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

Persuasion Pt 2

***Aries***

“A question!” Atticus exclaims, eyes alight with delight as he spots a raised hand in the fourth row. “Ah, my dear—do ask. I do so love the curious.”

The young woman clears her throat.

“How do you turn…a person?”

Atticus pauses.

Then he grins, slow and feral.

“Ooh…finally. The question on everyone's mind,” he says, voice rising theatrically, “and here I thought you'd never ask.”

He turns slightly, addressing the whole hall now, arms spread like a conductor summoning his orchestra. “It’s not obvious by now?” His tone is almost scolding, dripping with mock disappointment.

“Blood, of course.”

The theatre stills.

“One is drained,” he says softly now, darkly, “utterly, exquisitely drained, until the body is on the trembling cusp of death. Until their blood barely trickles through the veins, clinging to the final flicker of life.”

He lifts his hand, then slowly clenches it into a fist.

“Then—our blood is introduced.”

He pauses, letting the silence stretch.

“It is beautiful,” he says louder, fervent now, “the exchange of life force. Their blood—” he gestures grandly, “for mine.”

A ripple of unease flows through the room.

And then—he bares his fangs.

With a swift, practised motion, he pierces his own wrist. Blood arcs out—crimson, vivid—splashing across the podium in a painter’s stroke. Gasps echo as students either recoil or lean forward in fascination.

“Such divine colour,” he whispers reverently, watching the flow with something close to hunger, "it signifies the gift... the gift, that we bestow.”

He licks the wound once. It seals instantly, and the room is breathless.

“And thus,” he says, voice booming now, “the greatest lesson of all. There is nothing—NOTHING—that works harder in this life… than blood.”

The silence is deafening. His eyes, blood-red, sweep across the crowd like a flame seeking dry kindling.

“When vampire blood enters a human body,” he says slowly, “it changes it. Fundamentally. Irrevocably. Stronger. Faster. Potentially ageless.” His tone is thick with promise. “Just imagine the possibilities.”

He steps forward, voice hushed now. Intimate.

“Blood is life. You know that. You feel that. It animates you, fuels you. But for us? It calls to us. Some blood—” he inhales, eyes fluttering closed “—it screams to us.”

His eyes snap open. Locking instantly with mine.

“A call... full of PROMISE.”

My pulse hammers in my ears. The words collide with memory—how Lia’s blood had undone me. How it still does.

I barely notice him continuing.

“Do not worry,” I hear, faintly, “our saliva heals the puncture. We need only a third of a litre to bestow three months of elevation. Every skill. Every sense. Every feature.” His voice drops to a whisper, almost reverent.

"Everything. Blood…is…everything.”

Lia shifts beside me.

Closer.

Too close.

Her scent crashes into me—wild and maddening. I inhale, against all reason, a long, slow breath through my nose. It floods me, honey and thunder, pulling something loose in my chest. My eyes roll back a little. Heat claws at my throat. But my fangs, by some miracle, stay hidden.

I glance at my father.

He is already watching me.

And I wonder, with rising dread, if he knows exactly what I’ve just done.

“…and before you all panic,” Atticus says, slicing cleanly through my thoughts, “we have already cleared this with your Vice Chancellor.” He lifts a single hand toward the rear doors. They open.

A woman steps through—mixed heritage, striking, descends the steps with unhurried confidence. Her scent, is unmistakably human. She walks past us, and I know now—without a shadow of doubt—she is one of his volunteers.

“This is Cassie,” Atticus announces, “a friend of mine.”

His smile sharpens.

“She is human. She has a job, a home, two cats. A normal life. Except for...the disease.”

His gaze softens briefly, "a chronic condition that interrupts her every day. A condition that’s placed her on the transplant list. For a new kidney.”

Cassie looks at him with warmth.

Devotion. Trust.

“Cassie is one of several who give me blood. Freely,” he says, voice rich with implication, "but what do I offer in return?”

He sweeps the room with a look.

“You all want to be medics. So—tell me. What is the consequence of chronic kidney disease?”

He points into the rows behind me. Someone clears their throat.

“Kidneys filter blood,” a young man says, "with chronic disease, potassium builds up. It can trigger complications. Sometimes…death.”

“Exactly. Gold star,” Atticus replies, sly, "think of me, then, as Cassie’s… third kidney. I keep her blood clean. Free of toxins. Her condition? Completely controlled. She no longer spends hours hooked to a machine, week after week.”

He pauses.

“Now, she comes to me. Once a week. For just three...short...minutes.”

He turns to her, brow arched. Cassie responds instantly, body tilting toward him.

