Chapter 18 Scarlett
Scarlett
I saw the same need in his eyes that filled me to the brim. I could feel her warm lifeblood cover my hands, dry on my skin, and it made me shake with lust.
I needed him.
I needed him.
I had never felt this kind of need for him before in my life. It was as if every atom of my being, every particle suddenly needed him to breathe, to live, to exist.
“Get out.”
Two words, not meant for me.
“Azrael,” Poppy tried.
“Get. Out,” he repeated carefully, quietly. A threat in the form of a request.
I heard her huff, my dagger still in my hand, Mrs. Bastrom’s hair still wrapped in my other. Why wouldn’t she leave? I could easily kill her. Take my second kill. Watch her soul leave her eyes. I could do it. It’d be so easy. So…easy.
My eyes shifted to hers.
“No,” I heard Azrael say as I slowly peeled my hand from Mrs. Bastrom’s hair.
My eyes flicked to his for half a second before turning back to Poppy’s. It’d be too easy.
“We need to talk about what she just s—”
“She’s high off the kill, Calliope, if you stay, she’ll kill you.”
Poppy’s face twisted. “You know I hate that…” Her expression shifted to confusion.
“You said my name.” Her eyes flicked to mine before turning to Azrael’s.
“Fine, I’ll wait by the elevator for you.
” She turned for the door. “Maybe one of your other slaves will be waiting to take me up,” she mumbled to herself, shutting the door behind her.
I stopped, not realizing that I had been inching forward that entire time. I was already past Mrs. Bastrom.
Azrael locked the door and leaned his cane back against it, his black eyes finding mine. “Did you enjoy your first kill, darling?”
My heart was pounding so hard, my bones were vibrating. I didn’t have to sign now, we both knew what we needed.
Of course I enjoyed it. I wanted more. More. I wanted to swim in their blood. She hurt me. Her husband hurt me.
So I hurt her back.
He undid his tie and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. Next was his vest, his pocket watch thumping quietly when the vest hit the floor.
My hand tightened around my knife, the blood now sticky around the hilt. “Keep going,” I willed him, my eyes falling down his body.
“Do you like your new smile?” he asked, his voice thick, deadly. He walked right by me, his scent mixing with the copper, filling my nose.
I shivered and turned, watching as he dipped his fingers into the blood spilling from her neck.
My lips parted, my pussy aching as he smeared his fingers together before slowly painting a smile on his own face.
He stepped towards me and grabbed my jaw, the blood on his fingers smearing across my face. Azrael started forcing me back until I hit the wall, shaking in need. “Look at you,” he hummed, his own voice trembling slightly as his fingers tightened almost painfully. “Unable to control yourself.”
He sounded manic, insane, as if his mind had shattered watching me kill that woman.
Did I make the great Azrael Thorin lose control?
I dropped my blade and lifted my hand to his face, sliding my fingers down from his temples to his cheek, smearing the smile he had painted on.
His grip tightened even more, and he shoved me harder into the wall, forcing one leg between mine, pinning me there.
But I wasn’t going to stop. I needed to touch him. I had to feel him under my fingers.
I slid my fingers over his jaw and down the side of his neck before lifting them and sliding them across his lips, shoving them in.
His eyes rolled as his tongue slid over them, causing a low moan to leave me.
I whimpered, sliding my hips against his thigh, feeling just enough pressure to tease me.
He snarled and bit down on my fingers.
I jerk them out, shocked by the pain, only for him to force my head to one side and lick up the side of my face, my pussy tingling.
I groaned, leaning heavily into his leg as he forced my head up and sank his teeth into my neck, and before I could stop myself, I brought my thumb to my head and signed, “Daddy.”
He pulled back just in time to see the sign before I dropped it, his lips covered in my blood.
Azrael snarled. “Fuck.” He jerked me away from the wall, grabbed my wrist and dagger, and pulled me to the long metal table on the other side of the room.
He cleared the tools off of it, grabbed my waist, and lifted me onto the table.
