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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CJ

I watch Isolde storm away, her shoulders stiff with righteous indignation, her body still trembling. The lingering warmth of her hand on my cock makes me want to grab her, drag her back, and finish what we started. But that would be too easy. Too simple. Isolde Morvoren deserves a more complex seduction.

The audience at the door disperses when I turn my gaze on them, a silent command that sends them scurrying. All except one. A first-year female vampire with more courage than sense lingers, her eyes hungry as they rake over me. Three days ago, I would’ve gone there. Now… now, not a single chance in hell.

“You’re still here,” I observe coldly.

She steps forward, emboldened by my acknowledgement. “I could help you finish what she started,” she offers, licking her lips .

I move so fast she doesn’t see me coming. One moment I’m across the room, the next I’m towering over her, boxing her against the wall.

“Let me be perfectly clear. Don’t try that again,” I whisper, watching fear replace desire in her eyes. “There is only one woman who interests me. You are not her.”

I step back and she lowers her gaze, cowed by a creature who could crush her to dust.

Message delivered, I straighten my cuffs and stride from the arena, my mind already plotting my next move with Isolde.

I pause in the hallway, inhaling deeply, catching Isolde’s scent lingering in the air like a trail of breadcrumbs. Sweet and spicy, with notes of arousal still clinging to it despite her anger. I follow it to ensure she makes it to her next class without incident.

The hallways of SilverGate pulse with activity. Students give me a wide berth, eyes lowered, conversations faltering as I pass. News travels fast here. The incident with Benz will already be spreading through the academy like wildfire, reinforcing the message I’ve been hammering home since Isolde arrived: She is mine. Untouchable. Protected.

Isolde’s hand wrapped around my dick won’t be far behind either. If anyone still wasn’t convinced, they will be after the end of tonight.

I track her scent to the Arcane Theory lecture hall, lingering outside just long enough to confirm she’s safely inside before continuing to my class. Dimensional Shift Theory with Professor Tate.

As I enter the classroom, I spot Cassiel sitting near the back. His expression is one of intense curiosity as he absorbs everything around him.

His eyes meet mine, and there’s no fear there, just that same infuriating intellectual interest. It is as if I’m a specimen to be studied rather than a predator to be feared. The fallen angel fascinates me despite my irritation. Most creatures cower or posture when faced with my power, but Cassiel simply observes, cataloguing each interaction with those unnervingly perceptive eyes.

I take a seat at the opposite end of the room. Professor Tate, a gaunt creature with skin like parchment and eyes that have seen too many dimensions, sweeps in moments later.

“Today,” he announces, his voice echoing strangely as if coming from multiple places at once, “we discuss the theory of parallel existences and their points of convergence.”

My attention sharpens. This is directly relevant to my situation. I lean forward, genuinely interested for once.

“Parallel dimensions exist alongside our own,” Tate continues, conjuring a complex three-dimensional model that hovers in the air before him. “Each subtly different, some dramatically so. The walls between them are not impermeable, but crossing requires immense power or very specific circumstances.”

Like being the son of an original vampire and a dragon Queen from another realm. I suppress a smirk.

“Sir,” a student near the front raises her hand, “do creatures from parallel dimensions possess abilities that don’t function the same way here?”

Tate’s ancient eyes glitter. “Indeed. Power signatures often undergo fascinating transformations when crossing dimensional boundaries,” Tate explains, his fingers manipulating the floating model. “The fundamental nature of the being remains, but how their abilities manifest can change dramatically.”

This is accurate information. My dragon traits are less predictable here, more volatile when they surface. The vampire side dominates, as always, but when the dragon stirs beneath my skin, the power surge is almost uncontrollable.

“Some abilities amplify,” Tate continues, “while others diminish or transform entirely. Think of it as translating a language. The meaning remains, but nuance shifts.”

My gaze shifts to Cassiel, wondering what celestial powers might manifest in a fallen angel who’s crossed from heaven to this dark realm. His wings are already transformed, scorched black from his fall. What else might change? Of all the places for him to land, this was probably one of the worst. Where I come from, we live amongst humans, our true identities hidden in a modern world with all the trappings of a luxurious life. Here, it is a completely supernatural realm that breeds chaos and magic.

“Identifying dimensional travellers can be challenging,” Tate says, his eyes sweeping the room and lingering on me for a fraction too long. “They often appear identical to native inhabitants, though certain irregularities may manifest.”