I glance at my father—he’s watching me, sharply, wanting to see my reaction. I lower my eyes, but Lia’s scent coils through me, and I’m forced to look up…wondering.

Atticus stands before Cassie now. Their hands are lightly linked, resting between them.

“Cassie, I am going to drink from you now,” he says simply. Then to us, “notice—I do not persuade her. There is no compulsion. She knows she needs this. She wants this.”

His hand lifts to her neck, fingers curving behind her skull. He tilts her head gently, exposing her throat. He leans in, inhales—and groans. A low, guttural sound that vibrates with hunger. His eyes flare red and his fangs glint—long, white and unmistakable.

Then he lowers his head, and bites.

Cassie gasps, but it is not a cry of pain.

The sound reminds me—jarringly—of the woman in that Lycan mating video.

Intimate and vulnerable.

The theatre holds its breath as Atticus drinks, deep and measured. His fingers dig into her skin, locking her still.

Lia’s scent continues to rage a battle inside of me. My pulse is unsteady.

Cassie doesn’t flinch and she doesn’t resist.

She is not in pain. She is… something else entirely.

Atticus lifts his head, blood on his mouth. He wipes it away, then licks the wound on her neck. The skin knits together within seconds—untouched, unbroken.

“Thank you, Cassie. You may go. I’ll see you…whenever you need.” His voice is velvet. He kisses her—softly, intimately—before she turns and jogs lightly up the stairs, out of sight.

And still, no one in the room dares to breathe.

"That…was FAR better and more effective than my morning coffee,” he says wryly, looking directly at me once again.

“Time is flying isn’t it? But this brings us quite nicely to something I am sure Eliana wants to hear; exactly how did we find out that her cure was the key to our fertility problems?”

I look to the side and indeed, Ella Landry is looking very interested.

“So. One of our regular donors came to us to have her blood cleansed. She had cancer. Aggressive. Her prognosis was poor, despite her age. But her visits to us kept the disease at bay, halted its spread. She had no idea what we were actually doing—she thought it was holistic therapy, like many do. But then, eighteen years ago, the cure was rolled out.”

Atticus paces slightly, pausing with purpose.

“She returned to us, full of joy, announcing her miraculous recovery. That was when we discovered something… unprecedented. The blood of someone who’s received the cure? It calls to us. Stronger. Louder. More potent than anything we’d ever tasted.”

His voice lowers, darkens.

“The vampire assigned to her couldn’t control themselves. They drained her to the edge of death.”

A few students shift in their seats.

“But do not fear,” he assures smoothly. “That only happened in the beginning. Once we understood what we were dealing with, we adapted. No one has been drained like that in over sixteen years, now. Knowledge brings control.”

He cracks his neck and smiles into the baited silence.

“But, in the panic of that incident, the vampire turned her. She was…less than thrilled at first, but within days, she adjusted. Embraced her new nature. As often happens with a sire bond, she entered a s****l relationship with the one who turned her.”

His eyes glint.

“No bond is stronger than a blood bond. And when she became pregnant, our kind rejoiced. Ecstatic beyond words. A child, born—not turned.”

He pauses, letting the weight of that linger.

“It changed everything. It was time to go public. To plead our case. Though, as it turned out, there was no need to plead. When Ms Landry discovered her cure enabled us to procreate—without turning humans—she gave her approval without hesitation.”

Our father bows slightly in Ella Landry’s direction. She gives him a warm smile in return.

“So, what of the purely born?” Atticus says, louder now, his smirk flicking briefly in my direction.

“They’re enhanced—without needing blood. Not as heightened as the turned, but still stronger, faster than humans. They don’t crave blood. At all. But many choose to feed. For the enormous benefits.”

He lifts a brow.

“We’re…very curious to see what might result from a pureborn pairing. It’s an exciting time for our kind.”

A hand goes up.

“Have you turned any species other than human?” a male voice asks.

Atticus glances back at our father, who gives a short, deliberate nod.

“Yes. Any species we can mentally influence. So, in case you’re wondering, young omega…never a Lycan. Far too dangerous.”

His gaze lingers on Austin Landry, smirk widening.

“What about Fae?” a sharp female voice cuts through.

I now realise Ella Landry has stepped closer to the podium, and her expression is fierce, her eyes wide and blazing.

Atticus doesn’t answer.

He turns—slowly—to face our father.

...A long pause.

“Yes,” our father says, his voice deep and certain. It echoes in the quiet.

Ella Landry’s expression shifts. And oddly—it reminds me of Lia. That same look of contained shock, of wanting to speak but biting back the words. She drifts back to stand beside her husband, gnawing at a nail.

