18. Willow
“Do you even realize how fucking creepy that is?” I glare at the statue, that same dark energy I felt at first glance making me take a step back.
“Says the woman who dabbles in magic,” Azrael responds dryly.
“The magic we practice doesn’t hurt anyone,” I tell him. “Meanwhile, how many wars have been started over religion? How many people have died at the hands of someone swearing it was God’s will? I’ll tell you this… if there is a God or gods, they aren”t nearly as vengeful as their flock are. In fact, I’d imagine they’re quite sick of the evils performed in their name.”
Azrael’s eyes seem to almost glow in the sunlight as he gazes upon me, and for a moment, I find myself wondering if it could be true. If he could be descended from angels. After all, they said the devil was the most beautiful of his kind.
“And what about me, Willow?” His fingers brush over my cheek, sending a cascade of sparks through my nerve endings. “Am I a vengeful disciple?”
At that word, a visible shudder moves over me, and his eyes narrow in question as his thumb comes to rest on my chin, tipping it up.
“Well?” he demands.
“I suppose you’ll reveal the answer to me in due time.” I swallow, recalling Salomé’s words, which had felt like a threat. “Will you pave your own way or follow the path that’s been dictated for you?”
His eyes flash, and I barely have time to react before he kisses me roughly, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth and smearing my lipstick. I imagine he’s been thinking about doing this all day, judging by the ferocity of it. Just as I’m relaxing into him, parting my lips and offering myself for devourment, he stops cold.
“I’ll tell you what.” His fingers move to the knot of my cloak, untying it and slipping it from my shoulders, the red material pooling on the ground behind me. “I’ll be a good sport. We can roll the dice. I’m always up for a challenge.”
I don’t know what he means, but the rough edge in his voice makes my thighs clench together in anticipation.
“And the best part is you get to decide.” He dips his head, the warmth of his breath fluttering over my ear.
“How?” I croak.
“I’ll give you a head start. If I capture you, then you get to worship me like a god. If I don’t, then I’ll be the monster forever chasing after you.”
My chest heaves, my pulse skyrocketing as he grabs a fistful of hair and wrenches my head back, his lips brushing against my ear.
“Run, Little Witch, while you still can.”
His words may have well been the sound of a starting pistol because that was what they sounded like in my head. The moment he frees me from his grasp, instinct takes over, and I dart toward the woods.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I weave my way through the trees, taking myself off the beaten path. Branches and leaves crunch beneath my boots so loudly that they sound like echoes all around me. I know without a doubt he will catch me, and part of me anticipates it. But the other part of me, the Wildblood in my DNA, anticipates an escape from my shackles just as much.
The two halves of me are at war as my blood thrums inside my veins, my skin flushes, and the wind bites against my face. Though the trees are vast, I suspect Azrael has tracking capabilities that far exceed my hiding skills. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It isn’t a question of my inevitable capture.
It’s the thrill of the chase for him.
I run until my lungs burn and my legs feel like they will give out beneath me, and when I stop to catch my breath, I listen. I don’t hear him. I don’t hear a sound around me except for those of the forest: the birds, the breeze, and the quiet stillness that exists here.
My eyes dart around, seeking shelter, when I spot the perimeter fence in the distance. It’s a stone wall, and though it will be a challenge to climb, a thrill courses through me at the idea of crossing that barrier.
I head in that direction, pausing occasionally to hide behind a tree and listen for my hunter. And after a while, I begin to wonder if he’s even giving chase. It’s too peaceful. Too quiet. I don’t trust the silence, but it doesn’t alter my course.
When I finally reach the twelve-foot stone wall, I swallow at the enormity of it. Either I’m going to break something, or I’m going to pull off a miracle. Never one to let fear stop me, I decide to go for it. The first stone I set my foot upon feels sturdy enough, and it gives me the confidence to keep going. I don’t look down, and I settle into a rhythm of finding solid ledges to balance on my ascent.
The breeze caresses my skin as I work my way up, followed by an unexpected chill. It’s a warm afternoon, so I know it can only mean one thing.
