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CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISOLDE

Blackridge’s presence sucks the air from the room. One minute, it’s a powder keg with CJ and the fallen angel as the lit fuses; the next, it’s as if nothing happened. Students scatter, conversations resume with forced normality, and the clatter of cutlery suddenly seems deafening. Only the cracked pillar, the faint scent of ozone, and spilt blood remain as evidence of the near brawl. But I’ve come to notice that these things aren’t exactly uncommon around here. Also, this building fixes itself with a swiftness that I find remarkable. Heavy, ancient magic, for sure.

With my heart hammering, I stare at Blackridge, whose gaze sweeps over CJ, then the angel, then me, lingering for a fraction of a second too long. His expression is unreadable, but the power radiating from him is a major force, a silent command for order that no one dares disobey.

Blackridge says nothing, just turns and glides out, the silence he leaves in his wake heavier than the one he entered. The unspoken message is clear: this will not happen again. Or if it does, there will be consequences.

He is a creature with no need for words. His ominous menace is enough.

I glance at CJ, who’s now watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Isaac looks like he wants to throttle both him and the fallen angel.

Fallen angel.

Forsaken?

My gaze drifts over the stone floor splattered with blood. Hmm.

But how would I get it?

“I’m Cassiel, by the way,” he says, but I’m not sure if he is talking to me or CJ.

I look up to see that he has his eyes on me. The same eyes that CJ threatened to gouge out.

“Isolde,” I murmur, and he smirks as CJ moves forward and clasps his hand around my wrist.

“Time to go,” he says.

I want to fight him, to tell him it’s not his decision whether I come or go, but I’m frozen on the spot by the look in his eyes.

It’s that look, the one that strips away all my bravado and leaves me feeling raw and exposed. The one that promises things I’m not sure I’m ready for, but a traitorous part of me desperately craves. His fingers are like iron bands around my wrist, not painful, but undeniably firm, a clear statement of ownership.

He pulls me away, and I stumble after him, my mind racing. Cassiel. A fallen angel. The very definition of forsaken, surely? His blood, spilt on the stone floor, is a beacon to my desperate need for that final ingredient.

“Wait,” I try, digging my heels in slightly, my gaze flicking back to where Cassiel still stands, watching us with an unnervingly calm expression despite the blood on his lip and the violence that just occurred. The dark splashes of his blood on the grey flagstones call to me.

CJ doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. He just tugs harder, his grip tightening infinitesimally. “Not now, Isolde.” His voice is low, a silken command, and the casual use of my full name sends a shiver down my spine.

Isaac falls into step beside us, his expression thunderous, but he says nothing, just casts a dark look over his shoulder at Cassiel.

My chance is slipping away. The reveal spell, the unseen threat, all hinges on that blood.

How can I get to it? How can I get back there without CJ and Isaac knowing what I’m after, or worse, without him deciding Cassiel needs further discouragement for simply existing near me? My mind spins, searching for a plan, any plan, but CJ’s presence is overwhelming, his possessive energy a tangible force field around me.

“You don’t need this kind of trouble,” Isaac says as we leave the dining hall.

“Tell that to your best friend,’ I growl, trying to yank my arm back to no avail.

“He’s right, Issy. Cassiel is an unknown. He could be linked to all of this.”

“I doubt it,” I mutter, but it’s pointless.

CJ finally loosens his hold on me when we are outside my bedroom door, and he steps back. “Stay in your room,” he orders, his eyes still blazing with a residual fierceness.

“You don’t own me,” I retort, rubbing my wrist, though the sensation of his touch lingers.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Don’t I?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my mouth before flicking back up to meet mine. “Be good, Isolde. For your own sake.”

With that, he and Isaac turn and walk away, their broad shoulders disappearing down the shadowy corridor.

The moment they’re gone, I press my back against the cool stone of the hallway, my breath coming in shaky gasps. My wrist still tingles where he held it. The audacity of him, the sheer possessiveness… it’s terrifying and, damn it all, utterly intoxicating.

But there’s no time for that now. Cassiel’s blood. I need it.

My mind races. How to get back to the dining hall unnoticed? How to collect the blood without drawing attention? The image of Blackridge’s silent fury is a potent deterrent.

But the threat on the window is worse. Pushing off from the wall, I head the other way to CJ and my brother and slip down the stairs. At the bottom, I pull up short.

“Why were you staring at my blood?” Cassiel asks.

