Chapter 33
LARK
After leading me up the stairs, Azrael takes me down the hallway, opposite the direction of the room I stayed in. When we reach the end of it, he pushes open a black-lacquered door that leads into a huge bedroom.
Stepping inside, I look around the masculine space. The entire bedroom is decorated in shades of black, white, and gray. There aren’t any personal touches, photographs, or even any clutter, giving it a sterile feel.
A black wooden bed dominates the space with matching nightstands next to it. A silky black comforter and sheets decorate the massive bed that’s definitely larger than a king. A low-pile gray rug sits under it, warming up the dark wood floors.
Opposite the bed is a desk and a long cabinet in the same black wood. The cabinet has a variety of low glasses and liquor bottles on it. If this is his room, I wonder how often Azrael gets drunk like he was the other night.
It’s none of my business what he does, but that doesn’t seem like the best way to deal with his emotions. Not that I really have room to talk, when I deal with mine by riding way too fast on my bike.
After inspecting the leather sofa and matching chairs, I turn back to Azrael to find him already watching me with his unique gold gaze. “Whose room is this?”
He arches an inky brow at me. “Mine. Who else’s would it be?”
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know. That’s why I was asking.”
Shaking his head at me, he wanders over to one of the wide, black leather armchairs facing the sofa. He shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back before lowering himself into the chair.
Leaning back, he begins unbuttoning the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt and rolling up each sleeve, exposing his forearms corded with muscle.
My gaze is drawn to the black-and-gray tattoos that creep out from under his shirt all the way down to his fingers. On one hand, he has what looks like a clock made out of gears, and I can’t quite figure out what he has on his other.
He drums his fingers against the armrest as he watches me silently. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
My eyes go wide as I yank my gaze up from where I’m inspecting his tattoos, feeling like I was caught doing something I shouldn’t. “What?”
He gives me a smile that’s anything but friendly as he crooks a finger at me. “Come here, little bird. You can’t very well take my blood from across the room.”
His raspy voice talking about me taking anything of his sends a shiver down my spine, but I try to shake it off. The last thing I need is to be getting turned on by the man who can’t stand me. That’s just asking for trouble.
Crossing the room on shaky legs, I come to a stop in front of him. I’m standing in between his parted thighs, but I make sure to leave room between the two of us so we aren’t touching.
Swallowing a few times before I can get my voice to work, I ask, “Now what?”
He gestures lazily to his parted legs. “Now you sit on my lap.”
“On your lap?” I squeak. “Not just next to you or something?”
He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Yes, on my lap. It’s easier this way. Unless you’re too scared to do it.”
I glare at him. He knows exactly what he’s doing, goading me, and I hate that I’m going to fall for it.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I climb as gracefully as I can onto his lap. He doesn’t make it easy for me by closing his legs or steadying me. Instead, he just watches me fumble with barely veiled amusement until I land on him with an oomph.
When I’m settled with my ass on his legs and my knees on either side of him, I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not scared, you one-eyed rutabaga,” I grouse under my breath. “I’m wary. There’s a difference.”
I’m lying.
I’m definitely terrified to be sitting on his lap.
At night, when I was reeling from a nightmare, it was different.
Now, fully awake, I’m feeling too much, having my lower body pressed against his.
I’m pretty sure I can feel the hard ridge of his cock nestled between my legs, but I’m doing my best to ignore it.
He snorts, having heard me despite my mumbling. “Where do you even come up with these insults?”
I consider not telling him just to spite him but eventually relent.
“My sister.” I see his eyes soften ever so slightly, and I know I can’t deal with any questions about her right now.
Instead, I rush to say, “So, you require your entire valor to sit on your lap to unlock their dragon. Seems weird.”
I hate the spike of jealousy at the thought of other women sitting on his lap like this. He’s not, and never will be, mine, so I have no right to feel like this.
“No,” he rumbles as his golden eyes rove over my face. “Just you.”
“Oh,” I respond, not really knowing what to say to that. “Now what?”
Instead of answering me like a normal person, Azrael begins unbuttoning his dress shirt. When it’s fully undone, he shrugs off the button-down and lets it pool near his waist.
