Chapter 10 #2
She stilled, her whole body going hot the moment he pressed her foot against his chest and began unlacing her boots.
It felt like it was too slow, like he was purposefully taking his time.
He removed one, finally, and tossed it to the side before reaching for the other.
He continued the same process—untying, unlacing, and then carefully pulling it off until she was left in her socks.
The way his fingers lingered on the dip between her ankle and her calf was not necessary.
Nor was the way his eyes darkened when his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her pant-leg, how his thumb brushed over that small expanse of skin.
Nymiria let out a small noise, lips parting.
He dropped her leg immediately and headed towards the washroom without another word. He washed himself quickly, his mind scattered.
All he could think about was how she’d looked at him in that forest, those haunting words still echoing in his mind.
If Aziel had a heart, perhaps he would have done what she’d asked of him—he would have taken her pain away immediately.
He still believed that he did the right thing, knowing that simply putting a bandage over a wound that deep would do absolutely nothing.
In a perfect world, neither of them would have to struggle with these sorts of memories and traumas, but the world was not fair.
Everything, even the gods, even themselves, were cruel.
But, as Teigh had said all of those years ago when Aziel was learning about his godhood, there was no justice without cruelty.
And he assumed that justice extended to the natural balance of their world. With beauty, always came pain.
Both he and Nymiria were still in limerence, waiting for the beauty to arrive.
When he returned, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed picking at her nails. He forced himself to keep his eyes trained on the armoire, one hand securing the drying cloth at his waist and the other rifling through the clothes to find something modest to wear.
He preferred sleeping naked.
He wouldn’t dare do that with her present.
“You should go wash up while I get dressed.” He said. Nymiria made a noncommittal noise behind him and he turned slightly, watching over his shoulder as her eyes raked over his back.
Her gaze lingered at the base of his spine.
Phyona had done what she could manage with the runes on his back. She’d broken the witchlock months ago, but the scars still remained. While Nymiria’s scars had all vanished the moment they’d healed, he would forever carry those marks as a reminder of what was done to him.
He wanted to remind her that the marks on his spine were not because of her.
They’d been burned and sliced into him months before he’d saved her.
But he knew that it would be no use. She would still blame herself, somehow twisting reality and making it seem as if she’d been the one to put them there.
Nymiria lifted herself off of the bed. Her hair was just as wild as the look in her eyes, a look she carried whenever she was being…
Brave.
Raw, animalistic bravery. That was what it was.
And when she finally approached and lowered herself to her knees behind him, Aziel’s grip on the armoire door tightened, his eyes screwing shut.
The muscles in his neck strained to suppress the moan threatening in his chest as her fingers ghosted over the length of his spine, trailing over battle scars and accidental scars before she stopped.
He could feel her breath on his skin, the small hitch in her breathing as she leaned closer.
The moment her lips brushed over those fucking scars, his whole body shuddered. The moan he’d suppressed ripped out of him in a slow drawl, his cock pulsing to life between his legs.
She didn’t stop.
She kissed every inch of his back, pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes, breasts pressing against his skin, dragging against him as she moved lower. Her hands trailed over him, moving in such a way that it felt like both worship and sin.
Heat roaring in his ears, Aziel turned. He hooked his hands under her arms, dragging her back to her feet and then lifted her, forcing her thighs around his waist as he moved towards the bed. No sooner than her back collided with the mattress, he kissed her.
Not just something soft and sweet, but something raw.
Complete destruction that she returned with equal desperation.
Hands roaming, gripping, squeezing at any and every thing within reach.
He kissed along her jaw, tugging at her blouse until it tore down the center, revealing just enough of her breast for him to dive towards it.
Nymiria had never seen him look so feral, had never felt something so wild as to what emanated from him at that moment.
When he looked at her and ground himself against her center, the look in his eyes was almost enough to make her forget everything she’d intended on doing when she arrived here.
Rationality be damned, she had half the mind to let every single one of her defenses fall—to let him consume her so thoroughly that she barely had the space to think or want for anything else.
She had no idea what possessed her to do what she did.
But those scars on his back had just made her so angry.
And there was nothing she could have done to have stopped it from happening.
When he caught her looking, the last thing she wanted him believing was that she pitied him or thought they were hideous. She wanted him to feel…
Good.
Aziel peeled himself away from her so suddenly, it felt as if he’d stolen the air from her lungs.
Nymiria continued to lay there, staring up at the artwork painted onto his ceiling, trying to draw in even breaths.
He was already on the other side of the room again, ripping on clothing with such force that she was surprised the fabric didn’t tear.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if his sudden urgency was because of her or if it was related to something else.
Guilt flooded her chest, her hand uncurling from the sheets to lay over her pounding heart. “Aziel—”
Before she could apologize, before she could say anything more than his name, the door to his sleeping chambers slammed closed and he was gone.