The metal was chilling against my bare skin, but I barely noticed it. All I cared about was him. I just wanted him.
He set the knife down on my right side, grabbed a piece of rope and wrapped it around my left knee, tying it around the leg of the table. He did the same with the other knee, forcing my legs apart.
I whimpered, trying to push them together, trying to relieve myself of the ache only to realize that he hadn’t tied my hands down.
I lifted one, flexing my bloody fingers before finding his eyes.
He picked up my knife and poured isopropyl on it. “I want you saying whatever you need to say,” he explained, grabbing my right wrist and pulling my arm out.
He twisted my arm around, revealing the bottom of my wrist, and pressed the tip of the blade into my skin, blood immediately boiling.
I groaned, fisting my hand, watching as he carved a number into me.
08/01/23.
He tossed the blade to the side and ripped out his belt. “Everyone deserves to have their first kill commemorated.”
“Where is yours?” I asked, watching his trembling hands work at his belt.
He chuckled, the sound sending another wave of shivers straight to my pussy. “Little sinner, are you so drunk in your obsession that you didn’t notice?” He tossed his belt to the ground, surprising me, and started to undo his shirt.
My tongue pooled with drool, my hands gripping into the table between my legs as I watched his shirt fall away. Something in his mind had cracked. Something even he wasn’t expecting.
He let his shirt fall away and I immediately slid my hand over the bite he had left, feeling my warm blood spread across my skin.
I pulled it away and smeared my hands together before placing them on his chest, his skin flooding with goosebumps. I slid my hands down, trying to move my hips forward as my fingers trailed over every scar, every ridge, every memory he had, leaving blood in their path.
Before I reached the hem of his pants, he snatched my wrists and my eyes shot to his.
He had a snarl on his lips, a war flaming in his eyes, but only a second later, he released one of them and slid his own hand around my neck, smearing the blood back into my hair and then down across my collarbone, spreading the crimson across my chest.
I took advantage of my free hand and slid it between my legs, my dress already pushed back. I groaned the second my fingers touched my swollen clit, his bloody hand shoving the top half of my dress down and squeezing my breast, twisting my nipple.
I whimpered, my head falling back. I killed someone today. I nearly decapitated her. I was so…angry for what she had said, so filled with rage over what her husband had done. Every time she pleaded for her life, all I wanted to do was laugh.
Laugh.
How dare she beg for her life when she had stolen so many. How dare she beg to be set free when she was a part of the people slamming the cage doors shut.
I grinded my hips against my own fingers, my thighs shaking. Suddenly my other hand was moving, and before I could even open my eyes, I felt his chest under my hand again.
I lifted my eyes, clawed my fingers, and dragged my nails down the center of his chest.
He growled, latching one hand around my throat and slapping my tit with the other.
“You are not a pretty little thing,” he said through his teeth, stepping closer, his pants rubbing against the back of my hand.
“You are so. Much. More.” His hand tightened, another slap ringing through me, my body jerking as he forced my shoulders back towards the wall behind me.
I lifted my hand and raked it down his skin again, his body jerking in response.
His fingers tightened, spots dancing across my vision.
“You are divinity,” he told me, grabbing his pants and ripping them open.
“You are an angel fallen from grace, thriving in the fires this world tried to burn you in.” He pulled his cock out and shoved it into me, forcing my fingers up as he jerked me forward.
I came so hard and so fast, I barely knew which way was up and which was down.
His nose nearly touched mine as the orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking in need. “You are…” He released a shaky breath, our eyes locked, his cock throbbing against my fingers which were still pressed against my clit, creating a strange, euphoric sensation.
“My wife.”
His lips slammed against mine.
My eyes widened, a brand new sensation filling me.
Electricity sparked in my mind, my pussy clenching down around him, my body becoming puddy in his hands.
His lips worked against mine, warm and fierce, his tongue finding mine.
I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I pulled my hand out of me—causing both our bodies to jerk—and slid my hands up his chest and around the back of his neck.
