Chapter 197: 197
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"To be honest," he sighs with an implied boredom- or perhaps frustration, with not being able to get things done sooner. "It was a little too easy. I expected more from someone you would take as your husband and yet... Soren was easy to get- he was unusually relaxed that night- no doubt because he was with you," he says with an additional knowing look which leaves little doubt in my mind that he has already speculated over the happenings of that night: how I became a vampire, and married, in a very, very short space of time.
Admittedly, it was all rather fast, but exhilarating nonetheless. And I wouldn't change it for the world.
But Azrael, unlike myself, has little time for sentiments, preferring to delve into the bloody details of gory battle and relish the delectably sweet taste of victory over his brother. Even if that means shoving it in my face.
Slinking around to grab my attention, he slings a hand lazily over my shoulder, drawing his mouth close to my ear as he whispers up against my skin, his breath tickling the inside of my ear with a revolting quiver of air:
"I was quite disappointed when he did not put up much of a fight. Sure he got a few gashes in me here and there, but nothing brutal. Nothing lasting. I expected more from a so-called 'Scarlet King'. A silver injection and he was down like a shot, like a poor, miserable little mortal. I suppose he is weaker than I thought he was, too soft," Azrael smirks, before drawing away now, making sure to leave a lasting impression of touch upon my body.
My skin crawls.
A shiver of rage runs through me, ardent and blazing like a wildfire. Once more I am forced to hide the coiling whirls of fire at my fingertips, blowing out a long breath as I restrain the urge to strangle him on the spot. Quite to my misfortune, Azrael notices this. Raising a brow, he cackles:
"Oh, my sweet, daring little girl, I am well aware you are angry at what I have done. It doesn't take just any old person to completely obliterate an army of halflings. You must have really channelled some strong emotions- how my father would have loved you!" he says, but his tone quickly becomes bitter with a throaty laugh.
That's right, I think inwardly, withdrawing into myself. Azrael didn't exactly have a perfect relationship with his parents. I suppose he would have called them weak, too. His mother killed herself for being unable to bear another child and his father... Well. He was no better.
But before I can voice any of these concerns, quickly Azrael continues, as though anxious to get off the subject himself.
"You know, you were much more amusing to fight than my brother- and watch too. But unfortunately I lost track of you after you wiped out all life on the first lair. Which is quite strange, as I was certain I put a tracker on you," he muses, giving me a sideways look that is clearly baiting some sort of reaction.
To the best of my ability, I try to stay stone faced. Thinking to all the pale, marble creatures who slink like shadows among the castles, I imagine their indifference, the unamused looks that would slate their features, and channel that.
"You put a tracker on me," I say flatly, my mind barely even registering the fact. At this point, I have come to just accept anything I hear. Steal someone's soul? Sure. Soren has a corporeal form and a soul form? Sure. A hybrid angel with vampire blood in her veins? Hey, why not. There is a first for everything.
But there is something about the notion of having a tracker on me that sets my teeth on edge, something that feels fundamentally if not morally wrong about the whole situation. Sure it is an excellent way to keep track of my movements, but that's where the benefits end- for me at least.
Seeming to realise this, Azrael crosses his arms, giving me an exasperated but simultaneously amused look as he twirls his fingers in his hair.
"Well how else was I going to ensure you were playing my game? I needed to ensure I could send illusions to you somehow, but it would seem that someone removed it."
There is enough emphasis on that 'someone' to instantly make me suspect that Azrael already knows the culprit who committed such an act, or, at least has a fair guess as to who. Dread pools like a puddle in the bottom of my stomach.
Quickly I spare a glance over towards the bodies on the ground- to hopefully where Soren is performing his magic and fusing his corporeal form with his own. Did Soren remove my tracker?
Thinking over it, I can recall nothing as obvious as that. Removing a tracker would be a vastly risky manoeuvre, or at least one that wouldn't be done without an element of stealth being lost in the process. But then something else comes to mind.
Hazily, I recall the way Soren's hands had moved over my body as he hugged me. Back then I had put it down to little more than affection, and the desperate need for it from lack thereof. But the more I think of it, the more that affection becomes a methodical searching, tracing, for something that I had so blatantly missed.
