Blas Archangels: ASHWINGS (Complete, 28 Chapters) – C. Swallow

Ashwings -7- Blue Blood Tears
 
I get out of the bath and instead of roaming, I fix the room that the angels tore apart looking for whatever it was they were searching for. I straighten and make the beds. Once that’s done, I check out the wardrobes and I stare at all of the dresses. There was a cupboard full of every single garment that I could ever dream of. It’s almost like a wish wardrobe… too perfect… surely there was a price to pay.
 
Why did December and Alexios wear boring togas? I put it down to their eternal boredom at being ignored, or maybe they did it to scorn their lovers.
 
The feast soon approaching, that Valentine and Myron had discussed, sounded terrifying. Guzza, so far, came across as mute. He snarled, glared, spoke more with his eyes and throaty noises of promise and complaint. And all together, the three of the formidable angels came across as a terrible trio.
 
The day does progress rather slowly, but I eventually slip on an evening dress by said evening after staring out of the windows and watching angels fly off from the grounds then returning one by one. I tried to understand more about them by watching them. All that came to mind were more questions and a burning desire to keep looking. It was a horrible feeling in my gut, not the very things these angels made me feel, but the way my mind weakened with them near.
 
I felt guilty. I felt more and more disgusting and dirty. I needed to be ruined, punished, taught how to be better than I was. And all that? Didn’t make any sense. None of those thoughts were real, it was all imposed.
 
I could assume it was a power imbalance between a mighty being and a regular organism… a blue blood human vs an angel. What the hell could I do that matched those creatures of divine, excuse me, tainted divine power? I couldn’t think of a single thing.
 
That’s a lie.
 
There was one thing that I had.
 
Will power. A choice to respond how I chose. I was certain the females that stayed, enjoyed the attention, the pleasure, the weather, the grounds, the dresses, the beds… everything. I could be different. I could be that girl who said no, even when it was desirable to say yes. Even if my muscles melted and my voice shook and my legs went weak in their presence.
 
I couldn’t stop thinking about it… what would they do if I resisted them? What if I shunned them despite the way my body craved? It’s what December and Alexios were practicing. For a reason. They were trying to be better than those desires for a reason, surely. I couldn’t figure out what yet.
 
I’ve chosen a yellow golden flame dress, with an open back and a wire front, so that it hugged my chest and made me feel like I was wearing armour. Bronze plates covered my tits and the yellow-gold silk flowed to my ankles. I slip on sandals made of yellow velvet and then I brush through my hair and make a single plait down my back.
 
The sun was setting, evening was becoming twilight, that beautiful time.
 
When I glance out the window, I see angels and mortals and other creatures who were enslaved here, making their way inside. A warm glow came from one of the main areas of the palace.
 
The feast was on.
 
No one had come to fetch me and I assume it’s because I wasn’t being forced to go. Valentine had invited me.
 
I had to go on my own accord.
 
I would go. Because I only knew two things. I couldn’t leave this place, despite being coerced to return. The second thing? I did not want to cower in a corner for the rest of my life. I wanted to stand tall and command respect as the girl who said no.
 
My welcome, my brutal, humiliating welcome was the very thing to seal my resilience.

The word no. That would be the law I lived by in a land ruled by Valentine. No, to everything he thought I would become. No, to everything he assumed I’d give into. Control, resilience and discipline. I would rise above it, and prove that I was better.
 
It would be a struggle, but it would be a struggle that would keep me sane.
 
Now, it was time to go to the feast to prove myself. For myself. Not for them.
 
****
 
Hallways of architecture that screamed centuries or work, led to beautiful huge rooms spanning the entire palace. Any kind of sitting room, any kind of place to relax. It was a heaven for any mind. Sleep here, nap there, read, think… do whatever you wanted, as long as you didn’t get in Valentine’s way.
 
At least that’s how I assumed things worked.
 
I stand now at the end of the hall at the feast, where a wide marble table is set with every kind of roast, fruit and vegetable dish. No dessert, I note.
 
