23. Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MORTE
A zazel perches at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping like a mountain crumbling under pressure, eyes sinking under the heft of a thousand burdens. The fire fights the encroaching cold and illuminates the taut lines of his face, though shadows still linger in its planes. A chill permeates the small bunker, gnawing at the edges of my bones.
"When do you think your dad will be back?"
He drops his eyes, a storm brewing beneath those dark blues, flashing with emotion I can’t untangle. "Who knows?" He clenches his jaw, each word carrying the bitterness of restraint. "That avalanche might have derailed some of his plans. Bought us time—but not enough."
My gaze drifts to the small fire on the other side of the room, flames licking the air like they’re reaching for freedom. Me, too, little flame. Me, too. The flickering light can’t quite thaw the chill that lingers here, or maybe it’s me. I’m used to my magic warming my bones, and without, I’m bereft of all the heat. I rub my hands together, trying to conjure warmth, to banish the icy grip that keeps my thoughts teetering on the edge. "And what are we going to do?" The question rings out brittle, fragile, breaking against the solid silence around us.
Az captures my hand in his, his grip warming mine. His thumb traces slow circles on my skin, a gesture so familiar it sends an ache through me. But the memory of betrayal still burns, and I pull away, wrapping my arms around myself.
A flash of hurt lingers in my mate’s eyes, but I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when he dropped a bomb in my lap, and the raw edges of pain still steals my breath.
I’m not used to being so out of control. Perhaps it’s the result of the rest of my mates being so far from me for so long. It has me on the brink, fraying the weak spots of my soul, unraveling every stitch of restraint I’ve ever sewn into myself. Their absence gnaws at me, a void that echoes in the hollow parts of my heart, leaving gaps where their presence should be my anchor.
Az releases a breath, his shoulders sinking with a tension he can never seem to shake. "My father needs you to come willingly for the spell to bind," he murmurs. "Once he’s mated with you, he’ll move to siphon everyone’s magic." His eyes darken as he studies the shadows. "Between your phoenix magic, Aggonid's power as a god, Caius as his enforcer, Emeric—who stands at the edge of the underworld and the living—and Wilder, with his command of the oceans ... It’ll leave him just beneath Chaos in power. He’s been building this plan for millennia."
My chest tightens, an uncomfortable laugh slipping past my lips, almost a bark. "I will never agree to mate with him."
He shakes his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips—a smile without joy. "That’s what he expects. He knows you would never willingly submit." Az raises his stare, the truth etched across every line of his face. "He’ll force you into submission, Firefly. He’ll use your mates, threaten them, torture them. And he’ll make you watch until you break." His voice drops to a near whisper, agony lacing his every word. "If that doesn’t work, he’ll kill them with moon fire, one by one, until you have no one left."
Sorrow wrenches the air from my lungs. Moon fire can kill gods, and it’s an agonizing death. Because my men are already dead—save Emeric and Wilder—they’ll die for good if they’re killed again. Born of the Underworld, Em has to die twice to be gone for good. The thought is both a cold comfort and a chilling reminder that even he isn’t invincible. But where are they now? Out there somewhere, facing threats I can’t see or stop, and I’m trapped here, helpless.
My head snaps up to meet Azazel’s eyes. "What are we going to do?" The question escapes on a trembling exhale, each word laden with the fear of what comes next. How do we stand against something that enormous, that cruel?
Az shifts closer, his hand brushing against mine, a touch that holds warmth even when nothing else in this place does. Despite what he’s done, I want to crawl into his lap and soak up his heat. “We find another way,” he says, forehead leaning down until it almost touches mine, his breath warming my lips, his scent washing over me—warm vanilla, earth, and something uniquely Azazel. “Because there’s no way I’m letting that monster take you.”
A monster that has already taken everyone from him. Grief reaches its cruel hands into my chest and squeezes. I cup his cheek, thumb brushing against his lip piercing.
Az's eyes flutter closed at my touch, leaning into my hand like a fae starved for affection. And that’s exactly who he is. A fae who has had everything ripped from him, and yet somehow still manages to give. To fight. To love. Scrounging for an ounce of affection. And I’m the only one in history who can give him this.
His pain wraps around us, raw and untamed, and my resolve wavers. Despite everything—his betrayal, his secrets, the horror he let me endure—I can’t ignore the deep well of agony within him. He’s suffered, too. Torn between the oaths forced upon him and the choices he couldn’t make. And here he is, begging for forgiveness, still standing by me, still protecting me even when his father would rather see us both destroyed in the end. Once he’s got what he came for.
