The sharp sting of the bite and the weight of my weakening body were at odds with the surprisingly gentle touch of his hands cradling me. His fingers pressed softly against my back and shoulders, steady and warm, as if trying to anchor me against the pull of oblivion. Despite the intense pain coursing through me, the steadiness of his grip offered an unexpected comfort—one I had thought was lost forever with the wreckage of our past. It was a bittersweet contradiction, the pain of his bite interwoven with the tenderness of his touch as if he were trying to tell me without words that this, too, was to ensure my survival.
As Zaydon took his last pull of blood from my body, I felt the world tilt and blur around me. A disorienting wave of darkness began to envelop me, heavy and all-consuming. My breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as each heartbeat felt like it would be my last. The moments stretched, the present unravelling into an endless expanse of time, until the fading edge of my consciousness slipped further and further from reach.
"You are strong, Az. You will survive this," he murmured softly into my ear, his voice low, a whisper of warmth amidst the cold chaos closing in around me.
His words echoed in my mind, a lifeline tethering me to reality even as my body faltered. The soothing cadence of his voice reverberated through the haze, wrapping around me like a fragile shield against the encroaching void. It carried an almost nostalgic resonance, a familiarity that pierced through the disorienting present and struck deep into my heart.
The tenderness in his voice transcended the moment, shattering the barriers of time and memory. It pulled me back, away from the cold grip of near unconsciousness and into the warmth of a distant past. Years ago, that same voice, laced with determination and compassion, had been my anchor. It had steadied me in a moment of profound vulnerability, a moment that had irrevocably changed Zaydon and me forever. The memory rose unbidden, vivid and sharp, cutting through the darkness like a beacon. My heart ached as the memory unfolded, raw and unbidden, carrying with it all the hope, pain, and promises we had once shared.
Even as my consciousness began to slip, that memory stayed with me, anchoring me in a place where I was both lost and found. It was a reminder of everything we had been and everything we had become—a bittersweet tether to the man who held me, even if his actions had broken me.
Seven Years Prior
Zaydon poked at my side playfully as we sat on our favourite grassy hill, overlooking a sprawling lake nestled within the forests of the Kingdom of Irisia. The sun casts a warm, golden glow over the landscape, painting the rippling surface of the water in glistening hues of amber and gold. The gentle murmur of the lake's waves blending with the rustling of leaves in the breeze, creating a symphony of nature that was as soothing as it was familiar.
Birds flitted between the trees, their cheerful calls punctuating the calm atmosphere. The soft grass beneath us swayed slightly in the breeze, cushioning us and carrying the earthy scent of wildflowers. It was one of those rare moments when everything felt simple, as though the world's troubles had paused just for us.
Zaydon's grin was mischievous as his finger jabbed my side again, earning an exaggerated yelp from me. His laughter, deep and unrestrained, filled the air, making it impossible not to smile. I slapped his shoulder in retaliation, aiming to land a playful hit, but the sharp sting that radiated through my hand on impact caught me off guard.
"Ow!" I hissed, rubbing my throbbing palm as my lips curved into a rueful smile. "When the hell did you become so solid?" I muttered under my breath, glaring at him.
Zaydon's laugh only grew louder, his forest-green eyes sparkling with amusement. He leaned back on his hands, his long hair catching the sunlight as he cocked his head. "When did you become so delicate, sweetheart?" he teased, a smug grin stretching across his face.
"Delicate?" I shot back, narrowing my eyes. "You're just unnaturally built like a damn rock."
He chuckled, leaning forward again, his elbow resting casually on his knee as he looked at me with that infuriating smirk. "Admit it, Az, you're just weak," he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Oh, shut up!" I huffed, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips despite my irritation. I shifted my position, crossing my legs beneath me and plucking a blade of grass from the ground to twirl between my fingers.
The sun continued to dip lower, casting long shadows across the hill and turning the sky into a canvas of bright orange and pink. This was our spot, our haven, where if only for a moment the weight of our titles and responsibilities seemed to vanish. It had been our secret retreat since we were kids, a place where time slowed, and we could just be. Here I was, just Azalia, and he was just Zaydon.
Zaydon's teasing faded into a comfortable silence as he stretched out beside me, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His presence was steady and reassuring, a constant I had come to depend on more than I cared to admit.
