Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Azrael
I slip into her room again, the incessant craving to scratch the growing itch beneath my skin. She’s like my drug, and the next hit is basically to see her and bask in her presence, and knowing pretty soon my plan will slip into place makes it all the more critical.
All hell has broken loose lately, thanks to Stone, and the unraveling of his true identity and the fact Vector saw a bitter end to his sick life has given me further insight into our father’s lack of emotions. The man is a psychopath. There’s nothing more to it.
Vector may have been a bastard son, but he was a firm favorite.
Sometimes, Czar and I wondered if our father actually preferred him and if he was going to screw his legitimate sons over in preference of Vector.
When we broke the news of his demise, he called him a useless sack of shit and went about his day as if nothing had happened.
He didn’t even shed a tear for the story we gave of how our sister was killed too.
The man has lost three vital members of his family, and he’s already planning another auction.
It’s almost as if he’s celebrating their life while making others miserable in the process.
My mind wanders back a few days ago as we watched our sister and Stone from out of sight. They’re meeting his blood family for the first time, and the prospect of her having freedom became sobering …
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I stand on the top of the hill and watch my brother Stone welcome his blood family into his home.
It’s a small coastal dwelling that doubles as a café for locals, and an unfamiliar warmth spreads through me as I imagine Sienna offering her recipes as meals to her customers.
She beams toward her husband, and a lump forms in my throat when I see the large bump that reveals her with child.
They’re safe. They’re together, and they’re building a life they previously only dreamed of. I’m proud of them. Both of them.
“You look like you’re going to smile,” Czar teases, and I throw him a glare, making him throw his head back on a dark chuckle that even I can admit sounds sadistic as fuck.
Sienna takes Stone by the hand and leads him inside, and the rest of his family follows suit.
“They look happy.” Czar motions toward them.
“They do,” I agree, but I can’t admit the way my heart hammers and jealousy floods my bloodstream and slithers through my darkened veins like a poison.
The thought of being free from the restraints of our father’s confines and La Familia has never looked so appealing, especially when I consider what I have waiting for me at home. What if I were free to do what I wanted too?
What if my slave were free?
Would she choose me?
“You look envious,” Czar asserts.
I turn my head over my shoulder to meet his eyes. “I am.”
His head rears back, and he gazes at me as if looking at me for the first time. His eyes fill with sympathy, then he licks his lips. “You can’t have it.” He’s referring to freedom, of course, and I nod, my heart beating faster than ever. I can’t have it.
“Neither can you,” I bite back in reference to his impending arranged marriage, and he grimaces.
“You’re the heir to the family, Azrael, and you’re literally named after the angel of death.” His feet shift from side to side, and he lowers his voice. “You’re born to be our leader when our father passes.”
“I’m aware.” I hold his stare, and something passes between us. A silent conversation that acknowledges my time is coming soon. Our father can’t live for much longer, not when he’s so out of control. Not with the O’Connells so hellbent on revenge too.
What he doesn’t realize is, I may be named after the angel of death, but his name means ruler, emperor of the kingdom.
Czar was born to be the leader; I was born to make him it.
“Azrael?” She shifts, whimpering in her sleep, and the dull ache in my chest deepens. I want to hold her; tell her everything is going to be okay.
Promise her a lifetime together.
Just how she planned.
But I can’t. I can’t give her what she wants, what she deserves. Right now, I can’t even offer her security.
“Azrael? Can you hold me?” she whispers in her sleep, and the pang in my chest burns, leaving a gaping hole I know I’ll be permanently left with. A scar on my most sacred organ that I’m hoping I can wear with pride.
Methodically, I undress. My gaze never wavers from her, and once I’m naked, I slip between the sheets, embracing her warmth as she does me.
“Azrael?” she murmurs, turning over to face me, and I take the opportunity to hold her chin between my fingers and draw her lips against mine in the most tender of kisses I wasn’t even aware of being capable of.
She freezes and pulls back, then her eyes flare open before she just as quickly relaxes. “You’re here.”
“I am.” My eyes bounce over her face, taking in each one of her attributes.
The cute furrow of her brow as she surveys me, the small scattering of freckles beneath her right eye that you can only see from up close, and the tiny dimple on her chin that’s only visible when she smiles.
I take them all in, committing them to memory.
“I missed you,” she admits, melting against my touch.
My thick hand roams up her thigh and over her hip before gliding back down again, caressing her smooth skin.
The lump in my throat makes it difficult to speak, but I swallow past it. “I thought you’d hate me for what I’ve done to you.”
“You didn’t do it.” She’s quick to point out, but I place my finger on her lips to stop her. I don’t need her words of reassurance, not tonight. I’ve already made peace with my plan, and I know as I tear out our hearts, the past no longer matters, only the future.
I’d like to mourn our loss and what’s going to come next, but there’s plenty of time in hell to wallow in self-pity.
Tonight, I want to experience her touch.
One last time.