Chapter 18 – Isolde
Late afternoon fills our secluded cabin in the Dolomites, the rough-hewn wooden floor stretching beneath my bare feet as I stand by the bed, naked, my auburn hair spilling free over my shoulders in wild, fiery strands that catch the faint light.
The room glows softly, surrounded by thick pine trees pressing close to the walls, their shadows shifting across the space.
My skin prickles as I linger there, exposed and still, the linen curtains stirring faintly at the window, framing a view of the remote valley cradling our hidden retreat.
The cabin’s a hidden paradise—tucked in a remote valley, far from Rome’s blood-soaked ruins, from the ashes of the mafia we torched three weeks ago—our staged deaths in Leone’s villa a fading echo, a lie that set us free.
My gun’s gone, my knife too—left behind with the past—and my body feels light, unburdened, yet marked—faint scars tracing my arms, a graze on my side from that final fight healing into a thin pink line.
Azrael’s here—standing by the window, shirtless, his black jeans low on his hips, the sunlight catching the hard planes of his chest, the scars crisscrossing his skin like a map of our war.
His dark hair’s tousled, falling into his gray eyes—soft now, warm, a stark contrast to the fierce blaze I’ve known—and his hands flex, restless, as he turns to me, his gaze raking over me—slow, deliberate—igniting a heat that pools low in my belly, my breath catching as desire flares, gentle but fierce.
We’ve fought, bled, run—Cassian’s death, the fire, the escape—and now, in this quiet haven, it’s just us, love reborn from the ashes, tender and raw, needing to be felt.
“Isolde,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, resonating through the quiet room as he crosses the hardwood floor in three long strides.
His bare feet make no sound, and his hands find my waist with a warmth that steadies me, drawing me close until my breasts press firmly against his chest. The contact sends a jolt through me, my nipples tightening into hard peaks, a soft ache igniting deep within as our bodies align.
His skin radiates heat, sun-kissed and vibrant, his heartbeat pounding strong against mine, a rhythm I can feel through my own chest. I tilt my head upward, my lips parting slightly in anticipation, inviting him nearer.
His mouth descends to meet mine, the kiss beginning as a gentle press, soft and exploratory, before it deepens with the slow slide of his tongue, tasting me with hints of coffee and salt.
The kiss unfolds with a quiet, ravenous hunger, my mouth opening fully to Azrael’s, our tongues weaving in a tender yet deliberate dance that sets my nerves alight.
Shivers cascade down my spine, the intimacy binding us tighter with each second.
My hands glide up his arms, fingers tracing the corded muscle, the rough texture of old scars, before curling around his broad shoulders, pulling him so close our heartbeats seem to merge.
His lips grow insistent, purposeful, sucking my lower lip with a soft nip that draws a quiet moan from my throat, heat blooming between my thighs, a pulsing ache that demands more.
His calloused hands, rough from years of blood and labor, roam my sides with a slow, teasing caress, thumbs grazing the sensitive undersides of my tits before cupping them fully, squeezing with a gentle yet possessive pressure.
My nipples harden under his touch, and he rolls them between his fingers, slow and deliberate, sending sparks of pleasure through me.
My breath catches, head tipping back as I sigh, “Azrael…” my voice a needy whisper, betraying the fire in my core.
He pauses, pulling back, his gray eyes dark and molten, holding a depth of emotion that pierces my soul.
His lips trail downward, kissing along my jaw, finding the pulse at my neck where he sucks gently, the tender pressure sending ripples of warmth across my skin.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers, voice rough with reverence, sinking into me like a blood-oath.
His hands slide to my hips, fingers pressing into my flesh as he lifts me with steady strength, my legs wrapping around his waist, my dripping cunt pressing against his stomach.
His cock, thick and hard, strains against his jeans, a silent vow of what’s to come, making my pussy throb with need.
I cling to him, arms looping around his neck, fingers threading through his thick hair as our lips meet again, slow and deep, tongues sliding in a warm, wet rhythm that leaves my breath trembling.
He carries me to the bed, laying me on the soft linen, the mattress dipping under our weight.
He kneels between my legs, hands sliding up my thighs, parting them to reveal my slick pussy, glistening under his gaze.
His fingers trace circles on my inner thighs, teasing, making my legs quiver as my breath hitches.