“We’ve time for one more question before I move on to the boring bit,” Atticus says, scanning the sea of raised hands. He picks someone behind us.

“Ahem...is it true,” a male student asks, voice a touch nervous, “that an exchange of blood occurs during mating?”

Atticus’s smile stretches—wide and sharp. He clearly enjoys the question.

“Ah, an interesting one. Judging by how many of you suddenly sat up, I can see I’m not the only one.”

A few laugh awkwardly.

“If you thought Lycan mating was intriguing…” He trails off, then locks eyes with me. I feel the heat of his stare like a spotlight.

“Vampire mating always, categorically, involves a bite,” he says flatly, "it is not a choice, it is instinct, and uncontrollable. So, if any of you are planning to crawl under the covers with one of us…prepare to be bitten, prepare for connection. If you’ve already been physically intimate with a vampire and the fangs didn’t come out…”

He grins with amusement...

“…you were probably doing it wrong.”

Laughter ripples through the room.

Madeleine leans toward Ash, whispering something under her breath.

“And now…” Atticus claps his hands once, "for the boring part—a brief glimpse into the finer points of our history.”

As he begins, I notice Ella Landry is still watching our father, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

...

***Ella***

I wait until we’re back in the garden before I explode.

“Let it out,” Austin says casually, hands in his pockets, already braced for impact.

“They turned Fae!” I shout, throwing my arms wide in disbelief.

Austin nods slowly, far too calm. “You’re one of the smartest people I know, Els. Honestly. But... how is this only just occurring to you?”

I run my hands through my hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t know! I just... didn’t think—”

“Els,” he cuts in gently, placing both hands on my shoulders. “You know how long they’ve been around. You know how many species they’ve turned. Did it really never cross your mind that the Fae might be on that list?”

I sigh, shaking my head as we start towards the house.

“No, Aus. I genuinely didn’t think it could happen. Maybe it’s hubris—I just assumed the Fae were... above it somehow. Immune. Untouchable.”

“You’re talking like they were victims. Like they didn’t have a choice,” Austin says. “You know there are people who want to be turned, right? All over the world.”

I stop. Shake my head firmly.

“No, no, no—no Fae would ever choose that life. Never,” I say, darker now.

Austin watches me with that frustrating, sympathetic look.

“People do mad things for love, Els.”

I exhale sharply. He raises his eyebrows, that maddening little smile playing on his lips—the one he gets when he knows he’s won.

He lives for these moments.

“Whatever. I need to talk to Katz,” I mutter, nostrils flaring.

Austin scoffs as we step into the kitchen. “We never get a straight answer from him. What’s that going to solve?”

“I want to ask about the Fae.”

“Great. And I want to ask why he let Atticus single out our daughter—out of hundreds of students—just because she was sitting next to his damn son,” Austin grumbles, slamming the cupboard shut. “I had to physically restrain myself.”

“It felt deliberate,” I sigh. “Like he honed in on her because of who she was beside.”

Austin frowns.

“Wait, what? That guy? The good-looking one—black hair, tanned skin, built like an omega—that’s Augustus’ son?”

“Yes?”

“But Katz is pale as chalk! I thought Lia was supposed to sit next to Devon’s boy.”

I blink at him.

"How did you think that was Ash? I told you, he's the spitting image of Dev," I exclaim in surprise, "you thought Ash wouldn't be tall and blonde like his dad? I guess they switched seats. Lia has Ares in every class, they're probably used to sitting together."

“I’ll admit,” Austin says, flicking the coffee machine on, “she looked... happy. And I swear her hair looked lighter.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” I say with excitement, unable to hide the grin. I’d noticed it too, the last time she visited me on campus, but hearing Austin suggest it made it more real.

“She dyed it?”

“She’d never dye her hair. Like I told her—it’s creeping in. Slowly, quietly. Maybe it’s the campus? Maybe she’s just... really delayed. I don’t know. But it is happening. Bit by bit.”

“And her aura?” he asks, glancing up at me.

“Still no light. But... more gold than ever before.”

Austin leans back, eyes on the ceiling like he’s sharing a moment with Atlas.

“The golden sign of being a Landry alpha heir, huh?” he says, smiling wide now, "that’s a damn good sign in our book.”

...

***Ophelia***

I’d known that vampire persuasion didn’t work on Lycans. But as I ascended the podium, I was convinced it would work on me—because I had never blended. Never shifted. I’d heard that vampires avoided feeding on Lycans altogether, due to their inability to alter a Lycan’s memory after the fact. Something to do with their dual consciousness—the wolf always remembering what the human could forget.

But even without a wolf, it hadn’t worked.

Panic had stirred low in my chest.

Was I about to be outed?

