The Exile's Forbidden Mate

I was born in the wrong world. I've believed that ever since I learned the most foolish, most dangerous thing to exist—love.

This world, divided into four kingdoms, is ruled by a wizard, a vampire, and a werewolf. Bound by an unyielding law passed down through generations, it dictates that abominations must never exist. That werewolves must never love vampires. And perhaps, that is this world’s greatest flaw. It cares too much about who you love but never about why. As if the why doesn’t hold the weight of entire destinies.

Yet, why do I still crave the one thing I am forbidden to have?

They say the mind is drawn to what it cannot possess. That there is a seductive whisper in the unattainable, a quiet allure that loud desires cannot match. You may hold everything others long for, yet your heart will always ache for the one thing just out of reach.

Maybe it’s human nature—or something darker. The intoxicating thrill of chasing the impossible, the reckless ecstasy of defying the rules. The more they tell you to stop, the more relentless you become. Because nothing is as tempting as what’s forbidden.

Perhaps it isn’t just the thrill of the forbidden that draws me in. Maybe it’s the freedom—the intoxicating rush of pushing past the boundaries of the ordinary, of feeling that surge of adrenaline as I step beyond what is allowed.

I stared at the blood seeping from my palm, watching it drip, dark and sluggish. I felt nothing. No pain. No sting. Not even an itch. Just the eerie stillness of numbness. My wounds always heal on their own, and I’ve long stopped expecting to feel anything when I get hurt. Pain does not touch me. It never has.

I made sure of that.

I built myself into something untouchable, something unbreakable. Vulnerability was never an option. Strength is my birthright, my identity. I am Lilianna Arioch Silverie. And being me means being powerful. That is the one truth that has followed me since childhood.

“Lilianna.”

My bored gaze flicked toward the voice calling my name.

“Lilianna, come here!”

I groaned, dragging myself up from where I sat on the bridge overlooking the pond. Damn that nosy dog. I dusted off my clothes, adjusting the fabric before heading inside. I had just finished training, my muscles still humming with exertion. A fresh wound marked my hand—collateral damage from using a real blade during my last strike against the training standee. But it was nothing. Just another reminder that I was still sharpening myself.

I found him in the kitchen, busy with something. The moment he saw me, he smiled. He always did.

Azriel.

He had a habit of showing up at my house every week. Sometimes, he’d take me to his place in the neighboring town. And I’d go—because he asked, because it was boring here, and because, despite everything, I wanted to be near him.

“Hey, little girl. How are you? Training again?”

That smile of his irritates me.

“Stop calling me little girl. I am already a woman.” I crossed my arms, my tone sharp.

He chuckled. “You’ll always be that little girl to me, Lilianna.” He slid a plate in front of me. “Now come here. Let’s eat this cake I bought.”

I eyed the chocolate cake, brow furrowing. Without a word, I sat down, leaning forward slightly as I stared at the slice in front of me.

“Why are you always here, Azriel?” My voice came out colder than I intended. “You should go back to where you came from. Stop bothering me if you can’t even stop treating me like your daughter.”

It was harsh. I knew that. But I wasn’t the kind of person to soften my words. It wasn’t that I disliked him—far from it. But every time he came here, every time he looked at me like I was still a child, like I was something fragile, I wanted to push him away. Because I liked him. And he knew that. And still, here he was, pretending as if he didn’t, treating me like something I never wanted to be.

“You’re alone here,” he said simply. “I just want to look after you. Your father is busy. He entrusted you to me.” His voice softened. “And you’re a daughter to me, Lilianna. Even though I’m not your father, I’m more than willing to—”

I cut him off with a glare.

So that was all I was to him. A responsibility. A favor my father had asked. And a daughter? That was what he was willing to see me as?

Damn it.

“Is he still not done waiting?” I snapped. “What if he was just fooled? What if my mother is never coming back? And stop treating me like I’m your daughter! How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want that!”

Why couldn’t they accept it? My mother was gone. She was a ghost I had never known, a presence I had never felt. She had died when I was just a newborn.

And they still clung to the idea that one day, she would return.

I saw a flicker of something in Grimoire Azriel’s eyes—something unreadable, something raw. His grip tightened around his fork, knuckles going white. I swallowed hard and forced my gaze down to my plate, pretending to focus on my cake.

Of course. Why wouldn’t he react? Aside from my father, Azriel is one of the few still waiting for the enchantress’s prophecy to come true. He, too, is waiting for my mother.

Because he loves her. Deeply. Desperately.

And I hate it.

It enrages me. It twists inside me like a sickness. I wish I had been born in their time, in their generation. I wish I wasn’t her daughter. Maybe then, I could have kept up with them. Maybe then, I could have found a way to capture Azriel’s heart—to own him.

Not like this.

Not when even touching him feels like a crime. Not just because our world forbids it, but because he belongs to someone else. Even my father—her mate—claims her as his own. And Azriel… he belongs to her too.

I can’t have something that was never meant to be mine.

I wish I had been born earlier. Fuck.

Azriel’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Your mom will come back, Lilianna. We just have to wait for her.”

The spoon clattered against my plate as I slammed it down. The sound rang through the air, sharp and final. I turned to him, my glare searing.

“She won’t come back!” My voice shook with rage. “We’ve been waiting for her for thousands of years! What makes you so sure, huh?! And why—” my breath caught, but I pushed forward, my anger burning through my hesitation— “why do you want her to come back so badly?! Even if she does, she will never belong to you! My mother belongs to my father, not you! So stop—stop clinging to this hopeless dream of marrying her! Stop loving her!”

The words spilled from me, too fast, too wild. I wanted to say more—to scream that if she hadn’t fought for him, I would. That I would give anything to have him, to make him mine.

But I lost my courage.

I saw it then—the shift in his expression. For the first time, true anger darkened Azriel’s eyes. His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the fork until the metal bent and snapped in his fist.

“I have been patient with you, Lilianna Arioch,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Because your father asked me to take care of you. Because I wanted to. But you keep pushing me away. You’ve always been like this.” He exhaled sharply, his stare burning into me. “What is your problem, huh? What the hell is going on with you? Agatha is your mother. You’re supposed to wait for her. To want her to come back. Don’t you want to meet her?”

I shot up from my seat, my breath coming fast, fury clawing at my ribs.

“I don’t!” My voice cracked with rage. “I hate her! I hate her so much!” My pulse pounded in my ears. “And I hate you! You and my father—all of you! I hate you all!”

Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and stormed out.

My breaths were ragged, my body trembling with rage. But no tears came.

Not a single one.