Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Jayla took a dangerous minute to simply savor the sight of Azrael frozen by her powers. Like an exquisite butterfly suspended in amber. The last time he’d been trapped, she’d stuck a dagger in his heart. Now, she allowed her gaze to trace the perfect lines of his face and the brilliant blue of his eyes.
This astonishing male had not only forgiven her for killing him, but he was convinced that she was his mate.
And she agreed.
Jayla had known he was special from the moment she’d caught his wild, fiercely male scent. It had settled deep in her heart, haunting her dreams for the past seven hundred years. A part of her had accepted that she’d destroyed her mate. And the fact that she was destined to be eternally alone.
It seemed a fitting punishment.
Now…
A perilous hope bloomed in the very center of her being. As Azrael had said, they didn’t have the most romantic beginning, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a romantic ending. Right?
But only if you retrieve the sword , a voice in the back of her mind urgently reminded her.
Spinning on her heel, Jayla dashed toward the nearby cave. The heat in the air remained, but it no longer pulsed with an unspoken threat. Snowflakes hovered in mid-air like miniature stars.
It’d been so long since she’d used her power, she had almost forgotten the sheer beauty of a world standing utterly still. Not that she would linger to appreciate the sight. Her power burned through her with alarming speed. It wouldn’t be long before it completely drained her.
Moving with blinding speed, Jayla entered the dragon’s den. She had a vague impression of a massive form curled at the very back of the cave, along with piles of bones from the animals—and a few demons—she’d been chomping on to ease her hunger. Closer to the front was a scattering of coins, jewels, and uncut gems. No doubt they were offerings from the locals.
Everyone knew the best way to appease a dragon was to add to their hoard.
Among the treasures, Jayla spotted a dozen weapons. Only one, however, wasn’t encrusted with diamonds or rubies or emeralds.
It was the sword she’d seen Azrael holding when they were in Moscow.
Darting forward, Jayla grabbed the weapon, never slowing as she dashed out of the cave and along the narrow ridge. She had only seconds before her power faded, and time started ticking again. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and the dragon before the lethal creature caught her scent.
She was a few feet away from Azrael when her power started to sputter. She could see her companion’s fingers begin to twitch, but before he opened his eyes, the scent of herbs swirled through the air.
Coming to a halt, Jayla glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. It wasn’t until a shadow passed over her head that she realized a creature had been perched on a jagged peak above the ridge.
She clutched the sword in her hand, barely possessing the strength to stand upright, let alone fight. And, worse, as time started flowing again, she felt an unpleasant sensation in the palm of her hand. As if the sword were waking up and trying to escape.
The creature landed lightly on the path, directly between her and Azrael.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his arrogant tones rasping against Jayla’s raw nerves.
She squared her shoulders, sweeping a disdainful gaze over the intruder. He was obviously fey with delicate features and a slender body covered by leather pants and a matching jacket. It wasn’t until she caught sight of his strangely metallic bronze eyes that matched his long hair that she realized he was one of the rare Sylvermyst.
An evil fey. And most certainly the male who had cursed Azrael. Why else would he be in this remote area? It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Jayla twirled the sword, pretending the leather hilt wasn’t sending jagged pain through the palm of her hand and up her arm. She would have only a couple of minutes before holding the weapon became unbearable.
“I’m Jayla.” Her tones were even more arrogant. “Who are you?”
He narrowed his odd eyes, keeping a wary distance between them as the frigid temperature dropped to sub-zero. He wasn’t stupid.
“I’m Silvanus. The owner of that sword you’re holding.”
Jayla had centuries of practice keeping her expression a polite mask as she sent a glance toward Azrael. Dealing with humans demanded the patience of a saint. Still, she struggled to hide her confusion as the male vampire stood frozen in place. Had he somehow been injured by her powers? Then Jayla watched as he slowly closed one eye. A wink. Ah. Belatedly, she realized that he was pretending to be immobile to fool the Sylvermyst.
Jayla returned her attention to Silvanus. “This sword?” she asked, giving it another twirl.
“That one. It belongs to me.”
“Strange,” she drawled. “The vampire standing behind you seems to think it belongs to him. He offered me a treasure chest filled with gems to retrieve it.”
Silvanus risked a glance over his shoulder to make sure Azrael wasn’t sneaking up on him. Once he was confident that the vampire didn’t pose a threat, he swiveled his head back to study Jayla with a tight smile.
“I’m curious. How did you manage to get it out of the cave?”
“I put the dragon to sleep,” she easily lied.
“How?”
She shrugged. “It’s my superpower.”
“Amazing.” There was genuine admiration in his tone. There should be. Only a shitload of power could actually put a dragon to sleep. “So, why is the vampire standing like a statue?”
