"Shh," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Breathe. You did so well."
"I didn't—" My voice cracked. "I was so close—"
"I know." He pulled back, his golden eyes soft with something that might have been affection. "But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted you to understand what I am. What I can do. And I wanted you to know that I would never take from you without giving something in return."
I stared at him, my body still trembling, my mind a chaos of frustration and arousal and bewildered gratitude. "That was torture."
"Yes." His lips curved in that faint smile. "But you enjoyed it."
I couldn't deny it. Even now, aching and unsatisfied, I felt more alive than I had in years. More awake. Morereal.
"Next time," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "I'll let you finish. If you still want me to."
"Next time," I repeated, my voice steadier now. "There's going to be a next time?"
His golden eyes held mine, ancient and knowing and strangely tender. "I find myself hoping so."
He guided me to the door, his hand gentle on the small of my back. When we reached the threshold, he paused, turning to face me one more time.
"Go to bed, Lizzie," he said. "Rest. And tomorrow, if you're still curious about the ledgers, come find me. I'll show you what you want to know. No more sneaking."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pressed another kiss to my forehead—soft, chaste, devastating—and then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor like he'd never been there at all.
I stood there for a long moment, my body still humming with unspent pleasure, my mind spinning with everything that had just happened. I'd come to the ledger room looking for information. I'd left with something far more dangerous: an understanding of what a desire demon could do to a willing human, and the absolute certainty that I wanted him to do it again.
Next time, he'd said.
I walked back to my room on shaking legs, every step reminding me of the ache between my thighs, the emptiness that cried out to be filled. When I finally collapsed onto my silk-covered bed, I pressed my hand between my legs and found myself soaked, swollen, desperate.
I didn't touch myself. I didn't give myself the release I craved.
Because somewhere in the darkness of the manor, I knew Azrael could probably sense it if I did. And somehow, impossibly, I wanted him to be the one to finish what he'd started.
I fell asleep still aching, still wanting, still burning.
And I dreamed of golden eyes and phantom touches and a voice like velvet whispering,Next time.