His lashes part, his eyes meeting mine, and in that moment, all of his walls crack, the indifference stripped away, leaving nothing but the broken, desperate fae beneath. “I’ll do anything for you, Firefly,” he murmurs, voice broken. “You’re my everything. I swear on every realm, everything I am and ever will be, I’ll make it right. Just ... don’t give up on me. Please.”
Tears blur my vision, and I fight against the tidal pull of sorrow. “You should have told me.” Together, between the rest of my mates, we could’ve stopped all of this. But now we’re knee-deep in it, with no foreseeable way out.
His forehead presses against mine, harder now, his jaw clenching. “I know,” he breathes, his eyes searching mine for a forgiveness that I’m not sure I can give, but that I ache to. “I thought if I kept you in the dark, I could shield you. Keep you safe from him. I should’ve known better.”
For a beat, neither of us speak, and for now, that honesty, that vulnerability—it's enough to keep me from pushing him away. I’m still shattered. Still so very hurt. But we’re here, both alive-ish, and as long as we keep fighting for each other, maybe there’s hope for us.
I inch closer, letting my fingers trace his jaw, the stubborn set of his irritatingly perfect lips. “He can have my magic, but he’ll never take my mates from me.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that never happens?—”
“He won’t hurt you anymore, Az.” A stunned expression flashes across his face. “Not Roth. Not your father.”
Azazel's eyes widen as I pull him down next to me on the narrow bed. His body radiates warmth, chasing away some of the chill that's seeped into my bones.
His arms encircle me, pulling me close against him. His heartbeat thrums steadily under my ear, a rhythm that once soothed me to sleep on countless nights.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, breath arm against my hair.
I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words stick in my throat. Because part of me, the wounded, betrayed part, agrees. Yet I can’t bring myself to let him go. Not now, not when we’re both so close to breaking.
“Maybe not,” I murmur against his skin. “But you have me, anyway. ”
His body shudders against mine, a soft, broken sound escaping his lips. I feel the warmth of tears slide against my hair, and my own eyes burn in response. We cling to each other, two broken pieces trying desperately to fit back together.
I trace idle patterns on his skin while his fingers knead along my muscles, working out the knots of tension. The familiar intimacy of it all threatens to undo me.
“I know I said it before, but I want to say it again.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “You didn’t deserve a single thing I put you through. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the tidal wave of emotions his words evoke. Part of me wants to push him away, to protect myself from the pain he's caused. But a larger part craves his touch, his warmth, the safety I've always felt in his arms. I open them, lifting my head, finding the twin streams pouring down his cheeks.
The raw vulnerability there makes my heart clench.
“I know,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. “I know you are.”
His eyes flutter closed as he leans into my touch, and he startles when I press my lips to his.
The kiss is gentle, tentative, a fragile thing that could shatter at any moment. Az's lips tremble against mine, and I taste the salt of his tears. Slowly, cautiously, he responds, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers carding through my hair.
As though magic sings in my veins, so, too, does the bond. It basks in his touch, purring like a contented cat, unfurling between us like a flower reaching for the sun. The familiar hum of it settles deep in my bones, a balm to the ache that’s been present for so long.
Home , it seems to whisper.
I deepen the kiss, pouring all my longing, my hurt, and my hope into it. Az responds in kind, his lips moving against mine with a reverence that makes my heart ache. His fingers tighten in my hair with a desperation that speaks volumes. The kiss becomes a conversation, an exchange of all the words we've left unsaid.
My hands roam across his broad shoulders, down the planes of his pierced and tattooed chest, relearning the contours of his body .
Az breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as we both catch our breath. His eyes, those mesmerizing pools of blue, search mine, a question lingering in their depths.
Tears track down my cheeks, and a thread of panic surges through our bond.
Az’s hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears with an urgency that borders on frantic. “Morte, if this is too much, if you’re not ready?—”
“No.” I grip his wrists, grounding myself in the feel of him. “That’s not it.” The words are sticky in my throat. “These aren’t tears of doubt. They’re relief. That you’re still here, that you still love me, that it wasn’t a lie.”
His expression softens, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhales slowly. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” I whisper. I am, too.
"Are you sure?" he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "After everything ..."
My fingers trace the line of his jaw, and I nod. "I'm sure," I breathe. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life." If this might be our last night together, I don’t want to have any regrets.
A shuddering breath of relief escapes him. He cups my face in his hands, his touch feather-light, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
“I didn’t get to love you like I wanted to in the camp,” he confesses. “But I will now.” His promise is a low, husky whisper as he flips me onto my back.
