Chapter 24
AZRAEL
She is still asleep when I open my eyes.
I hold my breath, afraid I will wake her up if I breathe too loudly. When that happens, she will realize she doesn’t actually want me and kick me out of her life, again, for good. So I just keep watching her as she sleeps, fixated on her trembling lashes, while her legs are still wrapped around me.
Last night was everything but a mistake—filthy, monstrous, perfect.
The kind of perfection only a deranged mind would recognize, the kind that stripped us both down to what we really are.
She didn’t ask for mercy when I pushed her too far, and I didn’t offer it.
I bled for her, and she screamed and shattered, all in my name.
I devoured every piece of her, as nothing had ever felt so undeniably, terrifyingly natural.
The past few months weren’t supposed to go like this. She was meant to be an experiment, something I could control. One reckless request, and I rewrote my entire reality around her.
I’ve never believed in love, never even tried to understand it.
It is just an emotion stupid people cling to when life gets shitty but they still want to believe in something.
But I know possession. I understand obsession.
And this girl? This feral, broken, too-bright girl with my blood under her nails and fire in her mouth?
Madness wrapped in a five-foot-three figure with the lightest shade of blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
I’m obsessed with her, and I’ve claimed her as mine in the most possessive ways imaginable.
I’d carve my name into her bones if that’s what would keep her here, just like she’d craved hers on my skin—a mark I will make sure will stay.
The room still smells like us. Her scent—lavender and bergamot—is soaked into the sheets that lie under us and into my skin where she had wrapped herself around me last night.
One of her toys is halfway under the bed, glinting in the early light. And she is still in the bed next to me. I could get used to this.
I can’t find it in me to move, watching her chest rise and fall, counting each breath like it might be the last one I get to see.
I did things last night—things that should’ve sent her running. But she didn’t. She stayed and gave herself to me like she didn’t care about the price of the sins we were committing.
And now? The thought of her running again feels like a punch straight to my gut.
All I can do is wait for the inevitable. I could wait ages if that’s what’s needed to keep her next to me. Her proximity has woken up some other parts of my body.
I shift under the covers, sliding down gently between her legs, trying not to wake her up. My hands part her thighs, hooking her knees over my shoulders, lifting her gently until I have her where I need her—where I will always need her.
Bringing my face closer to her pussy, I take a deep breath.
She smells delicious, fresh and warm. I idly move my fingers on her skin, making sure she gets the foreplay she needs to feel comfortable.
I kiss every inch of her thighs, taking my time before I finally allow myself to place a soft kiss on her clit.
A soft exhale from her makes me think I already woke her up, but that’s not the case.
I flatten my tongue against her, dragging it up and down, stopping the tip against the spot that makes her breath catch. She arches into me, thighs tensing against my shoulders, but I hold her steady.
I want to take my time if this will be the last time I get to have her. I lick her like a starving man, like I’ll never get another chance, and God knows, one way or another, our minutes are counted.
When I suck her clit, she moans my name, and I almost come just from that whisper. My cock is so rigid between me and the sheets to the point that it’s already painful, but what is a little bit of pain when my girl needs my full attention?
Slowly waking up, Victoria runs her fingers through my hair, pushing my face deeper into her. I obey, moving my tongue inside her and drawing circles on her clit with my thumb, while she starts riding me.
I let her use me, whatever part of me she needs: my tongue, my back where she digs her heels, my face that is now savoring her pussy. Her hips start to move frantically, and I can feel she is close. She tries to pull away, but she must be insane if she thinks I’d let her go.
“Let me enjoy my breakfast, little ember.”
Her thighs tremble, squeezing my face, but I don’t let go.
If this is how I die, asphyxiated by her thighs, I’ll die a happy man.
I shove my tongue back inside her pussy while she pushes into me, letting her lose herself in my mouth.
Her taste is now my new favorite addiction. Musky, feminine. Victoria.
With her taste on my lips, I kiss the inside of her thigh, moving higher up her abdomen, past her ribs, to her breast. When I reach them, I bite her hardened nipples softly, placing kisses on the bruised marks I’d left behind last night.
By the time my eyes meet hers, she is fully awake.
She blinks at me through messy strands of hair, her lips curving in a greedy smile.
“I already liked waking up on Thursdays,” she says sleepily. “But this may be my new favorite way.”
I brace myself on my elbows, not wanting to put my weight on her. She is so beautiful. How could I not see this before? Was I really that dumb, or had I been so focused on making her suffer I didn’t even allow myself to see how perfect she is for me?
Placing a kiss on her forehead, I lock my eyes on hers.
She’s waiting. Will I do it? Should I do it?
I’ve already tried to push her away. I’ve tried to pull myself away from this twisted relationship.
I don’t want to need her the way I do, but I do anyway.
Right now, barely awake and with her taste on my tongue, I can’t imagine a reality without her in it.
This insanely fucked-up woman who played with my nerves and my thoughts is mine. Mine.
There is not even a decision to make, I don’t have to choose between multiple options.
Victoria is the beginning and the end. So I kiss her, knowing damn well it marks the end of what I was before her.
