Chapter 6: The Secret In My Veins

𖤐••{AZRÆL’S POV}••⛧

Rhiannon jerks free of my grasp, immediately rubbing the spot where my hand had been.

"What?!" she asks, staring at me in confusion. "My blood?"

"Yes." I nod. "It’s about time you learned the truth."

For a quiet moment, she does nothing but search my face.

"When an ængel is cast down from the heavens," I begin, "both wings are severed. And without them, the fallen are stripped of their divinity, rendered powerless. But ten thousand years ago, one was cast out but he didn’t fall as the others did."

Her frown deepens but she doesn’t interrupt.

"Some say his punishment was imperfect because he managed to escape," I continue. "Only one wing was taken, and because of that his divinity remained, burning in his veins. And his name was Nytheriel."

I pause for a heartbeat before I go on.

"He walked this earth as both man and something more. He took mortal lovers and in them, he planted seeds of that celestial fire. But the centuries were merciless. Wars ravaged kingdoms. Famine and plague claimed countless lives. Floods swallowed entire civilizations. With every passing generation, the traces of his descendants grew weaker, the divine spark fading until almost nothing remained."

Her voice comes out barely more than a whisper. "Almost?"

"Yes," I answer. "Almost... except one."

I let the silence stretch for a few heartbeats before revealing the truth to her.

"You, Princess Rhiannon Aurelian of Astragarde, are the last heir of Nytheriel," I say. "His divinity burns in your veins, stronger than it has in thousands of years."

Her eyes widen in disbelief and her heartbeat stutters.

"You have no understanding of the power sleeping within your blood, or what people would do to possess it," I say quietly. "And if I hadn’t come for you, neither you nor your loved ones would’ve been safe."

It’s still very clear that she’s struggling to believe a word I’m saying.

Her lips part, but for a long moment nothing comes out. She just stares at me in stunned silence.

"Tell me," she finally speaks. "What is this power that sleeps in my blood?"

"Vampires can’t walk in daylight," I answer. "The sun will burn us to ash if we dare. But if any of us drank your blood, they would walk in the sun as easily as men."

"You don’t need me for that!" she snaps. "You ambushed my wedding in broad daylight!"

A low chuckle escapes me.

"This is the Oblivær," I say, raising my hand so she can see the golden ring. "An ancient relic that has been passed down to every ruler of the Empire of Night. It possesses the power to cloak entire regions in darkness—but only for a short while. Long enough for me to take you."

Her eyes linger on the red gemstone for a while before she meets my eyes again.

"It also grants me the ability to open rifts," I continue. "Passageways that allow me to cross vast distances in an instant. However, they can only lead to places I have set foot in before. It took me a hundred days to journey to Astragarde. Without the Oblivær, the return to Darkholme would have demanded another hundred. And there is more, princess. So much more."

"For thousands of years, my race has been cursed with infertility," I say quietly. "Our women can’t conceive and our men cannot sire children. The line of every true-born vampire and every fledgling ends where it begins."

I move closer to her, lowering my voice to a whisper.

"But your blood has the power to break any curse. A single taste would restore to vampires what was stolen from us, allowing us to sire children once more. It could make us stronger than we have ever been, faster than we have ever imagined. Fire, steel, and magic alike would become almost harmless against us. But should the wrong vampire drink your blood, they would become a force no power in this world can stand against. They would become gods."

The color drains from her face and she goes completely still.

"Do you understand now, princess?" I ask. "So many rulers would burn entire kingdoms to ash just for a vial of your blood. Wars would be fought. The weak will grovel. The strong will slaughter. And all of it... for you."

꧁ ✧༺ ❦ ༻✧ ꧂

••{RHIANNON’S POV}••

Azræl leans in again.

This time his hands close around my wrists and he pins me down against the sheets.

I struggle beneath him but his weight keeps me trapped. My breaths come in sharp gasps and I feel dread clawing its way up my throat.

He lowers himself slowly until I feel his lips brush against the neckline of my torn gown. Then he presses a soft kiss just above my breasts.

A sharp gasp slips from my lips before I can stop it.

He kisses me again, tracing the hollow of my collarbone with his lips. Then he drags his tongue from the curve of my neck up to my jaw, causing me to shudder violently.

My eyes flutter shut as he leaves wet kisses on my skin.

I can’t think straight.

I can barely even breathe.

But the second I feel his teeth graze my neck, my eyes snap wide open. I try to free my hands but his grip is locked tight around my wrists.

"So much power... flowing through you," he whispers, his voice rough with hunger.

"So this is your plan?" I ask, my voice shaking with fear. "Abduct me from my home and turn me into your living, breeding blood vessel?"

Azræl stops immediately and pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. His brows furrow but he doesn’t give me an answer.

He releases my hands and climbs off me.

I sit up instantly, clutching my gown to my chest.

"I would never drink your blood," he says firmly, "If I do, I will become addicted to it. And the more I continue to take, the less I’ll be able to restrain myself. I will continue to drink from you until you are nothing but a corpse in my arms. And after that? It will drive me into complete madness. An uncontrollable lust for blood."

"Then why?" I ask. "Why do this? Why take me away from everyone I love?"

"Because I am the only one capable of keeping you safe," he replies. "Your blood is not only precious to vampires. It can empower witches, lycans, maybe even beings I’m not aware of. You would be shocked, princess, at how quickly those you trust would turn against you if they knew what you carry. I can’t risk you getting discovered and falling into the wrong hands."

"I was already safe!" I lash out. "I had my father, my siblings, and the man I loved!" My eyes harden into a stone-cold glare. "The only dangerous hands I’ve ever fallen into are yours."

Azræl’s expression darkens.

"I’ll have my servants prepare you a bath and fresh clothes," he says coldly as he rises from the bed.

Then turns and starts heading for the doors.

"Wait!" I call out.

He stops but doesn’t turn to face me.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

He glances back over his shoulder, his golden eyes gleaming in the firelight.

"There are preparations to be made."

I frown. "Preparations?"

The words that leave his mouth shatter what little is left of my world.

"For our wedding," he says calmly. "We’re getting married in seven days."