30. The Confrontation #2
"Because I thought you felt guilty every time you drank my blood. I justified it as a coping mechanism. Your way of dealing with the trauma of once being a blood-slave. Being unwillingly turned into a vampire."
His gaze drops, ears turning bright red in shame, shoulders slumping.
"I told myself, it would pass. That you'd grow more comfortable with drinking my blood and my blood alone. What a fool I was…" I say in a painful whisper, glancing away to compose myself.
A hush has fallen over the hall.
A sad chuckle slips out.
"For a time things did seem to get better. You didn’t drink from those skanks as frequently. I always encouraged you to take your fill while you drank from me. But you still kept holding back. And then the month before the Veilmoon, you went again to a meeting." I spear him with a glare.
"Only this time not only did you drink blood, the slut you had your fangs in, grabbed your cock. Fondled your junk like she had a right to it. Did she, Rhazien?” I ask in a deadly soft voice.
“No!” His voice cracks. “No, Aleiraah! I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like that! I didn’t like it. I––”
I waved my hand as if bored. “Yes, yes, you moved away eventually.” Rage courses through my veins as I point out the obvious part. “But she touched what was supposed to be mine. So what should I’ve done, Rhazien? Tied you down? Bled you dry until you resembled a fucking tumbleweed?”
He stares at me with a mix of disbelief and devastation. I breathe in and let it out slowly, trying to get a handle on the anger burning inside my chest.
"So, use your charm now, vampire. Let's see what excuses you can come up with." When he remains still as a statue I clap my hands. “Chop! Chop!”
"I––no apology is enough, Aleiraah...Love..I..have no words. I didn't mean to. I was scared. I thought I was protecting you. I....didn’t know she’d come onto me like that." His voice catches and he looks utterly defeated, tears running down his face.
"Protecting me?" I laugh at the sheer incredulity of it and the grating noise makes Zien wince.
"You wanted to protect me so badly that you disregarded our vows? A vampire and his bride's bond is supposed to be sacred. You fucking brought blood-sluts into the mix! And you were scared, yet it didn't stop you from drinking these random sluts dry!"
"They didn't matter, Aleiraah." He rasps.
"Yet you let one grope you. And you drank from their necks. Would drinking from their wrist have been such a chore, since they didn't matter?"
He withers beneath the silence that follows.
"I thought so. Now, do you still think, the likes of you––a bloody tick with an abysmal background, is fit to punish me?" I look down my nose at him, disdain dripping from my voice.
His face crumples, and I feel a slight twinge in my heart, but remind myself to remain strong.
These males have hurt me like no other. Not even Jadeth's betrayal had cut so deep. But, I had not loved Jadeth as much as I loved them.
"You were quick to champion Bazrosh––the dragon-player's cause for punishing me." I remark flippantly, flicking my gaze to Baz, whose face turns a deeper red.
"Asserted your dominance with mighty slaps, left me to bleed out. And you still have the gall to call me your love. It makes me sick!" Grimacing, I relish the sight of him digging his nails deeper into his arm as blood seeps out.
"You know what, tick?" He flinches and that soothes the gnawing pain beneath my ribs.
"Go suck those blood-sluts dry. Flies like that flock to shit like you.
Bury your fangs in their bosom for all I care.
Because you're never sinking your fangs in me again.
In fact, if you come anywhere near my neck, I will rip off those fangs and shove them where the sun doesn't shine! " I bare my teeth.
Zien falls to his knees, covering his face with his hands, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.
That's when the 'righteous' angel butts in."Aleiraah! Enough!" Azael barks, his deep voice resonating in the hall.
I almost flinch. Almost. He rarely raises his voice, always calm and collected. This occasion calls for the angel's ire apparently.
I narrow my gaze at him, as he flexes his fingers, trying to control his breathing.
Well, that just won't do!
“The angel finally speaks,” I drawl, clapping slowly. “Rushing to defend the weak—how very on brand.”
Azael exhales through clenched teeth. “I know we wronged you,” he says tightly. “Every one of us. It isn’t Rhazien’s sin alone.” His stare burns with unmistakable remorse––but beneath it lingers an unspoken reproach that makes me seethe. As if I should still be gentle after everything.
The nerve!
"You know? How?" I stare at him expectantly and at first he seems bewildered. Then his lips press into a tight line.
“You and ‘torrent-of-tentacles’ stormed in and decided on the spot that I was a predator. You both accused me of preying on a helpless mortal—without ever hearing my side.”
