FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 122: THE COMPLETED BOND (2)

Chapter 122: THE COMPLETED BOND (2)

Varziel pulled his fangs from her neck with a reluctant groan, his lips smeared with her blood that shimmered faintly in the low light. He gave her neck a lick, cleaning up the blood that had pooled there. It was unlike any blood he had tasted before—sweet, searing, and so potent it made his entire body tremble with the force of it. The grip that he had on her waist tightened momentarily as if to ground himself, to keep from losing control entirely.

On the other hand, Arella shuddered in his arms, eyes fluttering closed. It was obvious that she was getting as much pleasure from this just as he was. Her legs threatened to give out, and Varziel was there instantly, lowering her gently to her knees with him as if they were entering prayer. And in a way... they were. This was not merely a bond. It was a consecration.

The mark on her neck had already begun to slowly change—glowing faintly. Little threads of light and shadow wove together, forming a delicately intricate symbol that rested just above her pulse: a winged sigil, half angelic feather, half demonic flame. It pulsed in sync with her heartbeat, and when she looked up into his face, she saw the reflection of that symbol in his eyes, glowing just faintly over the place he had bitten.

He was breathing hard, pupils blown wide, with his fangs still poking out, and though he had restrained himself admirably, she could still feel his need like a storm held back by a trembling dam.

The sight of his mark on her skin caused his pupils to dilate. He raised his hand, and rubbed the little blood that had remained, purposefully rubbing over the mark that had formed. In his arms, Arella shivered, letting out a low groan that caused Varziel’s pants to tighten.

Arella looked up at him, shooting him a glare, "I guess this is the reason why mating is completed in the confines of ones room. I badly want you to push me down here."

Now it was her turn though.

Ignoring the heat that passed through his gaze, Arella reached for him, her fingers curling around the front of the tunic he wore. He was still dressed in the clothing he wore to the office that morning, and his scent was deliciously strong.

She pulled down the collar with more urgency than grace. The fabric even tore slightly under her grip, exposing the smooth skin of his chest, the strong lines of muscle, and the steady rise and fall of his pulse.

Her halo flared at that moment, casting soft golden rings around them as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the skin right above his pulse. His scent was strongest here, at the point where his neck and shoulder met. The need to sink her teeth into his skin grew stronger with every second that passed. Her teeth throbbed with need so different to the one that was pooling everywhere else.

"I give you my mark in return." She whispered, opening her mouth wide.

A sharp breath escaped Varziel’s lips as her teeth sank into him, drawing blood.

Varziel’s head fell back with a groan—raw, more guttural, and utterly helpless. Her bite was nothing like his. Where his had been carnal and searing, hers was sacred and soul-deep, like the kiss of a star drawn down into mortal flesh. Her mouth latched over the wound, drinking not just his blood, but his essence—his will, his power, his _name_—and returning it laced with hers.

She was the one to complete the bond, it was her will that sealed their unity.

He trembled, arms tightening around her as the bond cinched closed in the space between their heartbeats. His blood spilled into her mouth, and in the next moment, a shockwave of divine and demonic energy surged outward from the point of contact, warping the air with the force of it.

Arella moaned against his throat, reveling in the power humming in her bones like a hymn that had been turned into flesh. The taste of him was sharp and smoky, with the heat of a forge and the sweetness of sin redeemed. She could feel him—_all_ of him—unfolding inside her mind. His emotions, his pain, his longing, all blooming within her like a flower in spring. And he, in turn, gasped, staggering under the rush of _her_: the purity of starlight, the weight of divine expectation, and the raw, aching humanity she hid beneath it all.

They collapsed together, fully kneeling now, bodies locked in a trembling embrace. Arella pulled back just enough to look at the mark she’d made on his neck. It glowed—a mirror of her own—etched into his skin like a seal forged in flame and light. The twin bond marks pulsed together, synced heartbeats echoing in a loop.

Their powers continued to meld together as Arella and Varziel bumped their foreheads together gently. The bond had yet to complete, the marks had yet to finish forming.

Their breath mingled in the charged air between them, the space crackling with shared heat and the resonance of something far bigger than either of them had expected. Varziel’s eyes searched hers. Her eyes still glowed with a faint red hue, while his own had a light golden hue lingering. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Words would have been too small, too clumsy for what passed between them now.

"I feel it now, Varziel. I feel _you_ inside me. Not just your power, but your essence. And you feel me, don’t you?"

Varziel’s teasing expression had long since faded, replaced by something raw and open. The smirk was gone, and in its place was reverence. "I’ve always felt you," he admitted. "From the moment our eyes met. That thread... it wasn’t just something I noticed. It’s something I _ached_ for."

Arella’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. It wasn’t from nerves, or fear. It was from the overwhelming sense of rightness. She reached for his hand and placed it against her chest, over her heart.

At that moment, a circular rune of light appeared beneath their kneeling forms. Then it turned into flames.

The fire curled upward like golden red petals that licked at the edges of their silhouettes. It was not heat that it brought, but a illumination of both their souls. It was as if the realms themselves bore witness to their union and answered to the fact that they were mates. The rune beneath them spun slowly, inscribed with ancient glyphs that Varziel could not figure out the meaning of. It was neither angelic, nor was it demonic but an older language of unity and vows that had been long forgotten by time.

Arella’s breath caught as the flames wrapped around their bodies. Her wings glowed in response lighting up from the base all the way to the tip. Their colors deepened, and the white gold of her wings became tinged with darkness. On the other hand his dark wings grew in size, visible to the naked eye.

A sharp crack split the air, not a sound of destruction, but of transcendence—of change. Varziel’s back arched forward involuntarily, as the flames from the rune beneath them surged up behind him. His wings shuddered, twitched, before they stretched wide with the tips pointing up at the sky—and then split.

Feathers began to fall, shedding themselves from the original destroyed pair, only to ignite midair and reconstitute, swirling like burning cinders around him. The pain he felt was both agonizing and exhilarating. His cry was loud as a second pair of wings tore free from his back, tearing through his clothes and unfurling outward and upward. They emerged with a radiant glow—larger, broader, darker still, yet edged in a beautiful, glimmering light that mirrored Arella’s halo. These new wings didn’t replace the old but were joining them.

Four wings now stretched behind him, casting a vast silhouette that blocked out the rune’s glow for a brief moment.

Varziel gasped for breath, every muscle taut as the second pair of wings unfurled behind him, the power that they held still settling into his bones. His throat was sore from the screaming he had done.

The transformation left him trembling, drenched in sweat. However, every twitch of pain felt wonderful, in a way he had never felt before. The power coiling inside him was vast, and it terrified him. He felt as though he could tear the sky open with a single beat of these wings.

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