I maintain a neutral expression despite the professor’s scrutiny. My father warned me about drawing attention to my origins. Knowledge is power at SilverGate, and my true nature is a secret worth killing for.

Cassiel raises his hand, and Tate acknowledges him with a nod.

“What about intentional crossings?” the fallen angel asks. “Are there methods to deliberately travel between dimensions?”

Tate’s papery lips curve into what might be a smile. “Ambitious question, Mr Cassiel. There are indeed methods, though most require sacrifices few are willing to make. Blood rituals, soul anchors, cosmic alignments, sacrifices.” He pauses. “The academy library’s restricted section contains several theoretical texts on the subject.”

I watch Cassiel absorb this not-so-accurate information with that same insatiable curiosity. I have a natural ability, like my mother, to travel between realms. My father needs a very powerful dragon artefact called a timestone. No sacrifices were made in the making of the timestone.

That I’m aware of.

“There is also the matter of dimensional resonance,” Tate continues. “Beings from the same dimension naturally gravitate toward one another in foreign realms. Like calls to like, even across universal boundaries.”

That explains why I have found only one creature in this entire academy that I tolerate being around. Not that I think Isaac is from my dimension, but it makes sense we became friends as we are alike in many ways.

Tate’s lecture continues, delving into dimensional mathematics and energy transfer protocols that would make most students’ eyes glaze over. But I absorb every word, comparing his academic theories to my lived experience. Some are remarkably accurate; others are so wildly off-base they’re almost amusing.

Throughout the class, I feel Cassiel’s gaze occasionally flicking to me. Studying. Analysing. His celestial perception might be picking up on things others miss. I need to be more careful around him.

When class ends, Cassiel approaches Professor Tate with more questions. His thirst for knowledge is relentless. I wonder if that’s what got him cast out of heaven. Asking too many questions, pushing boundaries better left untouched.

As I turn to leave, I catch his eye. He excuses himself from Tate and approaches me with that same infuriating lack of fear.

“Interesting class,” he says, as if we’re casual acquaintances rather than creatures who nearly came to blows hours ago.

“Fascinating,” I reply dryly.

His lips quirk. “Just trying to understand this new reality I’ve fallen into. I heard you cheated on me with another being.”

“Excuse me?” I snap.

He gives me that infuriating smirk. “Benz, someone or another. Heard you threw him to the ground and stamped on his throat. I thought I was your only nemesis.”

I smile. I do love the embellishments. I make no attempt to put him straight. “Benz had it coming. So did you. I like to spread the violence around.”

Cassiel’s eyes gleam with that unnerving curiosity. “I’ve been observing the dynamics here. Your interest in Isolde seems to drive most of your actions.”

“My interest in Isolde is none of your business,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous pitch.

“On the contrary,” he replies, “everything in this realm is my concern now. I’m a student of existence, and you are providing quite the education.”

We stand in tense silence, other students giving us a wide berth in the hallway. The air between us crackles with unspoken challenge.

“You know,” Cassiel continues, his head tilting slightly, “in heaven, we observed human and supernatural connections from afar. Clinical, detached. But experiencing it firsthand—the possessiveness, the hunger—it’s enthralling.”

“I’m not your fucking science experiment,” I growl.

“Perhaps not intentionally.” His smile is infuriatingly serene.

“Perhaps not,” I concede, “but I am your worst nightmare if you continue this line of inquiry.”

Cassiel’s eyes flash with something that might be amusement. “Nightmares are new to me as well. I find I’m rather looking forward to experiencing one.”

The fallen angel’s lack of self-preservation is almost admirable.

“Word of advice,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Don’t mistake my restraint for weakness. The next time we clash, Blackridge won’t arrive in time to save you.”

“Is that what happened?” Cassiel asks, genuine curiosity in his tone. “I rather thought we were just getting started.”

I lean in closer and then freeze .

Isolde.

I can smell her all over him.

A low growl rumbles out of my throat. “You’ve been near her.”

Cassiel doesn’t flinch at my growl, his expression contemplative rather than fearful.

“You can smell her on me, can’t you?” he asks, studying my reaction with that same academic interest. “Your olfactory senses must be exceptionally acute.”

My vision narrows, the edges darkening as rage builds within me. “What did you do?” The question comes out as a hiss between clenched teeth.

