this had to stop...

“You taste…exquisite,” he whispers, his thumb grazing my cheek with a delicate tenderness. A shy smile tugs at my lips in response, my heart thundering, my mind struggling to catch up with what has just happened.

I’ve just kissed a stranger with a masked face, the son of the vampire king no less—and I want more.

As I gaze at him, a burst of colour in my peripheral vision suddenly draws my attention away. I turn to survey the scene around us, utterly awestruck by the transformation that has unfolded.

A transformation that could have only resulted from me.

A transformation I know is a direct consequence of that kiss.

The garden we stand in is no longer dead and barren. Instead, it now bursts with vitality. Every plant, shrub, and tree around us has awakened and blossomed with fervor. Rich, crimson reds are striking alongside jewel-toned pinks, creamy corals, and radiant yellows. Deep, velvety purples mingle with every hue in between, creating an enchanting kaleidoscope of colour. As we step apart, a wave of intoxicating fragrance hits my nose, a harmonious blend of sweet and floral. I exit the gazebo, my mind fully awoken in wonder, as I walk around the circular garden. Everywhere I look, life has sprung forth in abundance, entirely out of season nor reason.

"This would suggest, Ophelia, that there is definitely a magic about you," Aurelius says in his own wonder, reaching out for one of the beautiful flowers. I look down at my hands, the electric feeling that I'd had during our kiss was now slowly dissipating from my fingertips.

I almost dare to not consider it, but was this…was this the feeling of... my magic?

A smile spreads across my face as my heart turns hopeful. I turn to look up at Aurelius as he in turn, looks up at me after inspecting a flower. I am positively beaming, and a charming, broad smile now spreads across his own face in response.

...and I realise…it is a smile that tugs directly at my heart and my memory...

...because...it is a smile that my heart knows...

Shock punctures my heightened mood as many things this man has said this evening, hits me all at once, like pieces of a puzzle slotting into place.

I realise I should have known who was underneath the mask all along.

How had I not noticed?

"Ares..." I breathe quietly, somewhat in disbelief, looking around at particular features of him that I can now recognise; his height, his athletic build, his shapely jaw, his beautiful olive complexion, his pitch black hair, his shapely lips curved into that smile...

As my mind races ahead to fill in the details behind the mask, his face becomes achingly clear to me. His smile fades, and his eyes fill with an earnest plea, searching mine, leaving me at a loss for words.

"Lia..." he says gently, taking a single step towards me.

The shoe drops completely at this single word, cementing my realisation entirely. He steps closer to me again. My body wants to reach out for him and cling to him, but my heart and mind hold me back.

Because...he has surely known it was me, this entire evening. He doesn't look surprised that I have called him by his true name. He is not phased, not even a little bit. He has been FULLY aware...

"You...you've lied to me!" I say sadly, hurt and absolute embarrassment flooding through me, "you've known who I am this entire evening..."

In a decisive movement, he tugs at the mask that obscures his face, peeling it away to finally reveal the man beneath. I let out a shuddering breath as Ares' true features come into focus, completing a face I had come to know so well: his strikingly red eyes and sharp fangs glinting in the dim light. The now complete picture of my friend, who was so familiar to me, yet with features that are so foreign.

"I think...that we have both deceived each other," he then points out, his expression tinged with anxiety, stepping closer again. I step back a little, because my mind is in a fair bit of turmoil.

...Ares has been a vampire all along?

Of course he knew it was me, I'd smell familiar, wouldn't I? Did natural-born vampires have the same sense of smell?

I cradle my head in my hands, feeling thoroughly stupid for not seeing through this facade sooner.

He is the person I have feelings for, but also the person who ignored me for two weeks without explanation. The talented artist who drew such a soft yet strikingly beautiful portrait of me, was also ‘Aurelius’, the natural-born son of the vampire king. A vampire I had spent most of the evening with, danced with, shared personal stories with, who I had just shared a thrilling kiss with; a kiss that had caused an entire garden around us to abruptly and vibrantly, bloom into life.

Both were one and the same, apparently still the only person capable of bringing any slither of my faerie self to the surface.

But he’d lied.

After spending two weeks hiding from me, he’d spent the whole evening with me under the guise of being someone else. I didn’t understand…

I start to feel deeply unbalanced within myself, feeling many strong emotions about this revelation, bubbling up inside me. I don't know what to think or to feel, right now. I had questions.

But I also couldn't stay here in front of him any longer.

I turn and begin to hurry away down the snowy path.