Chapter 9— Urge.

Raphael's POV.

The moment Kimper dismissed them, Azazel was already at Mirabel's side, all too ready to follow her out like some self-assigned bodyguard.

I didn't let him.

Before she could take a step, I grabbed her wrist. Not hard, just enough. Azazel's head snapped toward me, his smirk vanishing as he stepped forward, closing the space between us.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was steady, but his eyes? A slow-burning warning.

I didn't answer. Just stared right back, unflinching. If he wanted a challenge, he had one.

The air tightened, charged like an unspoken threat. Neither of us moved. Neither of us blinked.

Then Kimper sighed. "Enough."

I ignored him.

Azazel didn't. He exhaled, tilting his head slightly, assessing, waiting.

I didn't wait. I turned, pulling Mirabel with me, and walked out.

Azazel made a move to follow, but Daniel's hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him. "Destiny repeats itself," he muttered under his breath.

Azazel's entire body stiffened. Then, without a word, he shoved Daniel's hand off and vanished.

Hazel, watching, merely smirked. "Interesting."

Kimper, for once, stayed silent.

I didn't stop moving until we were far beyond the school's CCTV reach. The moment I did, Mirabel yanked her wrist from my grip, eyes narrowed. "You know, I'm really starting to think the entire council has a thing for kidnapping me."

I almost smirked. Almost.

She folded her arms, tilting her head. "What, no dramatic speech? No 'I'm doing this for your own good'? Come on, Raphael. You dragged me all the way here least you can do is say something."

I exhaled, my gaze steady on hers. "Don't tell anyone about your powers."

Her lips parted slightly before pressing into a tight line. She was ready to deny it. I saw the exact second she decided to feign ignorance.

"What powers?" she asked, all innocence.

I let out a sharp breath. "Don't bother lying."

She blinked at me. Then, to my absolute lack of surprise, smiled.

"Well, now I feel exposed. But since we're throwing around bold statements why exactly am I not supposed to tell anyone?"

I hesitated.

Because they'd use you? Because they'd control you? Because they'd kill you the second they realized exactly what kind of power you have?

I didn't answer. Not directly. "It's safer if you don't."

She scoffed. "Oh wow, how very reassuring. You really have a way with words, Raphael."

I didn't react. I couldn't. Not when, for the third time now, I looked into her eyes and saw it.

The same pull. The same undeniable, inescapable truth.

Mirabel Rosan was my mate.

And that was a problem.

Not just because she was human. Not just because of the power she'd manifested in the forest that night.

But because I knew that power.

Black magic. Ancient. Lost. The kind that hadn't been seen since the last war. The kind that wasn't supposed to exist anymore.

And the worst part?

She looked exactly like her.

From the moment she set foot in this school, I had felt it. That pull, that familiarity. The first time our eyes met, when she stood next to Sofia, something in me twisted, tightened. I had ignored it then, refused to accept what I saw.

But now, standing here, there was no denying it.

She had her face. The one I loved. The one I killed.

Fate wasn't playing fair. This wasn't a coincidence. This was punishment.

I turned away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, I wasn't going to entertain it. Not now. Not ever.

But before I left, I spoke again.

"Stay away from Azazel."

I didn't wait for her response.

But I knew her well enough to expect it.

I turned to leave.

I should have kept walking.

But then,

"Are you seriously just going to leave me here?"

Her voice, edged with exasperation, carried through the quiet. I didn't stop.

Not until I smelled it.

Blood.

Her blood.

The sharp, unmistakable scent hit me all at once, and before I could think, I was already back at her side. She flinched slightly, pressing her hand to her shoulder. A dark stain spread across the fabric of her hoodie.

The wound had reopened.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly trying to hide the pain.

"Take it off," I ordered.

She blinked at me. Then laughed.

"Yeah, no."

I exhaled through my nose, barely holding onto my patience. "That wasn't a request."

"And yet, it still sounded like one," she shot back, her tone deceptively light.

I narrowed my eyes. "Mirabel."

"Raphael," she mimicked.

I clenched my jaw. "You're bleeding."

"Wow. Thank you, Mr. Obvious. Next you'll tell me I also have a pulse."

I wasn't in the mood for this. "Take it off. Now."

"How about we don't, and say we did?"

She was being impossible. Stubborn. Reckless.

