Forged in Blood: A Dark Paranormal/ Fantasy romance (Broken Bloodlines Book 1)

She keeps her head bent low as she walks down the steps, her skin flushed pinker than her hair. Axl, Xavier, and Malachi walk behind her, protective and possessive. Her moans still ring in my ears, and I am this close to throwing her onto the floor and fucking her so hard that she screams my name all over this damn campus. My knuckles turn white with the strength of my grip on the podium. I could have easily chosen to block them all from my mind, but once I heard her soft moans, I was powerless to cut the connection.

I snarl. “What the hell do you three think you were doing up there?”

“I-I’m sorry, Professor,” she says, obviously missing the fact that I place the blame squarely on the shoulders of my delinquent spawn.

I look past her at the grinning faces of Axl and Xavier. At least Malachi has the sense to appear contrite. “Do you think I enjoy teaching a class with a painful erection?”

Ophelia gasps, her pretty pink lips parted in a perfect O.

I clear my throat, aware that I have revealed far too much. “Listening to you coming for twenty solid minutes would be enough to make a eunuch hard, Ophelia.”

She presses her lips together, and her shoulders bounce like she is stifling a laugh.

“We couldn’t help it.” Xavier shrugs. “It’s the tiny skirt.”

She is wearing her usual uniform—miniskirt and black lace-up biker boots—only today she has a white button-up shirt over her tank top. It is tied in a knot above her navel, the buttons straining against the weight of her perky breasts. She is way too distracting, and while I cannot blame them for being unable to keep their hands off her, it does not change the fact that their behavior was reckless. “Did you not feel the goddamn walls shake?”

“The ground always moves for me when Ophelia comes.” Axl’s lips twitch in a cocky grin.

“Just another earthquake,” Malachi adds.

Are they really that clueless? The four of them stare at me blankly. I guess they are.

“Take a seat. All of you.” I nod toward the seats at the front of the class.

“I, uh, have to get to English,” Ophelia says, wincing.

“Yeah, and we have to⁠—”

“Sit. Now!” I cut off whatever Axl was about to say, and the four of them do as they are told and take a seat.

I step out from behind the podium, my stiff cock finally softening. Not that I care about hiding it from any of them. Ophelia’s eyes are immediately drawn to my groin area, and the flush on her cheeks deepens further.

“Eyes up here, Ophelia.”

Her dark eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she whispers an apology.

I ignore the effect that has on my raging libido and allow my eyes to dart between the four of them. “Do you not think it odd that we have been having so many tremors these past few weeks? How they almost always coincide with you walking hormone-buckets having sex?”

Malachi blinks. “Are you … You think Ophelia is causing them?”

“I am not,” she says, her eyes wide with shock.

“Not purposely,” I admit. “But yes, I suspect she is. And when you fuckwits behave like you just did out in the open, sooner or later somebody is going to connect those dots.”

Ophelia’s eyebrows pinch together. “I don’t … What are you talking about? How the hell can I cause earthquakes?”

Malachi’s Adam’s apple bobs while Axl and Xavier exchange a look.

She scrunches up her nose, and it makes her pretty face look … I blow out a breath. My walls are never so close to breaking as when I am around her. I need to do better.

“Go. Leave her with me,” I tell the boys, jerking my head toward the door.

She blinks in confusion. “Wait. Why?”

“Bye, Cupcake.” Xavier gives her a gentle kiss on the head, and the others follow suit before leaving us alone.

I run my tongue over my teeth before sucking in a calming breath. It does not make me feel any less uneasy. Nor does it stop the torrent of guilt and bone-weary anguish from threatening to swallow me whole. She is still staring at me, her breath held in anticipation. Does she have any idea that I am about to irrevocably change the course of both our futures? It would be safer to speak through a bond, but I refuse to share one with her. That would put her at even greater risk. And the danger she already finds herself in all too often is why she needs to know who she is. It has become more perilous to leave her in the dark. But we cannot have that conversation here. We need a place we cannot be overheard by curious ears or magic.

“Come with me.” Her scurrying footsteps follow me out the classroom door.

“Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

She jogs to keep up with me as I leave the history building and stride across the quad. I hold open the door to Zeus Hall, then lead her down to the basement carved into the bedrock of the mountain. This part of the building is rarely used, especially at this time of the day. Still, I move swiftly. The fewer people who see us, the better. Whilst it is a rare occurrence, it is not the first time I have taken a student to the faculty library, and I already have an explanation about her keen interest in ancient Greek mythology ready if anyone should question me.

I come to a stop outside the twelve-foot solid bronze doors that were forged long before this college stood here.

Ophelia cranes her neck and studies the ornate images carved into the metal. “Wow! What is this place?”

I push open one of the doors, and cool air rushes out in a current. Her blue eyes widen with delight as the sight of the cavernous library unfolds before us. “Holy shit!” she breathes, then quickly covers her mouth and shoots me a worried glance, like I might scold her for cursing.

I usher her inside, and the door creaks to a close behind us, pulled back in place by its own weight.

“Is this like a secret library or something?” she whispers, her head swiveling left and right as she tries to take it all in.

I head for the far corner of the library and gesture for her to follow. “Not secret. Although it is the faculty library. Few students are aware of its existence.”

“Is it just for—” She presses her lips together, her eyes darting around nervously. “You know, special people?”

I suppress my annoyance. “If by special, you mean nonhuman, then yes. All of our faculty and staff are nonhuman, Ophelia.”

This time her gasp is followed by a sharp laugh. “No freaking way! Like … all of them?”

Without answering, I indicate for her to sit in one of the armchairs in the most secluded corner of the library—the theology section. The faculty and staff of Montridge University have little interest in and no use for human religion.

She perches on the edge of the leather cushion and tugs at the hem of her tiny plaid skirt. It fails to cover enough of her skin, and the scent of her arousal is a stark reminder of the pleasures lurking only a few feet away. And now the memory of her being brought to orgasm in my class a short time ago is sharper than a needle point. The way she moaned their names, how my boys were practically driven feral with the need to taste her … Sweet demons of the netherworld. She made my cock harder than stone.

“Can I take a look at some of these books? Could I⁠—”

“Ophelia!”

She swallows, her huge blue eyes staring up at me, full of trust and innocence. Two attributes that are likely to get her killed one day.

“You are so much more than a witch, Ophelia.” I drop into the chair directly opposite her, my eyes raking over her curves before they settle on her face once more. How can someone with so much power be so naive? It is almost like fate played a cruel trick on her.

She blinks, and I am blinded by a vision of her on her knees for me. My limbs burn with the force of holding myself back from taking her right here.

I clear my throat and glance around the room once more, ensuring there is nobody within earshot. “You know how it rains when you are sad? And how there are literal earthquakes when you come?”

Her cheeks turn bright pink, but she nods.

“That is because you are an elementai, Ophelia.”

She leans forward in her chair. “A what?”

I can barely believe these words are about to leave my mouth. My knowledge of the elementai is greater than most. And it is entirely useless in the modern world. At least it was. “An elementai. They are infinitely more powerful than witches. A witch needs a spell to cast. They draw on the elements for magic. A witch who can channel water magic cannot do so if there is no water. But an elementai can create magic from nothing. They are some of the most powerful beings ever to have lived.”

“That’s … that’s impossible.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have any magic. You know I don’t.”

I pinch the spot between my brows and take a deep breath. “The fire at your school. You never wondered how you created a fire from nothing?”

She shakes her head again, more vigorously this time. Tears stream down her cheeks. “I didn’t start that fire.”

“You did, Ophelia.”

A sob catches in her throat, and her eyes implore me to tell her that I am making it all up. “You were not at fault. An elementai’s power is finely tuned to their emotions. You had no idea you even had such abilities.”

She balls her tiny hands into fists. “I don’t have abilities,” she insists.

