Awakening the Devil: My Final Drop of Blood
Daisy Swift · Completed · 6.6k Words
Introduction
The rabid persona is brutal and cold-blooded. His heart holds only his childhood sweetheart, and he casts me aside like worthless trash.
Yet, when lucid, he is my deeply devoted lover—the man who sees me as his absolute salvation.
But the man who deeply loves me is slipping away.
It culminated on the night of the hunter ambush.
I dragged my shattered leg, barely surviving a sea of fire. Yet, to comfort his startled childhood sweetheart, he turned his back and walked away.
In the moment he left, I finally let go.
Because the eyes that had just abandoned me for her... were the deep, dark gold of his lucid state.
Later, when I accepted a deal to erase all traces of my existence and give them their happy ending, he completely lost his mind...
Chapter 1
My mate, Valerius, was struck by a soul-splitting curse from hunters, fracturing him into a dual personality.
The rabid persona is brutal and cold-blooded. His heart holds only his childhood sweetheart, and he casts me aside like worthless trash.
Yet, when lucid, he is my deeply devoted lover—the man who sees me as his absolute salvation.
But the man who deeply loves me is slipping away.
It culminated on the night of the hunter ambush.
I dragged my shattered leg, barely surviving a sea of fire. Yet, to comfort his startled childhood sweetheart, he turned his back and walked away.
In the moment he left, I finally let go.
Because the eyes that had just abandoned me for her... were the deep, dark gold of his lucid state.
Later, when I accepted a deal to erase all traces of my existence and give them their happy ending, he completely lost his mind...
...
"Valerius... Save me..."
My leg bone had been crushed by a falling beam in the explosion.
At the sound of my voice, Valerius finally turned his head.
The second I saw his eyes, my heart plummeted, as if I had stepped off a ledge into a bottomless gorge of ice.
They were crimson—as red as fresh blood.
It was his rabid persona.
Ever since the leader of the Hunter's Guild cast that soul-splitting hex on him three centuries ago, his soul had been torn in twain.
When lucid, his eyes were a profound, dark gold.
He would press gentle kisses to my forehead, his eyes welling with tears over a mere papercut on my finger, whispering over and over again, "Elara, you are my salvation."
But the moment the rabid persona took over, he became consumed by the paranoid delusion that it was Seraphina who had carved out her own heart's blood—using the Blood of Healing to drag him back from the brink of death.
"Shut up, Elara!" Valerius glared at me coldly, his voice dripping with impatience and disgust. "Seraphina has been burned, and she fears pain much more than you do. You have the Healing Blood. You won't die."
He made it sound so incredibly easy.
The Healing Blood could mend physical wounds, but it could not numb the agony of being literally torn apart.
"Valerius, I'm so scared..." Seraphina trembled against his chest.
Yet, peering right over his shoulder, her eyes met mine with a smug, provocative gleam.
She even deliberately exposed her pale arm, displaying a tiny, bloodless scratch.
Just for that pathetic scratch, the man who used to ache over a single tear of mine had chosen to abandon me without hesitation in a matter of life and death.
"Hold on tight. I'll get us out of here." Valerius didn't spare me another glance. Scooping Seraphina into his arms, he erupted with a formidable burst of dark magic.
He shattered the hunters' encirclement and vanished into the enveloping darkness.
He left.
Leaving me behind in this mortal trap laced with silver and holy water.
The surrounding hunters closed in, hefting heavy crossbows, cruel sneers twisting their faces.
"Looks like the Supreme Prince doesn't care much for a half-breed mutt like you." The lead hunter mocked, kicking my shattered leg bone.
Blinding pain vaulted through my body like an electric shock, yet suddenly, I had no desire to cry.
In that exact moment, an unprecedented sense of liberation washed over me.
I used to naively believe that as long as I loved Valerius enough—as long as I constantly pulled him back to lucidity—his sane persona would eventually conquer the rabid beast. He would fully heal, and we would return to how we used to be.
But now I understood. It was all just my own wishful thinking.
The hunter raised his silver longsword, aiming it straight at my heart.
As the blade swung down, I ruthlessly bit the tip of my tongue, forcibly igniting the last drops of Healing Blood left in my body.
The blood boiled through my veins, incinerating my very life force in exchange for a fleeting, berserk rush of power.
I lunged upward like a coiled spring, ripping the longsword from his grip and driving it in reverse straight through his throat.
Scalding blood sprayed across my face, but I didn't stop. Dragging my broken leg, I became a demon crawling out of hell itself, slaughtering my way through a whirlwind of fire and silver blades.
I didn't know how many men I killed. I didn't know how many bone-deep gashes I procured.
All I knew was that I had to survive. Not for Valerius, but for myself, and for my younger brother, whom he had trapped under house arrest within the citadel.
By the time I finally dragged my mutilated body back to the citadel, Valerius turned his head.
His lucid persona had returned.
"Elara?!" He practically stumbled as he rushed toward me, his hands hovering uselessly, trembling over my ruined flesh, too terrified to even touch me. "Gods... what happened? What did I do to you this time?!"
Watching his heartbreaking display of remorse, it felt as though an invisible hand possessed my heart in a vice grip, sending an indescribably bitter cramp radiating through my chest.
Every time his rabid phase ended, this is exactly how it played out.
I remembered how, in the name of penance, he once drove a holy-water-laced dagger straight through his own palm.
I remembered how he once knelt in the ash-laden ruins, cradling my face as tears streamed down his cheeks, begging for my forgiveness.
Yet, no amount of remorse could ever mend my pain.
"Valerius... it hurts so much..."
Just then, a fragile, delicate whimper drifted over from the parlor sofa. Seraphina.
The agony in Valerius's eyes was instantly torn down the middle. His expression twisted into profound, chaotic struggle.
"Elara, hold on. I'll get the Head Healer right now... Seraphina is heavily traumatized. I just need to go soothe her first. I'll be right back!"
Throwing those words over his shoulder, he turned and walked toward Seraphina.
My gaze brushed past his hurriedly retreating back.
I finally saw through it all.
Whether he was the rabid lunatic or the lucid lover, his soul had long been hopelessly lost between two women.
Perhaps he had already lost the ability to distinguish who he truly loved. And I would forever be the collateral damage—the sacrifice perpetually placed on hold.
I pulled up the unnamed contact on my phone and typed a single line.
"I accept your terms. Get me and my brother out of here."
Last Chapters
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**
I hate girls like her.
Entitled.
Delicate.
And still—
Still.
The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.
Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
It’s not my problem if Tyler’s an idiot.
It’s not my business if some spoiled little princess has to walk home in the dark.
I’m not here to rescue anyone.
Especially not her.
Especially not someone like her.
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When I opened my eyes again, I was five years in the past—before the betrayal, before my death and before the beginning of it all.
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And by the time I uncovered the truth...
Walking away from Rhaedon Ashkaar was no longer an option.
His Lethal Obsession
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"Wha...what are you doing here?"
His icy blue eyes returned to me, sending shivers down my spine. Then further dropped to my dress and then back to my eyes.
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"It's....it my wedding,"
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I swallowed. "I am......getting married,"
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Before I could answer, he moved closer, suddenly looming over me, his face inches from mine. I felt my breath caught, my lips parting in surprise.
"Then this is the price for speaking ill of me to others," he murmured, nipping my lower lip before claiming my mouth in a real kiss. It began as punishment but quickly transformed into something else entirely as I responded, my initial rigidity melting into compliance, then active participation.
My breathing accelerated, small sounds escaping my throat as he explored my body. His touches were both punishment and pleasure, drawing shudders from me that I thought he felt reverberating through his own body.
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