Chapter 33 - Scarlett
Scarlett
My mind was spinning, my skin buzzing.
To wake up to Azrael rather than Thomas or his friends? It was better than a dream, but now he was gone, and he had left me with an assignment. One I wanted to accomplish if only in thanks for the answers he had given me about his family.
About Olivia.
Olivia the rose who Mr. Alascer almost brought back. She had survived and was still living in Azrael’s world. Mr. Alascer never touched her. Not like he did me.
Just for telling me about her, I would give him anything he wanted, I just hoped he came back.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had had a real conversation.
To be able to not just answer his questions but ask my own?
I felt relieved. Perhaps my intentions were working.
Doing the things I knew the Leaders like in hopes to get his attention forever locked on me worked tonight.
The only difference was, I didn’t disappear into my head this time like I did with them.
I knew what I was doing. I made the choice, and by what he had given me, I think it had worked.
He couldn’t get me out of his head. I was the only one who had earned his constant eyes.
I was his little sinning doll, and not only did it bring with it a strange, joyful feeling that was more than just joy, I also felt as if I were no longer alone in this world.
As if I had a friend outside of the ones in my head.
I had captured Azrael Thorin, the sea, the ghost. Me. A girl born and sold within the church, the Chosen One, the Blessed One, I had captured him. He was now mine.
I settled back in the bottom of the closet, the door closed, less than thirty seconds after he had left.
I kept the dress on because I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever been allowed to wear something this beautiful outside of the Back Hall, and the way the heat of his eyes had changed had me never wanting to take it off ever again.
I pulled the black shawl over me. I had worn it once for a funeral we had gone to years ago. Not Louis Nelson’s, but someone else. Someone I couldn’t remember the name for. It was small, kid-sized, but enough to keep me warm in the safety of this closet.
I could still feel the dampness now lacing my underwear, Azrael’s voice filling my mind. “Touch yourself, little sinner. Anywhere that feels good.”
It felt so sinful. I was breaking the most important rules we were supposed to abide by…
But Mr. Alascer had hurt Olivia. He knew about the compound. He had planned on bringing her back here if it hadn’t been for her husband and Azrael.
Husband. She wasn’t a Favorite and she still chose to get married. She had had a choice between marrying him and not marrying him and she chose to marry him. Why? If I could choose not to marry Thomas, I wouldn’t. I would run so far away from him—
No, no because Azrael had placed a new picture in my head.
Me holding a knife, sinking it into Thomas’ chest, his blood spilling over my hand.
The pulse between my legs happened again as the idea of me being the cause of his death consumed me.
Me. Weak, obedient little Scarlett. Nothing but a Favorite. A girl to be used for the needs of the men in the church. To think that I could kill the son of the Pastor?
I adjusted myself in the small space, pulling my knees up, my heart racing as I slowly slid my hands over my stomach.
“Impure!” a voice in my head screamed.
I gasped, jerking my hand away.
“Touch yourself,” Azrael whispered softly, immediately drowning out the shouting.
I shook my head, slowly, hesitantly, placing my hand back on my stomach, gripping into my dress, my breathing picking up. I wanted to do what he wanted of me, but what if he was wrong about the cameras? What if there were cameras in here, watching me?
No, because if there were Thomas was sure to have found me by now. He was sure to have brought it up, but he never did. Every time I heard the lock flip, I always scrambled out, climbing into bed before they came into my room.
Tonight had been the first night I hadn’t awoken to the sound of that lock. To the sound of monsters walking in. All because Azrael had given me his word that no one would bother me, only for him to walk in and wrap those antlers around my jaw.
I swallowed, closing my eyes tightly, letting the image fill me again, Azrael’s voice guiding me.
“Touch yourself anywhere that feels good. Your tits.”
He spoke such crude words, but they weren’t cruel.
When the Leaders and their sons spoke mean words, I could feel the rage and hatred in their voice, as if they hated me for doing what I was told to do, but Azrael?
His voice was soft, like a dark lullaby, gently guiding me as I broke the rules he didn’t seem to believe in.
Even so, my hands were hesitant and shaking as my right one drifted up towards my breasts. I didn’t understand why I should touch it. Why it would feel good. It was just a lump filled with milk to feed a child, nothing more. What could I possibly gain from touching it?
