Chapter 12 Sweet Lullabies （Lovestruck）
SWEET LULLABIES (LOVESTRUCK)
AZ
Thick, hot waves of fear lanced through Az as he raced below, feet slipping on the wet, wooden deck.
Ahead, Graves came to a stuttering stop before a small door in a long, windowless hall. The ship tilted to the side, wind roaring, and Az fell against the wall with a loud grumble.
"Fuck," the demon seethed, trying his best to pull himself upright, but every time he did, he staggered to the side. The ship rocked among the waves, and he could only hope Vale and Tharen led them from Lu’s storm.
"I can’t see with you in the way." Az pushed Graves aside with a strong shoulder as he came up behind him.
What he saw stole his breath.
"Godsdamn you!" Az roared, shoulders brushing either side of the door as he shoved his way inside.
Crates were smashed along the floor, red blood running in rivulets amid shattered glass that crunched and tinkled under his feet as the ship rocked.
Az was undone; Lu’s fear threaded so closely with his that he wasn’t sure what was his… and what was hers.
At first glance, he thought the blood on the floor belonged to her, and rage filled him.
The godsdamned vampire had Lu against the wall, her feet barely touching the floor as he held her up, wings crushed behind her, and his head buried in her neck. Lu’s lids fluttered, hazy as they drifted open and found him and Graves standing there, speechless.
Az took one step forward. Just fucking one—
And Graves stilled him with a raised hand. "Don’t be rough with them."
"What the fuck do you mean, don’t be rough?" the demon spat. That was his angel, the parasitic bastard was drinking from.
"Pulling him away from her will cause more harm than good. Right now, she’s all he wants," said Graves.
Az shook his head, hands clenched at his sides. "Fuck that."
In a storm of protective rage, he had one hand fisted in the back of the vampire’s shirt.
Bastian hissed, jaw still clenched around Lu’s throat.
Her heavy-lidded blue eyes peered up at Az, cheeks flushed with a delicate rose glow.
One of her hands raised, trembling, as she placed her palm on Az’s shoulder.
Her wings shivered behind her, flattened against the wall.
The scent of her blood permeated the room, but Az saw none of it—the vampire drank every bit before it could escape.
"No," she whispered low, as if afraid to rouse the vampire at her throat, "let him… drink. He’s not hurting me."
"He’s not hurting you yet." Graves stepped in, still keeping his distance. "That could change before you even know it. Before you’re even aware, you could be drained to nothing, and we’d be left to fight off a vampire in the throes of bloodlust," he said, tone calm, but his jaw was clenched.
"Lu," Az said, strained, resisting the urge to yank at his hair. Fuck, he hated feeling so helpless. Graves was right. They couldn’t tear Bastian away and risk harming her in the process.
Bastian drank, the soft sucking noises and his low, pleased groans filling the room almost obscenely, making Az’s lips curl into a snarl.
Lu’s head tipped back, a stuttered moan tugged from her chest as Bastian threaded his hands in the material of her cloak at her waist, his leg notched between her thighs, pressing harder, deeper.
Her lips parted, toes curling midair, and the thick fear roaring through him shifted, turning to a slow, burning pleasure that made his gut tighten.
"Oh, sweetheart," Graves rasped. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"
Az wanted to fucking punch him for being able to see her like this… And the vampire, for making her lids flutter so prettily and her lips part, pink tongue flashing as she ran it over her bottom lip, teeth sinking into it to stifle a soft, feminine sound of pleasure.
"N-no," she stuttered, the word strangled.
Graves caught Az’s gaze, head tilting slightly.
Az’s eyes narrowed. "Get him off you, Lu. He won’t listen to us."
Az tried to ignore the way her other hand twisted, fingers gripping Bastian’s shirt, while the vampire’s head moved side to side slightly, making her breath hitch in a series of gasps.
The waves of warm desire that pulsed through their bond turned lethargic.
He was taking too much.
Fuck!
Graves’s hands hovered over Bastian’s shoulders, afraid to touch. "Luella, sweetheart, listen to us. Tell him to stop. You can get through to him."
Blearily, she hummed, neck tilted back painfully as she lightly struck against the vampire’s side. "Bastian," she hiccupped, "let me... let me go. Please."
