5. Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
MORTE
M y emotions spiral out of control, dragging me from one thought to another. I want to drown in him, anything to soothe the soul-deep ache consuming me whole. Without my phoenix to help burn off the edges of this pain, it creeps like smoke, suffocating and ruthless.
The Azazel I knew—the one who laughed with me, who held me through nightmares, who whispered promises in the dark—feels so close, so achingly real. And I can’t reconcile him with the man who betrayed me. He’s still him, isn’t he? Still my Az, the one who made me believe I could be more than broken shards of the past.
His breath is warm against my face, though my back is chilled as the temperature in the tent plummets. Hot tears track down my cheeks, spilling onto the pillow beneath me, unbidden. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
Az pulls back and swipes them from under my eyes before bringing his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle, hesitant, as if he fears I might break—or perhaps that he might. When I don’t shove him away, it turns desperate, filled with longing and sorrow.
It’s clumsy, too urgent, as if he’s trying to seal over a wound with only his touch. And I’m weak. So fucking weak, because I know I should push him away. I should scorch the earth and our mating bond with it, but I can’t, because I need him. I need him like I need air, like the blood pumping through my veins. Like the magic that should burn within me.
I hate that I still want him, that my body craves the comfort of the one who shattered me. But maybe that’s the curse of choosing someone—not because they deserve it, but because they’ve become part of you, woven into your soul even when everything tells you to walk away.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to all of this. A part of me clings to the Azazel I know—the one who once held me in the depths of the underworld, whispering truths that scared him as much as they saved me. The one who laughed with me, kissed me like I was the only thing in his world. That Az is still here, buried under the lies, under his father’s games. He wouldn’t hurt me like this—not willingly. He couldn’t. Not the Az who loved me, who made me feel wanted when I never thought I could be.
The thought burns through me, silencing the screaming doubt in my mind. He’s still here, isn’t he? The man I fell in love with. The man who stitched me back together when the realms tried to tear me apart.
I let myself believe it, let myself drown in the hope that it’s him—my Az—kissing me now. Because if I don’t, the grief will swallow me whole. His mouth moves against mine, and as soon as I part them, his tongue breaches my lips.
I am lost and found all at once, held suspended on a knife’s edge as I tip over, giving in to him.
Grief eases in me as he rolls me under him. His weight pins me down as his fingers card through my hair before cupping my jaw, pulling back to look at me. Fractured moonlight filters through the small part in the canvas doorway, spilling onto my face as he takes me in.
I love you . I watch his lips form the words, though no sound escapes them.
More tears spill down my temples, damming upon meeting my hair, then soaking in as more follow suit. I don’t reply, not with words. The canyon between us is too deep, carved by betrayal and a haunting silence that speaks louder than any confession of love could. My stare clings to his, searching the depths for how someone can take what we have and obliterate it in the worst possible way.
Yet, as Azazel's eyes hold mine, something quiet tugs at the corners of my soul, a remnant of us that refuses to be snuffed out. The intensity of his stare implores me to understand, to see beyond the betrayal. This is a male broken apart—worse than the condition he was in during the wild hunt, where his body lay damaged and on the brink of the final death.
No, this is a man whose entire world seems fractured, the raw edges found in the way his fingers tremble against my skin, or the way his chest heaves as though he has so much to say but can’t utter a sound.
He lowers his forehead to mine, and his breath is a hot whisper against my lips.
My hands slip under the parted fabric of his button-up pajama shirt, pressing against the frantic racing of his heart. I lay still, every betrayal momentarily set aside as the drum meets my fingertips.
His eyes close, surrendering to this moment between breaths and beats, and again, his lips descend on mine.
I know I should push him away. There isn’t a charm or spell in all the realms that could keep me from parting my mouth and breathing him in. If scraps are all he can give me, then I will take them and weave them into something resembling the love we once shared, one fragile thread at a time.
His kiss deepens, desperation painting every touch, every sigh that escapes him. It turns frantic, his hands roaming with a ferocity that seeks forgiveness in every caress, for something solid in a world that has spiraled out of control.
I feel his touch as if it’s both a balm and a burn, healing yet reminding me of the abyss that yawns between us. Of a hole so deep, I could fill it with all the stars in every galaxy.
I want to erase it, to mend this rift between us. If not with words, with actions .
I swing my leg over his waist, straddling him as his hands instinctively grab my hips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that had been burning since the first time we met. Never extinguished despite the cavern between us now. It's at this moment that he freezes, his hands pausing mid-movement as they slip over my bare skin, realizing there is nothing beneath his shirt for me to hide behind. His gaze darkens with desire as I watch his throat bob in the nascent moonlight peeking through the gap at the entrance.
I glance across the tent, and find his father’s back to us, sawing snores escaping him. Sleet pelts the canvas, and my breath plumes between us as I swing my attention back to Az.
Sliding down his lap, I take his pajamas with me, and he lifts his hips to aid my movements. The fabric whispers to the floor, his bare skin against mine.
He sits up, resting his elbow against the ground as his hand traces a path down my stomach. His fingers trail lower, teasing along my inner thighs, his touch giving me goosebumps.