But then she inhaled too sharply, and I caught it just for a second the pain flickering across her face before she forced it away.

That did it.

Without another word, I reached out and gripped the edge of her sleeve. She smacked my hand away before I could even pull it up.

"What the hell, Raphael?!"

"You're not exactly in a position to argue right now," I muttered, already reaching for her wrist instead.

"I'm always in a position to argue," she huffed.

I sighed, already regretting what I was about to do.

"Mirabel," I said slowly, leaning in slightly. My voice dropped, lower, softer. "Either you take it off yourself, or I'll do it for you."

Her eyes widened slightly.

For once, she had no comeback.

The silence stretched.

Then, scowling, she muttered something under her breath and yanked the hoodie over her head in one sharp motion.

And that's when I saw it.

The bandages beneath her shirt were stained through. The wound, poorly stitched, had started bleeding again. But that wasn't the worst part.

No, the worst part was the way her skin pulsed faintly beneath the injury.

Faint, dark veins spread outward like cracks. Almost invisible. Almost.

Something wasn't right.

This wasn't just a normal wound.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral.

"How bad is it?" she asked, pretending like she wasn't already in pain.

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I reached into my pocket, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Stay still," I murmured.

She stilled.

I reached out, pressing the cloth gently against the wound. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth but didn't pull away.

I kept my focus on the injury, my thoughts turning over themselves. The dark veins weren't normal. The energy lingering around the wound it was almost familiar.

And that was a problem.

A very, very big problem.

But I wasn't going to tell her that. Not yet.

So instead, I simply said, "You're lucky it's not worse."

She scoffed. "Oh yes, I feel so lucky right now."

I shook my head, pressing the cloth a little firmer against her shoulder. She winced but stayed quiet.

Her eyes flicked to me, searching my expression.

"You're being weird," she muttered.

I arched a brow. "You're always weird."

"Wow. Great comeback. Truly inspiring."

I ignored her.

I had bigger things to worry about.

Because if I was right if this wound wasn't just a wound then Mirabel had a much bigger problem than she realized.

And for some reason, that thought unsettled me more than it should have.

The second I saw the way her wound kept bleeding, I made my decision.

She wasn't walking anywhere.

Without a word, I bent down and scooped her up effortlessly.

Her reaction was immediate.

"What the....PUT ME DOWN!"

I didn't.

"Raphael, I swear to every supernatural law that exists."

"Save your energy," I muttered, adjusting my grip slightly as she kicked her feet.

"Oh, so now you care about my energy?!" she snapped, writhing in my hold.

I exhaled. "Yes, and you're wasting it fighting me."

"Because I can walk."

"You can barely stand."

"I stood just fine!"

"For five seconds," I deadpanned.

She huffed, clearly beyond done with me. "This is unnecessary. Completely unnecessary."

I didn't respond.

She wasn't done.

"I am not a damsel in distress, Raphael."

"Could've fooled me."

She gasped dramatically. "Did you just call me a damsel?!"

"No," I muttered. "I called you an idiot for bleeding all over yourself and refusing help."

She gasped again, this time louder. "Oh my gods. You are actually insufferable."

"And you are wasting breath."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Her hands smacked against my chest, trying to shove herself out of my arms, but I didn't budge. Didn't even flinch.

"Ugh, put me down!" she hissed.

"No."

"This is kidnapping!"

"This is medical intervention."

"This is embarrassing!"

"You'll survive."

She growled under her breath and tried a new approach.

"Raphael," she started, her voice suddenly softer. Sweet. Deceptively nice.

I didn't trust it for a second.

"You don't have to carry me," she coaxed. "Let's be rational. Let's make logical choices."

I sighed. "No."

"Come on, don't you trust me?"

"No."

She scowled. "That was fast."

I adjusted my hold, moving faster.

Her voice dropped lower, smoother. "I bet you'd look really bad if someone saw this. The cold, brooding Nephilim, carrying a forsaken girl like some hero? Imagine the rumors."

I smirked. "You think I care?"

Her face froze for a second.

Damn it. She really thought that one would work.

I kept walking.

She groaned. "You're impossible."

"You're predictable."

"This is a violation of my personal space."

"This is a violation of my patience."

She made a frustrated noise, slumping slightly in my arms. "Unbelievable. Fine. Fine. Carry me. Be my knight in shining armor. Whatever. But don't expect a thank you."