Azael averts his eyes. His scraped jaw flexes, knuckles turning white with fingers curling into rigid fists.
"Rhazien discovered what happened in a vision, only afterward." Azael confesses quietly.
My eyebrows fly up. "Oh! The vampire has turned into a fortune teller, has he?" Zien remains on his knees on the floor, despair etched on his ravaged face.
Sweeping my gaze over Azael with open contempt, I ask, "So his narrative was believable because he suddenly has the gift of sight? And I wasn’t worth believing—after ten years of marriage?
“Azizam—”
“No.” The endearment curdles something in my gut. My smile turns razor-sharp. “Where’s your divine halo, angel? You can’t play sanctimonious without it. Or did Duat strip it away?”
Anubis snickers.
“Perhaps She judged you and found you lacking. Nothing graceful about a fallen prick.”
The floor of the hallway turns a cosmic pink. Gleeful. Duat agrees!
"Don't be a brat, Aleiraah. You've every right to be angry—" Azael begins, taking a step forward.
"Oh, spare me the bullshit, Azael." I curl my lips in disdain and lo and behold, a flicker of surprise crosses Azael’s usually impassive face.
"First I was a wanton slut, now I'm a brat?"
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to no doubt defend himself, but it's my turn to talk. And this time he will listen.
“Where was your honor when you healed the man who molested me?” I demand. “Where were those lofty principles when you gathered everyone—so you and Ifrinn could poison their minds against me?” My voice cracks like a whip.
For the first time, Azael looks…small. He closes his eyes. The disquiet around him intensifies—as if bracing for the final blow. When he opens them again, they appear bleak.
I briefly glance toward Ifrinn who takes an involuntary step back, afraid of little old me. He should be.
"You choked me Azael, until I couldn't breathe. You reveled in my tears when I was being violated, by my own supposed mates!" I imagine myself squeezing the strong column of his throat to keep the painful memory from overwhelming me.
An angry hiss erupts from my right and I realize Bastet and Anput have joined us. Bastet looks spitting mad as Anput holds her back.
Tempered by their support, I continue, "You questioned my integrity, shaming my inherent nature.
Tell me Azael, as an angel, shouldn't you be all about forgiveness?
Benevolence? Where do you park your sanctimonious shit when you bitch about me to your brethren?
" I lash out, and the stark shock on his face is most satisfying.
"Let's see what your holier-than-thou-pals said, shall we?” I start counting off my fingers––”How could you fall for a cock-sucking succubus?
Your manna is getting tainted by that riffraff!
That conniving lowly succubus is weakening your halo.
Sleep with a female of our kind to restore your reserves.
” His expression turns increasingly thunderous with each revelation. “Rings a bell, Azael?"
"How do you know all this?" I can hear the suspicion in his tight voice.
"That's what you have to say for yourself?
" I laugh, shaking my head in derision. "Does it matter how I came to know, given that it's true?
You are so greedy to retain your halo, you said you'd consider fucking a fellow angel––while you're married!
To me!" I slam my palm against my chest, the ache there sharper than any blade.
Azael stands rigid like a statue dragging a hand over his face, as though trying to wipe away the memory of his choices. The others frown at the unexpected revelations.
"I didn't actually go through––"
I point a shaking finger at him, yelling, "You let others insult me behind my back. You're already a fallen angel for fuck's sake! Screw the halo! First accept your true self. Then dare to criticize my proclivities, you shitstain!
"And I'm not even touching the daddy issues you have." A vein stands out prominently on his forehead, as his neck muscles tighten and bulge with the effort to hold his tongue. But I goad him further.
"Poor Azael! Too idealistic for heaven, too pious for hell, can't thrive in the middle, but dishes out righteous drivel." I taunt in a sing-song voice to get on his last nerve.
"Aleiraah!" He shouts and I roar back. "Don't fucking shout at me you pathetic excuse of an angel!
You thought healing me after putting me through unimaginable agony absolves you?
Guess what? Even if you gave me Mytherra full of manna, it still wouldn't be enough to make up for your cruelty.
So you can fuck right off with your non-existent halo! "
The room falls silent, all eyes on him—usually apathetic Azael—head lowered, shoulders heaving with harsh breaths, nostrils flared like an angry bull.
I feel mildly vindicated after putting the hypocritical bastard in his place.
The guilt clings to the seven like a shroud as silence stretches on. Each one struggling against the weight of their apparent remorse.