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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CJ

I’m not entirely sure if I’m turned on like a fucking light switch or raging to the point where I’m going to stuff an entire continental quilt with that fucker for coming onto Isolde. Fucking mirrors. They always show the things you don’t want to see.

I stand stock-still in my room, my breathing ragged as I try to process what I just witnessed. The full-length mirror glows with residual magic. I want to smash it, to obliterate the image of Isolde on her knees before the fallen angel, but that would solve nothing.

The dragon in me stirs, heating my blood to dangerous levels. Steam rises from my skin, my control slipping with each passing second. I’ve marked her, tasted her blood, and she’s taken mine. The bond has begun, whether she acknowledges it or not. Now this celestial intruder has dared to touch what’s mine .

I slam my fist into the wall, cracking the ancient stone. The pain barely registers through the haze of fury. I know I need to calm down before I do something that even Blackridge can’t overlook. My father’s voice echoes in my mind. Control is everything, CJ. Without it, you’re just a mindless beast.

Closing my eyes, I force deep breaths into my lungs. The fallen angel has stumbled into a game whose rules he doesn’t understand, whose stakes are higher than he could possibly imagine.

“Fuck,” I mutter. Between him and that ghost haunting her room, I’m falling way behind in this race.

This fucking race, which should’ve been won already, by me and only me.

Opening my eyes again, I focus on the mirror. Isolde is back in bed, Cassiel has left, William is hovering around, not quite sure what to do with himself after being an unwitting voyeur to Isolde with not one creature but two.

I try to see this from Isolde’s perspective. She has been locked up for her entire life. She is a virgin who has never kissed anyone until me earlier. It pisses me off that this angel has taken her first blow job and her first feed. But I have to remain calm and consider. Isolde is free. For the first time in her life, she is in the real world. Of course she is going to experiment and want to experience everything she has missed out on, and to be quite honest, I am the last person to blame her for wanting more than one man. My mother has three husbands. At one point, she had seven lovers on the go all at the same time. I pull a face and wince. Damn those journals of hers that my oldest sister told me to read. I really wish she hadn’t. Although it did provide insight into my parents’ aeons-old, epic love that has spanned over a thousand years. Cassiel was not wrong when he said obsession runs in my family. My dad was truly insane over my mom. Some of the things he did went beyond possessiveness and obsession, but I get it. I would do those things for Isolde.

But can I do this for Isolde? Can I go to her and pretend that everything is great when underneath I want to beg her not to choose him?

The question rocks me to my core. Can I share her? My first instinct is a resounding no. Everything in me rebels against the idea. The vampire side, the dragon side, both scream for exclusive possession. But then I think of my mother, of her complex web of relationships that somehow work in their own chaotic way.

The mirror shows Isolde now curled on her side, her face peaceful in sleep, unaware of the turmoil she’s causing. The ghost hovers near the window, vigilant as ever. Something about his watchfulness irritates me further.

In a twisted way, I almost respect Cassiel for his boldness. He might be newly fallen, but he’s not lacking in courage, or cunning. I’ll admit, the way he watches her with that celestial objectivity is unsettling. Like she’s an experiment and a revelation. And I can’t deny that he would protect her. He killed for her. Something I was trying not to do, but realise now, I shouldn’t be holding back. Clearly, it doesn’t bother her.

With a final steadying breath, I make my decision. Storming over there now would only push her further away. Isolde values her freedom too much; the more I try to cage her, the harder she’ll fight.

A knock at my door interrupts my brooding. I smell Cassiel instantly, mingled with Isolde’s scent all over him.

I wrench the door open and glare at him. “You had better make it quick before I decide to ignore the side telling me not to kill you.”

“You know,” he states.

“Know? Know that you had your hands on my woman? That she sucked your cock and you came all over her face?”

He narrows his eyes. “She has told you this.”

“She didn’t need to. I watch over what’s mine,” I correct, my voice deadly calm despite the rage simmering beneath.

