Chapter 152 My Angel | 045
NOELLE
“If the spell locks completely," the witch says, "one person becomes the anchor and the other becomes the puppet.”
My breath catches in my throat.
"A puppet?" I repeat weakly.
She nods.
"The bond would override their instincts, their judgement... and even their desires. They would feel compelled to obey the one holding the stronger side of the bond." Her eyes dart between Azren and me. "It’s not like mind control exactly. But it’s close enough that resisting it becomes nearly impossible."
My entire body goes rigid. Chills slide down my spine.
Azren's hand settles over mine where it rests on the table.
"Look at me," he urges, and I force myself to turn towards him.
His eyes are steady, dark and furious. But not at me.
"That won't happen," he says.
The certainty in his voice steadies me, even though the fear is still there. Azren lifts his gaze back to the witch.
"What can we do for now?" he asks.
She tilts her head slightly.
"First question," she says. "Have you marked each other?"
Heat rushes up my face, and I stare down at my hands. Beside me, Azren goes completely still. The silence is... very loud.
"Well?" The witch asks, and I clear my throat, mortified.
"He—" I gesture weakly towards Azren without looking up. "He did mark me. Before."
The memory of my first night with him fills my head, my thighs instinctively clamping together at the memory of his cock driving deep into me, his fangs piercing my flesh. I remember the immense pleasure that followed and the way I screamed my voice hoarse when he marked me a second time.
"But... I never marked him," I add, my voice small.
I finally glance up and catch the witch watching our faces with open curiosity. Azren's expression answers the rest of the question without him saying a single word.
The witch hums softly. “I see."
My fingers curl together in my lap.
"And the mark?" she asks. "Is it still intact?"
I shake my head slowly.
"No."
The next memory that hits me makes me feel physically sick. I remember the smell of scorched skin.
I swallow hard.
"Haden burned it off," I whisper.
Azren's hand tightens on the back of my chair hard enough that the wood creaks.
The witch frowns.
"Burned it off?"
I nod.
"I remember... waking up in that dark room. I couldn't move. I thought I was dying." My voice shakes despite my best effort. "The fever was so bad I couldn't even see straight. Everything hurt. Like my blood was boiling."
For a moment the dining room is completely silent. Even Jake is quietly fuming. I can't bring myself to look at Azren because I can tell his expression is much worse.
My husband doesn't say anything, but the tension rolling off him is suffocating.
The witch exhales slowly.
"That would do it," she mutters. "Destroying a mate mark isn't simple. It requires extreme heat and a very specific curse to sever the bond without killing the host."
My stomach rolls.
"So what do we do?" I ask.
She reaches into the satchel slung across her body and pulls out a small leather notebook, flipping it open.
"There's something that can help temporarily," she says. "A protective bead. Old warding magic."
"What does it do?" Azren asks.
"It interferes with the spell's pull," she explains. "It weakens the bond's ability to tighten while we search for the witch who cast it."
She taps the page thoughtfully.
"But the ingredients are... particular."
Jake groans behind her.
"Of course they are."
The witch ignores him.
"I'll need moonstone dust, blackthorn resin, and blood from someone directly tied to the bond." Her eyes dart briefly to me and then to Azren. "Once it's made, you'll wear it at all times."
"Will it break the spell?" I ask.
"No," she says, and my heart sinks. "It will only slow it."
Azren leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. "How long do you need?"
She closes the notebook.
"A day. Maybe two."
The air in the kitchen feels heavier now. I really can't believe this is my new normal. But again, I guess it isn't as bad as my life used to be, right?
"Before and after we get it, you can try marking each other again. Though I doubt that the spell will let it happen," the witch says, and Azren grunts.
Yay. As if my life isn't complicated enough.
...
I'm lying in bed much later, waiting for my husband to join me, when the door creaks open. I turn to look at him, and he watches me for a few seconds, lingering by the door. Then he pads over and joins me in bed, his strong arms wrapping around me.
"How's your head?" I ask as he pulls me up to nuzzle his face against my neck.
"Still hurts like a bitch. But at least, it isn't driving me mad," he responds lazily.
