Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Azrael dipped down, kissing her roughly, claiming her lips before swiftly untying her robe.
He pulled it open, holding her still as he bared her to the dark room.
He groaned at the sight, the soft perfection of her skin, the flush of arousal coloring her chest, and the untamed power radiating from her very core.
He leaned down, catching the peak of her breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue over her skin and relishing the way she trembled underneath him.
He sucked on her skin, marking her as his, before moving to the other breast and kissing his way down her soft stomach to her thighs.
He nipped at the tender skin of her inner thigh, gentle but ravenous, tasting the sweet slickness of her anticipation.
Lapping it up, his tongue swirled around her sensitive core, desperate to devour as much of her magic as he could.
His pulse hummed, his own heavy length throbbing painfully against his trousers, his ancient heart pounding with a rhythm it hadn't known in millennia.
He moved lower, his tongue pushing against her entrance, tasting her fully as he sucked gently.
Clara’s hands tangled in the sheets, her body squirming beneath his touch, her hips lifting instinctively to grind against his face. Good little doe, he thought.
She whimpered helplessly.
"Azrael," she purred, her hips meeting his tongue with every flick.
He drank his fill, the pleasure threatening to break his control.
It had been centuries since he had given into his urges, never having found a partner quite as intoxicatingly worthy as her.
Her magic thrummed through the room, the overhead lights flickering wildly.
Wanting to see her completely, Azrael pulled away.
He forced a pulse of his own dark magic into the bedframe.
Thick, shadow-woven black thorns snaked their way around her wrists, taking the place of his hands and securing her to the headboard.
He stepped back, his chest heaving as he admired his prize.
Clara pulled against the constraints, the slight sting of the magic making her breath hitch. She let out a soft, breathless moan, her head rolling back against the pillows. A worthy partner indeed.
"My little doe likes a little pain," Azrael rasped, his voice rough with hunger as he quickly stripped out of his clothes. His pale, muscular form was lined with ancient, glowing runes that flared to life in the dark.
She whimpered in response, her gaze locked onto his striking form. “Come back,” she pleaded, her thighs parting further in silent invitation.
He smiled darkly. Sharing a bed with a reaper was an intoxicating poison, and she was already completely addicted.
Azrael climbed back over her, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress.
He guided his throbbing length to her entrance, pausing for just a fraction of a second to look into her blown-out, silver-flecked eyes.
"Remember your promise, Clara," he whispered against her lips. "And remember mine."
With a slow, deliberate push, he broke through her final barrier, claiming her purity and sinking completely inside her.
Clara gasped, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as a massive wave of golden and black magic exploded outward from their union, shattering the lightbulbs in the room and plunging them into a beautiful, absolute darkness.