Connection - Golden Lycans Sequel 3/3 [in progress]

The Matters of Mating Pt 2 / Persuasion Pt 1

***Ares***

I finish my mocha and set the cup down, having spent the last twenty minutes mulling over the lecture and the video we watched. It was fascinating. I’d read about the process of marking and all the old mate bonds Lycans used to form, but learning the science behind it and seeing the physical process was something else entirely.

During the video, I could feel Lia growing increasingly uncomfortable, along with a noticeable rise in the depth of her feeling of loss. I wished I could ask why it affected her so strongly, but human-Ares wouldn’t know anything, of course. I just had to accept that I would always be in the dark when it came to this feeling she carried.

As I sit here, I also need to consider the unexpected reaction the video sparked in me. It stirred something unfamiliar... something I hadn’t properly contemplated before. Likely because of how I’d lived these past ten years, largely without emotional or physical stimuli of this nature. But regardless of my upbringing or nature, I had to acknowledge that I was still a young adult male. Vampire or not, every species had the innate drive to perform the act that led to procreation. It was deeply rooted in biology, and widely accepted to be highly pleasurable—especially for men.

In truth, I hadn’t thought about it much until I arrived at Vale. My interactions before this were limited almost entirely to family—No one my own age. No peers. No awkwardness. No flirtation. Nothing to even hint at the concept of attraction. But now, I was surrounded by people my age, and week by week, something inside me was beginning to stir—subtle at first, but growing more insistent with every passing encounter. My awareness of others was becoming sharper. I was noticing more. Feeling more.

The video we watched was clinical in purpose—intended to inform—but it caught me off guard. I’d seen the naked female form in books before, usually in anatomical studies. Necessary knowledge, unemotional and precise. But the video...the movement, the sounds, the way two bodies fit together with intent and rhythm...it was entirely different.

Alive.

I have to admit to myself—uncomfortably so—that I had found it...enjoyable. More than that, the physical adjustments that had taken place.

My heart had beat faster.

My mouth had gone dry.

My palms had become clammy.

And my eyes—despite my efforts—had been drawn repeatedly to the woman’s breasts. I had studied the curvature of her form, the softness in her lips, the flush of her cheeks, the way her hands gripped and the sounds she made when she did. It was all intensely sensory, and I was hyper-aware of every detail.

It wasn’t just about the act. It was about closeness. Vulnerability.

Connection.

And it made me feel...left behind. Not in an envious way, but with a quiet sense of curiosity. I’d never experienced even a fraction of it. Never kissed someone. Never touched someone with intention, nor had them touch me. I didn’t even know what it was supposed to feel like—to want someone in that way.

It wasn’t urgent or overwhelming.

Just...new.

A door, quietly opening somewhere in my mind. I found myself glancing more often at the people around me. Their smiles. Their scents. The softness of their hair. The curve of a waist. The sound of a laugh. Noticing...absorbing...wondering.

It was all very confusing.

But also, perhaps, a little exciting.

I knew from watching Madeleine, from the shows we viewed together, and a few private talks with Ash, that this was a normal thing to feel. But right now, I can think of little else.

The basketball courts are on the way to chemistry, and sure enough, I spot the striking blonde hair of my friend as she leaps into the air, sending the basketball flying into the hoop with remarkable accuracy. Lia was impressive, no doubt about it.

"Lia! Are you coming to chemistry?" I call out from the court entrance, wondering if she’s alright. Her movements suggest otherwise—sharper than usual—and her expression is intense. Her aura, now appearing as if on command, matches her expression. She nods several times, bouncing the ball once or twice with a faint scowl as she walks over to me.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she calls back, sounding a little dejected. Up close, her aura looks muddy and dull. Was it because of the lecture? The video? Both? Something else? Either way, I didn’t like seeing her this way.

"I know that lecture made you uncomfortable. So...I won’t bring it up again. Although, I’d appreciate your help with the self-study, if you’re willing. I don’t know much about the topic," I admit. She lets out a short laugh and nods, leaning forward to grab her bag from the ground.

