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I cry out, fingers clawing into his back as he mauls me with his mouth. It’s a brutal kiss, one full of need like I’ve never experienced. I know he feels it too. This thing between us is growing. Changing. Tethering us together. Is it the curse wrapping its claws around us, or is it something else?
He’s barely touched me, and I’m on the verge of coming undone. But I can’t. Not until I know the truth.
“Wait, Azrael.” My lips retreat from his, and he glances down at me, eyes full of torment.
“What is it?” he asks, his body slackening against me, his cock pulsing inside me even in stillness.
“Promise me,” I whisper, “that I can trust you.”
His eyes flash, and he tips my chin up when I waver in the silence, forcing me to keep my eyes on his. “You have my word, Willow. As long as I live and breathe, I will protect you. I will keep you safe.”
I gulp back my emotions, nodding as I press my lips against his. “Okay. Then I believe you.”
He grunts as he thrusts into me again, deeper and harder than before. It isn’t sweet. It’s primal. A claiming. A different mark of ownership. One that I’ll feel everywhere tomorrow.
The first orgasm rips through me with an intensity that travels all the way to my toes. I barely have time to catch my breath before the second is chasing after it, and I don’t know how it’s even possible, but he gives me another. And another. He fucks me endlessly for what feels like hours as he shifts me around, positioning my body in ways he seems to understand will give me exactly what I need. He drapes me over the top of the piano, his large palms swallowing up my hips as he fucks me from behind. When my legs are on the verge of collapse, he picks me up and settles us both onto the bench, face to face. He rocks me down against him while he kisses me, our teeth clashing, breaths mingling, hearts beating wildly against each other.
I can’t look away from him, and he sees it. Does he feel it too? Does he feel this thing between us?
“Willow,” he grits out my name between his teeth, tension ratcheting in his body.
I kiss him. I kiss him like I’ll die if I don’t. It sends us both spiraling together, his fingers digging into my skin. Our breaths are fire in our lungs as he comes inside of me, pulsing violently as a sound of agony tears from his throat.
I feel it, then, that same question he’s been asking of me.
What are you doing to me?
I don’t give voice to it, but I don’t need to. Azrael recognizes it in my eyes as we stare at each other, coming down from the high, the only sound between us our ragged breaths.
We stay like that, tangled up in each other, neither of us willing to move. His palm rests on my back as I nestle against him, breathing him in. Exhaustion weighs heavy on me, and I know there are still discussions to be had. I want to talk to him about Bec and Salomé going into her room at night and so many other things, but I can’t seem to move. The longer I lay there, sagging against him with the strength of his body supporting me, the further those thoughts drift away until there’s nothing.
Nothing but silence and bliss as I fall to sleep in his arms.
24
AZRAEL
Willow doesn’t stir as I drape my jacket over her shoulders and carry her back out through the corridor, through the library, and up the stairs to my bedroom. Once I’m inside, I close the bedroom door. She left the light beside her side—well, my old side—of the bed, on. The asshole has made herself comfortable on my pillow again. She raises her head, her eyes sleepy slits until she sees me carrying Willow and sits up, suddenly alert.
“Relax, I didn’t hurt her,” I tell her, whispering the words, wondering why I’m explaining myself to a damn cat.
She watches as I lay a still-sleeping Willow down and tuck her in. She must be exhausted. All of this, everything that’s happening, has got to be weighing on her.
Fi settles back down and nuzzles into Willow’s neck. Willow moans softly and turns toward the cat in her sleep. I watch her looking so sweet and soft and wonder how I ever thought I could go through with it. How did I think I could hurt her?
I shake my head and glance out the window, just barely seeing the red glow of the tabernacle lamp in the chapel. My chest tightens, and just before I’m about to switch out the light, my gaze catches on the wood carving over my bed. I have to peer closer to be sure but that crack that’s been there for as long as I can remember has, I swear, grown, widened as if it will split the carving in two.