"I wouldn't dare."

Before she could come up with another argument, we were already there.

At the infirmary.

I placed her down gently, though I doubted she'd appreciate the effort.

The second her back touched the infirmary bed, she sat up again, ready to leave.

"Oh, no, you don't," I muttered, pressing one hand against her shoulder.

She glared up at me. "You cannot keep manhandling me like this!"

"I can and I will," I said simply.

The healer walked in, arms crossed, already unimpressed.

"You again," she sighed, eyes flicking between Mirabel and me.

Mirabel smirked. "Miss me?"

"Definitely not."

I barely paid attention as the healer went to grab the bandages.

I felt Mirabel shift again tried to sit up.

I pinned her down.

This time, her protest was immediate. "Are you serious right now?"

"Extremely."

"You do know you are violating like ten personal space laws right now?"

"Noted."

"Raphael."

"Not happening."

She huffed. The moment the healer returned, she switched tactics.

"You saw that, right?" she called out, eyes darting toward the healer. "He is literally holding me hostage."

"Take off your shirt," the healer interrupted, barely looking up as she set down the supplies.

Silence.

I felt Mirabel's stare before I saw it.

I sighed, scoffing. "Don't look at me. I didn't say it."

The healer clicked her tongue. "It's your shoulder, girl. You can keep the rest of your modesty intact. Just unbutton the top."

Mirabel exhaled sharply and sat up slightly.

I turned away, giving her space.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Then,

I heard it.

The faint rustle of fabric.

The soft sound of buttons coming undone.

I clenched my jaw, eyes narrowing at the wall.

Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.

But I could feel her.

Her presence was like a live wire, pulsing beside me, tempting me to look.

I shouldn't.

I wouldn't.

My mind wandered anyway.

And before I could stop myself.

I glanced over.

Everything slowed.

My vision sharpened, fixating on every detail before me.

Her skin.

Soft, smooth, untouched except for the streaks of dried blood along her exposed shoulder.

The delicate curve of her neck, slick with sweat.

Her black hair, pulled into a high ponytail, though several strands clung to the damp skin of her back.

I swallowed hard.

The room felt too hot.

I forced my gaze away

But my body reacted anyway.

A slow, dangerous burn built inside me.

Something I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

My breathing hitched.

My fangs pressed against my lips.

Not now.

I shut my eyes, exhaling through my nose, but the scent of her blood only made it worse.

The moment I opened my eyes again, my vision tinged red.

Dark.

Dangerous.

I felt my claws extend, my hands curling into fists as they pierced my own palms.

Pain.

Good.

I needed it.

I needed control.

I needed out.

So I vanished.

The second I reappeared, I was alone.

Safe.

But the fire in my veins hadn't cooled.

I slammed a fist against the nearest wall, the impact cracking the surface, my breaths coming out sharp.

This was bad.

Worse than I thought.

I hadn't felt this way since..

Since her.

And now, it was happening again.

I shut my eyes, exhaling slowly, shoving the memory deep down where it couldn't touch me.

This wasn't fate.

This wasn't destiny.

This was a mistake.

One I refused to make again.

Mirabel's POV.

The healer clicked her tongue. "Hmph. And just like that, he's gone."

I frowned, glancing over my shoulder only to find empty space.

Raphael wasn't there.

I blinked. What the hell?

He had been standing behind me just a second ago.

I looked around, as if he might have slipped out the door without me noticing. But no. That wasn't his style.

He didn't walk away.

He vanished.

I let out a slow breath, half confused, half relieved.

Finally. Peace.

No brooding Nephilim hovering over me. No sharp red eyes watching my every move. No kidnappings disguised as medical interventions.

I relaxed, rolling my shoulders slightly. Bad idea.

Pain flared through my wound, and I winced.

The healer gave me a pointed look. "See? This is why you listen to me, girl."

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

She didn't respond, already working. Her hands moved with precision, re-cleaning the wound, wrapping the bandages neatly.

I forced myself to stay still, ignoring the sting.

Instead, my mind wandered.

To Raphael.

Not because I wanted to think about him but because something about the way he left didn't sit right with me.

He had been too calm.

Then, suddenly, he was gone.

Like he needed to leave.

Like something had spooked him.

I frowned.

What was that about?