"Of course I’ll help you. It’s just...Ares, I happen to know a Lycan who was assaulted like that. She nearly died. Hearing about it hit a little too close to home, you know? The fact it’s still happening...it’s awful."

I furrow my brow, feeling her sadness and hurt—for whoever it is she’s talking about. Beneath it, though, I sense how vulnerable she feels herself.

"I understand, Lia," I say gently. Even though she isn’t Lycan and not at direct risk of the growing problem, she was nearly assaulted herself in the car park at the bowling alley. I couldn’t blame her for feeling vulnerable right now. I could tell her I’d protect her if I could, but I don’t think she’d welcome that. She feels vulnerable, but wishes she didn’t, and she’s strong in character. Lia wasn’t some damsel from a fairy tale. I just hoped she knew I’d always be here for her.

..

Thankfully, during our chemistry class, I can feel Lia’s tension quickly dissipate now that she has something else to focus on.

I find myself looking at her frequently during the lesson, my mind vividly replaying the moment she had woven her fingers through mine in the butterfly enclosure. It’s something I still think about often, mostly to remind myself that I’ve found people here who care about me.

I don’t think she’s aware of it, but there’s a distinct beauty to Lia—the more I look, the more I notice. I’d initially found her pretty, much like Madeleine, but as the weeks have passed, I find her increasingly captivating. Her eyes are incredibly striking, and the soft, rosy lip she’s currently biting as she concentrates on pouring chemicals into a beaker draws my attention. It’s the way her face lights up too—her eyes even brighter—whenever she smiles at me. Her eyes meet mine again as I’m thinking all this, and she smiles, and once again, I can’t help but smile back.

I’m glad she seems to be feeling better.

..

Entering the flat at the end of the day, we’re barely through the door when Madeleine launches at us in the most obnoxiously theatrical fashion.

“Oh my word, can you believe they basically showed us PORN today?” she shrieks, her wide eyes fixed on Lia. The door hasn’t even shut behind us. Ash throws a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he heads to the kitchen, clearly done with Madeleine for the day. He likely sat next to her during the entire lecture, and I doubt she kept her thoughts to herself.

“Honestly, I’m going to be thinking about that video when I’m in the bath later,” Madeleine purrs, raising one brow as she stares expectantly at Lia.

“I think you’ve completely missed the point of the lecture,” Lia replies, quiet but cold, her expression carved from stone.

“Oh, I get the reason, but come on—the self-study? It’s weird, right? Isn’t it basically just rough s*x? I mean... sign me up!” Madeleine exclaims, her voice overly bright. And that’s when I feel it.

A sudden shift in the air. Like the charge before a lightning strike. Lia’s anger bursts into the room—raw, electric, dangerous. The phrase thunderous anger springs to mind, as though the world itself holds its breath.

“BASICALLY JUST ROUGH s*x?!” Lia explodes, and the force of it is stunning. I’ve never heard her raise her voice, let alone shout like this. She storms around the sofas, face fierce, eyes blazing. She plants herself before Madeleine like a reckoning made flesh.

“Have you any idea what’s happening off-campus? DEATH. Rape, if they’re lucky not to lose their lives in the process!”

Madeleine stares, stunned, mouth slightly open. Ash freezes in the kitchen, attention locked on them.

“W-what? Why?” Madeleine asks, her voice suddenly small.

“Because without divine influence to guide them to a soul mate, they’re forced to choose,” Lia snaps. “Why would an alpha settle for an omega when they could try for a beta? But what if that beta says no? The alpha’s stronger. Faster. They take what they want. Lycans are hardwired to seek power for their packs—any concept of love gets crushed beneath that need. And it’s not just Lycans. Any powerful supernatural is at risk. So no, Maddy, it’s not just ‘rough s*x’. Imagine Natalie bleeding out from a bite to the neck—claimed like a possession, all because someone wanted her, and didn’t care how she felt. Not so sexy now, is it?”

With that, Lia spins and storms out to the balcony, collapsing into one of the loungers with her shoulders hunched forward like they bear the weight of the world.