I jump, my heart leaping into my throat. His appearance is less intimidating now, but the intensity in his gaze pins me to the spot.

“I...” I start, my mind racing for an explanation that won’t reveal too much.

His blue-eyed gaze intensifies, and my mind goes blank. I blink, trying to remember what we were talking about.

“My blood? Why are you so interested in it?”

“I’m a vampire,” I murmur.

He raises an eyebrow as if that is news to him. “Okay, fair enough,” he mutters. “You wanted to taste me?”

My mouth waters, and I drool a little. “Are you offering?” What am I doing? CJ will throw a shitfit that will bring this academy down around us. But CJ has no say in who I drink from, or see or talk to. So why am I bothered?

“Will your boyfriend get jealous?” Cassiel asks, moving a step closer.

“Yes,” I say and then shake my head. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me and everyone else. But I don’t think that’s the real reason, is it, Isolde?”

I frown and bite my lip. The urge to tell him is too great. “I need it for a spell,” I blurt out and then hiss. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me tell you!”

“I didn’t. I asked you a question, you answered.” He looks as perplexed as I do.

Then I remember what he said about his powers here in this realm. Maybe compulsion is one of them… okay, no maybe about it. He definitely made me tell him.

“What spell?”

“A reveal spell.” Dammit!

“To reveal what?”

“Unseen beings in my bedroom.”

He smiles, looking like he’s thoroughly enjoying this. “Are you sure you and CJ aren’t involved? ”

“He’s my brother’s best friend. I think he’s hot. I don’t know what game he is playing with me.”

“A game,” Cassiel muses, the corner of his mouth twitching. “These unseen beings in your bedroom, are they part of CJ’s game, do you think? Or something else entirely?”

I hadn’t thought of that, but I dismiss it as unlikely. Why would CJ threaten to kill me and then overly protect me?

“A reveal spell requires specific components. Difficult ones, usually. Hence the interest in my spillage.”

I nod dumbly. “Blood of the forsaken,” I whisper, still feeling his subtle compulsion.

“Forsaken,” he repeats, tasting the word. “A rather apt description for a fallen angel, wouldn’t you agree?” He closes the small distance between us. His scent is different from CJ’s. It is not ozone and storm, but something cleaner and sharper, like frost and starlight. “You need my blood, Isolde Morvoren. And I, it seems, have an abundance of it at the moment.” He gestures vaguely back towards the dining hall. “Though I suspect it’s being mopped up by now. Unfortunate timing.”

My shoulders slump.

“However, being recently forsaken, I imagine fresh samples are better for your spell.” He holds out his hand, palm up. For a moment, I just stare at it, at the long, elegant fingers, the faint lines etched into his skin.

My breath catches. He’s offering. Just like that.

“The question is,” Cassiel says, his voice a soft murmur, his eyes fixed on mine, “what are you willing to offer in return for such a potent ingredient?”

“What do you want?” I murmur.

“You said you are a vampire. I’ve heard of these creatures. You feed on blood?”

I nod,

“I want to know what that feels like.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“I want to be fed from,” he clarifies, a spark of that almost childlike curiosity lighting his blue eyes. “You drink blood to sustain yourself. I’ve read about it in celestial archives, observed it from afar. But to experience it… that’s different. Knowledge versus sensation. You require my ‘forsaken’ blood for your spell. I require a new experience. A trade. Simple, isn’t it?”

Simple? Nothing about this feels simple. Despite the fact that he is a celestial being, what in all the hells would CJ do if he found out? The thought of his fury is a cold dread in my veins, but Cassiel’s direct, almost innocent request is disarming.

“You want me to bite you?” I stammer.

“Precisely. You get your ingredient, I get enlightenment. ”

I stare at Cassiel, weighing his offer. His fallen angel blood is exactly what I need for my spell, and he’s offering it freely. But feeding from him? The idea sends a confusing swirl of hunger and hesitation through me.

“Here?” I ask, glancing around the empty stairwell. “Now?”

Cassiel’s lips curl into a smile that’s almost innocent despite the circumstances. “Unless you have a more private location in mind? Your room, perhaps?”

The thought of bringing him to my room sends a bolt of alarm through me. “Absolutely not. CJ would?—”

“Ah, yes, the not-boyfriend who acts very much like a boyfriend.” His eyes dance with amusement. “A complication, isn’t he?”