Leaning down, he presses kisses to my stomach, a tender path upward until his mouth finds my breast, sucking my nipple with a slow, thorough swirl of his tongue, drawing a low moan from deep within me.
“Az—” I gasp, voice breaking as the sensation overwhelms, my back arching to press closer.
His teeth graze my nipple, a gentle nip followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue, while his other hand kneads my breast, thumb stroking, sending waves of pleasure through my throbbing pussy.
I seize control, binding his wrists with a leather strap from the bedside, securing them above his head.
His eyes flash with surprise, then dark amusement, letting me take the lead.
I straddle him, my dress hiked up, the fabric bunched at my hips as I grind my wet cunt against his cock, feeling it throb beneath me.
“You’re mine tonight,” I murmur, voice low, lips brushing his ear as I roll my hips, teasing his hard shaft through his jeans.
He groans, a raw, guttural sound, his bound wrists straining.
“Isolde,” he rasps, voice thick with need.
I unbutton his jeans, slow and deliberate, freeing his cock—thick, veined, glistening with pre-cum.
My fingers wrap around his shaft, stroking slow and firm, feeling him pulse hot and heavy in my palm.
His breath catches, a low groan escaping as I tease the tip, smearing pre-cum with my thumb.
I push my panties aside, guiding his cock to my slick folds, rubbing the fat tip against my clit, sending shivers through me as my pussy drips with arousal.
“Please,” I whisper, trembling with need, hands on his hips to pull him closer.
He nods, gray eyes fierce yet soft, leaning to kiss me tenderly.
As our mouths connect, I sink onto him, his cock stretching my tight pussy slowly, thick and warm, filling me completely.
I gasp, my walls clenching around his shaft as I take him deeper, the stretch a delicious burn.
He begins to move, slow and deliberate, pulling out with care before sliding back in, deep and tender, his cock pulsing inside my throbbing cunt.
His hips roll steadily, each thrust firm yet gentle, his breath warming my neck as he kisses and sucks my skin, hands gripping my hips to guide me.
My legs tighten around him, heels pressing into his back, drawing him deeper, my nails grazing his shoulders as pleasure coils tight in my belly.
“Isolde—” he murmurs, voice breaking with emotion, lips finding mine in a deep, wet kiss, tongues sliding together as he thrusts, slow and thorough, building a fire in my core.
I arch beneath him, breath hitching, hands gripping his hair as the wave crests.
“Azrael,” I moan, his name a desperate plea as I shatter, my pussy pulsing and gushing around his cock, coating him in my release.
He follows, thrusts faltering but gentle, pressing deep one last time. A low groan escapes against my lips, his cock pulsing hotly, spilling thick warmth inside my throbbing pussy. His hands grip me close, our bodies locked in a tender, trembling union.
But a distant crash shatters the moment, and Azrael stiffens, eyes darkening with the cold edge of his world. “Stay here,” he orders, pulling on his jeans, softness replaced by steel.
“Azrael—” I start, scrambling for my dress, defiance flaring. “What’s happening?”
“Viktor’s men,” he says, voice grim. “They’re here.”
“I’m coming with you,” I say, fire blazing in my chest.
His jaw clenches, but my resolve stops him. “Fucking impossible,” he mutters, a faint smile breaking through. “Stay close. My rules.”
I nod, and the quiet between us becomes its own kind of promise—tender, defiant, and stronger than fear.
***
I lie on the bed, naked, skin still warm from Azrael’s touch, linen sheets tangled around my legs, my auburn hair spilling across the pillow, catching the last hues of dusk.
He’s beside me, bare, his chest rising slow and steady, his dark hair mussed, gray eyes soft but shadowed as he stares at the ceiling.
One arm drapes over my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on my hip.
The afterglow lingers, a quiet warmth in my core, a tender ache where he filled me, but beneath it, shadows stir, creeping through the peace like whispers from the past we’ve fled.
I shift, rolling onto my side, my hand sliding to his chest, fingers tracing the scars crisscrossing his skin, rough, faded lines from battles we’ve survived.
I feel his heartbeat thud beneath my palm, steady but heavy.
“Azrael,” I murmur, my voice low and soft, my gaze tracing his profile, the sharp jaw, the faint bruise shadowing his cheek from that final fight three weeks ago.
