17. Too Late
Rhazien
***Sometime ago***
I wake up with a start from a strangely realistic dream and scramble to my feet, heart beating like a drum in my chest.
What kind of dream was that?
It felt like Aleiraah's thoughts and memories, but I was the one living them.
In the wake of that realization comes a blinding rage. Fucking Ifrinn and Azael!
I trace into the mansion, half-mad with bloodlust, rage eating away at my sanity. Spotting Azael by the window overlooking the lake, I instantly trace and grab his throat.
Fangs bared I hiss, "You denied her the chance to explain herself properly! You gathered us into her room without knowing the full truth. And like fools we flocked!"
He grabs my wrist in a bone-crushing grip, expression remaining unperturbed.
Ifrinn winks into the room, snagging my attention. His presence alone makes me see red and shove Azael away. Tracing to where Ifrinn’s standing, I throw a punch catching him off-guard.
He stumbles onto the floor, and I start pummeling at him.
"You didn't even let her speak!"––I roar between each punch––"You showed us an embellished half-truth—casting her as a wanton seducer, and us as cuckold fools!"
Ifrinn tries to throw me off but I'm a vampire in the throes of bloodlust, difficult to overpower easily. Aiming to rip out his throat, I lunge for his carotid artery.
Baz and Alistair try to pull me off him, but I turn and bite their arms instead. Their rich blood fills my mouth, but the thought of even a single drop entering my body makes me gag violently, and I throw up on Ifrinn.
"What the fuck, Rhazien?!" Ifrinn shouts, managing to slide up and away, wiping at the blood I threw up on him.
"Stop with the riddles, Zien and speak clearly." Archer urges, standing between Azael and me. Maybe he thinks it's Azael's throat I'll go for next. He wouldn't be wrong.
Trying to rein in the rage, I study everyone around me, chest heaving. The air is thick with unspoken questions.
Silas is standing now, looking at me with eyes full of pain. Maybe hoping I'd say something that might absolve him, or us. Only that doesn't seem remotely possible after seeing Aleiraah's memories from the day of the Veilmoon.
"Fucking let go! I can control myself!" I shake off their grip and start half-pacing, half-tracing to burn off the fury coursing through my veins. Looking at Ifrinn or Azael is difficult, I might lose myself again and start attacking them.
"I think the Veilmoon gave me new powers." I start. "Don't know if it’s temporary or permanent, but I was able to dream Aleiraah's memories from the day of the Veilmoon. Maybe because I drank...from her." I pause, the room is silent, everyone's holding their breath.
I concentrate on the feelings I experienced in the dream, recollecting the name that had upset her the most.
"From the bits and pieces I saw, she had dreamt of someone called Jadeth. That dream had deeply unsettled her. Has anyone ever heard that name?"
After a beat Alistair says with a far-off look in his eyes, "I might have heard it once, years ago when we were drunk on fae wine. I think he was an ex?"
She never mentioned that name to me. On purpose? What else are you hiding, Love?
"We need to dig deeper into who he was. As for the dream, she met with that Nephilim fucker and his mates later in the day.
The three of them were undergoing marriage troubles and started an orgy once things got sorted out.
Aleiraah observed and directed them at the Nephilim's request. She was running high on borrowed desire and was about to seek us out—"
"When Rozalin informed her about the mortal." Azael interrupts.
"How the fuck do you know that?" Whirling, I retort.
"We spoke to her while some of you left. She came to check on Aleiraah and filled in some gaps. She said Aleiraah seemed tired, worried even. Then ordered her to leave the room when the mortal started talking about the origins of a favor owed to him by Aleiraah." Baz summarizes what I already know.
Nodding, I continue, "Yes. Owed originally to his great-grandmother, Isla. She saved Aleiraah's life after her mother passed away."
Tugging at my hair in frustration, I try to explain the rest. "There's an abruptness to the events in my dream, so I think I'm only seeing snippets.
The next part is unclear, but Jadeth seems to be the person Isla saved our mate from.
She was Aleiraah's handmaid who, with her dying breath, forced a promise.
Aleiraah couldn't break that vow any more than we could break our own given oaths.”
"She––she realized that she wasn't wearing that damned Chain when Rozalin appeared with him.
It was too late to fetch it. Her allure had probably started affecting that lowlife.
After Rozalin left the room, that imbecile started spouting nonsense that he can make a decent author out of himself if he licks her essence from her cunt. "
"What the actual fuck?" Ifrinn whispers at the same time Azael murmurs, "She didn't know..."
I look at him scathingly, "No, she didn't. She was taken by surprise, you judgmental fucks! Not that I'm any better!” Self-loathing threatens to cripple me for a moment but I need to set everyone straight.
