Semua Bab The Blood Opera: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The opera house transformed. The corridors quieted. The rafters grew dim. The velvet curtains absorbed sound like a thick, waiting hush. Performers grew more careful with their steps. Dancers wrapped their shawls tighter. Even Madame Elladine, iron-willed and unimpressed by most mortal and immortal things, lit an extra lamp near her station.By the time the evening’s full-stage run was called, the atmosphere had turned electric. Expectant. As if something unseen had taken its seat in the darkened house, waiting for the show to begin.I waited in the stage-left wings, clutching the edge of a curtain between trembling fingers. The bustle of preparation swirled around me: stagehands dragging scenery, the orchestra tuning, the soft rustle of dancers taking their places. But I heard none of it clearly. My pulse beat through my ears, because he was near.I felt Avel before I saw him—heat lapping at my awareness, a gravity bending the space around him.He approached quietly, steps measured a

The moment the curtain rose, the air changed. Not for the audience—there wasn’t one tonight. Not for the performers.They were too focused on movement, breath, precision.It changed for them.The ones watching from the shadows. Avel led me to a vantage point just inside the wings, sheltered behind a tall pillar of set design: an ornate golden archway meant to frame the final scene. I stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body radiating through that immaculate black coat. He did not touch me. His presence anchored me.“Stay here,” he murmured.“I won’t go anywhere,” I whispered.“Good.” He didn’t look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the stage, on the figures that danced across it, and—more importantly—on the shadows above.The orchestra swelled. A dancer leapt.Silks fluttered. Props rolled into place. And the shadows shifted.My breath caught. “Avel,” I whispered, “Is he already here?”“Yes.” My pulse jumped. “Which one is he?”Avel didn’t point. Didn’t nod. Didn’t ev

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the attendant onstage. Her throat bared, her breath trembling, her body caught between terror and surrender as the vampire drank from her in that terrible, intimate way. I saw the way Avel pulled me away. The way he looked at me. The way his voice broke when he said, 'You wanted the wrong thing.'Worst of all, I saw myself leaning forward, breath caught, heart pounding at something I should have despised. Something I should have feared, but part of me had been drawn to it. That truth sat like a stone in my stomach.By morning, I was hollow. Or perhaps I was full of something new, something dark, something hungry.---Back in the rehearsal hall, Brenton’s voice was too sharp. Marienne’s eyes too bright, too curious. The chorus whispered louder than usual, glancing at shadows, glancing at me, glancing at the rafters. The dancers moved like startled birds. Everyone knew something had gone wrong last night, though none of them understood what. Only a han

I thought sleep would be impossible after yesterday’s chaos, but exhaustion dragged me under quickly. Dreams tangled through my mind: Avel’s hand on my jaw. Silas’ voice begging me to listen. The predator’s eyes gleaming from the rafters. Warmth at my throat that wasn’t mine.---Rehearsal called me early. I arrived half an hour before anyone else, hoping solitude would steady me, but the hall was not empty.Avel stood at centerstage, coat discarded, sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned at the throat. He was conducting invisible music with one gloved hand, as if shaping melody from the air.The sight arrested my breath.He looked less like a Lord and more like some ancient creature playing at being human.His head turned the moment he sensed me.“Miss Wynn.”His voice wasn’t smooth today. It felt… roughened, almost human.I stepped onto the stage. “You’re early.”“So are you.”“For quiet?” I said.“For clarity,” he answered.A pause stretched between us. His eyes—hidden as they were—fe

Silas and Avel vanished down the corridor, their footsteps swallowed by the hush of morning. I stood alone on the stage, breath shallow, pulse thrumming like a metronome set too fast.“He isn’t gone,” I whispered to the empty hall.I didn’t know if I meant the predator, or Avel’s presence lingering like smoke.The rest of the company arrived in a flurry of skirts, laughter, and impatience. The air felt off—thin, charged. Like everyone sensed a storm brewing in the rafters.Marienne’s eyes narrowed as she passed me.“You look tense,” she said sweetly. “Did the Lord scold you?”“No,” I said softly. “He was…concerned.”Her brow arched. “About what?”“You wouldn’t understand."Marienne’s smile sharpened. “Try me.”Before I could answer, Brenton clapped for attention, and the orchestra tuned with a jagged screech of strings.I took my place beside the shadowed wing. Silas was meant to accompany Avel for the confrontation in the rafters, but he had not yet returned.Which meant Avel was sti