In front of the entire cohort at Vale?

Every student watching, every teacher present?

I was a breath away from bolting when Augustus Katz approached, smooth as a shadow, and leaned in close.

“I suggest, my dear, Ophelia Landry, zat if you do not vant your peers to know zat you are, in fact, hybrid…you ought to do exactly as I command.”

His voice was soft. Silken. Dangerous.

I had no idea how he knew. Maybe his sense of smell was sharper than the rest.

Maybe it was something else entirely.

He was the vampire king, after all. Regardless—I obeyed.

He told me to perform a backflip, and I played along, pretending I’d been persuaded. Luckily, it was well within my capabilities thanks to the compulsory Lycan gymnastics training drilled into me throughout childhood and adolescence. A seemingly pointless skill, these days. But I still kept up with it.

Just in case.

..

Now it’s evening and I’m in the kitchen making hot chocolates.

Ares has been outside on the lounger for the past hour, sketchbook balanced on his knees. He hasn’t spoken much since dinner—just thanked Maddy for the spaghetti bolognese, quiet and polite.

The rest of the meal had passed in near silence on his part.

Maybe the lecture had unsettled him. Some of what Atticus said was... a lot. Graphic. Watching him feed on stage might’ve been too much for Ares to stomach.

I whisk the milk until it’s thick and frothy, then pour it into my rich chocolate mixture. Hot chocolates are one of my small talents. For Ares, I add a shot of espresso, making a mocha—his favourite. I swirl on a mountain of whipped cream, and top it with marshmallows.

Perfect.

I push open the balcony door, the cool air brushing my skin as I step outside. Ares looks up from his drawing, eyes meeting mine.

I smile warmly.

...

***Ares***

I've been sat outside now for the last hour, watching darkness engulf the grounds outside. I had intended to draw, but I hadn’t drawn much.

I had nothing to really look at, in the darkness, and I couldn’t think of much to draw from memory- mostly as my mind was elsewhere.

Something was not sitting well with me after today's lecture.

I just did not believe that my father's persuasive skill had worked on Lia. It only failed on Lycans as their dual consciousness made true control of them rather difficult. Given how I could smell her blood differently than anyone else's, I couldn't help but wonder about Lia’s heritage.

But...Lia wasn't Lycan.

She smelled differently compared to other humans, but she didn't smell Lycan at all. She had been sat with us in the living room all evening, during the last full moon.

Now I was considering whether my persuasion had even worked on her when I tried it a few weeks ago. It had been the only time I had done it, so I really couldn't be sure.

Just as I am contemplating this, Lia comes out onto the patio in her chunky cardigan, holding two mugs of what looks like hot chocolate. She immediately smiles at me as I look up at her, and she comes forward to hold one out for me; she is very thoughtful.

"Oh, this looks wonderful, thank you," I tell her as I take the mug. I can smell coffee in it, which now makes it even better; she really has made me a mocha.

She nods kindly as she sits down, drawing her cardigan around herself more in the cold air.

"You’re thinking about the lecture, aren’t you?" she asks.

"I am, actually," I reply truthfully.

"I get that. It has certainly changed my perspective a fair amount," she says, running her finger over the rim of her mug.

"In what way?" I ask tentatively, a little afraid this new perspective might be negative.

"Just...a renewed outlook with more knowledge. It was interesting. All of it. Some of it shocking, of course, but…I am really grateful that they came. I had no idea they could actually help people," she says with a vague smile, “plus, hearing about how the cure changed everything for them. Wild. It is a shame a woman had to lose her human life for the cause, but it gave me my friend at school and many hundreds of others.”

I feel myself relax a little; her perspective sounds rather positive.

"The friend who you kissed?"

She smiles coyly and nods.

"Well, maybe he was a little more than a friend. But short-lived. Never mind," she says, her cheeks turning pink. I decide to bite the bullet on what I’d been mulling over before she came out.

"It must have felt strange, being persuaded to do a back flip in front of everyone," I state purposefully, watching her expression intensely. Lia nods and frowns.

"Uh, yeah, it felt really strange...like I had no control over my limbs," she says with a shrug.

I turn to face her as I sit on the lounger and feel a gut instinct to test, because she shouldn't have felt like she was doing something without control; it was persuasive. She should've only felt like it was a good idea, even if she knew it was about to happen anyway. She wouldn't have remembered doing it.

Did it truly not work on Lia?

Why would she pretend?

I didn't want to make her do something daft or make her reveal anything personal, but I was very curious, now. I just had to try and control the emergence of my fangs better than I had last time.

"What makes you happy Lia?" I ask persuasively, thinking that was a kind and easy question to ask. Her eyes immediately glaze over a little, that ‘spark’ of hers leaving her eyes immediately.