There is no escape from where I am going, no way to undo it. There is only destruction—and devotion.
I press my lips to hers, doing what I should have done last night—no, weeks ago. Her lips are soft and welcoming, parting enough to let my tongue explore her. It starts slowly, almost romantic, but the insatiable need for my little ember takes over, and the kiss turns animalistic.
I pull back, whispering against her mouth. “Say it again, and you’ll not be able to walk straight today.”
A soft chuckle reverberates around the room, and God, her laughing must be my new favorite song.
Neither of us move for a long time, prolonging the kiss, making up for the time we’d wasted. When she finally pulls away, she says the most unhinged thing possible.
“Coffee?” she rasps.
I’m surprised. “Now?”
She can’t be serious. Can’t she feel how desperate my cock is to be inside her again? But she nods, stretching like a fucking cat. “You left me without energy so early in the morning. You owe me caffeine. And Cat needs to be fed.”
I laugh, an actual laugh, and it feels foreign in my mouth.
Only she could be so confident to turn down a man twice her size who’s lying naked on top of her.
She smiles like she’s just won something, tugging the sheet around her as she rolls out of bed, but before she exits the room, she goes straight to my pants, holding them to her chest.
“Is this your way of kicking me out?” I panic, my breath stopping. Does she really want me gone?
“No,” she answers, to my surprise. “This is my way of making sure you are not running away. You cannot leave without pants. Now come.”
My girl is a fucking lunatic, and she’s all mine.
The kitchen is still dark.
Cat is already perched on the counter with his tail twitching. The second Victoria walks in, the accusatory meowing starts.
She moves around barefoot, opening cabinets, ignoring me entirely—while I’m still reeling from the fact I willingly kissed someone for the first time in my life. I guess we’ll just drink coffee like any of this is normal.
Victoria glances over at me. “Guess Cat’s mad at me for not giving him any attention last night.”
I raise a brow, a playful smile on my lips. “You mean he didn’t appreciate the sounds of your spiritual awakening?”
She looks at me in mock surprise, but it lasts barely a second before her mask drops and she bursts into laughter.
“He’s just a spoiled brat,” she mutters, stepping around and scratching behind his ear with one hand while grabbing mugs with the other.
The coffee takes forever to brew with her machine—mental note: new coffee machine.
And a better bed frame. When it’s finally done, she offers me one of the mugs in silence, and I take a sip.
To be honest, I’m just delaying the conversation we both know needs to happen, but I know well enough that delaying it any further is a dumb decision.
“What now?” I ask, surprising myself with how even-toned my voice sounds, despite the fire burning in me.
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, her eyes lower to the mug, staring into it like it holds the correct answer.
A few minutes of silence pass, and thousands of different scenarios run through my mind in that time. She could say anything from ‘please stay with me forever’ to ‘you have ten seconds to run before I start shooting.’ But the fact that she gave me coffee must mean something. Right?
“You tell me. You’re the one who wanted the stupid rules.”
I mentally relax. So I have a chance, and that’s all I need with her.
I lean over the counter to get closer, my eyes never leaving hers. “Forget the fucking rules.”
She looks surprised, but smiles—mocking me, maybe, or just tired from everything that’s happened.
“That’s a reckless proposition, Professor.”
Mocking it is. That pulls a smile from me. God, I might have to tie my little ember to the bed and teach her how to behave.
“So we’re going to do…what? Start sharing our favorite colors?” she continues, daring me to step back on my word. If sarcasm is what makes her happy…
“You seemed quite fascinated by the color of my blood last night.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Takes a special kind of man to confuse violence with flirting.”
She’s usually so tense, like any moment someone could jump her from behind and she’d still be able to knock them down in under three seconds. But here, in her house, there’s a hint of something soft in her expression, something almost…familiar, and I can only hope that it’s because of me somehow.
“Victoria, we can do or be whatever you want,” I say, carefully choosing my words to describe exactly what I want her to understand. “You need time to adjust, and we have all the time in the world. As long as you understand, I am a patient person.”
“Understand what?”
“Who you belong to.”
This is just that simple. The only thing she needs to know from now on.
“There is one thing I’m curious about, though.” I continue. “You said I made you fuck up at your job.”
She blinks confused, clearly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn.
“What exactly do you do?”
She stares at me for a second too long, like she’s trying to decide how much to tell me. Why am I even asking this? It’s not like—.
“I kill people.” She shrugs nonchalantly.
I raise an eyebrow. Well, it’s not like Victoria is subtle.
“For money,” she adds. “So we’re not that different.”
I leave her apartment much later than I should have.
The city feels strange, quieter in a way that only foresees chaos. It knows something has shifted, and now it’s holding its breath for the inevitable destruction.
When I finally reach my place, I try to take my mind off of her for even a second.
Victoria has become such a central point in my existence, everything else fades in comparison to her.
I try to remember what life felt like before her, but I’m not even sure I want to go back there.
Yeah. That version of me? It’s gone. I’m officially fucked.
My thoughts are cut off at the buzz of a new message.
Unknown number: Accepted.
Well. This should be fun.