He leaned forward until my head was back against the wall, his other hand sliding around my waist while the other remained around my throat, squeezing, choking off my breath, but allowing some air.
I could feel his cock pulsing inside of me, filling me so fully, his tongue dancing with mine, my mind spinning, my body flying.
Kissing.
I had heard about it, remembered seeing people do it when I had been really little, but I never imagined it would feel like this.
He growled into my mouth and I whimpered, trying to pull him closer, trying to move my hips, feeling him hit my clit, sending a shockwave through me.
He jerked his head back, forcing me to stay where I was. The blood was now smeared everywhere, copper coating our tongues, our teeth. He was panting, that strange look in his eyes back. Confusion, lust, need, craving, and something deeper. Something I didn’t have a name for.
His hand tightened so much, my lungs no longer inhaled.
He grabbed my hip in his other hand and pulled out to the very tip before slamming back into me unforgivingly. He started an angry, painful pounding, each slam sending pleasure straight through me.
I couldn’t stop the cries that left me as he pushed so hard, the table shook. My nails dug into the back of his neck, his pitch black eyes locked with mine, rage and fear lining them.
Fear. Why was there fear?
“What did you do to me?” he demanded, his eyes flicking between my lips and eyes. “What the fuck did you do to me, little sinner?”
I could feel it building again, my body tensing, and it took everything I had in me to pull my hands away from him. “Don’t stop, daddy.”
His face shifted as if he had never known he had waited his entire life to hear those words.
I didn’t know why he liked hearing it, me calling him that, but I liked saying it. I liked thinking it. I liked the way he responded when he saw me say it. He was my protector, my teacher, my mentor. He took care of me and gave me everything I could ever want, and I craved that.
I moaned, sliding my bloody hands down his arm, feeling the ledge coming fast.
I nodded, my heart racing, my nerves catching fire. “I’m gonna cum, daddy.”
He whimpered, his body visibly shaking. “Say it again,” he panted.
I groaned through my teeth. “Dadd—”
The orgasm ripped through me, my body jerking against the restraints, my eyes rolling, my nails digging into his arm, the sounds leaving me were inhuman.
He quickened his pace in that moment, drawing out my orgasm until he cried out, my name on his lips, slamming into the hilt.
The room went quiet then, eerily so, nothing but the sound of our panting and slamming hearts to be heard.
He watched me carefully, his eyes unreadable as he looked from my eyes to my lips.
After a few seconds, he finally stepped back, releasing my neck and slowly pulling out.
I inhaled sharply, sparks dancing across my vision, my trembling body collapsing back, everything sore.
He tucked himself away and buttoned his pants before undoing the ropes and turning away from me. He picked up my blade and set it on the table before picking up his shirt.
I closed my eyes and pulled my knees up onto the table sideways, weak and tired, but still living in the adrenaline he had just given me.
I lifted up a shaking hand and gently touched my swollen lips. A kiss.
He had kissed me.
He had called me his wife. Which I knew that I was, but he had never said it before. Not once.
I felt his presence again and opened my eyes just in time to see his hand close in, sliding over my chin, his other hand pressing into the table beside me.
He leaned in before I could even wonder what he was doing and pressed his lips against mine again.
My heart leapt into my throat as he worked his lips against mine passionately, my hand sliding over his wrist, my stomach filling with electric butterflies.
His tongue touched mine again gently, slowly, causing the world to spin.
All too soon, he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. He rubbed the smear of blood over my bottom lip, that look still in his eyes. “How dare you do this to me, sinning doll,” he mumbled.
He straightened then, completely clothed now. “Let’s go to the office, the doctor will meet us there.” He held out a hand to me.
I glanced to it and back, a smile growing across my lips.
I took his hand and allowed him to help me from the table before fixing my dress. I felt dizzy and tired. Exhausted, really, but…happy. Truly, genuinely happy.
Azrael offered me his elbow, which I took with absolute glee, and led me to the door.
I didn’t spare Mrs. Bastrom even a single glance.