“I had no idea,” Madeleine whispers.

“It’s a very real threat, Mads. My dad told me about it last week,” Ash says grimly.

“Why did she take it so personally?” Madeleine asks, frowning. “That felt... personal.”

“She’s known someone who was attacked like that,” I say, quiet now. “They nearly died.”

I want to go to her. I can feel the urge crawling beneath my skin. But instead, Ash moves first—crossing the room, slipping through the balcony door, and lowering himself beside her. He drapes an arm around her, and she leans into him like she’s finally letting herself break.

Something twists in my chest. An unbidden stab of... something sharp.

“I guess that’s why they’re teaching it now,” Madeleine says, dropping onto the sofa with less energy than usual. I sit across from her, my eyes locked on the balcony, on Lia curled against Ash like he’s her anchor.

“Yes,” I reply, stiffly. “We could end up treating injuries like that.”

“All I can think about is the VC’s daughter,” Madeleine murmurs. “Alpha heir to the Golden Lycans pack, all wrapped in the body of a Fae? She’d be like a walking buffet to any alpha. No wonder they kept her hidden... I get it now.”

“Hmm,” I manage, still staring. Lia nods at something Ash says, and he pulls her in closer. His hand brushes her hair.

Why is he touching her like that?

“Ugh, I bet he’d spoon her in a heartbeat,” Madeleine mutters under her breath. I glance at her. She’s watching them too, a faint pout on her lips.

“What is ‘spooning’?” I ask, finally looking at her. I’ve heard her use the term before and never quite understood.

She grins and gives a soft laugh.

“Big spoon and little spoon,” she explains. “The guy’s usually the big spoon—because he’s bigger. It’s just laying side by side, with the guy curled around the girl. Like she just fits there, against him. It’s...intimate, but not really. It makes us feel warm. Protected. And guys like it too—it feels good.”

Her voice is dreamy, her expression tinged with longing, and once again I find myself completely baffled by Madeleine’s ever-shifting depths.

…

***Ophelia***

“We can all sit together today—isn’t this just so exciting?” Maddy exclaims through a mouthful of toast. Morning has arrived. The vampires are visiting campus, and we’re finally going to learn about them.

“I’ve been really looking forward to it,” I admit.

“Oh yes, especially you, vampire-kisser,” Maddy teases, flashing a grin at Lia. I scowl at her just as Ares steps out of his room, looking strangely polished in a casual blue shirt—so different from his usual hoodies. He looks... really good. I double take.

“Wow. Is that a shirt?” I ask, eyeing him with amused curiosity.

“I didn’t want to look like a slob,” he replies with a small smile.

“Well, it suits you. You look great,” I say, grabbing an apple. “I want a good seat—I’m heading out now.”

“Same—wait for me!” Ares says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and hurrying after me.

We join a growing crowd making its way across campus. It’s never this busy on a Monday morning. The buzz of anticipation is unmistakable—we’re clearly about to witness the lecture hall at full capacity.

“Have you picked a costume for Madeleine’s party?” Ares asks as we walk.

“She already sorted mine. Thank god—otherwise I was going to go as a medical student,” I joke.

Ares laughs. “Oh? Does this shirt count as med-student attire? Maybe I’ll swap Spiderman for a stethoscope.”

“Hmm. With your dark features, maybe you should go as a vampire instead,” I say playfully. He chuckles quietly but doesn’t reply.

“I actually have an alternative idea I’m now quite keen to try,” he says brightly.

“That’s a relief. Cropped-legged Spiderman could’ve been... awkward,” I tease, just as he opens the door to the lecture theatre.

I am not expecting to see my mum, dad and Ollie standing in the entrance room to the lecture theatre, wearing smart attire.

“Good morning. Please find your allocated seats, sorted by residential building,” Mum says, trying to look neutral. Dad fails slightly—he winks at me. I wish I could take him to the court for a bit, but I’ll have to wait for winter break to play basketball again.

“Thank you, Mrs Landry,” Ares says politely, nodding. She smiles at him as we step inside.

