Blood Bound Hearts

The sun had already begun its descent when Emily and Isabella returned to the apartment, their arms weighed down with shopping bags and their purses a little heavier than usual. Laughter echoed down the hallway as they stumbled through the front door, dropping their bags onto the living room floor.

"We made so much today," Emily said, stretching her arms above her head as she kicked off her sandals. "I feel like collapsing on the bed."

"I can't believe it," Isabella replied with a wide smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "It's been such a long day, but so worth it."

Emily yawned and headed for the bathroom. "Let's take a bath before we talk about anything else. I feel like I've been walking through sand all day."

Isabella followed behind her. They filled the bathtub with warm water, adding lavender oil and rose-scented bubbles until the surface shimmered with foam. The soft fragrance began to fill the room, wrapping around them like a calming blanket. They undressed and stepped into the tub, sighing as the warmth soaked into their tired muscles.

Leaning back against the edge, Isabella closed her eyes. "This feels like heaven."

Emily smiled, resting her arms on the sides of the tub. "You know, something strange happened to me last month," she said, her voice thoughtful.

Isabella turned slightly. "Strange how?"

Emily chuckled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "There was this guy. I met him at that Italian restaurant downtown. Tall, well-dressed, and had the most intense eyes I've ever seen."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"We talked a few times, and then… he came over. It was supposed to be casual, but the way he touched me—" she trailed off, biting her lip. "It wasn't just physical. It felt like he was looking straight through me."

Isabella laughed. "You always find the mysterious ones."

Emily splashed her playfully. "Don't act like you haven't had your own strange encounters lately."

Their laughter carried on for a while as they continued sharing stories, the warmth of the bath wrapping around them like a soft cocoon. When the water began to cool, they stepped out, dried off, and pulled on oversized cotton shirts. Sleepiness tugged at their limbs, and within minutes they curled up in bed, their heads nestled into pillows, drifting into peaceful slumber.

The next morning, they awoke late. Sunlight was already pouring through the curtains, casting golden patterns on the floor.

Emily stretched and groaned. "What time is it?"

Isabella reached for her phone. "It's past ten."

"We overslept," Emily muttered as she sat up, brushing her hair back. "Let's clean up first."

Together, they moved through the apartment, straightening cushions, folding clothes, sweeping the floor, and wiping down surfaces. The apartment quickly transformed from the chaos of the previous night into a neat and peaceful space once more.

When they were done, they made their way to the kitchen.

"Let's make pancakes," Emily said, pulling ingredients from the shelves.

Isabella nodded. "And oatmeal too."

Emily measured out two cups of all-purpose flour and poured it into a large mixing bowl. She added three tablespoons of sugar, a pinch of salt, and a teaspoon of baking powder. In a separate bowl, she cracked two eggs and added a cup of milk, a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and a tablespoon of melted butter. She whisked the mixture until it was smooth and creamy, then slowly combined it with the dry ingredients, stirring gently to form a thick, velvety batter.

Meanwhile, Isabella heated a non-stick pan and added a small slice of butter. She ladled the batter onto the pan and watched as bubbles formed on the surface. She flipped the pancakes one after the other until they turned golden brown, stacking them neatly on a plate.

For the oatmeal, she poured two cups of milk into a pot and set it on the stove. She added a cup of oats and stirred slowly until the mixture began to thicken. A dash of cinnamon, a drizzle of honey, and a few slices of banana added the final touch. She divided the oatmeal into two bowls and placed them on the counter beside the stack of pancakes.

They sat on the floor in the living room, their plates on the low table between them, enjoying their breakfast in comfortable silence.

Later that afternoon, Emily grabbed her keys from the counter. "Let's drive to the grocery store. We still need to get a few things for the week."

Isabella pulled her jacket on and followed her to the car. The sky was clear, the wind warm against their skin as they drove down the quiet street. They were halfway to the store when a sudden jolt stopped them in their tracks.

Emily slammed on the brakes.

The car had hit something.

Both of them gasped as they stared at the vehicle in front of them. It was a sleek black car, its surface shining like glass, the kind of car that only people with unimaginable wealth could afford.

Emily's eyes widened. "Did we just…?"

Isabella's mouth fell open as she stepped out of the car. Her fingers trembled as she traced the scratch left on the other vehicle.

"This is not good," she whispered.

The driver's door opened.

A man stepped out.

He wore a black coat that brushed his knees, and he stood with the posture of someone born into command. His face was striking—high cheekbones, sculpted jaw, and eyebrows that curved like they had been drawn with a blade. He examined the scratch without saying a word, then walked back to the car and leaned into the open window, whispering something to the person seated inside.

Isabella felt her knees go weak. Emily looked at her, eyes wide.

"Do we run?"

They froze, unable to move as the passenger door opened.

A man stepped out.

Tall. Dark-haired. Broad-shouldered. He moved like shadow, like smoke given form. His presence was overwhelming, the air around him seemed to ripple with something that wasn't entirely human.

Azrael.

Isabella couldn't breathe. Her eyes locked on his face, the memories from the club crashing into her mind all at once.

Azrael tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a small, amused smile. "Look what you've done," he said, his voice deep and smooth, pointing to the damaged part of the car.

"We're so sorry," Isabella said quickly. "We'll pay for the repair."

Emily turned sharply. "What are you saying?"

Azrael called over his shoulder. "Xaren."

The man from earlier approached.

"How much will it cost to fix this?" Azrael asked.

Xaren tapped something on his phone, then looked up. "Six million, sir."

Isabella's heart stopped.

Emily's face drained of color. "Six… million?"

"I think we should just go to jail," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

"There's no way we can pay that," Isabella said, staring helplessly at the ground.

Azrael said nothing more. He returned to the car, followed by Xaren, and they drove away without another word.

Isabella and Emily remained frozen on the sidewalk, their breaths shallow, their minds trying to process what had just happened.

"Did he just forgive us?" Emily asked after a long silence.

Isabella swallowed. "That's the man I told you about."

Emily turned slowly. "The man who saved you at the club?"

"Yes."

Emily's scream echoed down the street. "What?"