When Blood Runs Cold - Chapter 280

“How did your talk with the soul go? Does she wish to have a formal meeting with me, yet?” Azrael asks inquisitively, fishing for idle banter, though I know that is certainly not what he is here for. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the set of draws in question- ordinary looking for the most part, save for the strange looking plant that is set on top. That is where the key is.

God knows how I am going to get it.

“Good,” I answer, attempting to keep my voice as smooth as ever as I dismiss the anxiety that rumbles away in my gut. All I need to do is get through tonight- to deal passively with Azrael’s advances and I can be wiped from this sin forever. As I forage for my already prepared answers to Azrael’s questions, I am sure to keep reminding myself of this- if only to ground my sanity to something.

Leaning across the table with a flutter of my lashes, I add:

“She plans to come to visit you in the palace upon our next meeting. She would like to discuss the prospect of an alliance with you, and what use you might have for her powers in the grand scheme of things. It is of my understanding that she too sees the many faults of Faey, and would take great pleasure in reforming them. It has been a rather productive day, Lord Azrael.”

All of that, of course, is a blatant lie, we had discussed nothing of the sort. But these are the lies I have been feeding Azrael for days, and they are the lies I will continue to tell him until after I manage to escape this hellish wasteland of a place. After that I won’t need to lie and bluff and pretend my way into everything, I will be free, questing with Soren to find the very last soul. Either that or I will be lying decapitated in a dungeon until Azrael manages to find another way to extract my soul instead. Really, there is no in between.

“Mm, I see you have made good progress, my pet,” he murmurs approvingly, rising from his seat now, and in one swift motion he is in front of me, his hands clamped around my waist. Tugging my body up close to his abdomen, he slides his lips against my cheek, his breath cool against my skin.

The way his hands slink over my body is enough to cause a sour taste of revolt tingle across my tongue. Every part of him is detestable, from the smell right down to the scars he attempts to hide under an illusion on his face. Perhaps if I had a weapon on me, I would have killed him then and there. But I don’t, there is nothing I can do. So with a forced smile, I manage to bear it, leaning back into Azrael as though I am enjoying the whole experience and not reeling from disgust.

“But anyway, we are not here for idle banter, are we, hmm?” he growls, his voice sinking to a husky rumble in his chest, fanning the stray bits of hair from my face. My face slowly warming from the unwanted proximity between us, I give my eyelashes a flutter, as though this attention he is giving me is the most luxurious thing in the world, and it doesn’t make my stomach sick with defilation.

Just grin and bear it, I think to myself, shoving down that bubbling disgust. It’s just one night.

I do not recall the moment where my body is pushed up against the wall, only that one minute Azrael is holding my body against him, the next my back is hitting solid wood, cold against my skin. Azrael does not withhold his urges as he presses his body close to mine, for quickly his hands are groping their way over my body and his mouth is on mine.

So close, I think, my head going muzzy for a second. So close that I can feel the rise and fall of the laboured breaths he does not need to take.

A little whimper escapes from the base of his throat as his lips slide down to my neck. Groaning at the scent of my perfume, Azrael’s wet lips press against my skin, his teeth nicking against my flesh in a manner that makes my whole body quiver with displeasure.

I have been preparing myself for this inevitability for days, the eventual ruination of my body, and attempting to come to terms with the fact that the sacrifice simply will have to be made- that is if I ever want to get out of here. I thought perhaps that I could simply close my eyes and remove myself from it all, that I could dull my senses to his advances. And yet his hands are so rough upon my skin, his mouth working so intensely against my neck that I find it almost impossible to remove myself from the situation at all.

Azrael’s methods as a lover are so vastly different to Soren’s. He is rough, and brutal, his passions based solely on sexual pleasure seeking, and far from the tender adoration that Soren was sure to give.

There is no room to pretend, to imagine it is Soren and not Azrael who seeks to pleasure my body tonight, not that it would be any use anyway. For tonight, this grim reality is mine alone.

For a few seconds, Azrael allows his lips to catch mine in a fiery passion, his tongue sliding over my lips in a wanton attempt to get me to open my mouth to him. And when at last I do, he slips his tongue between my own, fighting for a battle of dominance that I let myself subdue to. I feel like a dog at the heels of its master.

His hands continue to roam over my body, my breasts, flicking over my nipples and down to my lower regions. He lingers there for a moment, feeling the heat of me through the thin fabric of my clothes, his pupils dilating. Then Azrael at last draws away, gasping a warm sigh as a strand of salvia forms between us. Smiling smugly with lowered eyes, he pulls his lips up to my ear.

“You are rather skilled with your tongue, my little pet,” he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. “Alas, if only your tongue could have been sharper with your lies, too.”

I stop dead.

“Pardon?”

His eyes glowing like twin rubies in their sockets, Azrael pulls back, his fingers sliding under my chin to raise my head to him. His touch is colder than the bitterest ice.

“To be honest, it was only five minutes before you came that I realised the flaws that I had so failed to miss. I must admit, you had me so… convinced!” he chuckles, his fingers raking down my back, drawing my body impossibly closer to his, imprisoning me to him. My heart pounding, I blink a few times, not fully comprehending what he means. Maybe there is a chance he is bluffing, that this is all some sort of a test or-

“You had everything so perfect, little pet. You acting, your voice, you even managed to conceal your heart from me!”

“Lord Azrael, I-”

He does not let me continue, placing his finger over my lips to silence my voice.

“Come now, don’t you know it is rude to interrupt? I must say, even now you play the part well/ And here I had thought, given you appeared not to have your nasty little pendant, that I had full control of you! Your actions seemed to suggest as such. But,” he adds, lifting my chin higher now, his eyes glinting with malice. “Then I remembered one crucial detail.”

I do not dare speak, or even breath as he lowers his lips to my ears once more, his breath sending shivers rocketing down my spine.

“Where are your wings, little angel?”

A weight drops in my stomach like a stone plummeting to the bottom of a well. I can feel it inside me, that nauseous dread that chills my veins into an icy tundra. Pressed up against the wall like this, he has me where he wants me- a defenceless mouse caught in the paws of a sadistic cat. I cannot run from this one. There is no use denying it.

I have no wings.

But perhaps I can do something else.

“How long have you known?” I ask, taking a swift glance over his shoulder to where the draws lie undisturbed, my gaze quickly removed to arouse any suspicion. Azrael merely smirks, his fingers running over my skin once more, toying with me in his grasp. Grazing his fingers over my rib cage, he murmurs:

“The first time I heard hints of what you were was many moons back, from that little angel girl, Dawn,” he confesses, sliding his fingers over the smooth fabric that coats my body like a glossy sheen of water. I lower my eyes.

Of course. Azrael had already proven to me that he had some influence over Dawn in the dungeons where she was imprisoned. He had hoped to gain things from her, I assume, though Dawn had insisted she had not revealed anything verbally.. Mentally, however, is a different story.