He’s left in only a white tank top that shows off the ink running up both arms, across his shoulders and collarbones, and down his torso.
I don’t have time to appreciate his defined pecs and buff upper arms because he shifts one of his fingers into a wickedly sharp talon.
Without warning, he slices it across the crook of his neck.
Bright red blood wells in the cut. It looks like it hurts, but Azrael doesn’t display any reaction to the wound.
“Now, you drink.” Shifting his finger back, he sticks it into his mouth to clean up the tiny bit of blood on the tip.
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of having to lick his blood. I’m not a vampire, so drinking blood just sounds nasty.
But if I ever want to shift into a dragon, I need to woman up and get it over with.
Hoping I don’t get some weird dragon infection from this, I lean down and hesitantly dart my tongue out to lap up the crimson liquid. Instead of the coppery, earthy flavor I expect, his blood tastes like heavily spiced mulled wine.
The slightly fruity, cinnamon-spiced, sharp flavor of his blood is addictive, and I can’t seem to get enough as I switch from hesitantly licking to eagerly sucking.
It feels like the more I drink, the more I lose touch with the real world, like I’m blood drunk or something.
Fisting my hands in his shirt, I pull him closer to me. If I were in less of a haze from consuming his blood, I’d be embarrassed at my actions. As it is, all I can think about is getting more of the delicious liquid.
My creature rises to the surface as I gulp down his blood. She doesn’t try to take over, but she’s fully present in this moment with me. I’m pretty sure my eyes are neon-green, but I don’t have it in me to care.
He forks his hand through my hair and holds my head to him as I drink my fill. The way he lets his head fall back and releases a soft groan makes me think he might be enjoying this as much as I am. But I’m too focused on sucking down as much as I can to think about it too much.
After a long moment, Azrael grunts, “Enough.”
I ignore him, continuing to suck on his neck.
“I said enough,” he barks. When I don’t listen, he wraps my hair around one of his hands and roughly yanks my head back. He holds me away from his neck and forces me to stare directly into his eyes. When our gazes meet, he tuts. “Greedy little bird.”
“More,” I demand, my voice a rough growl as my creature peeks through. My lips are still slick with his blood. My tongue darts out to lick up the liquid, and I let out a moan as I get another hit of the addictively good flavor.
His eyes track the movement before flicking back up to my gaze. “No. You had enough.”
My gaze narrows on him. “No. More.”
“No,” he growls as he yanks my head farther back, baring my throat to him. “I am your alpha, and you will listen to me. I said you’re done, so you’re done. Don’t fucking sass me, Lark.”
“The alpha bond is not in place yet,” my creature rasps, temporarily taking control of my voice. “Do you think you are strong enough to win against us without the crutch of your alpha powers?”
Even through the blood-induced haze, I’m still shocked by my creature’s words. I know she thinks we’re the shit, but I would absolutely bet on Azrael winning a fight between us.
My creature gives me a disgruntled chirp before releasing control of my voice, not appreciating my lack of faith in us. She stays close to the surface, though, ready to take over if needed.
His eyebrows raise and a wicked smirk crosses his lips at my taunt.
He leans down to rasp in my ear, “Oh, I know I can take you, little bird, with or without alpha orders.” To prove his point, he captures both of my wrists with one hand and pins them behind my back.
With him pulling my head back with one hand and shackling my wrists with the other, I’m immobilized pretty well.
I buck on his lap, trying to get free, but it’s no use. His hands are like iron vises holding me in place.
Out of frustration, I move the only way I can and grind down on his hard cock. He hisses at the motion, so I do it again. When he lets out a low groan and his eyes slide shut, I grin victoriously.
While I may not be able to get out of his hold, I can still affect him, which feels like a win.
His eyes snap open, as if he can sense me gloating. Narrowing his gaze, he uses his hold on my wrists to shove me down on him harder. He then thrusts his hips up to grind his dick against my clit.
I gasp at the sensation, and my head falls back into his hold. He does it again, and I let out a whimper as pleasure coils in my core. My hips begin to move against him of their own accord as he continues thrusting up against me.
