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My head snug into his neck, barely able to keep itself upright. He smelt of lavender, and my mind dazed off, imagining a field of flowers brushing in the wind on a summer’s day. The thought drifted in my mind as I desperately tried to keep my eyes from shutting. Because if I fell asleep, I feared that I might not wake back up.
Though, that couldn’t be so bad. It would mean that Azrael might die, too. And all of this would finally be over.
His hands gently lifted a few strands out of my face. “Don’t worry, my love. It will all feel much better soon.”
My eyes fluttered, my head hanging onto whatever momentum swung my way.
Back and forward.
Side to side.
It was like my head was heavy, moving around as Azrael shifted himself under me, allowing his right wrist to be free.
With a single slash to the wrist, there was blood spewing out of his skin. It was red and warm, and while I didn’t see much of what was happening, I felt it as it dripped over my lips, sinking into my mouth. The taste of iron was all I could think about.
I wanted to fight it.
I wanted to wiggle out of his hold and spit out every sour drop that touched my tongue. But as the taste of it swam wildin me, I felt the urge for more, almost like it was healing me from the inside out. Like my body convulsed for it.
I began sucking on his wrist harder, my head feeling lighter with each gulp. And before I knew it, I was standing on my own two feet, my tongue licking every last drop from his wrist like a rabid animal. As the wound healed rapidly along my tongue, I realized I was just licking at his skin, making him smile behind me while his other hand was still holding onto my waist.
The sheer touch of it made my skin crawl in ways that I didn’t understand.
Made me yearn for it, beg for it. Made it feel like electrical sparks were erupting at his fingertips, sinking into my skin. Like his touch was erotic.
My head bucked backward, reveling in the feeling that surged through me. I nearly moaned as he let his lips trail down the back of my neck until reality hit me like a brick.
I stepped forward out of his hold, blinking profusely in confusion. “What did you do? What was that?” I stuttered, not even caring if I made a scene in front of everyone.
“How do you feel?” He smiled cruelly, knowing full well what I felt. Even if he wasn’tmymate, anyone here could have read me like a book. And in that moment, I could feel his thoughts, his pull tugging at my mind. I could feel him tempting me with the bond that I could only imagine was because of the fact that I was his mate, as if he wanted me to crave him. Wanted me to cave into the madness thatwashim.
And the thought of my body yearning for his touch made my stomach churn in knots of nausea.
He redirected himself to the crowd. “I am the only one of us that can make more of our kind. The blood in my veins is aspure as you can get. A full-bred succubus of the first kind. If you want to kill me, that is fine. Go ahead and try. But if you want to rule over this world. If you want to not be secondhand citizens to the humans, then rule with me. Join me.” His hands were in the air as if everything that just happened was some spectacle to win them over.
As if my life was nothing but a show of good faith to everyone.
And I crumbled to the floor at the realization that I wasn’t human anymore. Probably not even an angel.
I was… a succubus.
I didn’t need him to flatly tell me that. I could feel it. I could feel the itch scratching at the back of my mind. Begging me to get just a taste. Everything in me felt different. Felt off. Like I craved the touch of anyone, it didn’t matter who or why. All that mattered was this urge to feed.
And I hated it.
Loud screams echoed from the back of the room, rippling forward as someone seemingly tore through the crowd, which turned into bodies colliding and fighting. As if a rebellion had begun, the kind that Daemon had told us about.
My eyes felt like they were deceiving me as I looked up and saw wide, frosty eyes desperately circling the room until they landed on mine. And when I saw Dustin standing there looking terrified, I thought I had imagined it.
I blinked profusely, rubbing my eyes to be sure that he was really standing there and that I wasn’t hallucinating. But as I looked blankly up at him, it seemed more and more clear that it was truly him.
Though, he looked different. Tired almost. His eyes were radiating malleus, veins rippling across as if he hadn’t sleptsince I was taken. His face was flushed, pale like his eyes. A vein pulsated on his forehead with anger as he briefly looked up at Azrael in proximity to me. They drifted back down, saddened as they rested on me.
“Dustin!” I cried out, shaking the strange feeling I felt inside me as I hurled myself forward toward him.
And the closer I got to him, the more disturbed he seemed. Up close, I could see the blood stains on his shirt. Could see the splatters riddling his clothes as if he had been sprayed with blood across his body. It wasn’t until I peered behind him that I noticed the wake he had made. The piles of bodies on the ground that he tore open from the sea of succubi that riddled the club.
Behind him was a clash of bodies, fists, and teeth tearing into each other.