I knew what dessert these angels wanted.
 
Everyone sits equally around the huge expanse. It sat at least a hundred.
 
One thing was noticeable. The male angels talked robustly to one another, while the slaves kept quiet or murmured in a way that wasn’t disruptive to the more superior talk above them.
 
My eyes scan for December and Alexios, and I spot Alexios sitting on December’s lap, whispering annoying gossip into her ear while she smirked and glared at the three angels they hoped for the most.
 
I recognise now that Valentine, Myron and Guzza are the three Archangels of this E.W.
 
Their wings were far grander, wider and more magnificent. The ash colour was darkest and they all sat together.
 
Best buddies, overlooking the feast and trying their best to ignore December and Alexios’ provocative glares and smirks.
 
It was definitely love-hate between the five of them, for sure.
 
As I enter the room, the angels speak continuously but a little quieter.
 
“The blue blood is here.” I hear, whispered or spoken by at least six or seven members.
 
The closer I get to the feast, the more I feel my eyes wishing to gaze at the three at the head, to ask for their approval and see if they liked what they saw.
 
I resist and focus on the roast. Empty seats scatter around, so I take one in the middle, not too far away, but in a position that is somewhat opposite December and Alexios. I can meet their eyes over a tower of berries stacked in a perfect pyramid.
 
Alexios pushes her white wavy hair to the side and gives me a slow reassuring wink. December picks up a strawberry and eats the tip of it, giving me a knowing look of… you know what’s going to be expected of you later tonight, right?…
 
Thoughts of the Archangels tasting between my legs flash through my mind and I shake my head, reaching forward and choosing to fill my plate.
 
I stick to a honey glazed chicken strip, poached fruits and fancy cuts of tomato drizzled with sparkling dressing.
 
As I eat it, keeping my eyes as down cast as possible, I ignore the stares of each occupant… especially the terrible three I was trying to ignore the most.
 
Oh, my nerves were raking with energy. Every part of my muscles wanted to clench, look up and glance for even a second. A split second. A quarter of a second.
 
But I don’t even look up to run my eyes over the room. I ignore the Blas Archangels and I eat too fast.
 
“Wine,” one fairy next to me with sharp fangs hands me a goblet, “Don’t choke on the red stuff, blue blood… you know it’s all laced with aphrodisiacs from their ash… why, you’re looking quite red… are you okay?”
 
“I’m fine,” I shake my head. Is that what their ash off their wings was? Sinful lust? Fine. It was just a feeling. I could fight a feeling.
 
I gobble down some wine confidently and I glance back up to Alexios and December.
 
They nod at me, impressed by my resilience so far.
 
“Silence,” Valentine speaks up and everyone shuts their mouths, “For a toast.”
 
Two seconds into the silence, there is an interruption.
 
Why oh why should we have silence for toast?” December whispers loudly to Alexios. Everyone hears the joke.
 
My eyes snap right to Valentine without hesitation. Shit. It was a reaction, I needed to see what he’d do to that disrespect.
 
He’s paused and his cheek twitches, but he says nothing.
 
So, Valentine did have a soft spot for blue bloods, did he?  I glance at Myron and he’s slouching down a bit, totally relaxed while looking at me with his dwarf star eyes, eating me up. Guzza picks up a blunt table knife, eyes it and throws it at the girls.
 
They both squeal and everyone watches one of December’s braids get sliced off before it falls to the floor.
 
Alexios gasps when she sees the fallen hair piece off her best friend.

“You nasty brute, you!” Alexios jumps to her feet and lunges towards Guzza.
 
In a spectacular display, Guzza grabs her shoulders and they tumble off the chair to the floor.
 
His wings arch and a few seconds later you can hear them… um… yeah.
 
They were fucking already.
 
What the fuck?
 
Valentine glances down with a grimace, before continuing, “Never mind.”

“Oh, no, continue, ignore them –” Myron tries to encourage Valentine to continue, but as he opens his mouth a second time to continue the toast, Alexios starts squealing… and it’s on purpose to interrupt Valentine again.
 