“I used my power on him, as well.”
“Why?”
Jayla shrugged again. “When he approached me to retrieve the sword, he offered me a fortune before we ever started negotiations. It made me start to think that there must be something very special about the weapon. And if he would pay that much, there must be others out there who would pay even more.”
He blinked as if shocked by her explanation. “You double-crossed a fellow vampire?”
“Business is business.”
A slow, evil smile curved his lips. “I like your style.”
Jayla stepped toward him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to like it when I kick your ass over the side of this mountain.”
“No need for violence.”
“Then move out of my way.”
His smile faded, a hint of fear darkening his bronzed eyes. “Not until you give me the sword.”
She flashed her fully extended fangs, taking another step forward. “Never. Going. To. Happen.”
He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Wait.” He swallowed hard as if he had a lump in his throat. “It’s worthless,” he forced himself to admit at last.
“What?”
“The sword.” He nodded toward the weapon. “It has no monetary value.”
She hissed. “Do you think I’m stupid? The vampire wouldn’t have offered a treasure chest of gems if it was worthless.”
“He needs the sword because he’s cursed.”
She frowned in pretend confusion, waving the sword in a gesture that forced the fey to take a quick step backward. She wanted space in case the male decided to try and physically take the weapon from her.
“What’s a curse got to do with this?”
“His soul is bound to it.”
She held the sword in front of her face as if inspecting it for some sign of the soul. “You did that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The male’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to answer. Then again, he knew he couldn’t overpower her.
“When he was human, his Viking ship landed near my tribal land,” he muttered.
She clicked her tongue in impatience, hoping the Sylvermyst couldn’t detect the shudders of agony that had started to vibrate through her body. The sword was doing everything in its power to escape.
“And? A mortal couldn’t hurt a Sylvermyst. Even if he was a Viking.”
“No, but he could plunder and destroy the village of the local humans.”
“So?”
The snow was picking up, falling from the clouds in thick swirls of white. Within the blink of an eye, the path was covered in a frozen layer.
“Those humans were our slaves. Not to mention, they provided females for our harems,” Silvanus complained. “He had no right to destroy them.”
Jayla frowned, genuinely puzzled by the fey’s petulance. It wasn’t uncommon for demons to consider humans their personal servants or to choose them to warm their beds. But one human was as good as another. Why did he take these humans’ deaths so personally? And why Azrael.
“Surely, he didn’t do all the plundering,” she pointed out, keeping her tone casual. She didn’t want him to realize the importance of his answer. “Did you curse the others?”
“Azrael was the leader, and his reputation preceded him.” The male’s lips twisted. “The Angel of Death.”
“Angel of Death?” she repeated, recalling her first encounter with Azrael.
There’d been something…lethal about him. Even when he’d tried to avoid fighting her, she’d known that he could destroy her with terrifying ease. That’s why she’d used her power. But since he’d arrived in Hong Kong, there’d been something different about him.
Oh, he wasn’t harmless. Far from it. But he’d lost the brutal edge of a mercenary. Just as she’d lost an assassin’s ability to kill without mercy.
“That’s what people called him,” Silvanus said, his voice harsh with anger. “He even had wings tattooed on his back to help spread the rumors. He enjoyed the fear that rippled through the lands.”
Jayla abruptly realized why this male had cursed Azrael. It wasn’t about him pillaging the humans or destroying his harem.
Silvanus was jealous.
Azrael had obviously been a legend in his time. A fearsome warrior who’d spread terror throughout the lands. The Sylvermyst had been just another evil fey who would never have songs written about him or cause nightmares among the natives. He was a dull, petty creature.
It might have been funny if it hadn’t nearly caused Azrael’s tragic end.
“So, you decided to punish him?” she forced herself to ask, sending a glance toward Azrael.
They had the information on why he had been cursed. It was time to get rid of the disgusting creature.
Unaware of his impending death, Silvanus smirked at the memory of cursing his enemy.
“Yes. And it had to be a punishment that would last for an eternity.” The smirk faded as his eyes flashed with frustration. “I planned to use the sword to torment him, but before I could have my fun, I was forced to leave this world.”
“Now you’re back to take your revenge?”
“Exactly. I want to watch that bastard suffer. And I finally have my opportunity.” He held out his hand. “Give me the sword.”
Jayla settled her features into a bored expression as if she were over the desire to fight for the weapon. “You really want it?”
The fey stepped toward her, anticipation smoldering in his eyes. “Yes.”
“Very well.”