Moments like this made it easy to forget the chaos that often surrounded us. But beneath the laughter and easy camaraderie, my heart raced with unspoken words, emotions I had long buried. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, the golden light accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the relaxed curve of his lips.
Even as I rubbed the lingering sting from my hand, I couldn't help but smile softly to myself. Moments like this made me appreciate him and the bond we shared so much more. Moments where it felt like nothing in the world could come between us.
With comfortable ease, he reached over and took my hand in his, the motion so natural that it caught me completely off guard. His fingers, calloused and warm, wrapped around mine, sending a ripple of heat through my entire body.
A blush crept up my neck, reddening my ears and spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. I ducked my head slightly, thankful that I'd chosen to wear my hair down today; the loose strands falling loosly like a curtain, hiding my reaction. If he noticed the flush in my cheeks, he gave no sign. To him, this was probably just two lifelong friends holding hands—a simple, casual gesture, nothing more. Or was it?
My heart raced, its rhythm uneven as thoughts swirled in my mind. Did he know what this meant to me? Did he feel the same charge in the air, the way the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us when we were together? Or was I imagining it, reading too much into something he likely saw as nothing but simple friendly affection?
Despite my mounting anxiety, I couldn't bring myself to pull away. Instead, I found solace and strength in his touch, allowing myself a fleeting moment to relish the connection. His hand felt steady, grounding me in a way that no one else ever could.
But the weight of unspoken words pressed heavily on my chest, their presence impossible to ignore. The secret I had harboured for years now teetered on the edge of my lips, demanding to be set free.
This was it. It was now or never.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry– my grip on his hand tightening as if drawing courage from him. My heart thundered, anticipation and fear clashing in a chaotic storm inside me.
"Zay, I love you," I blurted out, my voice soft but steady, though it trembled ever so slightly at the edges.
Silence.
The word hung in the air, heavy and fragile, as though the universe itself had paused to bear witness to the moment. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. My gaze remained fixed on our intertwined fingers, studying how his thumb rested against the back of my hand and how his knuckles curved just so—anything to avoid meeting his eyes.
The silence stretched unbearably between us, each second feeling like an eternity.
Was he not going to say anything?
Doubt began to creep in, clawing at the edges of my resolve. My thoughts raced, a whirlwind of panic and regret. Had I misread everything? Had I ruined the easy friendship we shared with my foolish confession?
Every beat of my heart felt like it was hammering out the same question over and over again: What was he thinking? Why wasn't he saying anything?
And then, just as I thought the silence would crush me, he finally spoke.
"I love you too, Az."
My head whipped up at his response, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, the world seemed to be still, my breath catching in my throat with the words I had waited so long to hear. His expression was a blend of surprise and something softer, almost tender, as though he hadn't expected me to say it but was glad I had.
The usual forest green of his eyes seemed brighter, glimmering with flecks of gold as the sunlight caught them. His relaxed posture and easy smile made him look so open, so genuine. But as I studied his face, a niggling doubt crept in, unravelling the fleeting joy I had felt.
Did he think I meant it as a friend?
The thought struck me like a blow, and my heart sank. He seemed genuinely happy, but there was a lightness to his demeanour, a casualness that didn't match the gravity of what I had just confessed. Was it possible he didn't understand?
My thoughts raced, a flurry of panic and uncertainty. How could I make him see? How could I show him that what I felt for him went far beyond friendship, that it was something deeper, more profound?
The fear of misunderstanding gnawed at me, fueling a sudden, reckless determination. Desperate to convey the love that had burned inside me for so long, I tightened my grip on his hand, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled him closer.
Caught off guard, Zaydon stumbled forward, his arms flailing in a futile attempt to steady himself. The movement brought him crashing into me, and in that split second, all my hesitation vanished.
Our lips met in a sudden, unexpected kiss, the contact sending a jolt through me that felt like lightning striking my very soul. His lips were warm and soft, and for a moment, he froze as if unsure how to react. But I didn't stop.
I leaned into the kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion into it, relishing the raw intensity of the moment. Tentatively, I pressed my tongue against his lips, silently asking for more.
To my surprise, he let our kiss deepen. As I pushed him back into a sitting position, straddling hislap, my fingers tangling in his blue-black hair. His hands gripping my hips with a ferocity I hadn't known I yearned for. His touch sent shivers down my spine, the firm pressure of his fingers grounding me even as my emotions threatened to overwhelm me.