December cradles her cut braid to her chest and purses her lips, trying to keep in her reaction. A few seconds later, December bursts out laughing while crying and Myron cracks it a second later.
 
He slams his fist to the table and stands up. As Myron’s wings flutter out wider, December jumps to her feet, gasping in a breath before sprinting from the feast.
 
Valentine watches Myron give chase.
 
“Come here, you disrespectful lamb – I’ll slaughter you through!”
 
As December laughs manically through her tears from another room, Valentine is the only Archangel left at the head of the table.
 
“A toast… to me…” Valentine drawls darkly, smirking to himself as he picks up his wine and drinks, genuinely… happy? I thought he’d be angry.
 
He’s eyes skim over the rim of his goblet and they capture my gaze, which is already locked on him.
 
I can’t look away.
 
He gulps and slowly lowers his cup.
 
Guzza is still fucking a now moaning Alexios on the floor. Myron has probably caught December in another room by now. Valentine seems to think his snack is right where I am.
 
“Drink,” Valentine’s eyes drop suddenly to my goblet of wine and I find my hand clenching it and raising the goblet to my lips.
 
I take a sip. Simple commands I could follow and… argh!
 
My face screws up.
 
The taste
 
I look down and I see a creamy liquid. It tastes like nothing, but also honey and also salt… and kind of reminds me of masculinity. In some form… oh my god.
 
I stare at it and I sniff it… my stomach rolls.
 
Did he… did he fill my cup… with…
 
…with cum?
 
I slam it down on the table and I glare up at Valentine with both horror and shock.
 
He couldn’t look anymore amused. The smug Blas Archangel raises a hand and a peach flies through the air and lands in his palm.

“You have a job to do, blue blood, to earn your wages,” Valentine speaks of me but without looking at me. I don’t move, “On your knees.”
 
A hint.
 
Now I know. He wants me to kneel, crawl over and put his angel cock in my mouth.
 
Like hell I would.
 
“It’s an invitation,” he adds, tilting his head to the side, “…I’ll reward you plentifully at the end… blue blood?”
 
“It’s about time you ended your celibacy, Valentine,” one of the angels calls out, laughing.
 
Valentine takes a bite of his peach and looks over at Guzza to see their mating is still going on.
 
No,” I spit the word out and Valentine pauses, then slowly, slowly… looks back at me.
 
My mind? Beg for it. Crawl to him. Do it. Just agree. Just relish in the fantasy. It won’t hurt. It’ll end in a thousand orgasms and you squirming for years in sheets laced with his ownership, chains could keep you down, keep you right where you should be, home and under him.
 
No –
 
No, thank you!” I squeak it out as I repeat it, and I stand and slam my chair in.
 
I tear my gaze from Valentine and I turn to leave the feast.
 
Everything is happening. My knees are jelly, my voice box is so tight it’s about to break and let out a whine of panic, and my stomach rolls as warmth flows in pulses to my womb.
 
Take him. Take him in. Fuck… him.
 
In the midst of my scrambled mind, I hear the responses and the laughter of the other angels.
 
…he always did love the head cases… the ones who won’t crack… oh, he’s finally found one worth tearing into… how much blood do you think will spill by the time Valentine’s done with the new blood?… maybe he’ll go so hard he’ll even grant her Final Death… that’s real love…
 
Oh, no.
 
No, no, no!
 
I hear the loud gossip behind me all at once and my feet stop gliding. I break into a run and I have no idea where to go.
 
My mind reels with that one thread of gossip… Final Death… that’s real love?
 
What the hell did that mean? And why was I cursed to face this? What the hell was Valentine going to do to me, when he inevitably caught me? Was I even going to live the night? I didn’t know. All I wanted to do, was cry. Oh. No. Blue blood tears…?! Is this… is this what they thirsted for? I try to stop those very tears from welling forth, but I don’t think I can hold them back much longer. They’re coming, probably, I’d say, in bucket loads. 
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