I smile, gently stroking his hair. I can tell he's dying to ask about Haden. I can feel it in my bones. But he's holding back because he knows I'm not ready.
"How did you meet Haden?" He asks softly, and I sigh.
"My parents took money from him in exchange for me getting married to Haden and giving him heirs. That morning after I left your place, he kidnapped me."
Azren grunts like he's in pain, holding me tight.
"I should've cuffed you to my bed that night. I should've—"
"Don't do that to yourself, Az. Please. You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't know it would happen," I tell him, and he sighs.
"You went through so much, and yet, you're still so strong. You deserve peace. You deserve to be pampered. I just...I just wish I was normal," his voice slurs with sleep.
I keep stroking his hair, my eyes stinging.
"Normal is overrated. I like my Azren just the way he is. A little crazy and seductive. That's my man."
He chuckles, holding me tight and kissing my neck.
"Is it too early to say I might be in love with you?" His voice trails off, his breathing evening out slowly.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, smiling with tears in my eyes. Leave it to Azren to drop a bomb and snooze. I lower my gaze to try and catch a glimpse of his face, but his messy mop of hair makes that impossible. So I just keep running my fingers through his hair to soothe his pain.
I reach for my phone from the nightstand, sliding it open and going straight to my notes app. Then I start typing the details for my next story. I've kept my readers waiting for too long. This time, I'll write about the unhinged Tribrid and his angel.
A dangerous tribrid king. An angel who refuses to fear him. A bond neither of them expected.
A soft giggle slips out of me.
If my readers could see the real Tribrid right now—shirtless, clutching me like a giant emotional support teddy bear—they would lose their minds.
I keep writing, minutes stretching into hours.
The words come easily tonight, pouring out faster than I can catch them. Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it's the strange comfort of having him here beside me.
I'm halfway through describing a scene in chapter two when Azren suddenly groans in his sleep. My fingers freeze.
His body jerks slightly against mine.
"Az...?" I whisper.
Another groan tears out of him, deeper. His shoulders tense, and his breathing turns uneven.
Oh no.
The phone slips from my hand onto the mattress.
"Azren," I whisper softly, holding a hand to his face.
His whole body trembles just enough that I feel it. His hands grip the sheets, and a low, strained sound scrapes his throat.
It’s happening again. The withdrawal.
He drags a hand through his hair suddenly, gripping hard enough that I have to grab his wrist before he actually rips it out.
"Hey, hey," I whisper, pulling him toward me.
His forehead presses into my shoulder, his body shaking as another wave hits him.
"Gods—" he breathes hoarsely, his voice thick with pain. "My head..."
My heart aches for him.
"It's okay," I whisper, guiding him down until his head rests in my lap.
My fingers slide into his hair, petting gently.
"You’re going to be okay," I croak, my voice shaking.
He groans again, pressing his face against my stomach.
The quivering slowly starts easing under my touch.
A tear slips down my cheek before I even realize I'm crying. It falls into his hair. He doesn't even notice.
My poor Azren.
He acts so terrifying to everyone else. So untouchable. So dangerous. But right now he just looks... tired and broken.
My mind starts racing. There has to be something I can do. My gaze drifts towards the bedside table. An awful thought creeps into my mind.
My blood.
Maybe... if I slipped just a little into his food... or his drinks... Maybe it would help stabilize whatever is happening inside him.
I chew my lip.
Yeah.
He would definitely lose his mind if he found out. Azren already hates the idea of hurting me. Sneaking my blood into his meals would probably earn me the lecture of the century. And possibly being locked for my "safety."
I sigh softly. Another idea flashes through my mind.
The card.
My eyes slowly widen. The werewolf corps officer from earlier. The one who slipped me his card.
I glance down at Azren again as he shifts weakly against my lap, another small shiver passing through him. My stomach knots.
If that man really does have resources...connections…medicine.
Anything that could take this pain away. I grip the sheets, my heart racing.
Maybe... Maybe I could negotiate.
My throat tightens at the thought. But if it meant helping Azren...
I would do it.