With a movement too fast to anticipate, Jayla lifted the sword and threw it end over end. At the same time, Azrael flowed forward, snatching the blade out of the air and swinging it in a wide arc. Silvanus turned, his hands desperately reaching out as if he could wrestle the weapon from Azrael’s hands.
In his panic, Silvanus didn’t even bother to duck as the blade swung toward him, slicing through his neck.
Grimacing, Jayla watched the male’s head fly off his body, bouncing down the side of the abyss. At the same time there was a loud popping sound as the curse was broken.
“Done,” Azrael said, tossing the sword over the edge of the cliff with a grim smile of satisfaction.
* * *
For Azrael, the journey back to the lodge at the base of the mountain was a blur of icy wind and blinding snow as they gingerly made their way down the treacherous path. He’d been struggling to accept that the curse was well and truly broken, not to mention the strange sensation of having his soul nestled back into the center of his being.
It was a lot to process.
Back in the village, however, his confrontation with Siros was vividly burned into his mind. The bauk demon had been dead set against letting them stay another day. Quite literally. Azrael had threatened to rip out his heart and feed it to the dragon with no luck. Jayla offering an exhausted smile and a soft plea for assistance had finally induced the male to begrudgingly lead them back to the room in the cellar.
At last alone, Azrael closed the door and leaned down to pull off his heavy, snow-coated boots. Next, he removed his thick sweater, now damp and clinging unpleasantly to his skin, before moving to help Jayla slip off her boots and heavy parka. At first, he’d assumed he was keeping busy to avoid thinking about Silvanus and the reason he’d been cursed. He wasn’t proud of the thought that he’d spent his human years slaughtering helpless villagers. But as he slowly straightened to gaze down at Jayla’s pale, perfect face, he knew that wasn’t the reason.
The Viking he’d been in the past had been destroyed when his sire turned him into a vampire. No. He was trying to keep himself from tossing Jayla onto the bed. It didn’t matter that she was weary from using her powers to retrieve his sword or probably frozen to the bone after their journey through the howling blizzard. His body, his heart and soul, ached to hold her in his arms.
Jayla tilted back her head to regard him with a small smile. “Siros is going to bar the doors the next time he sees us coming.”
“Doubtful,” he said dryly. “He’s enchanted by you. As am I.”
She blinked. “Enchanted?”
He nodded without hesitation. “Enchanted. Enthralled. Obsessed.”
Slowly, she lifted her hands to place them against his bare chest. “At least you’re no longer cursed.”
Wrapping his arms around her narrow waist, Azrael splayed his hands against her lower back.
“Thanks to you,” he murmured. “Not only did you retrieve my sword, but you also kept Silvanus distracted.”
“You were the one to strike the killing blow,” she reminded him, arching her body forward. “You freed yourself.”
Azrael released a low growl. Silvanus was dead, but the memory of what he’d done to him would never be forgotten.
“No doubt I deserved to be cursed,” he admitted. “But I’m glad it’s gone.”
“Even though you won’t be returning from the grave?” she teased.
His hands lowered to cup her ass, desperate to feel her pressed tight against his thickening cock.
“My reckless days as a mercenary are over. I intend to retire and live a very quiet, peaceful eternity with my exquisite mate.”
He braced himself for her to pull away. Or at least to deny that she was his mate. Instead, she smoothed her palms over his upper chest.
“I suppose I could use some muscle at Dreamscape,” she murmured.
Azrael shuddered. Her light touch set him on fire. As if they stood in the dragon’s den, not in the lodge’s icy cellar. A primitive hunger spread through him. It craved more than sex. Or blood. It wanted her heart and soul, for all eternity.
He slowly lowered his head. “I have muscles.”
“Do you?” she muttered, tilting back her head as he nibbled his way down her throat.
“Do you need proof?”
She chuckled softly. “I insist on inspecting the merchandise for myself.”
“Go for it,” he encouraged, ready and willing to be inspected—preferably with her tongue and fangs.
Her fingers continued exploring the ridges and planes of his chest when she suddenly stiffened.
“My pendant.”
Azrael lifted his head to discover her staring at the jade amulet tied around his throat. “Mine,” he corrected in firm tones. “You gave it to me.”
She traced the smooth jade, her expression one of remorse. “I regretted what I’d done the moment my dagger entered your heart.” Her fingers moved to touch the scar in the center of his chest. “If I could have taken it back, I would have. I left this necklace because it was a reminder to me that freedom has its own price.”
He bent his head to sweep his lips over her furrowed brow. “Fate occasionally has a wicked sense of humor. It brought us together as enemies?—”
“Never enemies,” she sharply interrupted.
His lips skimmed down her cheek to nuzzle at the corner of her lips. “What about your mate?”