“We had an exchange,” Cassiel says, infuriatingly vague. “She is quite remarkable.”

“An exchange of what?” I ask, deadly quiet.

Cassiel smiles and places his hand on my chest, pushing me backwards. It takes a bit of effort on his part, but he manages to create some distance between us. “You’d have to ask her.”

I look down at his hand and growl louder. The audacity of this fucking angel is pissing me off.

I grip his wrist and twist it, using the momentum to spin him around and shove him into the wall. “Do not test me,” I snarl.

Cassiel lets out a laugh that sounds almost joyful. He rears back and slams his head into my nose, busting it and spraying blood everywhere for about a second before it heals.

“You fucker.” I clench my fist and slam it into his face, returning the favour.

He grunts, but it doesn’t slow him down. He has got power. A lot of it. It’s not surprising, though. An angel falling from heaven into this realm… it was bound to happen. Cassiel’s wings pop out, and he launches himself at me, appearing to quite enjoy his first fight.

Well, two can play that game.

We crash through the corridor, sending students scattering. His wings give him unexpected leverage as we slam into the opposite wall, cracking the ancient stone. I feel my dragon traits stirring beneath my skin, amber heat flooding my veins as my control slips.

Cassiel smiles as I drive my fist into his ribs. “The violence is so visceral, so liberating.”

“Fucking shut up,” I growl, ducking as his wing sweeps toward my head like a blade.

His fighting style is untrained but powerful. He’s got raw celestial energy without finesse. Each blow lands with concussive force that would shatter a normal vampire’s bones. But I’m not normal.

Not even close.

I slam my palm into his chest, sending him crashing through a classroom door, splintering it to kindling. The students inside scream and rush to clear the area as he rolls to his feet. The rush of combat sings in my blood, a primal satisfaction at finally getting my hands on this infuriating creature.

“Stay away from her,” I snarl, driving my knee into his stomach.

He doubles over but recovers faster than I anticipated, launching upward to catch me under the chin. “Your possessiveness is remarkable,” he observes, as if we’re having a casual conversation rather than trying to tear each other apart. “Is it innate or learned behaviour?”

“Do you ever stop analysing?” I slam him against a pillar, cracking the stone.

“Not really,” he admits, twisting free with surprising agility and landing a solid punch to my jaw that sends a jolt down my spine. “This power... it’s so different from celestial grace. Raw, untamed.”

The air around me shimmers, and the stone beneath my feet groans. “You have no idea what you’re messing with,” I grit out, my voice deepening, taking on a guttural edge.

“Perhaps not,” Cassiel concedes, his eyes bright with exhilaration as he dodges another blow. “But I’m eager to learn.”

He’s fast, surprisingly strong, and utterly unconcerned with self-preservation. It’s like fighting a force of nature, one that’s just discovered it can make hurricanes .

I grab his wing, the scorched feathers surprisingly resilient, and use it to haul him off balance, slamming him into the floor. Students are screaming, some cheering, the raw energy of the fight feeding into the chaotic atmosphere of SilverGate.

“She gave you her blood, didn’t she?” I snarl, pinning him, my knee on his chest. The thought of Isolde willingly offering her fangs to this fallen creature, ignites a fresh wave of possessive fury.

Cassiel meets my gaze, a slow, bloodied smile spreading across his face. “Now, why would I tell you that?”

I flash my fangs at him but before I can clamp down and drain this fucker dry, the bell tolls and we both freeze.

Admittedly, that took longer than I expected. I give him a sinister smile. “Saved by the bell.”

I shove him back from me and wait, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth that his last punch caused.

Blackridge appears like an apparition in the next second, his fury practically his entire being. “Mr Aquila, Mr Cassiel, to my office. Now.”

He spins, his long black coat sweeping majestically behind him. He has the air of my father, and it is a familiar kind of menace. It makes me wonder again what kind of creature he is under that pale skin. Definitely not a vampire, but definitely something more.

“After you, asshole,” I grit out at Cassiel.

He gives me a death stare, which is quite amusing coming from one who, not so long ago, was plucking on a harp.

But he turns his back on me, a move I wasn’t sure he would execute, and storms off after Blackridge, leaving me to follow sedately, contemplating what to tell my dad if it comes to it. Or worse… what to tell my mom.