CHAPTER 105: BLAZING FURY

BLAZE – POV

I left her in the bathroom, thinking she’d be in there for hours. That was the plan.

Let her have privacy. Let her breathe. Let her body ease, even if her mind never could—not in this house, not with me.

So I left.

But not far. Not long.

Just enough to feed.

Just enough to keep the monster from surfacing when I touched her again.

Because the humans in this castle?

They didn’t fear anymore.

They were numb. Doll-eyed and docile. No trembling pulses. No sharp rush of adrenaline singing through their blood. No real thrill.

A feeding from them was like drinking from a corpse that still blinked.

So I left the castle.

I went to the village.

It was easier when the prey ran.

When they screamed.

There’s something sacred in the chase—a prayer in every footstep they take away from me. It calls the older part of me forward. The one I keep caged behind politeness and silk. The one my father bred, sharpened, then feared.

The night air was thick with the scent of humanity—sweat, smoke, and the underlying tang of fear. I moved through the shadows of the village, my senses attuned to every heartbeat, every whispered conversation.

The night was calm, the kind that fools men into thinking the world is at peace. But peace is a lie. Underneath the velvet sky, I moved through the quiet human village, my boots silent on the stone path, my senses sharp—searching, hunting.

I needed fear. Needed that thick, intoxicating flavor that came when the heart raced, when prey knew it was being hunted. It was an addiction. My curse.

I found her near the edge of the village—a girl no older than twenty, walking too fast to be brave but too slow to be aware she was being followed. Her scent hit me before I saw her. Sweet. Tangy. Full of life.

She turned into an alley.

Wrong move, little lamb.

She was alone, a perfect target.

I followed her, my movements silent, until she turned into a secluded alley. The dim light from a flickering lantern cast long shadows, obscuring her features.

"Are you lost?" I asked, my voice smooth, almost hypnotic.

She turned, startled. "I... I think so."

I stepped closer, my eyes locking onto hers. "Let me help you."

I stepped from the shadows, soundless. She didn’t even scream when she saw me, just froze, lips parting in terror. Her pupils dilated. She knew. She knew what I was.

"Please," she whispered, like that ever worked on monsters.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to. I took her by the waist, tilted her head back gently—like a lover would—and let my fangs slide down.

Her blood hit my tongue and I moaned.

Warm. Sharp. Alive.

Her fear sang through her blood, and I drank it down like the starving thing I was. Her knees buckled, and I held her up, savoring the last drops. She wouldn’t die—I didn’t take that much. Just enough to remind me who I was.

The woman crumpled gently to the ground, her heartbeat slowing to a sleepy rhythm as I wiped the trace of blood from my lips. My thirst was quenched—temporarily.

But the momentary satisfaction turned to ash as a sharp wave of terror surged through me, slamming into my chest like a dagger of ice.

It wasn’t mine.

Her fear—Clare’s—burned hotter than any flame. My fangs retracted instantly. My predator’s senses flared, but not with hunger—with panic.

She was in danger.

No... she was terrified.

My body jerked back. The connection between us, between Clare and me, screamed. Fear. Raw, real, wild terror. It flooded my senses, crashing over me in waves. My heart clenched.

"Clare," I hissed under my breath, staggering a step backward, suddenly cold despite the heat in my blood.

I tasted copper and ash on my tongue. It wasn’t from the girl. It was the bond. It was her.

Something was wrong.

Fuck. Fuck.

How long had it been? How long had I left her alone?

The mate bond howled inside me like a wounded beast, rattling every inch of my body. My pulse spiked. Her panic wasn’t fleeting—it was sustained, suffocating. She was surrounded. Cornered. Being touched.

And I hadn’t felt it until now.

"Fuck!" I cursed, launching into motion with inhuman speed, blurring through the village and into the woods beyond. Branches lashed my face as I ran, but I barely felt them.

I ran.

No—I flew.

The village vanished behind me, a smear of stone and torchlight. Trees whipped past like shadows too slow to catch me. The wind screamed in my ears, but not as loud as the rage boiling inside me.

The bond kept pulsing. It wasn’t just fear now.

It was pain.

Her pain.

Clare.