With how he’s holding me, I can’t really move, other than rocking my hips back and forth. I’m forced to take whatever he wants to give me, and I’m loving every moment of it.
“That’s it, little bird,” he praises as his warm breath feathers over my ear and neck. He increases the speed of his thrusts, drawing another gasp from me. “Take what you need from me.”
I’m helpless to do anything but what he said to as I chase the desire that’s spiraling higher and higher. I cry out as I come apart on his lap. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me and does it’s best to drown me as I clench down on nothing over and over again.
While I’m lost to my climax, Azrael continues thrusting against my core. He releases my wrists so he can hold my hip with one hand instead. He grinds me down on him harder than before, overstimulating my already sensitive clit.
I let out another whimper but don’t ask him to stop. Not that I want him to. No, what I want is for him to rip off my clothes and shove his dick as deep inside me as he can.
Luckily, I don’t get a chance to beg him for it.
His hips buck a few times before Azrael allows his head to fall forward to rest on my shoulder. He lets out a low groan before he stops moving and flops back against the chair, limp. I collapse against him, my breathing heavy as I come down from whatever the fuck just happened here.
He moves his hand off my hip and rubs it up and down my back as he works to catch his breath. Neither of us says anything, and the silence is kind of peaceful.
A few minutes later, he stiffens. I sigh, part of me already knowing that he’d have post-orgasmic regret.
If I were even slightly in my right mind, this would’ve never happened. I know doing anything with Azrael is a recipe for getting hurt, but I let myself get lost in the moment. I didn’t think too hard about what I was doing, and now, I have to pay the price.
He unwinds his fist from my hair and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why? Did you not enjoy it?” I ask, my voice small and vulnerable.
I just had the best orgasm of my life, without him even taking off any of my clothes. I had hoped it felt as good for him as it did for me, but I guess I was wrong.
“Of course I fucking enjoyed it. I haven’t come in my pants like that since I was a teen.
We shouldn’t have done that because I can’t be what you need, little bird.
I will never be the man you need, and I shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did,” he growls as he stands up, unceremoniously dumping me off his lap.
He stalks a few feet away from me and shoves a hand through his hair. Tilting his head back, he stares sightlessly at the ceiling.
I scramble to find my footing at the unexpected motion and not fall on my ass. When I’m upright, as surge of anger flows through me.
How dare he assume what I do and don’t need. He doesn’t get to make those decisions for me.
Walking around him, I jab a finger into his chest. “How do you know what I need? You barely know me, Azrael.”
Letting out a low growl, he steps up to be toe to toe with me. Wrapping an arm around my lower back, he hauls me against his front and gets in my face.
His voice is softer than his pissed-off expression would suggest when he says, “I know you well enough to know that it’ll never be just physical between us. You need an emotional connection that I can’t give you. Not now and not ever.”
“You don’t know that,” I argue, even though he’s spot on. I’ve never been able to have casual sex, because I get too attached.
And I know there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll be able to keep my feelings out of it if Azrael fucks me. I’ll just fall harder for the infuriating man than I already, stupidly, have.
No good can come from sleeping with him, but I’m too stubborn to admit it.
“Tell me you can keep it to just sex,” he practically begs.
“Tell me that, and I’ll bend you over my bed right now and fuck you raw.
I’ll have you screaming my name within minutes and forgetting your name right after I sink my cock into your tight cunt.
I’ll ruin your pretty little pussy for any other man that comes after me, little bird, as soon as you tell me that you can keep feelings out of it. ”
As much as I want everything he just described, I know that I can’t do what he’s asking.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He lets go of me like I burned him and turns his back on me. Stalking over to the long cabinet with the liquor bottles, he angrily picks up a glass and pours amber liquid into it. He tosses the drink back in one gulp and makes a move to pour himself another.
Without turning back to me, he mutters, “This was a mistake.”
My heart feels like it shatters in my chest at him calling what we just did a mistake.
A tear drips down my cheek as I turn and numbly walk over to the door. More run down my face as I pull open the door and walk out into the hallway, letting it softly snick shut behind me.