My fingers acting with a mind of their own tangled deeper in his soft hair as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him. Every barrier between us seemed to dissolve in the heat of that kiss, leaving only the raw, unspoken emotions that had lingered between us for so long.
We paused only briefly to catch our breath before diving back in. The kiss was passionate, rough, and filled with an urgency that seemed to consume him. Each brush of his lips against mine ignited a fire within me, and I found myself clinging to him like he was the anchor keeping me from falling apart.
His intensity left me breathless, each movement of his lips, his hands, and his body a silent declaration that he wanted this too—wanted me too. The vibrations of his low moans rumbled against my chest, sending a new wave of heat through me as my hands slid from his hair, down to his neck and to his chest.
As our bodies pressed together, the heat between us grew unbearable. I could feel his arousal hardening beneath me and pushing against my core, a physical confirmation of his desire that amplified the flush on my cheeks. The ache building between my thighs was undeniable, and I knew he could feel the way my body responded to him.
I think he understood what I meant now. There was no mistaking the depth of my feelings—the love I had held onto for so long. All he needed to do was say it back—but for real this time.
The world seemed to slow, the air around us heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. For a brief moment, all that existed was the warmth and connection between us, the unrelenting pull that had always been there.
But the fragile bubble of intimacy shattered with the sharp crack of a twig snapping nearby.
Zaydon froze beneath me, his body going rigid as his senses sharpened. The warmth in his touch turned cold with tension, and his arms instinctively tightened around me as though shielding me from a threat I couldn't yet see.
Zaydon's muscles stiffened beneath my hands, the warmth in his eyes instantly replaced by a hard-edged alertness. Gently, though almost reluctantly, he lifted me off his lap, his hands lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before setting me down on the grass. Rising to his feet, his movements were fluid, controlled, and purposeful as he prepared to confront the source of the disturbance.
His broad shoulders formed an impenetrable wall between me and the direction of the sound. With practised ease, he reached behind to lift the hem of his grey shirt, revealing the glint of a sheathed dagger tucked into the waistband of his black pants. The hilt was worn, a clear testament to frequent use, and his fingers curled around it with a firm, confident grip, though he refrained from drawing the blade—yet.
Despite the potential danger, a pang of loss settled in my chest at the sudden distance between us. The warmth of his touch, the safety of his arms, was gone, leaving behind an emptiness that felt almost unbearable. My lips tingled from our kiss, and I could feel that they were also slightly swollen, a lingering reminder of the connection we had shared just moments before.
"Zay, please come back. It was probably just an animal or—" I began, my voice tinged with concern and fear, but my words faltered as a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees.
Riyal stepped into view, his expression composed as always, though the faintest blush coloured his pale cheeks when his gaze flickered from Zaydon to me and back again. He wore the black military garb of the kingdom, the fabric clinging to his lean frame like a second skin. The stark white of his slicked-back hair contrasted sharply with the deep, piercing blue of his eyes—eyes that seemed to avoid meeting mine directly, as though the scene he had walked in on was something he was not meant to witness.
Zaydon didn't relax. His hand remained poised over the dagger's hilt, his stance unwavering. A frown creased my brow. Was this level of caution truly necessary? Riyal was Zaydon's second-in-command, one of the few people he trusted implicitly.
Riyal, seemingly unfazed by Zaydon's tension, dipped into a formal bow in my direction. His movements were stiff, though whether from discomfort or the weight of the situation, I couldn't tell. As he straightened, his gaze fixed firmly on my face as though avoiding any part of me that might provoke Zaydon further.
"Apologies, Princess Azalea," Riyal said, his voice measured and formal, though there was an underlying tension in his tone. "The king has requested Zaydon's presence in his chambers urgently."
I nodded in acknowledgement, but my attention lingered on Zaydon. He hadn't looked at me since he'd stood, his focus entirely on Riyal. The silence between us was heavy, fraught with unspoken emotions that neither of us seemed willing to address.
The connection we had shared—the tender, passionate moment that had taken years to build up to—felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces. A chasm of uncertainty now stretched between us, and Zaydon seemed determined to widen it further.
Slowly, I stood, brushing the remnants of grass from my dress. My fingers trembled as I readjusted my clothes and smoothed my hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. I couldn't resist one last glance at Zaydon, hoping for a sign—anything to show that our moment hadn't been entirely lost.