Perhaps I had underestimated Soren's knowledge on the matter. For I certainly did not remove the tracker, and that could leave only one person who did. Glancing down back to Soren, I reign in my smile.
Clever boy.
So I turn my attention back to Azrael, flashing him a mischievous grin as he busies himself over his work.
"That must have been so distressing for you," I smirk sarcastically, flashing my new set of fangs in his general direction. Azrael merely grunts.
"Quite."
Then tipping one last potion into his chalice, the room is clouded in a puff of smoke, thick and intoxicating as I begin to cough at the foreign substance clouding my lungs.
Rocking back, I cover my ears, deafened by the loud bang and entirely disorientated. The next thing I know Azrael's hands are on my wrists, locking me in place. Shocked and dizzy from the commotion, I stand there for a moment, glaring him down. When the last of my coughs subside, I manage to splutter out:
"What the fuck, Azrael! What are you doing?"
"No hard feelings, Serena," he says with a wickedly soft tone. "I know you took such an effort to come down here and save your husband, but I have bigger plans for you," he grins, stepping forward to get a better grip on me.
Glancing down to Soren's body that remains motionless on the floor, panic begins to bubble at my throat. Not yet, I think desperately to myself. Please not yet.
My mind reels, my heart races. Azrael's grip gets ever tighter on my wrists as he pushes me back against the wall, his eyes glowing blood red.
Keep him talking, I think desperately to myself. Do not fight yet. Not while the others have not finished.
"What are you going to do to me then, dickhead? I thought we had an agreement. You take my soul, not his," I hiss, tugging against his grip, but his fingers remain firmly pressed against my wrist. A jolt of nervous energy runs through me as my back hits the wall, and all at once my hands are pressed above my head, Azrael's face so close to mine we are almost sharing a single breath. This time the flames that coil through me are unstoppable, licking out against the empty air, and causing Azrael to wince as they lap inches from his skin.
In all honesty, I had not trusted Azrael to uphold his deal one bit. There was no doubt in my mind that in coming down here, I would be completely and utterly betrayed. But there is no reason to tell him that. Let him keeping thinking I am the naïve little girl who will blunder into all his traps. It will only give me more of an ego to smash down when he realises I am anything but that.
"What you are going to do after all this is said and done," he grins, lowering his mouth to slide against my throat. "Is come with me and be my wife. I don't care if you are willing or not. And once I have collected all the other souls, we shall reform this vile world and you," he says, lifting up now to raise my chin. "Shall be the one to bear my lineage."
I almost vomit.
"You have a twisted idea of love, then," I breathe, bring my face as close to his as I dare. Azrael matches me with the same fiery luminosity, his eyes swimming with a giddy and gleeful derangement.
"So I have been told."
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"To be honest," he sighs with an implied boredom- or perhaps frustration, with not being able to get things done sooner. "It was a little too easy. I expected more from someone you would take as your husband and yet... Soren was easy to get- he was unusually relaxed that night- no doubt because he was with you," he says with an additional knowing look which leaves little doubt in my mind that he has already speculated over the happenings of that night: how I became a vampire, and married, in a very, very short space of time.
Admittedly, it was all rather fast, but exhilarating nonetheless. And I wouldn't change it for the world.
But Azrael, unlike myself, has little time for sentiments, preferring to delve into the bloody details of gory battle and relish the delectably sweet taste of victory over his brother. Even if that means shoving it in my face.
Slinking around to grab my attention, he slings a hand lazily over my shoulder, drawing his mouth close to my ear as he whispers up against my skin, his breath tickling the inside of my ear with a revolting quiver of air:
"I was quite disappointed when he did not put up much of a fight. Sure he got a few gashes in me here and there, but nothing brutal. Nothing lasting. I expected more from a so-called 'Scarlet King'. A silver injection and he was down like a shot, like a poor, miserable little mortal. I suppose he is weaker than I thought he was, too soft," Azrael smirks, before drawing away now, making sure to leave a lasting impression of touch upon my body.
My skin crawls.