It is packed.

We find our seats—front row, luckily. Three columns of seats, walkways running down to the front platform. Our building is centre-front and I’m quietly pleased. Ares swaps his place card with Ash’s so he ends up next to me instead of Maddy.

“I really don’t feel like sitting next to Madeleine. Ash is used to her in class,” he explains, settling beside me.

Ten minutes later, Ash and Maddy arrive. The hall is nearly full.

My mum walks gracefully to the lectern, looking immaculate. She’s dressed more formally than usual—a sleeveless navy dress with a boat neck and gold heels. Her long platinum hair is sleek and straight. Pack colours, always, especially with Dad here. I spot him now, hanging back with Uncle Ollie.

Mum clears her throat politely and the room quiets.

“Good morning,” she begins, soft and warm. “One of our goals at Vale is to unite every intelligent bipedal species in the world. We aim to question, to understand—and by doing so, to treat and to heal. Vampires have existed for thousands of years, like my own kind, yet they remain unfamiliar to many of us. Today, we warmly welcome the vampire king, Augustus Katz, and his sired son Atticus, who’ll lead most of the presentation. I trust you’ll offer them the same respect and grace you’ve shown all our guests.”

She steps back. A door opens at the rear.

Everyone turns as one when Augustus Katz sweeps into the hall, cutting a sharp figure in a tailored grey suit threaded with dark red — a deliberate nod, perhaps, to the very caricature the world has painted of his kind. There’s something theatrical in it, a performance he leans into with elegance sharpened by age. It’s difficult to reconcile this poised, magnetic man with the idea that he’s walked the earth for thousands of years. Then again, I could never quite picture Sen’s age either.

But it’s the man behind him who steals the air from the room.

He’s younger — or at least, appears to be — tall and broad-shouldered, with the lean, dangerous grace of something forged for battle. Tousled black hair frames a face that could belong to a lost god, his Iberian features sculpted and striking. His eyes are dark, unreadable, and his expression simmers with heat. He looks like he could tear the world apart or sell it on a runway, maybe both. Black leather trousers, heavy boots, and a half-buttoned shirt complete the look — all shadow and tension and intent.

He is, quite honestly, hot as hell.

"Holy fuck..." I hear Maddy exclaim, and for once I am in agreement. Ash looks rather intrigued and Ares...looks bored?

"Thank you, it iz an honour to do zis for the voman who gave our community...life, quite literally," Augustus says in an awkward central-european accent, "such young, intrigued souls in front of us. My son Atticus, iz more...eh...understandable."

He glances briefly forwards where I am sat, with a light smirk on his face, before he makes a gesture for Atticus to approach the lectern. He saunters up to it, pausing as he looks around the room, his dark eyes darting around quickly at everyone.

"Good morning. I have sat in a hall such as this, many times in my life. I, am approximately six thousand, seven hundred and ninety-three years of age. I think. It is hard to keep track after the first thousand," he says, his voice sounding like smooth butter. His light joke earns a few chuckles across the room, but largely there is shock. No one had any true idea of the age of Augustus— who must be far older than the five thousand years people had previously postulated.

"But like you, I have attended higher education. I have nineteen degrees, eight masters and also a doctorate in psychology to my name. I have had the time, after all. I can see that my true age surprises you..."

He gestures wide with his arms for a moment and looks proud.

"I am the principal law enforcement for our community and being the age that I am gives me my advantage; the older we are, the more enhanced we are, and this is lesson one. Despite what you might think, vampires do not need blood, but the craving is built into our DNA. Blood can heal, it can strengthen, and it completely halts the aging process in our bodies…for a time. Without blood we are mere mortals like many of you here," he walks out from behind the lectern, holding the microphone.

"...Almost."

He glances over towards where I am sat, just like Augustus did and I am starting to worry that they can smell what I am.

“But why be mortal when you can be so much more?” he adds, looking directly in my eyes, this time.

I narrow my eyes at him, my heart beginning to race a little as my worry grows deeper.

