No Association With A Vampire.

 Silence fraught moment, Isolde's voice trembled with urgency as she implored, "You will be caught if you stay here." Her words were laced with desperation, a plea to Azrael that seemed to hang in the air like a haunting refrain. But Azrael remained unresponsive, locked in a trance of his own making.

He continued to inhale deeply, each breath a deliberate and sensuous act as if he were savoring the very essence of her presence. His lips, warm and dangerously close, brushed against her neck once more, sending shivers down her spine, and Isolde's heart raced in response.

Inside her head, a torrent of thoughts raged like a tempest. 'Don't tell me he's already asleep...' Isolde's mind raced, and she clung to the hope that perhaps this unsettling encounter would soon come to an end. With determination, she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to quell the uncontrollable trembling that coursed through her body. She willed herself to remain still, to become as unnoticeable as the shadows that danced upon the walls.

However, her fleeting respite was disrupted by Azrael's sudden groan, a guttural and almost primal sound that reverberated through the room. It tore through the stillness, making Isolde gasp involuntarily, her breath catching in her throat.

The sound of his groan was like a siren's call, a haunting melody that seemed to echo within her very soul. Vibrations surged through her, a symphony of sensations that left her reeling. Her heart, previously steady, now pounded erratically within her chest, the rhythm of her life entwined with the enigma before her. A disorienting sensation clouded her senses; her ears rang faintly, the world around her a cacophony of dissonance.

With a hesitant curiosity, Isolde's eyes fluttered open, revealing the tableau before her. Azrael, once an elusive and mysterious figure, now lay in repose, ensnared by the embrace of sleep. His eyes were closed, his features softened in slumber, and he held her in his arms as if she were a cherished treasure.

In the stillness of the night, Azrael lay vulnerable in the embrace of slumber. His defenses were lowered, exposing a fragility that beckoned to the darkest corners of Isolde's mind. She couldn't help but feel an unsettling urge, a desire to tear him apart, to strip away the enigma that shrouded him. Yet, paradoxically, another force tugged at her, an intangible connection that defied reason, as if an invisible string were wound around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

As Isolde continued to gaze upon him, she was torn between revulsion and fascination. Her instincts screamed at her to recoil, to sever the tenuous connection that bound them. Yet, paradoxically, she felt an inexplicable pull, like an invisible thread that wound around her, drawing her closer to him.

A weighty silence draped over the room, interrupted only by the rhythm of their breathing, in perfect synchrony. As the night held its breath, Isolde wrestled with her conflicted emotions, her gaze locked on Azrael's slumbering form.

Shaking her head to dispel these bewildering thoughts, Isolde released a light sigh. As Azrael began to stir within the confines of his sleep, he slowly shifted, his form pivoting around her until he drew her close, ensnaring her within the cocoon of his embrace. His nose nuzzled into the curve of her shoulder, a gesture that sent an inexplicable discomfort coursing through her.

'It's probably all just a dream,' Isolde clung to this notion, her eyes tightly shut as if to ward off the surreal reality around her. 'Once I wake up, he won't be here anymore.' With resolve, she endeavored to ignore the disconcerting proximity of Azrael and, with a determined will, coaxed herself back into the realm of sleep.

As consciousness ebbed away, the last sensations she could discern were the soft graze of Azrael's warm breath against her neck, a fragile tether to the world that slipped away as everything dissolved into an inky abyss.

***

With a heavy blink, Isolde roused herself from slumber, her eyes meeting the intrusive rays of the morning sun that pierced through her window. A faint grimace tugged at her lips as her sensitive eyes protested, and the lingering soreness from Azrael's earlier presence served as a painful reminder.

Strangely, she found herself alone. Azrael's enigmatic form was conspicuously absent, even though his lingering scent still clung to the room like a ghostly memory. Relief washed over her, her thoughts echoing with gratitude. 'Thank goodness he left. I hope I never see him again.'

Resolving to shake off the disconcerting memories of the previous day, Isolde pushed herself out of bed. She made her way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the remnants of an unsettling encounter. An hour of soaking in a calming bath allowed her to regain some semblance of composure. Afterward, she dressed and departed for the dining hall, where solitude was her only companion, as it had often been.