I clutched at the fire clawing through my chest, unable to breathe, my own body fighting itself. My fangs had dropped, still wet with another woman’s blood—but now it tasted like bile. Disgust. Guilt.

She was in my room.

She was supposed to be safe.

I had locked it—sealed it with my scent, a silent warning to any parasite crawling around the halls of that cursed palace. But I should’ve known better. My family never obeyed rules unless they were bleeding from the consequences.

I had expected her to linger in the bath, to take hours like humans often did when lost in thought. She was safe. She was mine. I should have been there.

But I wasn’t.

And now she was screaming through the bond.

My vision pulsed red as fury replaced fear. If they touched her— if any of them so much as scratched her, I would not bury bodies this time. I would burn names out of history.

I saw the palace in the distance. The jagged silhouette rose against the moon, a fortress of blood and power. But to me it looked like a tomb. And Clare was inside it.

My feet struck the palace steps. The guards stationed at the front flinched at my appearance.

"Don’t." I growled without slowing. Their hands dropped from their weapons like puppets with cut strings. My aura was ripping through the air like a storm—I wanted them to feel it. To feel me coming.

The moment my feet hit the marble balcony outside my wing, the stench hit me.

Blood.

Adrenaline.

Hunger.

I snapped the door open with enough force to splinter the hinges. She wasn’t there. Just the faint trace of her scent, trailing out into the hall, mixed with another—

No. Others.

Thelia.

Lucas.

Even Marcus.

A growl tore from my throat, inhuman and deep. They had dared. They had touched her.

The bond spiked again—fear, sharp and panicked. She was close. She was still alive. But not for long. Not if they had their way.

I followed the scent down the hallway. Down the grand stairwell. The dungeon dining hall—used for ceremonies, private gatherings, and sick indulgences—glowed ahead.

My feet slowed.

I slammed through the front doors, flames licking my spine. The scent of blood and wine and her hit me like a fist.

Then I heard them.

Laughter. Jeers. Screaming.

The dining hall.

I was a blur, shadows parting in my wake as I tore down the corridor.

I stepped inside—and time stopped.

Clare stood in the middle of the dining hall. Her shirt was torn, barely clinging to her trembling form. Her pants were being pulled down by Lucas, the fucking bastard. Thelia was at her side, lips blood-stained, eyes bright with hunger.

They were jeering. Laughing. Vampires I’ve fought beside, once called kin, now nothing more than animals baying for her blood.

The moment I saw her face—fear-stricken, cheek already bruised—my vision went red.

No. Red wasn’t enough.

Flames.

Flames exploded from my hands before my brain gave the command. They surged along the ceiling, lighting the chandelier like a funeral pyre. The long dining table erupted in a violent wave of fire, splinters and screams flying into the air.

Fire ignited from my palms and roared across the chamber. It hit the long table first, a beautiful explosion of flame and ash. The ring of fire erupted around the hall, circling them like judgment incarnate.

Screams broke out as the vampires scrambled, caught like rats in their own gluttony. Lucas fell back, his hands on fire as he clawed at the stone floor, howling.

Thelia shrieked, her skin blackening where the fire kissed her wrist. Marcus was already trying to smother her hand, but the flame wouldn’t die. It wasn’t natural. It was mine. Born of rage and the bond and a promise I had made the night I first laid eyes on her.

No one touches what’s mine.

Every vampire in that room froze.

I stepped through the flames.

The ring of fire expanded in a circle, cutting off all exits—no one would leave this room without my blessing. And there would be none tonight.

My eyes locked on her first—Clare, curled on the floor, clutching scraps of cloth over her bare chest, her cheek swollen, blood trailing down her neck.

Then I saw them—Lucas, his hands alight, writhing on the ground, screaming. Thelia, shrieking as her wrist burned, Marcus panicking, trying in vain to smother the fire with his own jacket.

I walked through the carnage. The fire did not touch me.

I knelt beside her, my fury laced with a fierce protectiveness. She flinched at first—too much pain, too much fear—but her good eye caught mine. Recognition. Relief.

I pulled off my jacket, wrapped it around her trembling form, and scooped her up like glass. She buried her face in my shoulder, breathing shallow, barely conscious. I could feel her slipping.

"Did anyone feed from you?" I whispered, voice like death.