But he remained resolute, his back turned to me, his shoulders stiff as though bracing himself against the weight of something unseen. The distance between us was now more than physical, and it left an ache in my chest that I couldn't ignore.
Before I could fully process what was happening, Riyal moved swiftly. His arms encircled me, lifting me off the ground with an ease that was almost unsettling. A startled gasp escaped my lips as I found myself cradled against his chest. His sharp, clean scent of citrus replaced the smoky, exotic fragrance of Zaydon that still lingered in the air.
Being in Riyal's arms felt foreign—wrong, even. I forced myself to relax, though the tension in my body refused to fully dissipate. Riyal's feathered wings unfurled from the slits in his uniform with a graceful snap, their pristine white feathers catching the fading light.
Behind us, the rhythmic beating of Zaydon's dragon-like wings filled the air, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo with the weight of his unspoken emotions. Each powerful beat reverberated through the crisp sky, a constant, visceral reminder of his presence. In sharp opposition, Riyal exuded an almost angelic stillness, his wings carrying us upward with a grace that seemed effortless.
The two men were polar opposites, like night and day, fire and ice. Riyal, with his ethereal composure and calm demeanour, radiated an otherworldly light as if untouched by burdens. Zaydon, on the other hand, was dark and primal—a force of nature untamed, his every movement charged with intensity and barely restrained power. Their differences were undeniable, two clashing forces pulling me in opposite directions, and for reasons I couldn't explain, both felt equally magnetic.
As Riyal ascended higher into the sky, the ground below fading into a blur of greens and browns, my thoughts spiralled into chaos. My mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions, a whirlwind of memories and sensations. The lingering ghost of Zaydon's hands on my body, his lips pressed against mine, clashed violently with the present reality of Riyal holding me now, his strong arms cradling me with an almost protective gentleness. The contrast was sharp, almost jarring—a tug-of-war between past and present, between fire and air.
And then, as if my mind sought to further torment me, a darker thought intruded. Unbidden, an image took shape, vivid and all-consuming: Zaydon and Riyal, their opposing energies intertwining, their hands on my skin, their bodies impossibly close to mine. Zaydon's primal heat, Riyal's ethereal coolness—it was a sinful, forbidden fantasy that burned through me like wildfire. I had no right to entertain such a thought, yet it gripped me, stirring something deep within me that I wasn't ready to confront. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly wrong.
A sudden movement snapped me back to reality. Riyal's head dipped sharply, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. His gaze was sharp, almost startled as if he had glimpsed something he shouldn't have. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. Could he sense my thoughts? My face burned as I realised the likelihood of it. Riyal's kind—the angelic descendants of Seraphim—were known for their ability to read minds, an innate and rare gift passed through their bloodline.
His usually calm expression faltered, and a deep blush crept across his cheeks, a vivid splash of colour on his pale skin. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, a soft gasp escaped him. His wings faltered momentarily before he recovered, beating harder to propel us higher, away from the ground—and my embarrassment.
"I swear, virgins are the most amorous creatures," Riyal muttered under his breath, his voice low but unmistakable.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if he had spoken aloud or if his words were a whisper carried on the wind, but the accusation stung like a slap. My cheeks flushed an even deeper scarlet, the heat crawling up my neck as shame and indignation warred within me. The fact that he might have overheard my fantasy made me want to curl into myself and disappear entirely.
I silently wished for the flight to end, hoping the cold wind rushing through the sky might extinguish the fire raging inside me.
The icy air delivered on its promise, stinging my skin as Riyal's powerful wings carried us higher. Despite his efforts to shield me, the biting cold crept in, wrapping itself around me like an unforgiving shroud. His arms tightened protectively, offering what little warmth he could, but it wasn't enough. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, the chill burrowing deeper into my bones with each relentless gust.
"Princess, are you alright?" Riyal's voice was low and steady, his lips close to my ear so I could hear him over the rush of wind as we soared through the air.
"I'm f-fine," I stammered, though the uncontrollable tremors wracking my body betrayed the lie in my words. My voice sounded weak, almost swallowed by the howling wind.
