All Chapters of The Blood Opera: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Silas pulled me down the corridor so quickly my shoes scraped against the floorboards. Avel’s 'please' still echoed in my bones. He had never begged. Not for anything. Not in all the time I’d known him. That single word cracked something open inside me. Fear. Desire. A dangerous tenderness I couldn’t name. Silas’ hand trembled around mine as he dragged me behind a wardrobe room lit only by two flickering sconces. “Stay in here,” he said. His voice was thin. “Don’t leave until we come back." As he turned to go, I caught his sleeve. “Silas…what did he see? Silas swallowed hard. “Enough to make even him afraid.” Then he pushed the door closed and hurried back into the corridor, leaving me alone with my ragged breath and the pulse pounding in my throat. For a moment, I simply stood there, listening. The opera’s bones creaked. Wind brushed the shutters. Far off, something—someone—moved fast across the rafters. Then—Silence. The kind that comes before the strike.

Silas dragged me down a narrow servants’ passage, his grip too tight, fingers digging into my sleeve as if fear had given him strength he didn’t usually possess. The stone walls pressed close on either side, damp with age, the smell of dust and old incense clinging to the air. His breath came ragged, uneven, scraping his throat.“We need distance from him,” he said. “We need—distance.”His voice cracked on the word.“He’s not in his right mind.”I yanked my arm free, the motion sharp enough to sting. My skin still tingled where Avel’s mouth had been, heat blooming low and insistent, a phantom ache pulsing beneath my pulse.“He was saving me.”Silas turned, face pale beneath the flickering torchlight. His eyes searched mine as if looking for someone he recognised and failing to find her.“Lyria—he bit you. He was losing control.”“I will not leave him.”The words tore out of me louder than I meant, ricocheting down the stone corridor. They sounded strange in my own ears—too certain, to

Silas dragged me through the service hallway, his grip too tight, his breath ragged. He didn’t release my wrist even when we reached an unused dressing room, dimly lit by a single flickering gas lamp.He slammed the door behind us and leaned against it, chest heaving.“What was that?” he demanded.I stared at him, dazed. “What?"“That!” He pointed toward the corridor we’d left. “You kissing him back! The way you looked at him — like you were… like you wanted—”“I do,” I whispered.Silas’ face went white.The confession echoed in the small room, too loud, too real. My breath hitched.Something felt wrong with me. Or right, in a way that terrified me.Silas ran a shaking hand through his hair.“Lyria, he’s not human—”“Neither am I,” I snapped before I could stop myself.​The words hung between us, heavy, wrong.“I didn’t mean—” My voice broke.“You did.” Silas stepped toward me. “Lyria, you’re changing.”He reached for me carefully, as though afraid I’d break or break him.But the mome

Avel’s weight collapsed into my arms fully. A fallen angel undone by blood and shadow. I lowered him to the floor as gently as I could. His dark hair spilled over his pale forehead. His lips—still bruised from our kiss—parted on each shallow inhale. His long lashes cast shadows down his cheeks. There was something heartbreakingly young about him like this, the way pain made him look human. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked… beautiful. Mine Avel’s breathing steadied gradually—still shallow, still raw, but no longer ragged enough to terrify me. I shifted on the floor, my back sore from holding him upright so long. Without thinking, I slipped my hand beneath his head and lifted him gently into my lap. His weight there felt startlingly natural. Silas noticed and let out a hiss of frustration. “Lyria—he can’t wake like that.” I stroked Avel’s hair away from his forehead. “Why not?” “Because the moment he sees you—” Avel exhaled softly, shifting. Silas froze. “

Silas stumbled into the room the moment I cracked the door open, eyes wide, breath ragged. “Lyria—thank God.” He grabbed my shoulders, scanning me frantically as though checking for wounds. I recoiled. “I…” He swallowed. “I thought he’d—” “He didn’t,” I said flatly. Silas stared at me, chest rising and falling with panic. But he wasn’t looking for injury, he was looking for bite marks. Somehow, that made me angrier than anything Avel had done. “You don’t trust me,” I murmured. “Lyria, I saw what almost happened,” Silas whispered, voice cracking. “If I didn’t knock when I did—” My face heated, remembrance tightening low in my stomach. Avel’s breath on my cheek. His lips hovering over mine. His confession: I’m already yours. I shivered. “Oh God,” he whispered. “You want him.” “Silas—” “No.” His voice rose. “This isn’t just attraction. This is—this is something else. Something wrong.” I stepped past him, bristling. “I don’t need you deciding what’s wrong for