I lean forward, my gaze fixed on hers. Staring into her eyes is akin to staring into a black hole. If I allow myself to be sucked in there with her, there will be no escaping the hold she will have over me. I suck in a breath and look away, breaking the connection before I speak again. “You do. That is why it rains when you are sad. Why the earth shakes when you are happy. And that is why your blood affected Axl the way it did. The destinies of both vampire and elementai are deeply intertwined.” As for why … That is a conversation for another day.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. “I am not one of those creatures. I am weak and⁠—”

That she even thinks that is an abomination. I grind my teeth and force myself not to roar my frustration. My calm, measured tone is a testament to the two millennia I spent learning such control. “No. You are not weak. Even without your powers.” I stand and cup her chin, tilting her head so she is looking up into my face. Her vivid blue eyes, so innocent and trusting, pull at something deep inside me that I thought I had long since buried. “You are fearless in the face of certain danger. You are unwaveringly kind, in spite of how poorly you have been treated by the world. You, my little one, rank amongst the strongest creatures I have ever known.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Another fat tear rolls down her cheek. “I don’t feel strong, sir.”

Sweet demons of hell. That term on her lips makes my cock ache.

“If I have all these powers, why can’t I use them?”

How do I tell her everything she is without baring my soul? I cannot answer her questions because I lack the answers she needs. The answers that I need. But the plea in her eyes pulls at something long forgotten, like a song that has gone centuries unheard but is so deeply embedded in the psyche that even a single note will bring the full composition rushing back. “I think somebody bound them when you were a child. Before you were old enough to remember.”

“B-bound them? Like made me not be able to use them? But why?”

I drop my hand away from her face, but she continues staring up at me. “To protect you, perhaps. I do not know. It is an ancient practice that is rarely used, partly because it requires powerful magic that is uncommon in today’s times.”

Her expression lights with hope, no doubt elicited from finally learning a little about who she truly is. I try not to let myself wonder if it has anything to do with me. “Was it another elementai?” she asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “That is impossible.”

Her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. “Why?”

I twist my neck from side to side and take a second to gather my thoughts. I cannot imagine how it would feel to be the only one of your kind. For a girl who has been alone her entire life, it is the cruelest of fates. Although perhaps that makes her better equipped to handle it than most. “As far as I am aware, you are the only elementai in existence.”

Her mouth drops open, her beautiful pink lips glistening with her tears. I tip my face up to the ceiling and groan. This must be a test. A punishment for all the evil I have done in my life.

“The only one?” she whispers, drawing my gaze back to hers. “What happened to the others?”

Pain and regret crash over me, threatening to swallow me whole. Or drag me straight to the netherworld, where I belong. “They were all wiped out a long time ago.”

“How? By who? Then how am I one of them? What⁠—”

“Ophelia!” Her name leaves my mouth on a roar, but it is a plea. A plea for her to stop tearing at the tattered pieces of my soul.

“But I just want to …” Her bottom lip trembles.

I scrub a hand through my hair. “No more questions.”

She jumps up, puffing her chest out and balling her hands into fists at her sides. “No!” she shouts. “You can’t just drop that on me and then tell me no more questions. That’s not fair.”

My hand is around her throat before I can weigh the consequences. “Do not dare speak to me about fairness.” Her throat works beneath my palm, her eyes wide and unblinking. “You need to learn to control your emotions, Ophelia. If you do not, there will be no hiding what or who you are when you tap into your power.”

“Okay,” she croaks, and the way she submits to me has me clinging to my sanity with failing restraint. I need to get away from her. Need to stop touching her. With a surge of herculean effort, I drop my hand to my side.

“You will tell nobody of what I have told you today. You cannot begin to understand the ramifications if anyone were to discover what you are.”

She presses her lips together, and I can practically see a hundred more questions tumbling over each other inside her head. Thankfully, she only asks one for now. “Can I not even talk to the boys?”

“They are already a part of you, Ophelia. They know what you are. They are the only people you can ever trust not to hurt you. Do you understand me?”

“And you too, right?” she whispers, a desperate entreaty in her eyes.

I shake my head. “Not me.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and I swallow down the urge to retract that statement.

I would die for her as surely as I would take my next breath, but she has no need for such knowledge.