His eyes darken, and I shiver under his intense stare, feeling both exposed and cherished as he works at the buttons on my shirt.
My breath catches as Az's fingers brush against my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each touch is deliberate, reverent, as if he's mapping every inch of me, committing it to memory. As he parts the fabric, revealing my skin inch by inch, I marvel at the way his eyes drink me in, all awe and tenderness, as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
He leans down, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. They trace a path down my chest, each kiss a declaration imprinting on my skin.
I arch into his touch, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as he explores lower, his lips brushing across my ribs, my stomach, the jut of my hipbones.
Az pauses, glancing up at me through his lashes, waiting for my go-ahead. I lift my hips in invitation, and he takes it for what it is as he works my sweatpants off me. The drawers held no underwear for women, so I’m naked underneath.
His breath hitches, eyes roaming over my body. “No matter how many times I see you bare before me, I’ll never tire of the sight,” he murmurs, wonder in his voice.
My cheeks heat at his words, but I don’t look away. I want to see every spark of desire, every ounce of love in his eyes as he takes me in.
His hands glide up my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shiver, not from cold but from the intensity of his touch.
He parts my thighs, spreading them wide as he wedges his shoulders between them. Warm breath fans over me, his eyes finding mine as he lowers his head.
My heart races as Az's lips brush against my inner thigh, feather-light kisses trailing higher. I grip the sheets, anticipation coiling tight within me. His tongue darts out, teasing along sensitive flesh, and I gasp at the sensation.
He grins up at me, taking his time, alternating between light licks and open-mouthed kisses that have me squirming beneath him. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he finally presses his tongue flat against my center and inhales me.
I cry out, back arching off the bed at the intense pleasure. Az hums in approval, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. His pierced tongue moves in slow, torturous circles, building the tension exquisitely. I can't help the breathy moans that escape my lips with each skillful stroke.
My fingers tighten in his hair, urging him closer. He complies, increasing the pressure and speed of his ministrations. The coil of pleasure winds tighter and tighter within me as he works me towards the edge.
"Az," I gasp, my hips rocking against his mouth of their own accord.
He slips a finger inside me, curling it in perfect rhythm with the movements of his tongue. The dual sensations send sparks of ecstasy shooting through my body. I'm trembling now, teetering on the precipice of release.
My mate looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire. Without breaking contact, he sucks gently on my most sensitive spot while pressing a second finger inside. The added stimulation is my undoing.
I cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. My back arches, thighs clamping around his head as I ride out the intense climax.
Az doesn't let up, drawing out my pleasure with gentle licks and strokes until I'm quivering from overstimulation. Only then does he slowly kiss his way back up my body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.
When he reaches my lips, I taste myself on his tongue as he kisses me deeply. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, savoring the weight of his body against mine. His hardness presses insistently against my thigh, and I roll my hips, eager for more. He has far too many clothes on.
"Greedy little thing, aren’t you?" Az chuckles against my neck.
I nod eagerly, my hands already working to unbutton his shirt. "Please. I need you."
He captures my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head. "I’m not done worshipping you," he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. "We have all night."
Az takes his time, slowly divesting himself of his remaining clothes while I watch with hungry eyes. When he's finally, gloriously naked, every tattooed inch of him, he settles between my thighs once more. The feeling of skin on skin is electrifying.
He kisses me deeply as he positions himself at my entrance. He teases me mercilessly, sliding his length along my slick folds but not entering. I whimper, arching my hips, seeking more contact. Az's eyes glitter with amusement and desire.
"Tell me what you want," he commands softly.
"You," I breathe. "All of you. Please, Az."
With agonizing slowness, he begins to push inside. I gasp at the delicious stretch, my body not as easily accommodating his size without my magic, and he groans, “Fuck, I missed this.” When he's fully seated, we both pause, savoring the moment of connection and waiting for my body to get used to him.
Az starts to move, setting a languid pace that has me writhing beneath him. Each slow, deep thrust sends sparks of pleasure coursing through my body. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper.
"Fuck what the fates say," he murmurs against my skin, peppering kisses along my neck and collarbone. "So perfect. You were made just for me."
I can only moan in response, lost in the sensations he's creating. Az gradually increases his tempo, driving into me with more force. The bunker fills with the sounds of our passion—skin on skin, breathless gasps, and muffled moans. His lips find mine again, swallowing my cries as he hits that perfect spot inside me over and over.
Azazel tugs at my arm, urging me to sit on his lap. I feel myself being lifted onto him as he sits up, our bodies now intertwined in a more intimate position.