A shiver of rage runs through me, ardent and blazing like a wildfire. Once more I am forced to hide the coiling whirls of fire at my fingertips, blowing out a long breath as I restrain the urge to strangle him on the spot. Quite to my misfortune, Azrael notices this. Raising a brow, he cackles:
"Oh, my sweet, daring little girl, I am well aware you are angry at what I have done. It doesn't take just any old person to completely obliterate an army of halflings. You must have really channelled some strong emotions- how my father would have loved you!" he says, but his tone quickly becomes bitter with a throaty laugh.
That's right, I think inwardly, withdrawing into myself. Azrael didn't exactly have a perfect relationship with his parents. I suppose he would have called them weak, too. His mother killed herself for being unable to bear another child and his father... Well. He was no better.
But before I can voice any of these concerns, quickly Azrael continues, as though anxious to get off the subject himself.
"You know, you were much more amusing to fight than my brother- and watch too. But unfortunately I lost track of you after you wiped out all life on the first lair. Which is quite strange, as I was certain I put a tracker on you," he muses, giving me a sideways look that is clearly baiting some sort of reaction.
To the best of my ability, I try to stay stone faced. Thinking to all the pale, marble creatures who slink like shadows among the castles, I imagine their indifference, the unamused looks that would slate their features, and channel that.
"You put a tracker on me," I say flatly, my mind barely even registering the fact. At this point, I have come to just accept anything I hear. Steal someone's soul? Sure. Soren has a corporeal form and a soul form? Sure. A hybrid angel with vampire blood in her veins? Hey, why not. There is a first for everything.
But there is something about the notion of having a tracker on me that sets my teeth on edge, something that feels fundamentally if not morally wrong about the whole situation. Sure it is an excellent way to keep track of my movements, but that's where the benefits end- for me at least.
Seeming to realise this, Azrael crosses his arms, giving me an exasperated but simultaneously amused look as he twirls his fingers in his hair.
"Well how else was I going to ensure you were playing my game? I needed to ensure I could send illusions to you somehow, but it would seem that someone removed it."
There is enough emphasis on that 'someone' to instantly make me suspect that Azrael already knows the culprit who committed such an act, or, at least has a fair guess as to who. Dread pools like a puddle in the bottom of my stomach.
Quickly I spare a glance over towards the bodies on the ground- to hopefully where Soren is performing his magic and fusing his corporeal form with his own. Did Soren remove my tracker?
Thinking over it, I can recall nothing as obvious as that. Removing a tracker would be a vastly risky manoeuvre, or at least one that wouldn't be done without an element of stealth being lost in the process. But then something else comes to mind.
Hazily, I recall the way Soren's hands had moved over my body as he hugged me. Back then I had put it down to little more than affection, and the desperate need for it from lack thereof. But the more I think of it, the more that affection becomes a methodical searching, tracing, for something that I had so blatantly missed.
Perhaps I had underestimated Soren's knowledge on the matter. For I certainly did not remove the tracker, and that could leave only one person who did. Glancing down back to Soren, I reign in my smile.
Clever boy.
So I turn my attention back to Azrael, flashing him a mischievous grin as he busies himself over his work.
"That must have been so distressing for you," I smirk sarcastically, flashing my new set of fangs in his general direction. Azrael merely grunts.
"Quite."
Then tipping one last potion into his chalice, the room is clouded in a puff of smoke, thick and intoxicating as I begin to cough at the foreign substance clouding my lungs.
Rocking back, I cover my ears, deafened by the loud bang and entirely disorientated. The next thing I know Azrael's hands are on my wrists, locking me in place. Shocked and dizzy from the commotion, I stand there for a moment, glaring him down. When the last of my coughs subside, I manage to splutter out:
"What the fuck, Azrael! What are you doing?"
"No hard feelings, Serena," he says with a wickedly soft tone. "I know you took such an effort to come down here and save your husband, but I have bigger plans for you," he grins, stepping forward to get a better grip on me.
Glancing down to Soren's body that remains motionless on the floor, panic begins to bubble at my throat. Not yet, I think desperately to myself. Please not yet.