"Beneath the warming rays of the yellow sun came the first faerie — born of light, a radiant force meant to push back the darkness that has lingered since the dawn of time. She was the divine answer to shadow. But the divinity that made her did not account for nature’s relentless pursuit of balance. And so, from that need, He emerged — the consequence. The equal. The one I call Father.

Like the Fae, we are bound to nature, tethered to its rhythms and reservoirs. We draw energy from it, as they do — only, nature has more than one form of power, more than the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. But for the Fae, love is the most potent force of all.

For us… it is something else."

He gazes around the room, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Human blood. It is energy in its purest form. Without it, we falter. We weaken. We lose our speed, our strength, our longevity. We stop healing. And yet, we persist. We continue to feed. Why?"

Another pause.

"What do we give in return? What do we offer nature that earns us this place? The Fae are revered — their gifts are seen and felt, their impact was always SO CLEAR! But what of us? What do we bring to the world? Where is the balance?"

Atticus steps away from the lectern, his gaze sweeping the silent hall. The question hangs in the air, unanswered. Perhaps it is meant to be.

He turns, locking eyes with my parents where they stand at the side. A faint, knowing smile touches his lips.

“When we extract blood from someone,” he begins, voice calm but cutting through the quiet like a blade, “we draw more than just sustenance. We draw impurities — toxins, illnesses, things that do not belong in a body. It’s something the world does not know about us.”

He glances back at my mother.

Her expression shifts, surprised. Truly surprised. I’ve only seen that look a handful of times.

“To call it feeding is reductive. Ignorant, even. Because in that moment…we learn something. We bond. Ingesting a person’s energy...becomes connection. I’ve turned hundreds over the years — and I promise you, for many of them, it was the best thing that ever happened. Physically. Mentally. Even spiritually.”

The hall is breathless.

My classmates, usually so distracted, sit utterly still. You could hear a pin drop.

I’d never heard this — that drinking blood was a bond. It changes things.

“We can read them,” Atticus continues, softer now, "not just on the surface — deeper. Beneath thought, beneath fear. We don’t need FBCs to diagnose a body. We know. And sometimes, the immortality we offer isn’t a curse. It’s a cure.”

He pauses.

“Some of the greatest minds in history…they were ours. Vampires. Quietly shaping the world you live in.”

His eyes find mine.

He holds my gaze, sharp and curious, head tilted just slightly — a mirror of what I’d done earlier.

...

***Ares***

Atticus looks in my general direction once again. I feel so on edge. Atticus was my brother...technically, even by blood, since my father's blood did flow through his veins. But it wouldn't surprise me if he decided to 'out' me. He was often far kinder and more sympathetic toward me than Amadeus ever was. However, Atticus was unpredictable at times, particularly when he got bored. He turns away and looks around the room with a wry smile.

"So, lesson one was to explain why we drink blood, and to briefly touch on what we offer to nature in exchange. Lesson two, is the question so many have...what can we do?" Atticus then says so deliberately as he looks around the room.

I hear lots of movement as people take even more notice of what he is saying.

Atticus immediately demonstrates his insane speed, zipping from one side of the podium to another. My eyes follow him the entire time, able to keep up with this more than human eyes ever could.

"...speed..." he says simply, tossing his long black hair over his shoulder before making a rather sultry facial expression, "...we can move unbelievably fast, just like the Fae, and with any movement..."

I hear Madeleine make a strange, titillated noise from nearby.

Atticus then casually picks up the large, solid, wooden lectern with one hand, holding onto one of the ledges at the top. He raises it high with no discernible effort, swapping hands to hold it by the base, so perfectly level with his other hand. He bends down to easily rest it gently onto the podium.

"Physical strength..." he adds before looking over at Ella Landry, "but this is something the Fae have never had. But without physical strength came their power to heal, a skill we have never naturally possessed.”

I can tell by this point, that Atticus is enjoying having this much attention given to him.

“Keener eyesight. Able to track movement like a predator, like a hawk, measure with accuracy, reasonable sight in the dark and the ability to see the smallest of changes; nothing escapes our notice. These are basic abilities that we possess, which are all increased in strength and potency, when blood is introduced into our bodies.”