There’s a predator in my midst.
Before I even have time to glance back, I feel his fingers wrapping around my ankle, tugging.
I fall back into his arms with a shriek, my heart slamming against my chest as I meet his hungry gaze.
“Caught you.” He says the words so smugly it makes me want to scream. Because I wanted to win. At least… for a little while.
“I suppose that makes me your God.” He sets me upon my feet, his heated gaze carving a path of fire along my skin. “And you, my little sinner, need a lesson in worship.”
My breath catches in my lungs as he forces me to my knees, his fingers reaching for his belt. I watch as he unbuckles it, revealing the length of his throbbing erection beneath his briefs.
“You did this.” His words are gruff and accusatory. “And now you’re going to repent for it.”
My nipples tighten as he grabs a fistful of my hair and rubs my face against the bulge in his briefs. I know what he wants, and any bitterness I held at being captured flees as I kiss him there.
He groans, fist tightening, voice gravelly as he issues his command. “Again.”
I kiss him again, working my way along the material until I reach the band. When my tongue darts out, licking along that seam to taste his skin, I feel a tremor in his arm.
He may have won the game, but the god is only as powerful as the woman on her knees before him, making him shudder.
It gives me courage, and I move of my own accord, tugging down his briefs to unleash his cock. It bobs in front of my face, angry and so hard it looks painful.
I want to ease that ache for him. It’s an unsettling thought, just how badly I want that.
Azrael sees the hunger in my eyes, and it pleases him very much. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking my hair as I lick the entire length of his shaft. “Show me again.”
I lick him again, this time all the way down to his balls, and he releases another groan of satisfaction. It makes my insides clench, and heat blazes deep in my core, stoking a fire of need in me.
I continue to taste him, throwing myself into the act and savoring every lash of my tongue. Every sigh. Every clench of his fist in my hair.
“Enough,” he growls. “Open your mouth for me.”
I hesitate, blinking up at him, unable to hide my nerves. “It’s not going to fit.”
Dark amusement flickers in his gaze. “It will fit. Now open.”
A battle of wills takes place in my mind, instinct telling me he’ll choke me to death with that monster and the more deranged part of me insisting maybe it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
In the end, I do as he bids, trusting him for some reason I can’t identify.
“Such an obedient little wife.” His fingers wrap around my throat as he pushes his cock between my lips. “I’m going to own every part of you.”
The velvet of his skin brushes over my tongue until my jaw is stretched as wide as it will go, and he can’t fit anymore. I don’t know that I even have half of him in my mouth, but it makes no difference to him.
His fingers tighten as he closes his eyes and pulls back, only to rock forward again, fucking my mouth just like he’d promised. “Christ,” he rumbles as I wrap my lips around him and relax into it. “Do you know how much I wanted to do this to you today in that church?”
Goosebumps break out along my skin at his confession, and I look up at him in silent acknowledgment, but he doesn’t see it. His eyes are still closed. The pressure from his fingers on my throat tightens as he starts to fuck my mouth for real.
“All I could think about was that goddamned lipstick,” Azrael grits out. “How tempting you were to every pair of male eyes in those pews. And here I am, the only one who will ever touch you. The only one who will ever own you this way.”
His other hand cups the back of my head, fingers raking over my skull as he thrusts deeper, making me gag. Tears leak from my eyes, and my hands come up to his thighs, gripping him there as his cock slides in and out of my mouth.
Tension cords the muscles in his arms, holding me like a vise as he uses me for his pleasure. I should be offended, I think, but all I feel is enraptured by the sight of him getting off on me. When he opens his eyes again to meet mine, electricity sparks between us.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful like this,” he chokes out.
I whimper, the sound vibrating against him, and it sends him over the edge. His entire body goes rigid as his cock spasms in my mouth, his come spilling over my tongue and leaking down my throat. I swallow instinctively, and he makes a feral sound of approval as he watches like the dark God he’s playing at.