He could feel her tension ease as she snuggled close. “There’s a possibility I could be convinced.”
Relief scorched through him, nearly sending him to his knees. Until that second, he’d been terrified to hope that she would agree to become his.
“A possibility?” He kept his tone light. He didn’t want to scare her away with the sheer force of his need.
“Mmm.” She scraped her nails down his chest hard enough to draw blood. Azrael trembled as the pleasurable jolts zigzagged through him. Sex was great. Sex with bites, scratches, and screams of bliss was paradise. “I’m a very demanding female. You can ask my employees at the resort.”
He slowly narrowed his gaze at her teasing words. It was a direct challenge. Hell, yeah. He was ready and willing to convince this female that he was the male she needed in her bed. The only male she needed.
Sliding his hands beneath her sweatshirt, he tugged it over her head and tossed it aside. The sight of her lacy bra with its ruby studded clip between her breasts wrenched a wicked chuckle from his throat. It was as delicate and sexy as she was.
“So how do you want to be convinced?” he murmured. He lowered his head to scrape the tip of his fang along the line of her collarbone.
She trembled, her hands sliding up his chest to grasp his shoulders. “That’s a start.”
“You are demanding,” he chided, carefully peeling off her bra before cupping her breasts in his palms.
The scent of lotus perfumed the air as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “And hungry.”
“For this?” He brushed his thumbs over her nipples.
Her eyes darkened with excitement. “Yes.”
“And this?” His head lowered, his lips closing over the tip of her breast.
She hissed, her body arching in pleasure. “Yes.”
“There’s more.”
Using the tip of his tongue to tease her nipple to a hard peak, Azrael expertly attacked the fastening to her jeans. He swiftly had them wiggled down her legs, along with her frilly undies.
Once she was naked, he scooped her off her feet and headed to the bed. Laying her on the narrow mattress, he peeled off his slacks and joined her. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her with a desperate hunger.
“More, more, more,” she murmured when he finally allowed her to speak.
“I’ve spent seven hundred years fantasizing about touching you.” His hands skimmed the curves of her back, savored the softness of her skin.
“I’m no fantasy,” she assured him.
“Thank the goddess,” he rasped, cupping her ass.
“Azrael,” she whispered.
“You’re as soft as silk.”
She pressed against him, her lips skimming down the length of his jaw. “You’re hard as steel.”
“And getting harder by the second,” he assured her.
With a low chuckle, she reached down to wrap her fingers around his full arousal. “So I noticed.”
Desire clawed deep inside him. He wanted this female. He wanted to take her fast and furiously, with his fangs buried deep in her throat. Pagan passion at its best. Then he wanted a slow, delicious seduction that would last hours. Perhaps days. When he was done, he wanted to start all over again.
First, however, he wanted to know that their futures were bound together. “Are you prepared to complete the mating?”
She held his gaze, her expression calm. “It’s the one thing I’m sure of,” she assured him. “You belong to me.”
Azrael moved to frame her face in his hands. “For all eternity.” Leaning forward, he kissed her with an aching need.
Jayla melted toward him. “For eternity.”
Unable to wait another moment, Azrael cupped the back of her head and tilted it to the side. Hunger slammed through him at the exposed length of her slender neck, a feast for his senses.
His fangs lengthened, his cock twitching in anticipation.
“My beautiful assassin,” he whispered before striking with blurring speed. Jayla jerked as his fangs sank deep into her silken flesh. But not in pain. The intoxicating scent of lotus drenched the air and hit his tongue as he drank deeply of her blood. “Mine,” he rasped, feeling the shocking power of the mating bond explode through him.
Removing his fangs, he tenderly licked the tiny puncture wounds, a searing heat crawling beneath the skin of his forearm as the mating mark slowly appeared. The elaborate crimson tattoo would be a visible statement that he was well and truly mated.
To the most exquisite female in the world.
* * *
Jayla’s body trembled as a raw, primitive need tore through her. She’d felt desire and hunger, but nothing like this. It was savage. As if she’d be ripped apart if she didn’t sate the demands of her body.
Immediately.
With a low growl, Jayla pressed her hands against Azrael’s shoulders, and with one fierce push, had Azrael flipped onto his back. Not giving him time to react, she rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and gazing down at him with smug satisfaction.
Not that he appeared to mind their new positions. In fact, Azrael’s eyes smoldered with anticipation as he reached up to span her waist with his hands.
“I should have known you would want to be on top,” he murmured in a husky voice.
She lowered her head to trail her lips over his shoulders, relishing the sense of empowerment that flowed through her blood. Azrael was a formidable warrior who had no need to constantly puff up his ego. He knew he could destroy anything in his path, so it didn’t bother him to surrender control.