My mind reels, my heart races. Azrael's grip gets ever tighter on my wrists as he pushes me back against the wall, his eyes glowing blood red.
Keep him talking, I think desperately to myself. Do not fight yet. Not while the others have not finished.
"What are you going to do to me then, dickhead? I thought we had an agreement. You take my soul, not his," I hiss, tugging against his grip, but his fingers remain firmly pressed against my wrist. A jolt of nervous energy runs through me as my back hits the wall, and all at once my hands are pressed above my head, Azrael's face so close to mine we are almost sharing a single breath. This time the flames that coil through me are unstoppable, licking out against the empty air, and causing Azrael to wince as they lap inches from his skin.
In all honesty, I had not trusted Azrael to uphold his deal one bit. There was no doubt in my mind that in coming down here, I would be completely and utterly betrayed. But there is no reason to tell him that. Let him keeping thinking I am the naïve little girl who will blunder into all his traps. It will only give me more of an ego to smash down when he realises I am anything but that.
"What you are going to do after all this is said and done," he grins, lowering his mouth to slide against my throat. "Is come with me and be my wife. I don't care if you are willing or not. And once I have collected all the other souls, we shall reform this vile world and you," he says, lifting up now to raise my chin. "Shall be the one to bear my lineage."
I almost vomit.
"You have a twisted idea of love, then," I breathe, bring my face as close to his as I dare. Azrael matches me with the same fiery luminosity, his eyes swimming with a giddy and gleeful derangement.
"So I have been told."
"To be honest," he sighs with an implied boredom- or perhaps frustration, with not being able to get things done sooner. "It was a little too easy. I expected more from someone you would take as your husband and yet... Soren was easy to get- he was unusually relaxed that night- no doubt because he was with you," he says with an additional knowing look which leaves little doubt in my mind that he has already speculated over the happenings of that night: how I became a vampire, and married, in a very, very short space of time.Admittedly, it was all rather fast, but exhilarating nonetheless. And I wouldn't change it for the world.But Azrael, unlike myself, has little time for sentiments, preferring to delve into the bloody details of gory battle and relish the delectably sweet taste of victory over his brother. Even if that means shoving it in my face.Slinking around to grab my attention, he slings a hand lazily over my shoulder, drawing his mouth close to my ear as he whispers up against my skin, his breath tickling the inside of my ear with a revolting quiver of air:"I was quite disappointed when he did not put up much of a fight. Sure he got a few gashes in me here and there, but nothing brutal. Nothing lasting. I expected more from a so-called 'Scarlet King'. A silver injection and he was down like a shot, like a poor, miserable little mortal. I suppose he is weaker than I thought he was, too soft," Azrael smirks, before drawing away now, making sure to leave a lasting impression of touch upon my body.My skin crawls. A shiver of rage runs through me, ardent and blazing like a wildfire. Once more I am forced to hide the coiling whirls of fire at my fingertips, blowing out a long breath as I restrain the urge to strangle him on the spot. Quite to my misfortune, Azrael notices this. Raising a brow, he cackles:"Oh, my sweet, daring little girl, I am well aware you are angry at what I have done. It doesn't take just any old person to completely obliterate an army of halflings. You must have really channelled some strong emotions- how my father would have loved you!" he says, but his tone quickly becomes bitter with a throaty laugh. That's right, I think inwardly, withdrawing into myself. Azrael didn't exactly have a perfect relationship with his parents. I suppose he would have called them weak, too. His mother killed herself for being unable to bear another child and his father... Well. He was no better.But before I can voice any of these concerns, quickly Azrael continues, as though anxious to get off the subject himself."You know, you were much more amusing to fight than my brother- and watch too. But unfortunately I lost track of you after you wiped out all life on the first lair. Which is quite strange, as I was certain I put a tracker on you," he muses, giving me a sideways look that is clearly baiting some sort of reaction.To the best of my ability, I try to stay stone faced. Thinking to all the pale, marble creatures who slink like shadows among the castles, I imagine their indifference, the unamused looks that would slate their features, and channel that."You put a tracker on me," I say flatly, my mind barely even registering