I sigh. “You have no idea. I fear for your safety if he finds you with me.”

Cassiel studies me for a moment, then nods toward a shadowy alcove off the main corridor. “There, then. Quick and discreet. You get your ingredient, I get my education.”

The way he says ‘education’ sends a small shiver down my spine. There’s something unnervingly pure about his curiosity, as if he’s cataloguing every experience with an intensity that borders on scientific.

I follow him to the alcove, my heart pounding. The space is small, barely concealed from the main hallway by a heavy velvet curtain, the colour of dried blood. The irony isn’t lost on me.

“Have you ever fed from someone before?” Cassiel asks, his head tilted slightly as he studies me.

I hesitate, then shake my head. “Only blood from dispensers. Controlled, sterile.” The admission makes me feel even more sheltered, more na?ve than I already am.

“Then we’re both venturing into new territory.” He sounds pleased by this, as if our shared inexperience creates some kind of bond.

He rolls up his sleeve, exposing a forearm that’s lean muscle and pale skin. “Will this do? Or do you prefer the neck?” The question is practical, without a hint of innuendo.

“The wrist is more impersonal,” I murmur, suddenly very aware of how intimate this act will be regardless.

“But less effective for your needs, I imagine.” Cassiel loosens the collar of his tight black t-shirt, exposing the smooth column of his neck. “The spell requires potent blood, doesn’t it? The carotid artery would provide the strongest sample.”

I swallow hard, my fangs already descending in anticipation.

Cassiel leans closer to examine my fangs with undisguised interest. “They emerge automatically with hunger? ”

“Yes.” His interest is actually quite sweet.

I pull the small vial from my pocket, ready to collect what I need. “This won’t hurt... much,” I murmur, more to reassure myself than him.

“Pain is merely another sensation to experience,” Cassiel replies with that same curious detachment. “Besides, I’ve already been thrown across a dining hall today. I imagine this will be comparatively pleasant.”

Despite everything, I laugh softly. “You’re very strange.”

“But interesting, yes?”

Well, I can’t deny that.

Before I can reconsider, I lean forward, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady myself. His skin is surprisingly warm beneath my palm. I bring my mouth to his neck, inhaling his scent automatically.

“Ready?” I whisper against his skin.

I feel rather than see his nod, the slight movement of his jaw above me. Taking a deep breath, I sink my fangs into his neck.

The moment his blood touches my tongue, a shock races through me. It’s rich and complex, with notes of power that human blood could never contain. It’s intoxicating, a warmth that spreads through my limbs and makes my head spin.

Cassiel makes a slight, surprised sound, his hand coming up to grip the back of my head. Not pushing me away, but anchoring himself as the new sensation washes over him.

I should stop. But the taste is addictive, and I take another swallow, then another.

“Isolde,” Cassiel’s voice breaks through the haze, tight with pleasure.

My name tumbling from his lips in such a way is enough for me to pull back. I grip the vial, capturing some of Cassiel’s blood. It glows faintly in the shadows, shimmering with an energy that makes my fingertips tingle.

Cassiel watches me, his eyes slightly dilated, a fresh intensity in his gaze. “That was…” He breathes heavily. “Nice.”

“Nice?” I can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes me, nor can I stop my gaze from dropping to the bulge in his pants.

I cap the vial with trembling fingers, suddenly aware of how close we’re standing, how intimate the moment was. “Thank you,” I manage, stepping back to put some distance between us. “This will help me see what I need to.”

He touches the puncture marks on his neck, which have already mostly healed. “If you need any further assistance with your supernatural problems, you need only ask. Knowledge for knowledge. Experience for experience.”

The offer is tempting. Cassiel, for all his strangeness, seems genuinely interested in helping. More importantly, he has no stake in the politics of SilverGate, no ties to the mysteries of my past.

“I should go,” I say, glancing toward the corridor. “My first class starts soon, and I need to finish the spell.”

Cassiel nods, stepping aside to let me pass. “Until next time, Isolde Morvoren.”

There’s something in the way he says it. A certainty that our paths are destined to cross again, regardless of CJ’s possessiveness or my brother’s protectiveness.

As I slip away, the taste of his blood still lingers on my tongue, a reminder of power and possibility. My heart races with anticipation. Tonight, I’ll finally see what haunts my room, what wrote those chilling words. Tonight, I’ll face whatever threat has followed me from my tower prison to this gothic academy of monsters and the forsaken.