A Love From A Different World

Chapter 77

The sun was shinning brightly in the early morning. Too brightly. But Azriel could not find it in himself to separate from Celeana to get up and close the blinds.

He hadn't moved since Celeana had fallen asleep on him. That had been hours ago and numbness had taken over his torso a while ago, but he refused to move. Refused to reposition Celeana, least he stirred her awake accidentally. Azriel had barely slept himself. Nonetheless, between the pain and the exhaustion, the male had never been so happy in his entire life.

He had spent a better part of the morning staring at Celeana. Looking down at the woman whose head was using his chest as a pillow, at the beautiful woman in his arms sleeping so peacefully. Her golden hair draped over her like a shield, her arm wrapped around his torso, spreading heat across his body where she touched.

They were both naked under the covers, and with her pressing against him, Azriel had woken to a rather painful erection. But it had not mattered, not when he had her in his arms. His own were wrapped around her, his legs tangled with hers.

Azriel could not stop staring at her, for fear that if he looked away, she would disappear. As if she was nothing but a dream. But alas, Celeana hadn't gone anywhere. She was here, with him.

His heart felt heavy.

This was his mate. His strong, stunning mate.

"Mate," He murmured, as if to remind himself that it was indeed true. Pushing her hair behind her ear, he leaned down and kissed the spot right underneath her ear. He breathed her in and felt a primal satisfaction when he realized that she smelled like him. How had he gotten so lucky?

The utter shock of the mating bond revelation had paralyzed him. He had spent close to an hour simply looking blanking at the wall, trying to process what had just occurred. Celeana had been sleeping, of course, but he did not need more confirmation. There was a bond between them two, and Azriel had been caressing it for a long while before he too finally succumbed to exhaustion.

And now here he was, awake, looking at his mate. They had only gone to bed around dawn, so he could not find it in himself to wake Celeana up, despite it being almost midday. His family was probably wondering where he was, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered except that Celeana was in his arms, and she was his.

Of course, there was the possibility of her rejecting the bond. It had been a harsh and cruel realization that Azriel had accepted an hour ago. It had been exhilarating to know that Celeana and he were fated, but then he had to make peace with the fact that perhaps his mate wouldn't want to be tethered to him for the rest of her life. And then if she miraculously did accept the bond, they would only have a few decades together before her unavoidably passing. That particular thought had tormented him for quite a while. The Shadowsinger had a million thoughts going through his mind. Like, what if she did not even feel the bond? She was human, after all, and so it wouldn't be surprising.

He tried to calm himself down by reminding himself that he was lucky enough to have known Celeana in the first place. Mate were rare, and Azriel having one, from all people, well, that was amazing in and of itself.

It had been a relief too, knowing that his alien feelings for Celeana were not simply infatuation or lust, but something so much deeper, something so rare, so precious. What he had ever felt for Mor was laughable in comparison. Quite frankly, Azriel hadn't even thought of Mor once that way since laying eyes on Celeana.

Every time he looked at Celeana, every time he spoke to her, every time he thought of her, his heart would beat so fast. Just as it was right then, hammering against his chest as he caressed her back.

Her back, that slab of skin covered in scars. He had finally gotten a good look at it that morning. The night before and the day she had crashed into the manor he had been too preoccupied to look at it- preoccupied for entirely different reasons, but distracted nonetheless.

So that morning, while she dreamed sweetly, he had taken a good look at her back. Viewed the largest ones. It hadn't taken him long to conclude that she had been whipped, and a multitude of times too. Azriel barely controlled the rage possessing him when he understood that someone had done this to her. Someone had whipped her, tortured her, from the looks of her back and her writs. Celeana hadn't said a word about those two particular areas. A few nights ago she had spoken about her countless other ones, with stories to accompanied them- some of them incredulous, others heart-wrenching despite how nonchalant she had been about them. But her back, her writs- he had seen her face when someone had commented on them. Seen the sombre darkness that took over her bright eyes, saw the brief pain and fear that obscured them, if only for a moment. So, he would not push, Mother knew he had his own stories. He would not ask or pressure, but would listen if ever she gave him the honour of telling him. However, he swore that next time he worshipped her, he would kiss every single scar on her body, turn her on her stomach and trace every harsh line until his tongue memorized them all.

"I love you," He whispered, leaning down to kiss her again.

Just then, the bedroom door slammed open.