the fact. At this point, I have come to just accept anything I hear. Steal someone's soul? Sure. Soren has a corporeal form and a soul form? Sure. A hybrid angel with vampire blood in her veins? Hey, why not. There is a first for everything.But there is something about the notion of having a tracker on me that sets my teeth on edge, something that feels fundamentally if not morally wrong about the whole situation. Sure it is an excellent way to keep track of my movements, but that's where the benefits end- for me at least.Seeming to realise this, Azrael crosses his arms, giving me an exasperated but simultaneously amused look as he twirls his fingers in his hair."Well how else was I going to ensure you were playing my game? I needed to ensure I could send illusions to you somehow, but it would seem that someone removed it."There is enough emphasis on that 'someone' to instantly make me suspect that Azrael already knows the culprit who committed such an act, or, at least has a fair guess as to who. Dread pools like a puddle in the bottom of my stomach.Quickly I spare a glance over towards the bodies on the ground- to hopefully where Soren is performing his magic and fusing his corporeal form with his own. Did Soren remove my tracker?Thinking over it, I can recall nothing as obvious as that. Removing a tracker would be a vastly risky manoeuvre, or at least one that wouldn't be done without an element of stealth being lost in the process. But then something else comes to mind.Hazily, I recall the way Soren's hands had moved over my body as he hugged me. Back then I had put it down to little more than affection, and the desperate need for it from lack thereof. But the more I think of it, the more that affection becomes a methodical searching, tracing, for something that I had so blatantly missed.Perhaps I had underestimated Soren's knowledge on the matter. For I certainly did not remove the tracker, and that could leave only one person who did. Glancing down back to Soren, I reign in my smile.Clever boy.So I turn my attention back to Azrael, flashing him a mischievous grin as he busies himself over his work."That must have been so distressing for you," I smirk sarcastically, flashing my new set of fangs in his general direction. Azrael merely grunts."Quite."Then tipping one last potion into his chalice, the room is clouded in a puff of smoke, thick and intoxicating as I begin to cough at the foreign substance clouding my lungs.Rocking back, I cover my ears, deafened by the loud bang and entirely disorientated. The next thing I know Azrael's hands are on my wrists, locking me in place. Shocked and dizzy from the commotion, I stand there for a moment, glaring him down. When the last of my coughs subside, I manage to splutter out:"What the fuck, Azrael! What are you doing?""No hard feelings, Serena," he says with a wickedly soft tone. "I know you took such an effort to come down here and save your husband, but I have bigger plans for you," he grins, stepping forward to get a better grip on me.Glancing down to Soren's body that remains motionless on the floor, panic begins to bubble at my throat. Not yet, I think desperately to myself. Please not yet.My mind reels, my heart races. Azrael's grip gets ever tighter on my wrists as he pushes me back against the wall, his eyes glowing blood red.Keep him talking, I think desperately to myself. Do not fight yet. Not while the others have not finished."What are you going to do to me then, dickhead? I thought we had an agreement. You take my soul, not his," I hiss, tugging against his grip, but his fingers remain firmly pressed against my wrist. A jolt of nervous energy runs through me as my back hits the wall, and all at once my hands are pressed above my head, Azrael's face so close to mine we are almost sharing a single breath. This time the flames that coil through me are unstoppable, licking out against the empty air, and causing Azrael to wince as they lap inches from his skin.In all honesty, I had not trusted Azrael to uphold his deal one bit. There was no doubt in my mind that in coming down here, I would be completely and utterly betrayed. But there is no reason to tell him that. Let him keeping thinking I am the nave little girl who will blunder into all his traps. It will only give me more of an ego to smash down when he realises I am anything but that."What you are going to do after all this is said and done," he grins, lowering his mouth to slide against my throat. "Is come with me and be my wife. I don't care if you are willing or not. And once I have collected all the other souls, we shall reform this vile world and you," he says, lifting up now to raise my chin. "Shall be the one to bear my lineage."I almost vomit."You have a twisted idea of love, then," I breathe, bring my face as close to his as I dare. Azrael matches me with the same fiery luminosity, his eyes swimming with a giddy and gleeful derangement."So I have been told."