He studies me for a moment, his head tilting slightly in that analytical way that makes me want to rip his wings off. “You’re not as angry as I expected.”

“Don’t mistake my control for acceptance. ”

“I came to discuss this situation,” he says, stepping forward as if to enter. I block his path, unwilling to let him contaminate my space with Isolde’s scent on him.

“There’s nothing to discuss. She’s mine.”

“And yet she was on her knees before me,” he points out, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Willingly.”

My control slips for just a moment. I slam him against the opposite wall. My forearm presses against his throat, but he doesn’t struggle, merely watches me with that infuriating celestial curiosity.

“I could kill you right now,” I growl.

“But you won’t,” he replies calmly. “Because you know it would only push her away.”

I release him abruptly, stepping back. “What do you want, angel? Come to gloat?”

Cassiel straightens his tee, his blue eyes never leaving mine. “I came to understand.”

“Understand what?” I snarl, my patience wearing thinner by the second.

“This arrangement.” He gestures between us. “In heaven, we observed many forms of supernatural mating rituals. Some creatures mate for life, exclusively. Others form complex hierarchies with multiple partners.”

I laugh bitterly. “You think you came here to negotiate some kind of sharing schedule?”

“Aren’t you?” His voice is maddeningly calm. “You’re furious, yet controlling it. That suggests you’re weighing options rather than simply eliminating a rival.”

“Maybe I just enjoy watching you dig your own grave. Isolde is big on consent, and you didn’t ask.”

Cassiel’s wings shift slightly behind him, betraying a hint of uncertainty beneath his academic facade. “Isolde is extraordinary. I believe you know this as well as I do. She draws us both in ways neither of us fully comprehends.”

“I comprehend it perfectly,” I correct him. “She’s mine. End of story.”

“And yet, she accepted my touch, enjoyed it, even and took it further. If she truly was against my experiment, I doubt she would have dropped to her knees.” He steps closer, his celestial scent mingling with Isolde’s in a way that makes my fangs itch. “She’s experiencing freedom for the first time. Exploration is natural.”

I clench my fists, forcing back the urge to rip his throat out. “You have no idea what you’re playing with, angel. This isn’t just about sex or experimentation. There are things about Isolde you don’t understand.”

“Then enlighten me,” he challenges, spreading his hands. “What makes her so special that both a fallen angel and whatever you truly are are drawn to her?”

The question hangs between us, dangerous in its directness. He’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

“What makes you think I’m anything other than what I appear to be?” I counter, carefully sidestepping his question.

“Your energy signature is complex. Layered. I may be newly fallen, but I retain certain perceptions.” His eyes narrow slightly. “You’re not just a vampire, are you?”

I laugh, the sound deliberately casual. “And you’re not just asking out of academic curiosity.”

“True,” he concedes. “I feel drawn to protect her. To be near her. It’s instinctual, almost primal. For a being who spent his life with detached observation, these impulses are overwhelming.”

Despite myself, I understand exactly what he means. I felt the same the moment I laid eyes on Isolde through the scrying mirror, watching her talk animatedly to her brother, telling him about her day. Something about her called to the deepest, most primal part of me.

“We’re not going to be friends,” I say flatly, crossing my arms. “But I’m not going to kill you either. Not yet.”

“Fair enough. So where does that leave us?”

“It leaves us with Isolde making her own choices.”

He nods.

“If you hurt her?— ”

“I won’t,” he interrupts. “I am physically incapable of causing her harm. The very thought creates a disturbance in me.”

I study him, recognising the truth in his words. Whatever draws him to Isolde is as powerful as what draws me. The difference is, I understand what’s happening. He’s still fumbling in the dark, guided only by instinct.

I step back and slam the door in his face. I can’t stand to look at him any longer, knowing that he had Isolde’s mouth wrapped around his cock before I did.

One thing I can absolutely guarantee, though. He will not take her virginity. If he even attempts it, I will kill him. That honour is mine. All fucking mine.