He groaned, and she made an echoing sound.
"Please, Bastian. It—ah—" She flinched as Bastian drew from her deeper. Az met her gaze, clenching his hands at his sides to stop himself from touching her. "It hurts."
Her lie filled the air—and Az knew it was just that. An utter lie. Desire pounded against him, growing weak the more he drank from her.
Luella’s words made Bastian still for just a moment, the top of his head obscuring her eyes as he leaned into her. His shoulders were tense, fraught with held-back lust.
The only sound was the creaking of the ship as it rocked, and the howling of the wind above them.
"Please," Luella whispered.
There was a soft noise as Bastian released her, a string of his saliva, tinted red, connecting his mouth to her flesh before he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His lips were stained red, and two holes, dripping with hot blood, marred the delicate, pale flesh of Lu’s neck.
He still held her up against the wall, and his eyes—once a deep, vivid maroon—dulled to a soft, sated color, more russet than anything, the shade of old coins.
"Oh, gods, what have I done?" Bastian’s head thumped against hers, a strangled noise ripping from him. "Take her…" He sounded breathless. "Take her away from me. I can’t—"
Graves stepped in, his hand finally falling on Bastian’s shoulder. "Let her go," he murmured.
Bastian did, and Lu’s feet slid to the floor, wings crinkling against the rough wood at her back. When the vampire no longer held her up, she crumpled, legs wobbling. Az caught her, holding her against him, careful of her wings and the two fucking holes in her neck.
Blood trickled sluggishly from the wounds. Not dire, but just the sight of her blood outside her body made the demon want to rage.
Bastian’s head hung low. He didn’t look at Lu. Choked and pained, he gasped, "Take me away from her. Take her away. Get out."
Graves’s fingers tightened on Bastian’s shoulder.
"Take her to another room," Graves ordered quietly. Az opened his mouth, ready to ask which fucking room, but Graves stopped him. "Don’t tell me where."
Az nodded, understanding that Bastian didn’t need to have the temptation of knowing where she would be staying dangling before him like that. He shifted Lu to face him, hands firm where they held her up, careful and sweet. "Can you walk?" the demon asked her.
Sleepily, she nodded, one foot lifting to press upon the ground, but her legs buckled under her immediately, and she slipped, knees nearly crashing into the bloody, glass-littered floor.
Az lifted her with an endearing grumble. "Tell me when you need me, Lu. I will always help you."
She sighed against him, legs wrapped around his waist, her core pressing against the source of his arousal, which hadn’t gone down at all. He took a steadying breath and left the room. Bastian and Graves were quiet as the door fell closed.
The hall was thin and dark, and he kept himself as steady as possible as he held Lu, the tips of her wings brushing his forearms, where they draped over her back. The ship leaned harshly to the side, and he shifted his body so his shoulder would hit the wall—and not her.
He dove inside a room at random, one at the far end of the hall. The thick, wooden door gave way with a rough kick of his foot. Inside, it was bare, save for a swaying hammock kept tethered to the walls, a lone flat, yellowed pillow thrown inside it. Shit.
Az shifted his hold of Lu to one arm, stilling when she sighed sleepily, cool tip of her nose brushing against his neck. She was bleary and blissed. And he was unsettled and wanting.
He tossed the musty pillow to the floor with a grimace, carefully sitting on the hammock.
It crackled from his weight, unused, as dust billowed out.
There were no windows in the room, and for that, Az was grateful—he didn’t think she would be able to handle waking up to the sight of the dark sea that carried them far from land, from safety.
He settled her atop his chest, wincing as the hammock creaked dangerously, swaying as the ship rocked. Wind and rain pounded against the side of the ship, and his fingers flexed against her hips as he situated her on his chest, her cheek pressed against his pounding, lovestruck heart.
Her hands cradled the organ, squeezing—unbeknownst to her, she owned him. Wholly. Utterly.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Holding Luella amid the storm in the darkness of the cabin, Az found himself humming softly under his breath, sweet lullabies that were a distant memory of the time of his youth in the Below, sung through cracked lips and scratchy throats.
He took the song and turned it sweet—for her, he changed it into something meaningful and worthy to hold onto.