“Are you saying I’m bossy?” she teased, using the tip of her tongue to circle his flat nipple.
He muttered his pleasure in a low growl, his fingers digging into her flesh. “On occasion.”
“Is that a problem?” she whispered, moving steadily lower.
“We can take turns,” he rasped.
“Deal.” She nibbled a slow path of kisses down his torso.
“Jayla,” he choked as she reached the rigid muscles of his lower stomach.
“Hmm?”
“Even vampires have limits,” he ground out.
She gave a throaty chuckle as she deliberately rubbed back up the length of his body. Her nerves sizzled with awareness, sensitized to the point of near pain.
“Limits are meant to be tested.”
“Consider me tested.” Without warning, he slid his hands down to grasp her hips, arching off the mattress to press the fierce jut of his erection against her. Jayla moaned, the aching desire becoming a sharp, ruthless need as the tip of him slipped just inside. “Make me yours, kiska .”
“Yes.”
She pulled back her lips, revealing her razor-sharp fangs, then used one tip to score a deep furrow next to the scar her dagger had left. Holding his smoldering gaze, she lapped the rich blood that filled the wound.
An unexpected concussion of electricity rippled through Jayla. As if she’d just been struck by lightning. Fate was clearly a badass female who didn’t want a silly vampire to miss the fact that she’d just been eternally mated. And Jayla was totally fine with that.
“Mine,” she whispered, feeling the mating mark sizzle beneath the skin of her forearm.
“Yours.”
Azrael lifted his head off the mattress, claiming her lips with a searing act of possession. Then, spreading kisses over her face, he stroked his lips down the length of her neck. Jayla dug her fingers into his shoulders as he relentlessly tugged her upward.
“Azrael…” Her words faltered as he caught the hardened tip of her breast between his teeth. Her head fell back as he tugged and suckled her, the insistent pleasure crashing through her. He moved to the other breast, ruthlessly driving her passions to the point of no return.
She wanted him inside her. She wanted his erection driving so deep that neither would know where one started and the other ended. But even as she widened her legs to allow his cock inside her, he pulled her up his body.
She moaned as his mouth teased a path down her stomach, occasionally scraping a fang against her shivering flesh. Then, gripping her hips tightly in his hands, he positioned her directly over his head. Jayla planted her hands flat against the cold wall as his mouth found her moist cleft.
She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling not to melt into a puddle of pure bliss as his tongue reached out to stroke the highly sensitive flesh. It was deliciously decadent to be poised above him as he expertly urged her toward the looming climax.
Wallowing in erotic sensations, she allowed him to pleasure her. He located the pinpoint center of her pleasure with torturous care, keeping her steady with a steely grip.
Jayla clenched her fangs as he gently stoked the building fire inside her, completely lost in the blazing delight. It was nearly too late when she abruptly pulled away from his magical touch.
“Wait, Azrael…” she gasped.
Easily sensing she wanted him deep inside her when she came, Azrael guided her back down his body, positioning her so that he could slowly penetrate her softness. Jayla released a harsh sigh of relief as she pushed herself against his hard cock. Nothing had ever felt so right.
Taking a moment to savor the sense of utter completion, she finally opened her eyes when Azrael lay unmoving beneath her. Her lethal Siberian tiger crouched and ready to pounce.
“Azrael?” she asked in puzzlement.
“Your turn to be the boss, Jayla,” he rasped.
A slow smile of delight curved her lips as she placed her hands flat on his chest and lifted her hips before sliding back down with enough force to make him grunt in mindless bliss.
Azrael growled, his eyes shimmering with an ancient contentment. “Maybe I should worry that I can’t come back from the grave,” he teased. “I’m fairly certain you’re going to kill me. Again.”
In answer, Jayla pulled up and slammed down. Then she lifted herself higher before plunging downward again. His hips arched off the mattress, his lips pulled back to reveal fully extended fangs. Jayla moaned with heady satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying having this male at her mercy.
He belonged to her. For all eternity.
Their souls were bound together. Their unbeating hearts entangled to the point where his every emotion was nestled deep inside her. As if they truly were one.
Slowly, deliberately, she drove them both to the edge of frenzy, waiting until he pleaded for mercy before pumping against him with blinding speed.
Azrael shouted her name at the same moment she violently convulsed around him, his body trembling beneath her. Holding herself still, Jayla savored the sensations pulsing through her. The feel of Azrael lying beneath her, the delicious throbbing of her orgasm, the tingle of her brand-new mating mark. If she could use her power to capture this perfect moment in time, she would.
Instead, she collapsed against him in utter exhaustion.