It’s insanely hot, if I’m being honest. I don’t want to admit it, but he is. He’s fucking beautiful.
A beautiful terror.
“Good girl,” he praises me again, slowly withdrawing his cock from between my lips. As he does, some of his come leaks down my chin, and he catches it with his fingers before bringing them back to my lips.
“All of it,” he commands, our gazes locked on each other.
My lips part, and he pushes his fingers inside my mouth.
His eyes flare when I suck them clean. “Tell me, Little Witch,” he murmurs. “Are you aching for it?”
I nod, no shame to be found as I watch him, silently begging for a release. He offers me a lazy, hungry stare as he pulls his wet fingers from my lips and captures my chin.
“How bad?”
I groan in frustration, not wanting to admit it. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything except watch me, and I know he’s going to make me beg.
“So bad,” I whisper.
His lips curve wider, tormenting me before he reaches down for my hand and pulls me to my feet, nodding at the perimeter wall.
I turn to face it wordlessly, my breath accelerating when he kicks my legs apart and presses my hands against the stone, arching my hips back. Cool air hits my skin when he tugs my dress up, his fingers sliding along the length of my thong until he feels the sticky arousal between my thighs.
“So wet for your monster?” he questions. “Or is it your God?”
That landmine feels like a trap, so I don’t answer, and he rewards me by slapping my ass. I squeak out a strangled noise, and he chuckles as he soothes the sting with his palm. I’m afraid he’s going to demand an answer, so I’m relieved when his fingers move to where I need them the most.
I’m in agony, and just the slightest brush of his thumb over my clit nearly makes my knees buckle. He hums his approval and grabs my hip to steady me as he slips two of his fingers inside of me. I gasp at the feeling, then bite back a moan as he retreats, only to thrust them back in.
At the same time, his body presses close to mine, the heat of his chest warming my back as his lips settle over the beating pulse in my throat. He kisses me gently and fucks me roughly with his fingers, the contrast mixing me up and sending me into a tailspin.
“God or monster?” he asks again.
The only sounds coming from my lips are garbled responses that increase with the intensity of his thrusts. I feel like I’m deliriously high, riding a tidal wave that’s about to crash, and I want it. I want it more than anything. So when he asks me again, just as I’m cresting the tipping point, I can’t be held responsible for the word that leaves my lips on a cry.
“God.”
Starbursts explode behind my eyes as the orgasm tears through my body with a violence that feels unnatural. It robs me of my faculties, and before I can stop it, I’m collapsing. Azrael catches me in his arms, dragging me back as the aftershocks continue to ravage my body, sparks slowly fizzing out as my senses come back to me.
I’m breathing hard, still half-drunk on him when his lips brush against my ear. “That’s what I thought.”
His victory annoys me, but I refuse to let it show. I can’t be held responsible for what I say in the throes of… whatever that just was.
My body slumps in exhaustion as he pulls my dress back down and zips up his trousers. We still have to get back to the house, and I genuinely don’t know if I can make the journey. Perhaps he’ll just leave me here to live amongst the trees like a nymph.
Azrael seems to sense what I’m thinking, and without another word, he picks me up like it’s nothing, wrapping my legs around his waist and securing my arms around his neck.
“Come on, Little Witch. Let’s get you back home.”
Home.
The word rattles around my brain like a record stuck on repeat the entire way back. Azrael smirks as his gaze flickers to mine occasionally throughout the walk, and I can just imagine what I must look like right now. I’m pretty sure my hair is wrecked again, and I can feel the lipstick smeared around my mouth, along with the dried mascara that bled down my face. He’s left his mark on me the way he likes to do.
It should come as no surprise when we finally reach the terrace that I’m subjected to another spectator for the occasion. Of course it has to be Salomé sitting there, her face twisted in disdain as she eyes me like I just emerged from a brothel. Other than the tension in Azrael’s back, he barely seems to acknowledge her as we move past.
But I can feel her eyes on us as we go, and before the door shuts behind us, I hear her muttered disapproval. “Wildblood whore.”