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I don’t know if I can do it.
But then Azrael guides me back, his fingers returning to where I need them. He strokes me as he kisses his way along my neck, breathing me in. “We’ll make new memories,” he tells me. “Relax for me, Little Witch. Let me give you what you need.”
Slowly, I allow my body to melt against him. As I do, I get swept away by the feeling of him, of his warmth pressed against me, his scent wrapped around me. I give into it completely, and Azrael growls his approval against my skin.
“God, I’ve missed watching you this way. Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?”
I release a breath, shaking my head as if to tell him I don’t need his words. But I do. Right now, I do.
“You’re mine,” he tells me, his free hand spanning my stomach. “Do you feel it?”
I’ve never felt more owned than when I hear those words spoken against my neck. It’s his acknowledgment that he’s claimed me in a way nobody else ever will.
“Come for me,” he encourages. “Show me just how much you belong to me.”
His words send me over the edge, and I free-fall into one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever given me. Spasms rack my body as the room around me disappears behind a veil of darkness. All I have left are my distorted senses, the feel of Azrael’s lips on my skin, and his body wrapped around mine.
It feels so right… but horribly wrong at the same time. I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t be giving myself to him this way. It’s only going to make things harder.
When I open my eyes and turn to meet his, I can feel him reeling me back in. But we can’t return to the way things were before. I can’t pretend to be ignorant of what I’ve seen. No matter what he says, I can’t accept that he’ll forsake a centuries-old tradition.
“Azrael,” I choke out his name.
Tension draws his brows together as he strokes my face. “What is it?”
“I want to visit my family today,” I blurt. “Alone.”
9
WILLOW
Unsurprisingly, Azrael does not agree to my request to let me visit my family at home by myself. After an argument over the fact that they can visit me at the house any time they’d like, along with him pointing out that they have done so since my return, we found ourselves in a war of wills. He insisted that he’s not letting me out of his sight while Caleb is still free and drove me over himself.
This is how we ended up sitting in my parent’s dining room with Bec while my sisters serve us afternoon tea. They’ve really gone all out this time, and I can’t help but smile as Bec’s eyes widen with every new tray that appears on the table. There have been finger sandwiches, pastries, macarons, and cakes galore. Bec has sampled them all while Cordelia chatters her ear off, the two of them seemingly becoming fast friends.
The real amusement, though, is when Cordelia disappears briefly, charging up the stairs, only to return with another of her t-shirt creations, this one for Bec. When she offers her the rhinestone-studded shirt, Azrael’s brows shoot up in concern when he sees what Cordelia has written on the front.
“The moon made me do it?” He reads it aloud, half under his breath, and Aurora snorts loudly at his expression. That’s about the time he notices her shirt, which proudly displays a slogan about hexing the patriarchy.
“I picked it just for your appearance today.” She bats her eyelashes sweetly.
“Aurora,” Raven chides her half-heartedly. “You’re supposed to wait until the guests leave before you talk shit.”
“Oh, whoops.” Aurora plays along. “I should probably take that potion I’ve been brewing off the stove, too, then.”
Azrael’s eyes dart to the kitchen in concern, and Winter seizes the opportunity to get in on the joke by grabbing the sage and smudging around him obnoxiously.
“Whew, that’s better. It was starting to feel a little dreary in here.”
The entire Wildblood house erupts in laughter at Azrael’s expense as he stares at my sisters like they’re insane. Bec laughs too, and I watch the scene play out with reluctant amusement. I know my sisters are trying to lighten the mood and make me feel better, and it’s all in good fun. Truthfully, I think they have all come to like Azrael, despite their initial opinions of him.
“I think they’re fucking with you,” I tell Azrael. “Welcome to the family.”
The moment the last words leave my lips, I find myself regretting them. Because I’m forgetting why I came here in the first place. When I see him relax beside me, his lip tipping up at the corner, I think it would be easy to let myself fall into this trap with him. I could think that we could actually have this, that he could sit here beside me with my family, not as my enemy or my captor, but as my loving husband.