I slid my left hand up over my breast and rested it there, focusing on the way it felt. My breasts were much larger than my hands, and I could feel my hardened nipple press into the palm of it.
My brows furrowed as I continued to lay there. “What do I do now, Azrael?”
Seconds ticked by. “Do whatever your instincts tell you to do,” his voice came.
Right, but what was that? My entire life, I’ve been doing what they told me to do. What the Good Book required of me. Everything was habit, but this? This was going against everything I was raised to believe in. Did I even have instincts to listen to?
I released a slow breath. Okay, just…just think about killing Thomas again.
I let the image flicker to life in my mind. Thomas crying out, me holding the knife, Azrael standing mere feet away, smiling proudly. “Do it, little sinner, make him pay for the sins he’s committed against you. Take your vengeance.”
That flutter between my legs came back, and I felt my right hand squeeze my breast slightly.
My breath caught as the pressure on my nipple grew, causing a small shock to shoot down my spine and straight between my legs.
I jerked my hand away, my eyes flying open, staring into dark nothingness. I held my breath, my heart skipping. Was that what he meant by ‘tingly’? I thought about it a moment, trying to understand the feeling. Had it felt good? I couldn’t remember.
I flexed my hand and forced my eyes closed again. After a few more seconds, I grabbed my breast with my left hand and squeezed again, digging my nails into the soft flesh of my breast, feeling my nipple roll up towards my fingers, causing a little more pressure.
I released a breath, my hand sliding down until my fingers caressed it.
I pinched it between my fingers and squeezed again, feeling my back arch a little as the flutter between my legs became a throbbing ache, forcing myself to keep touching myself.
Not just because Azrael told me to, but because I was curious. Why did it feel good?
It shouldn’t have felt this good, not according to the books I had. Women weren’t meant to feel anything. We didn’t have the same nerves as the men did, but this felt good. Really good. Like warm electricity buzzing around my insides.
My right hand gripped my dress, pulling it up slightly, the skirt falling away from my legs.
I rolled my nipple again, sending another wave of pleasure down my spine, my hips lifting, trying to find something. In response, my right hand slowly slid between my legs, pressing gently over my panties, feeling the warm sensation of the arousal, he had called it.
I was aroused.
Because of the blood?
Because of him?
I pressed down a little, feeling a shock shoot down to my toes.
I gasped, jerking my hand away only to freeze. “It’ll feel tingly at first, but don’t shy away from that feeling.”
I chewed on my lip, squeezing my nipple hard again, forcing my hand back between my legs. It was normal, that’s what I took from his words. I shouldn’t shy away from it because it was normal.
So, I pressed my fingers back against that slit between my legs, keeping my fingers above my panties.
That zing of electricity shot right back towards my toes again, causing them to curl, my hips to lift, and my hand to squeeze again.
Oh, it felt so good. So very good.
I leaned back into the carpet, moving my fingers around, feeling the wetness grow even more as I imagined Azrael watching me kill Thomas. How proud he was of me, the blood splattering his face, my face, as I slammed that knife into his chest over and over again.
My lips parted, my fingers sliding under my panties, finding a soft warmth down there. Everything felt like it was on fire. Like I was floating. I felt as if there were sparks erupting everywhere inside of me, building and building.
I moved my fingers faster, feeling them slip inside, gasping when I found the spot that the sensation was coming from.
“Oh, God,” I thought, moving my hips up and down, digging my nails into my breast as I twisted my nipple, the arousal coating my fingers.
I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. The feeling just kept building and building until—
I inhaled sharply, my entire body shaking as a tsunami of warm electricity washed over me.
Seconds later I collapsed onto the floor, panting. I opened my eyes, gazing into the darkness as I slowly pulled my hands away from myself. What was that? Was that what the men felt? An orgasm?
I thought women couldn’t have those.
I lifted my right hand, scared of what I would see, only to find my hand glisten but nothing more. It wasn’t white and creamy like the Leaders at all.
My brows furrowed as I studied it, smearing my fingers together. It didn’t feel like water, even though it was clear.
I brought my fingers to my nose, my insides shaking, but it didn’t smell like them either.
After a few seconds, I lowered my hands to my stomach and stared up at the clothes above me, into the dark nothingness, my heart still beating a little harder than normal.
If that was an orgasm, and my cum, then the church had lied to me.
Why would the church lie to me?