“We’re here, safe, but it’s not gone, is it? The past, it’s still there.”
He turns slow, gray eyes meeting mine, love fierce but clouded, a flicker of pain cutting through the warmth as his hand tightens on my hip, pulling me closer.
“No,” he says, his voice rough and low, his thumb brushing my skin, a gentle anchor against the storm stirring in his gaze.
“It’s not gone. Cassian, the war, Leone, it’s in me, Isolde, every fucking minute.
I see him dying, telling me to run, and I… ”
His voice breaks, raw and pained, his hand sliding to my face, cupping my cheek, fingers trembling slightly.
“I don’t know how to live past it, beyond vengeance, beyond fighting.
This,” he gestures at the cabin, the quiet, us, “it’s everything, but it’s not enough. I don’t know who I am without it.”
Guilt surges, sharp and cold, twisting in my gut, stealing my breath as I pull back, sitting up, sheets falling to my waist, my hands gripping them tight, knuckles whitening.
“I feel it too,” I whisper, my voice trembling, my gaze dropping to my lap, the scars on my arms catching the dim light, faint reminders of Leonardo’s betrayal, Father’s abandonment, Cassian’s blood on my hands.
“Guilt, eating me alive. Cassian died for us, Marcella lost everything, my family, I torched it, chose you, and I’d do it again, but it’s heavy, Azrael.
I see them, Father’s eyes when he cast me out, Leonardo’s rage, Cassian’s last breath, and I wonder, did I destroy it all? Was it worth it?”
He sits up fast, his hands finding mine, pulling them from the sheets, warm and steady, his grip fierce as he turns me to face him, gray eyes blazing with love, cutting through my guilt like a blade.
“Don’t,” he growls, his voice low and fierce.
“Don’t fucking do that. You didn’t destroy it, they did: Leonardo, Emilio, Leone.
Your father chose power over you, Cassian chose us, he fought for this, for you to live.
It’s worth it, every damn scar, every drop of blood, because we’re here, together. I’d burn it all again for you.”
Love floods me, fierce and warm, washing over the guilt, soothing the ache as I lean into him, forehead pressing to his, my hands sliding to his chest, fingers curling into his skin, feeling his heartbeat, strong, alive, mine.
“I’d burn it for you too,” I whisper, my voice steadying, my breath mingling with his, love a lifeline through the shadows haunting us.
“You’re my purpose, here, now, but it’s hard, letting go, finding something new.
I don’t know how to stop seeing it: Father’s face, Cassian’s blood.
I want this, us, but it’s tested, Azrael, every day. ”
He pulls me closer, arms wrapping tight, his chest warm against mine, his lips against my temple, soft and tender, his voice low and rough.
“It’s tested. Fuck, I feel it. Cassian’s voice, telling me to run, haunts me.
I’ve lived for vengeance, killing, leading.
Now it’s quiet, and I don’t know what I am beyond you, beyond this, but we’ll find it, together. ”
The breeze cools, night deepening, the stars brighter now, a faint glow spilling through the window, and I nod slow, love steadying me, but indecision creeps in, sharp and uncertain, twisting my gut as I pull back, hands sliding to his face, cupping his jaw, searching his gray eyes.
“Together, but what? Here, hidden, safe, but it’s not enough.
We’ve got to find purpose, something, beyond running, beyond hiding.
Grieve, yes, but live, how? I don’t know.
I want you, us, but I don’t know what’s next. ”
He nods slow, indecision mirroring mine, his hand gripping mine tight, rain’s echo gone, the silence heavy, his voice low and raw.
“I don’t either. Cassian’s dead, the war’s ashes, the mafia’s gone, we’re free, but fuck, purpose, I’ve only known fighting.
You’re my anchor, but beyond this, I’m lost, grieving him, loving you, but what now?
We’ve got to figure it fast, before this, us, slips. ”
Stars gleam, night closing in, I lean into him, chest to chest, love fierce, grief and indecision a quiet storm, my voice soft and steady. “We’ll find it, together, but now, it’s us, here, testing, grieving, loving. We’ll know soon, but not yet.”
We hold still, contemplating, purpose a shadow, love our light, the cabin silent, our struggles raw, but we’re alive, together, searching.