She smiles, just like she had when I had first done this to her…it was working…

"Being here at Vale, being able to forget about everything back home. I can forget what I don’t have, and I can just be me…the human that I am," she answers, still with a vague smile on her face.

I wonder why she would want to forget everything back home.

Was what she didn’t have, related to her chronic sense of loss?

I lean forward toward her, another question randomly entering my mind as I continue to look at her face.

"What happened in the butterfly enclosure?" I ask. She smiles wider and sighs happily.

"Oh, I felt so happy. The closest to my true self than I have ever felt before. I thought it was a dream. Ash said we were only in there for two minutes, but it felt much longer, like time had slowed right down. I hadn't wanted to ever leave...feeling that close to everything I have ever wanted, while I was there, with you," she says, suddenly putting her free hand out onto mine.

I stare down at it in shock, immediately remembering once again, her fingers holding mine in the enclosure that day.

This physical memory coupled with the effect of having used my power of persuasion, has a scarily instant result...

I feel my fangs shoot out from my gums within a split second and I immediately clap my hand across my mouth, lurching away from Lia.

My short spell is over immediately as I quickly stand up....perhaps too quickly. I stumble a little over the lounger in my haste to get away from her and I trip back onto the foot end of it instead, almost hitting my head on the railing.

"Ares! Oh gosh, are you okay?" She suddenly asks me in her normal voice, the persuasion now over. I feel her hands on me, and through this instant connection I can feel her subtle worry...I can feel that she actually cares a lot about me.

…and it is NOT helping.

The unusual scent of her blood is filling my nose stronger than ever, and the drive to taste it is so overwhelming.

I'm trying not to face her, but she is pulling at me to check that I am okay. I cannot stop it, my instincts are pulling me towards her, too...

I abruptly turn my head to face her, and I see the instant surprise across her face.

She recoils a little, her eyes so wide, taking a shuddering breath in, and I feel my heart sink as she puts her own hand to her mouth in shock.

She’s seen them!

She takes a deep, grounding breath in.

No!...please don't be afraid!...I think desperately to myself, my world feeling like it is now crumbling down around me.

"Oh my god!" She utters as I back away from her against the wall. I brace myself for her to look back at me like I am some sort of monster. Regardless of her close friendship with a vampire in the past, I cannot help but be afraid.

"This...makes...perfect sense," she suddenly whispers, her hand dropping as she looks back at me, her expression now curious.

Perhaps even sympathetic. I do not know what to say to her. I can only hear my heart thumping in my ears for several seconds as I too breathe fast, waiting for her next words.

I am terrified.

"You're...a vampire," she breathes, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She gets closer to me, her expression softening as she does so, her beautiful eyes so wide and fascinated.

I feel the tension leave my own shoulders, but I am still very wary.

"It's okay, Ares. I am not afraid of you. How could I be?" she says gently.

I feel relief at her words, but I tense up again as she gets so much closer.

She looks so intrigued, now, if anything.

Her eyes are taking in my altered features, and I still say nothing. My heart is beating so hard in anticipation over what she truly thinks of this.

She pauses briefly with her hands near either side of my face, and places them there when I don't move.

Her touch tells me everything I need to know; she truly is my friend. My curious, intrigued yet rather surprised friend. I cannot feel a single shred of negative feeling from her as she gently turns my head towards the light, evidently looking at my fangs.

"Incredible, and your eyes are now red," she whispers. I turn back towards her and finally look into her eyes, "I understand why you hid this, but...you really never had to, Ares. Never from me..."

Her words are so sincere, and she is looking at me the same way she has always done.

She is so kind and so accepting. I feel very elated at this and so thankful to have such a lovely person ever present now, in my life, and the swooping sensation in my stomach returns. But at the same time, I cannot help but feel the insane urge to bite her, to bite my friend and to drink from her.

For a few seconds I am at war with myself over what to do, because I am a danger to her. Particularly like this when she is this close to me, for she smells absolutely and utterly divine. I would never want to hurt her, but I just might...

I cannot trust myself, not one bit. This urge is frightening to me and I care too much about Lia to ever hurt her. An urge that is entirely new to me...an urge I shouldn't even BE feeling.

"You will forget everything you've seen, said, heard or felt in the last ten minutes," I persuade her, painfully.

Her beautiful eyes dull, again, her light leaving entirely as her expression goes slack.

I rush inside without another word, heading straight into my room. I shut the door, my back against it as I slide to the floor, gripping the sides of my head.

Why did it work?

Why, when even my father—the original vampire—couldn’t persuade her…

Why me?