Promised in Blood: Prologue

“Reading up on your prophecies, my sweet?” Kameen’s distinctive low growl makes me jump. I close the ledger of ancient texts and spin around to face him. Pink and silver scars on the left side of his face seem to flicker in the dim illumination from the torches on the wall, the only form of light allowed down here in the library of our ancestors.

“Simply reminding myself of their warnings, my lord and commander,” I say with a slight bow.

His eyes narrow with suspicion as he takes a few steps closer. “My lord and commander?”

I drop my head and train my attention on the floor. “That is what you are, is it not?”

Strong fingers grip my chin, and he tilts my head until I am looking into his undeniably handsome face. “You are still mad at me, my sweet?”

I try to wrench from his grip, but he holds me fast with his superior strength. Kameen Nassari. Commander of the Order of Azezal and the most powerful demon alive.

Not to mention, he is the only man I have ever loved. He is the other half of my heart and soul. Yet we disagree on so much. “You grounded me.” I spit out the accusation.

“Because you were in Havenwood, Nazeel.” His voice vibrates with the remnants of his fury. “I warned you to stay away from the girl.”

“But she is⁠—”

“We do not interfere,” he barks, cutting me off.

I glare at him. “If she is the chosen one⁠—”

“Then she will not need your help.”

I shake free of his grip and push myself onto my tiptoes, the top of my head barely reaching his chin. “She is also your niece, Kameen.”

He hisses out a breath. “All the more reason I cannot be seen to interfere. I have already done too much in saving the child.”

“Who says we cannot interfere? You know there are others who are aware of her gifts. Those who tried to kill her before she was even born.” I ball my hands into fists but force my voice to remain steady. Yelling at him is the least successful way to make him see reason. “The Skotádi grow stronger, and you cannot deny it. If they can interfere, then why cannot we? Who says we must stand back and do nothing?”

His lip curls in a sneer. “The Skotádi represent everything we stand against. Are you forgetting your vows?”

“Vows that we made thousands of years ago, Kameen. To a great man, but a man who is no longer with us.”

“The rules of the Order were carved in stone by Azezal himself. They cannot simply be amended to fit your whims, no matter how passionate those whims might make you, my little witch.” His eyes flicker with dark desire.

I ignore the warmth spreading through my core, the way it always does when he looks at me like that. It is one of his favorite—and most effective—distraction techniques. But not today. “We are living in different times, Kameen. With different rules. The dragons left the mortal realm, and we did nothing. The Skotádi wiped out an entire species. We sat back and did nothing.”

“As was our role, Nazeel. We are granted the gift of immortality so we can observe, not act. Not to affect outcomes, merely to witness them. Those who abuse that privilege have no honor, and they shall meet their just fate when the time is right.”

I shake my head. “What if I am tired of observing, Kameen? What if I actually want to do something that makes a difference?”

His eyes fill with pain, and he cups my jaw again, this time much more tenderly than before. “To do that, you must leave the Order. And that is not something I would ever allow.”

Of course he would never allow it. For that would mean our parting, and he would never tolerate such a thing. And with any other creature, that knowledge may offer leverage, but not with him. There is no use reasoning with Kameen. His stubbornness knows no bounds. He peers over my shoulder at the ancient ledger, his eyes narrowing. “Your mother did such a good job transcribing the ancient scrolls.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I recall her slender fingers and her beautiful penmanship. How she would spend hours transcribing by candlelight to ensure that the ancient prophecies were not lost to the ravages of time. It was the Prophecies of Fiere which were always the most interesting to me, along with the brave knights who rescued them from the library of Alexandria whilst it burned. As a child, I would dream of the day I would meet such a heroic soul.

I run my fingertips over the mottled scars on the left side of Kameen’s face. “How was it that the fire made you more beautiful, my love?”

He lets out a low growl. “It is only you who thinks that, witch.”

I slide my hand to the back of his neck and pull him toward me. He acquiesces, allowing me to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “It is only I who matters.”

He hums, and his warm breath dusts over my forehead. “Stop meddling, Nazeel. Or I will be forced to stop you.”

Regret and guilt wrap around my heart like a vise. “I know, my love.” I rest my head on his chest, fully aware that he speaks the truth.

And that I have no choice but to disobey him.