Calhoun looked at Madeline who had glowed for a moment when her wings had spread out. It wasn’t an apparent glow, but he had picked up the subtle change. For someone like him who adored Madeline and had always kept her close, watching over her, a change like this wasn’t hard to notice.
“Does it mean I cannot live here anymore?” asked Madeline.
“Why not?” Calhoun questioned back, “You are a dark angel, one where blood is written. I don’t think Heaven ever told a dark angel to join them as the angels. At the same time, you aren’t a fallen angel. If you ask me, I would say you get to choose what you do. A free soul that doesn’t have to follow the rules.”
“Like you…” whispered Madeline, and Calhoun offered her a smile.
“I guess you could tell that.”
Madeline didn’t forget how Calhoun’s wings were different from the demoness Lilith, who had bat-like wings, but there was some similarity when it came to Paschar as his wings were made of feathers too, only that Calhoun’s wings were black while Paschar’s was white.
“What if you are an angel, too?” asked Madeline.
“Then I might be the angel of death, better than the Salavete Mortem,” he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “I will be anything you want me to be, Madeline. I hope that you will stay here, forever with me, and nowhere else.”
“I wish to be nowhere else, but here,” she whispered, and Calhoun leaned closer to her.
“I am so glad that you want to be here,” Calhoun’s hand moved to hold the side of her neck, bringing her near to him before he captured her lips with his own lips. Her lips were soft and sweet, supple enough to make him want to gnaw on it.
Her body didn’t feel like it was in a defensive mode anymore, and she opened her hands to place her palms on his shoulders, before wounding her hands around his neck. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair that were on the nape of his neck. Her lips were fervent on his, seeking for comfort as she had grown comfortable with it.
Opening her mouth, she welcomed his caress and feelings, something she had been allowing, and now that the pain had left her body and her back had somehow healed itself as she couldn’t feel it burning anymore, she moved closer to him for reassurance. And Calhoun gave her that. She stirred his emotions as no one had ever done to him. He pulled away, whispering to her,
“Let’s clean you up,” and Madeline looked nothing less to a small kitten that had been put outside the house on a rainy night.
Calhoun tried hard to resist himself from torturing her in here, but he had come to learn to cherish her and he now controlled himself. He pulled out the coat that he was wearing to drape it around Madeline’s shoulders. Madeline could feel her lips thrum as Calhoun had only gnawed on it a few seconds ago.
The thought of his lips on hers had made her toes curl in pleasure even though it was just a kiss and nothing more than that. But Madeline had experienced how it felt to have Calhoun treat her at the mercy of his eyes, mouth, and hands. A breathy sigh escaped her lips, and her heart shuddered. As her dress was torn, and her back had bled earlier, she looked down at the ground to see the drops of blood on the clean white marble floor.
“Does the scent of my blood bother you?” Madeline asked Calhoun, her brown eyes peering into his red eyes that had turned dark with desire.
“I don’t think, bother is the right word to be used here.” As they both had stood up, Calhoun bent down to pick Madeline up in his arms.
“I can walk!” she spoke alarmed. It was one thing to be in the bedroom and to be carried, and another when they were outside, walking down the corridors where people would come to witness them.
“I know, but I want to carry you,” came Calhoun’s straightforward answer, and unabashed, he walked towards the doors that opened automatically without being touched, and he stepped out of the room.
Her cheeks turned red, and she tried not to look at anyone who they came across. The servants were polite enough to not look at them, not because they weren’t interested in seeing the King carrying his Queen from one corridor to another, but because they were ordered to not look in the eye of the King or the Queen.
“The right word to your question is, your blood allures me. When I first took in your scent closely when we shared our dance, I won’t lie, it made my hand clench. Not out of anger,” stated Calhoun and Madeline who had circled her hands around his neck for support, looked at him. “Like how you want to possess something so innocent and cute,” his eyes met hers.
It had been a while since Calhoun had drank her blood. She had been sure that he would take her blood on their wedding night, but he didn’t. She wondered how he was holding up, “Are you killing innocent bunnies?”
“The bunnies were born to feed my thirst,” his answer wasn’t direct, but Madeline received her answer. Though Calhoun had not spat out the blood that had risen in his throat, not letting her know how much she was affecting him internally. She knew he needed blood to compensate for the loss of blood, and he was relying on the rabbits. “I enjoy your worried face the most, but only when it is for me,” he said, a little smugness could be heard in his words and could be seen on his face.
“I sometimes worry that you don’t take things seriously when it comes to you, and are too lenient about my presence. Don’t die on me, Calhoun,” said Madeline, her eyes continuing to look at him.
Calhoun knew this was her way of telling not to leave her alone.
“I promise not to,” he said, continuing to walk through the corridors that belonged to the King’s quarters. When they reached the room, he finally placed her down near the dressing table before going back to the door and closing the door shut.
Madeline removed Calhoun’s coat from her shoulders, turning her back at the mirror to see the amount of blood she had lost as her dress was stained red. She still couldn’t believe that she had got to witness her wings before they had disappeared. She wondered what that actually meant, to have wings like the angels.
She then stood straight, facing the mirror and saw Calhoun return to come and stand behind her. Instead of using his ability to turn her dress to black feathers and make them go poof in the air, he stepped closer to her. He placed one hand of his at the top of her back neckline, and the other held on to the metal piece before he pull it downwards.
In Madeline’s head, this was more sensual than the disappearing of her dress. Through the reflection of the mirror, she saw Calhoun’s eyes meet hers.