"We're almost there, just—"
My words were abruptly cut off as Riyal came to an unexpected halt in midair. His wings beat furiously against the gusts, their powerful rhythm keeping us aloft. His entire body tensed, his gaze fixed ahead with an intensity that sent a chill racing through me. Something was wrong.
Twisting to see what had stopped him, my breath caught. Zaydon hovered before us, his wings beating with powerful, calculated strokes. His once familiar green-and-gold eyes had shifted to a fiery crimson, the colour striking against the growing dusk. His expression was dark, menacing, and utterly dangerous.
"Zaydon..." I whispered, my voice trembling as the tension in the air grew thick. His eyes locked onto Riyal, the space between us crackling with an unspoken challenge.
"Give. Her. To. Me," Zaydon snarled, venom dripping from every word. His crimson eyes burned like embers in the growing twilight, their intensity enough to make my stomach churn with unease.
Riyal tightened his arms around me protectively, his wings faltering ever so slightly as he tried to maintain composure. For a moment, I saw something terrifying in Zaydon's eyes—a switch, ready to flip, that would unleash a wrath I wasn't sure anyone could stop. I forgot all about the biting cold as my thoughts raced.
What the hell was wrong with Zaydon? His behaviour had been so erratic. One moment, he was kissing me back with unrestrained passion; the next, he was cold and distant, and now he was possessive to the point of terrifying.
What I'd give to be able to read thoughts like Riyal right now so I could understand what was going on in Zaydon's head for just a second.
Riyal's grip grew even tighter, his hold teetering on the edge of painful. I could feel the tension radiating from him as he squared off against Zaydon, a silent battle of wills unfolding before my eyes. The conflict in Riyal's gaze was clear—the loyalty he held toward Zaydon warred against his concern for my safety. Zaydon's crimson eyes flicked between Riyal's tense face, his firm grip on me, and the space between us narrowing dangerously. The rage simmering in his gaze was feral, unrelenting.
"High Commander, it's dangerous to pass her over mid flight. I swear I was only asking Princess Azalea if she was alright," Riyal said carefully, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. Every word was measured, an attempt to reason with the beast that now stood before him.
But Zaydon wasn't interested in reason. His expression hardened further, his fury building like a storm on the verge of tearing through everything in its path. The air around us seemed to hum with the weight of his rage, crackling with an unseen energy that made every breath feel heavier. For the first time, I saw Riyal, usually so calm and composed, falter. His wings fluttered unevenly under the oppressive weight of Zaydon's presence.
Before Riyal could react further, Zaydon moved. His thick, muscled arm shot out with terrifying speed, his hand clamping down on Riyal's jaw like an iron vice. The suddenness of the action left no room for the defence, and a horrified gasp escaped my lips as Riyal's face contorted in pain.
Zaydon's grip was merciless. His fingers dug into Riyal's jaw, the skin around them turning pale under the crushing pressure. As if to make his dominance unmistakable, the flesh on Zaydon's hand began to shift, black scales rippling across his skin. Onyx-colored talons emerged, sharp and deadly, digging into Riyal's flesh until crimson droplets welled up around the puncture wounds. The blood stood out starkly against Riyal's pale complexion, an undeniable testament to Zaydon's growing impatience.
Riyal let out a sharp, pained yelp, his lips curling back in a grimace as Zaydon's talons dug deeper. My heart thundered in my chest, torn between horror and the strange, magnetic force of the display. It was as if I couldn't look away, even though every instinct screamed for me to intervene.
Before I could say anything, Zaydon spoke, his voice low and dangerous, each word laced with icy malice. "I must have stuttered when I spoke because there's no other reason for you to disobey me, boy." He leaned closer, his crimson eyes narrowing further. "So, I'll give you the chance to correct yourself. I said give her to me. Now!"
Riyal, visibly shaken and clearly outmatched, gave a tight, reluctant nod. His wings trembled under the pressure of Zaydon's presence, and his arms loosened around me as he prepared to comply.
Zaydon, satisfied with the show of submission, smirked smugly as he loosened his grip on Riyal's jaw. He let his talons retreat, though the black scales remained. Holding his arms out, Zaydon waited with the expectation of complete obedience, his gaze daring Riyal to hesitate even for a moment.
My eyes widened in disbelief as Riyal began to adjust his hold, shifting to pass me over. The realisation hit me like a freight train.
Was Zaydon actually planning to take me in mid-air?
No. No way. That was insane.
Fuck that.