The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Breaking Out

Her tears only fell faster when she heard the muffled sobs of a man grieving over his lost love.

***

"We can get to Death's castle from here, but I regret to say that I actually will need some of your blood for the transport to work." Packer said the next day, all traces of sorrow gone from his features. Mabel would have tried to bring it out of him once more, if not for how odd she'd been feeling. Gone was the feeling of calm that the paste had brought, and in its place was a dizziness that refused to leave.

She squinted at him suspiciously, swaying back and forth. "As if. You'll probably just sell it to a vicious beast for loads of money. I already got sold once, you know, and if you cut me open I probably won't be worth as much."

Packer stared at her inanely for several beats, and then declared, "You have an odd sense of humor. Would it help if I told you that I have to donate some of my blood, as well? It is only so the transportation spell works. With a distance this long, we can't take any risks."

Mabel huffed, but conceded nonetheless. "Fine. Be quick about it, though, please. I wanna nap."

"When we are in the safety of the castle," Packer muttered as he rifled through his sack, "you may nap as long as you want. Ah, here we are." He straightened and beckoned for her to hold out her hand.

She obeyed, wincing when he slid a knife over her palm, leaving a thin trail of blood; he repeated the movement on his own hand, and then threw the knife back into the knapsack. Hefting the pack onto his back, Packer shifted closer to her and reached out, clasping their bloodied hands together.

More ancient words, but this time Mabel felt a sharp tug in her chest, and her surroundings became a blur as her body became weightless.

Unfortunately, the swift movement, combined with her achy head, didn't give her the ability to notice that several drops of their mixed blood fell onto the dark ground, where they were soaked up within seconds.

***

They landed harshly against the cool brick floors of Death's castle, and Mabel stumbled out of Packer's grasp only to land against the wall and slide down to the floor in an exhausted heap. "Wow," she murmured in awe, soaking in the familiar palace. "That's a pretty cool magic trick, Packer."

"Thank you," he retorted dryly, stepping forward to help her up. She reached to grab his outstretched hand, only to freeze when the tip of a gleaming sword landed against his throat, promising to cut his skin should he so much as swallow.

Packer took a step back, his hands held up in surrender, and Mabel burst into tears at the man standing beside him.

"Al!" His name was mangled by a sob and she tried to get up, only to slide back down the wall and cry even harder when she realized she was too weak.

Not that it mattered. Shoving Packer out of the way with enough force to send the warlock to the ground, Aleron dropped his sword and collapsed in front of her, pulling her into his crushing embrace.

"My Little One," he exhaled into the crook of her neck, his dry lips pressing a gentle kiss there. "I was so worried about you."

Mabel pulled away. "Not as worried as I was," she cried, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. "What happened? Are you okay? Is Colby here?"

Aleron ran his fingers through her hair, his mouth dusting kisses over every single patch of skin he could reach. "Do not worry about it right now, Little One. We will speak of it later."

Her body relaxed into his, beyond ready for a nap. "Sure, Al. Later."

***