"She was bound by her vow and offered her essence with her fingers.
He agreed, but then at the final moment he tricked her, when she was distracted by you both barging in.
She was already aroused from the earlier revelry and came unexpectedly.
And you, Azael, healed that bottom-feeding worm who attacked her while Ifrinn questioned her integrity! "
Their expressions turn ashen as my words sink in. I can feel them recollecting the scene from a different lens this time.
I shake my head in self-disgust. “I'm in no position to criticize, but you had a firsthand view of things. Why did you shame her? Why couldn't you probe a little more and just ask her what the hell happened?”
I hit my temples with the heel of my palms at my own stupidity while Baz looks at the ceiling taking deep shuddering breaths.
Archer digs his palms to his eyes, shaking his head miserably.
Alistair’s face crumples, his body trembling.
Ifrinn collapses on the floor, head bent low, hands clasped behind his neck.
Silas sinks to the floor again, arms wrapped over his head, rocking wildly.
Azael turns, takes a stone lamp from the refreshments table and throws it at the window. Glass shatters and flies everywhere. Everyone freezes except for Silas.
A few shards fly off course and slice at my skin. The tiny sliver of pain feels good.
Azael's wings flare out and shiver as he unsuccessfully tries to get a hold on his emotions. The fucker probably doesn't know how to deal with them.
"I..sinned, Azizam. Please…forgive me." He whispers, voice resonating with sorrow.
"I wasn't thinking. She accused me of mingling with hell-harlots, and I just snapped," Ifrinn mutters right after, his voice heavy with regret.
"Then kept reacting badly. My father and brothers have been constantly pushing hell-harlots at me.
Taunting at every chance they got that I'm a cuckold demon while Aleiraah enjoys multiple males. Oblivion demons aren’t monogamous by nature, you see.
I try to not let it bother me generally.
But when I saw that fucking mortal between her thighs, I couldn't control my temper.
I felt like what they have been saying is true.
And when she called me out, it just tipped the scales.
In my head I went to a place that's beyond reason. "
He looks at me with pleading eyes hoping for what I'm not sure...absolution? Sympathy? Fuck that!
Then looks away, swallowing audibly when I scoff.
"I didn't mean to hurt her," Silas's voice breaks in raw anguish. "I didn't." He repeats, sobs wracking his body. "She's my everything. I was blinded by a desire to dominate. I wanted to mark her in every way."
He wears self-disgust like second skin. "I don't even know when it happened, but one moment I was feeling uncontrollable rage and jealousy, the next my panther was in charge, with me tightly locked away in my own mind.
"I––I tried to stop him when he bit Kitten to claim her, but he didn't let me. I watched it all while screaming in horror within my head." He hits the side of his head repeatedly with his fists and Archer dives in to stop him, grabbing his wrists.
"I'm sorry Archer, for attacking you. My panther thought you’re challenging his claim to Aleiraah." He states pitifully, his face crumpling once again.
"I didn't fare any better, Silas," Archer replies, looking contrite, shame coating his words. "I rutted her until I passed out. I hurt her, like an uncaring beast."
"I don't know how to make amends with Kitten after what I did. After what my panther did—"
"Do you think your seed took root?" Azael breaks into Silas's spiral. We all pivot to him in shock. He's still looking out the window unseeingly, pale gold blood running down his clenched fist.
"I..."
"You bit her, or your panther did while releasing into her womb.
Only Aleiraah can confirm if such a miracle happened.
Veilmoon is known as the miracle moon for a reason.
" Alistair contemplates. Baz and Archer both look thoughtful.
Silas's expression flickers between disbelief, longing, and utter heartbreak.
"Shall we go and check on her?" Ifrinn suggests hopefully. I don't know what he is so hopeful about. Once Aleiraah wakes, I think we're all going to get booted out. But I know we'll also fight tooth and nail to make amends. Earn back her trust and maybe forgiveness given time.
Nodding, we move in tandem toward the room where she's sleeping. The sun is high in the sky and there's a faint smell of smoke that I can't quite place. But when I open the door, the bed is empty.
A sudden panic grips my chest. "Aleiraah?" We call out as one, synchronizing perfectly on her name.
Archer rushes in inspecting every nook and cranny, Alistair hurriedly steps out onto the connected terrace, casting searching spells.
Baz and Silas appear shell-shocked as they stand in front of the only mirror in the room, clutching at the white gown we had dressed her in.
Ifrinn stands at the foot of the bed like a statue staring at the rumpled sheets.
Azael starts chanting something under his breath, brows furrowed.
I feel like I’m losing my mind when Baz growls through gritted teeth, "I scent another male. His signature—like death wrapped in gold."
We stare at each other in stunned silence with the grim realization that our mate is gone.
We're too late.