I bite my lip to stifle a moan as he finds his mark. His fingers dance across my sensitive flesh, circling and teasing as I arch my back, craving more.
I grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he stokes the flames of my desire. Pressing myself against his hand while he works his magic, his lips find my neck, fangs dragging against my pulse point as I open to him.
My fingers card through his hair, pressing his mouth to my neck, begging him to bite.
Az’s fangs pierce my skin, the thread between us pulling taut as pleasure curls inside me. I gasp, tightening my grip on him as he drinks deeply from me. As I rock against him, he brings me to the edge, my body trembling as I bury my face into his shoulder to muffle my cries as he tips me over.
He groans—as though content with bringing me to completion—before he pulls away and licks the wound closed.
His fingers leave me as he brings them to his mouth, sucking each digit clean, eyes never leaving mine. I lean in, capturing his lips and tasting the metallic tang of my own blood. My hands roam his abs, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath my fingertips.
Pulling back, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine as we pant softly.
I take his cock between my fingers and guide it into me, a perfect fit that feels like the healing of wounds long left open, two mates reconnecting in the most primal way. Our moans are muffled, borne of a sorrow and pleasure too intertwined to untangle.
Az’s fingers dig into my hips, urging me closer, deeper, as if he could meld us into one being again and erase all the betrayal with each thrust. There’s urgency to our movements, a desperate clawing back to a place we might never fully reclaim but cannot cease striving towards. His eyes, hooded and brooding, never leave mine as we fall into a rhythm as old as time.
He flips us, pinning me beneath him. The tent walls flap in the gusting sleet storm, all while his thrusts grow more persistent, as though he could fuck me into the ground, and I’d thank him for it.
With each thrust, I must bite back a moan desperate to escape me. Azazel's hands grasp my upper arms, leaving bruises behind with every passing moment.
He bites his lip, trying to contain his cries as pleasure overtakes him. Heat radiates from his body, warming the cold night air as sweat beads on our skin. His chest rises and falls with every breath, the smell of his arousal filling the small space between us.
My nails scrape down his back, and his kisses trail down my jawbone before moving to my neck, sucking my flesh into his mouth. His teeth graze my skin lightly, sending shivers down my spine as his breath fans my skin in hot and heavy gusts.
I arch my neck and grab the back of his head, urging him on.
His fangs pierce my skin, and it’s all too much, too fast—my orgasm barrels through me, unable to be contained as he chases his own release. Az pumps his hips against mine before his body goes rigid, spilling inside of me.
Out of breath, we both lie here, panting. He doesn’t slip out of me. Instead, the rest of the night, he stays inside me, going again every time he gets hard.
Hours pass, and Az lays beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his breathing deep and steady against my neck. His hold loosens as he shifts, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. The tenderness of the gesture lances through me, tearing at the fragile barrier I’ve constructed to hold my emotions in check.
"I’ll find a way out of this. Please don’t leave me," he murmurs, just loud enough to reach my ears. A plea rather than a command. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb grazing the corner of my mouth before he presses a lingering kiss to my temple. I don’t respond, can’t respond, because if I do, the dam will break completely, and I’ll lose myself in the hope that this Az is real, that this moment is real.
When his breathing finally evens out, for at least an hour, I lay in his arms, my tears flowing freely as they spill upon his skin. I have to trap my lips between my teeth to keep from sobbing and waking them both. Only then do I dare to move. My body aches as I roll away from him, careful not to disturb the cocoon of warmth between us. I swallow against the guilt threatening to choke me and feel around the floor, my fingers grazing fabric—his shirt. It’ll have to do. I tug it over my head, and the hem brushes my bare thighs as I slip from the bedroll as quietly as possible and shove my feet into boots.
The freezing air inside the tent feels stifling now, too thick, too heavy with everything that’s happened and everything I’ll have to do. My heart breaks as I approach the tent’s edge, my fingers brushing the fabric of the entrance. I glance back at him once, at the peaceful way he sleeps, his face unguarded, softer than I’ve ever seen it.
I remind myself of his betrayal, of the lies he’s spun, of what his father will do to me if I stay.
I lift the flap, stepping out into the frigid night. The silver trees stand silent sentinels around me, their bark shining under the moonlight. For a moment, the cold sharpens my senses, and freedom feels like it’s within reach.
But then I take another step, and it’s like slamming into an invisible wall. The force sends me sprawling backward, my head snapping against the ground. I stifle a cry, sucking in a sharp breath as stars burst behind my eyes. My palms press against the barrier, a static hum reverberating beneath my fingertips.
The ward is up. Slightly off-center, but it’s still up.
I rise to my knees, biting back frustrated tears as I test the edge of the barrier, feeling along its perimeter, desperate for a weakness. There’s nothing. No give. No escape.
My shoulders slump as I retreat to the tent, defeated. The flap rustles softly as I slip back inside and back to the bedroll. Az stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm instinctively reaching out for me. I let him pull me close, my body curling into his warmth despite the war raging in my mind.
The betrayal still burns, but so does the memory of his touch, his whispered plea. As my breathing steadies to match his, I vow to find another way.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again.