The pressure builds, a coiling tension low in my belly. Az seems to sense how close I am. He slides a hand between our bodies, his clever fingers finding my sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Let go for me, love," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come undone."
His words, combined with the dual sensations of his thrusts and his fingers, are too much. With a keening cry, I shatter, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. My inner walls clench around Az, pulling him deeper. He groans, his rhythm faltering as he chases his own release. With a few more powerful thrusts, he stiffens above me, burying himself to the hilt as he finds his climax.
We cling to each other, trembling in the aftermath. He peppers soft kisses along my jaw and cheek as we both struggle to catch our breath, still seated to the hilt.
My body is languid, tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure when Az’s fangs nudge at the skin of my neck. I tilt my head, offering myself to him without hesitation. His sharp canines pierce my flesh, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through me. I gasp, clinging to him tighter as he drinks deeply.
The bond between us pulses with shared ecstasy as I rock against him. I can feel his satisfaction, his possessiveness, his overwhelming love. It mingles with my own emotions until I can barely tell where I end, and he begins.
An orgasm barrels through me, unexpected and intense. I cry out, clinging to Az as my body shudders with renewed pleasure. He groans against my neck, his hips jerking involuntarily as he's pulled into a second climax along with me, his arms tightening around me.
When he finally withdraws his fangs, Az licks the puncture wounds closed, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin. I'm boneless in his arms, utterly spent and satisfied. He shifts us carefully, laying me back on the bed and curling protectively around me.
We’re both panting, our bodies slick with sweat. “Firefly,” he murmurs, nuzzling my hair. “You are everything to me.”
His arms tighten around me, one hand tracing lazy patterns on my bare skin. The bond between us hums with contentment, a warm glow that suffuses every part of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so complete, so utterly cherished.
His hand slows, the circles becoming less about comfort and more absentminded, like his thoughts are spinning somewhere darker. His breath tickles the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “We’ll have to act tomorrow.”
The words drag me back to reality, piercing through the haze of warmth that’s cocooned us. “Act how?”
Az shifts, propping himself on one elbow, his eyes searching mine. Even in the firelight, they hold a fierce conviction. “Roth,” he spits the name. “He’s the key to all of it. If we take him out, my father’s entire plan collapses. No one else knows the specifics of the ritual—not to the degree Roth does. Without him, the king won’t be able to siphon from you or the others.”
I sit up fully, tugging the blanket around me as I process his words. “Then I’ll handle it.”
Az blinks, his lips parting slightly, and I catch the hesitation in his expression. “Firefly?—”
“Az,” I interrupt. “I’ve led a legion into battles no one else would touch for two centuries. I don’t need to be coddled, and I sure as hell don’t need permission to deal with a piece of shit like Roth. In fact, it’ll be my pleasure.” My fingers curl against my knees as I lean closer to him. “What I do need are the details. His routines. His weaknesses. How to approach without getting caught. That’s all.”
His hesitation fades, replaced by a grim unease as his fingers run across the piercing in his brow. “He spends every morning in the physician’s quarters,” he begins, shifting to sit up beside me. “He’s alone there, no guards—he doesn’t think he needs them. The entrance at the back of the tent is hidden, but I’ll get you there by leaving a small pile of rocks in front of it. You’ll have one shot before he realizes what’s happening.”
My mind already turns over the plan, fitting the pieces together. “Does he have any protections I need to worry about? Charms? Defensive magic?”
“None that I’ve seen.” Az runs a hand through his hair. “He relies on his own power and the belief that no one would dare touch him while he’s under my father’s favor. Arrogance is his greatest weakness.”
A slow smile curls my lips. “Good. That makes him predictable.”
Az studies me for a moment, and I see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, though his hands still show a hint of his nerves in the way they’re constantly on the move across my skin, absentmindedly kneading me. “If anyone can do this, it’s you,” he says quietly, a hint of admiration breaking through the fatigue in his expression.
He leans over, opening the nightstand drawer before sitting back up.
I take the dagger from his outstretched hand, testing its weight in my palm before slipping it beneath my pillow for now. “I’ve got this.” I shift on the bed. “I’ll handle Roth. And then we’ll finish the rest of this.”
Az’s hand brushes against mine briefly before he settles back against the bed. “Tomorrow,” he murmurs, pulling my leg over his and settling an arm around my back. “We end his reign tomorrow.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
He lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh. “I love you, too.”
Sleep ushers us into its embrace, our bodies entwined and hearts beating as one.