Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 112

They were led down a narrow hallway, the walls seeming to close in with each step—tight, dark, silent.

Their bare feet padded over cool stone. Ahead, two towering double doors loomed at the corridor’s end—black, rimmed in gold, and pulsing faintly like a muffled heartbeat.

Julian felt the vibration before he heard it.

Then—

The doors swung open.

Sound slammed into them like a tidal wave.

A wall of bass hit first—deep and relentless, thudding in their chests like a second pulse. Crimson light spilled out, flooding the hallway and washing over their skin like blood and heat.

The air grew warmer. Thicker. Saturated with perfume and bloodlust as they stepped into the underworld.

The crowd was a den of indulgence—vampires, witches, and every kind of supernatural creature they could name. To their surprise, even Lycans. All of them dancing, grinding, drinking from glasses and from each other. Some wore leather. Others wore little. Skin shimmered. Teeth gleamed. Pleasure and danger coiled in every corner.

The redhead moved forward, guiding them through the throng—bare, collared, leashed.

Julian kept his chin high. Jace didn’t flinch. But every gaze followed them—some curious, others ravenous.

They ogled. Whistled. Catcalled.

A vampire woman with glossy black hair stepped from the crowd and reached for Jace without hesitation. Her fingers dragged slowly down the length of his bicep, nails grazing his skin. She leaned in close, lips parting, a glint of fang flashing as her tongue swept across her top lip.

“Well, aren’t you pretty,” she purred. “Bet you taste like wildfire.”

Before Jace could answer—before he even reacted—

A snarl ripped through the air.

The redhead was between them in an instant, her body angled defensively, eyes glowing a furious gold. Her canines dropped fully as she bared them with a growl that silenced half the room.

“Touch him again,” she said coldly, voice dipped in venom, “and I’ll tear your fucking throat out.”

The other woman backed away—mockingly slow, hands raised in faux surrender.

“No need to be possessive, sweetheart.”

The redhead held her gaze for a beat longer before the other woman vanished into the crowd, laughter trailing behind her.

Jace said nothing, but his mouth twitched just slightly.

The redhead didn’t look at him.

She simply gripped the leashes tighter and moved on.

They were led deeper now—past the crowd, the bar, the leather-lined booths and shadowed alcoves. Through an archway bathed in pink light and up three wide marble steps.

The music dulled. The air shifted.

And there he was.

The Vampire King.

Not seated on a throne, but on a burgundy velvet armchair elevated by a half-moon platform. One leg slung lazily over the other, dark hair spilling around his face like ink. His mouth curved in amusement—but his eyes? Ice and iron. Ancient. Watching.

Beside him, a man lounged on the armrest, fingers stroking idly through the king’s hair—slow, possessive.

Neither spoke.

And yet everything in the room… stopped.

The redhead came to a graceful stop at the base of the platform, her voice steeped in theatrical grace.

“Well… here you are, boys. Lazarus, The Vampire King.”

She stepped aside with a subtle flourish as she gestured toward them.

“And his beloved, Sebastian.”

Both men atop the platform took their time surveying them—eyes leisurely trailing from head to toe.

Sebastian tilted his head, lips curling.

“Is it just me,” he mused, “or are these newer generations of Lycans much more well-endowed?”

Lazarus smirked without looking away.

“Big cocks to match their big egos,” he said dryly.

The redhead leaned in between them, voice hushed but sharp.

“You’re supposed to kneel.”

Julian’s jaw tensed. Behind his ribs, his wolf growled—low, defensive, insulted.

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