He returns to the centre of the podium and smirks in my direction once again.

"And…perhaps one of our most treasured and mystical of gifts...is the gift of persuasion. Another skill that only gets stronger in us, with time," Atticus finally says, glancing toward Ella Landry as she stands next to her husband, her arms folding across her chest anxiously, “perhaps a demonstration?"

I can hear a few intrigued mutterings around the room, as I am sure many of my classmates are keen to see this in action. My mind drifts back to the only time I had ever used it, on Lia, when I had seen her beautiful eyes change and lose their conscious focus. I look sideways at her, thankful to see her eyes bright and curious as ever.

Atticus looks at me again, brow furrowing slightly, before he begins a slow walk toward our row. I stiffen, heart sinking. He’s going to expose me—I’m certain. But his gaze shifts to Lia, sitting there innocently, as this man with unfathomable mental powers descends on her. Why her?

“Your eyes, my dear. They say a lot about you,” he murmurs, leaning down. She doesn’t flinch or shrink back—just looks fascinated.

"Would you care to join me?" he says softly.

I hear Madeleine mutter something along the lines of 'lucky b***h' as Lia nods slowly and stands from her seat, walking along the rest of the row and then down onto the podium.

She’s completely dwarfed by him as he looks down with a gentleness that doesn’t sit right—too smooth, too calculated. He looks like a predator, sizing her up. My chest tightens with a sharp, instinctive need to protect her.

I don’t want her hurt.

I don’t want her humiliated.

I shoot a glance toward my father, hoping for intervention—but he’s already watching me. I swallow hard, forcing calm into my features even as Lia lifts her chin, meeting Atticus’s gaze with a boldness that makes my heart twist.

She doesn’t know him like I do.

A sharp, gruff throat-clear breaks the tension. I glance sideways and see Austin Landry, head of the supernatural council, staring at the podium with steel in his eyes.

He’s not happy.

Maybe he doesn’t like seeing a student being made into a spectacle. But his wife must’ve approved it.

“What is your name, my dear?” Atticus asks.

“Lia,” she says, voice clear despite the crackling tension.

“Such a simple name… for what I sense is a very strong mind,” he murmurs, leaning in and brushing the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

My stomach flips.

She’s breathing faster now. She’s nervous.

Don’t touch her again!

What is he going to make her do?

He steps even closer, bending down until his face is only inches from hers. She tilts her head up to meet him, but I see the tension in her posture. She’s bracing herself.

“Tell us… your biggest secret,” he says, and I feel the air shift. His voice has changed.

Persuasion.

I know it.

Lia stares up at him, blank at first, then visibly conflicted.

“I have no secrets,” she says eventually, her voice uncertain.

It didn’t work?

My eyes narrow. Why didn’t it work?

Atticus studies her with a look that’s suddenly less amused. My father steps forward and murmurs something low to him. Atticus retreats, just slightly, as Dad approaches Lia.

He towers over her, power radiating from every inch. She watches him warily.

He leans in and says something quiet. Something only she hears. But I catch the flicker in her eyes. That subtle jolt. My senses are sharp enough to spot it.

“Do a backflip, vor me, my dear,” he says, so gently it could pass as a polite request. Lia nods without expression and performs a backwards flip across the podium, landing perfectly.

But her face—it’s off.

Too blank.

The crowd erupts into applause, but something feels off about it—as I'd seen my own persuasion work on her before, and she didn't seem like this.

“Strong mind indeed,” my father says, offering his hand. She shakes it politely, but there’s tension in her every movement.

She’s unsettled.

She returns to her seat quickly, arms folded tight across her chest. Maybe it’s being watched. Maybe it’s knowing someone just reached inside her mind and bent it to their will.

She glances at me, and I raise my brows, as if asking if she’s okay. She gives a small nod and a faint smile… but her eyes dart forward a little too fast.

She’s shaken.

I feel something cold rising inside of me.