Having finished her solitary meal, Isolde ventured into the orphanage's courtyard, her heart finding solace in the familiarity of the surroundings. Her footsteps led her to a cherished spot: a tree standing apart from the main building, offering a sanctuary of solitude and peace. Seated beneath its comforting shade, she gazed upwards, her eyes tracing the serene tableau of the azure sky, punctuated by wisps of delicate clouds.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the warmth of the sun caressing her skin. A contented smile graced her lips as the harmonious chorus of birdsong and the gentle rustling of the wind through the grass enveloped her senses. In this tranquil reverie, she lost herself, savoring the precious moments of respite.

It was then, in this idyllic haven far removed from prying eyes, that Azrael materialized before her, an enigmatic figure reentering her world.

Amidst her peaceful reverie, Isolde was startled by a curious voice that sliced through her solitude like a shard of glass. She slowly opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Azrael's as he stood before her, an enigmatic presence casting a shadow over her sanctuary.

"What are you doing here? All alone?" he inquired, his tone laced with intrigue, as if drawn to the mystery of her solitude.

Isolde's breath caught in her throat as Azrael closed the distance between them, his eyes ensnaring her own. In the intimate closeness, she could feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek, a temptation she struggled to resist.

"What brings you here again?" Isolde asked, her voice soft, her eyes locked onto his. His hands tenderly cupped her face, drawing her further into the orbit of his gaze. Foreheads touched, an intimate connection shared in the stolen moments of their meeting.

"I came to check on you," he confessed, his breath brushing against her lips, igniting a symphony of sensations that coursed through her, setting her skin ablaze. Her heartbeat quickened in response, an involuntary reaction to the magnetic pull between them.

"Seems you're leading quite the mundane life in this orphanage," he mused, his voice a seductive murmur. "Would you like me to add a touch of excitement?" he proposed, his words a tantalizing whisper. Isolde shook her head in silent protest, her internal turmoil hidden beneath a façade of resistance.

Azrael's head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. "You don't seem to be one for fun," he remarked, his gaze unwavering. Isolde met his penetrating stare with a nonchalant shrug, refusing to yield to his allure. She locked eyes with him, her voice resolute.

"Please, leave me be. I've made it clear that I want no association with a vampire," she pleaded, her tone firm, her resolve unwavering.

For a fleeting moment, Isolde glimpsed a flash of hurt that flickered across Azrael's eyes before vanishing into the depths of his enigmatic gaze. He straightened, his demeanor changing as he asserted, "And I told you, it's no longer your choice. You can never push me away."

Azrael's demeanor softened, an apologetic expression replacing the intensity that had defined their interaction moments ago. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry," he conceded, his voice carrying a genuine note of regret. He turned to walk away, but a sudden change of heart compelled him to halt, casting a lingering glance over his shoulder at Isolde.

"I'll see you again tomorrow," he stated, his gaze affixed to her. The wind swept through, tousling her dark locks across her forehead. With a tender gesture, he reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle yet electrifying. Azrael withdrew his hands, lightly brushing her cheek, eliciting a gasp from Isolde.

He took a step back and turned to depart, leaving Isolde in a state of bewilderment. 

With bated breath, Isolde watched him disappear into the distance. Her moment of reflection was short-lived, as a group of children approached her, hurling stones and insults in her direction.

"I can't stand seeing her face! I don't even understand why they still keep her in this orphanage!"

"Because of you, we're living in fear!"

"Leave this orphanage, you cursed wretch!"

"You're nothing but filth! You should have been killed instead of your parents!"

Isolde turned to face her tormentors, her eyes brimming with defiance. However, her gaze shifted when she noticed Azrael halt and turned back, approaching the unruly group with a frown etched upon his handsome face. As he laid eyes on the children who were harassing her, his jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled from deep within his throat. His aura radiated a sense of imminent danger.

"Stop," Isolde implored, her voice directed at Azrael. With a mere thought, she seized the stones that were about to be hurled, reducing them to nothing more than dust.