Elana clutched the blanket tighter, even as Azael's grip remained firm around her arm and he said nothing.
It wasn't just the cold that made her unwilling to return to Lumere tonight.
The bed dipped.
Then his fingers let go—and in a terrifying instant, the space in front of her shifted.
Her feet lifted from the bed as something close and immediate replaced the distance between them.
The underside of her thighs brushed against the sleek fabric of his trousers.
Azael knelt between her legs, knees slightly apart.
Elana startled, her body trembling.
She quickly braced herself upright on her arms, refusing to lie down.
"A-Azael?" she called, needing to be sure.
Goosebumps rippled across her skin as cold steady palms traced along her thighs, rising to her hips.
"All that rebellion…only to be overwhelmed by this," his voice came low—different from the threatening tone earlier.
Confusion and fear weakened her arms. People weren't supposed to appear out of nowhere.
Was Azael truly the monster he claimed to be?
His hand circled her waist and drew her closer, her hands lifting instinctively from the bed before hovering uncertainly at her sides.
She turned her face away, breath catching in her throat as the faint mist of his cold exhale brushed her neck, his wisteria scent surrounding her.
"It is too late to pretend, little one."
Her nipples ached, betraying how aware she was of him so close.
Elana flushed, knowing he would notice.
"Is what I feel…" she began, her voice unsteady. "Is that also part of who you are?"
She felt his arm begin to loosen—but immediately her body closed the distance between them, and his grip tightened.
"Elana!" he hissed, his voice strained with restraint.
Her body hummed with need despite her fear, and her hands lifted to his chest, savoring the solid, unnatural chill beneath his clothing, yet frustrated by the urge to feel him bare.
"If it is…" she continued, her fingers wandering slowly across his chest, finding the bare dip at its center, "then isn't it right…that you claim your prize…fully?"
Her thighs drew tighter subconsciously around him.
**
Azael's hands dropped to her rear and lifted her fully against him, drawing a sharp gasp from her as the sensitive core of her pleasure met the firm heat at his groin.
His palms curved into her softness, steady and grounding.
Her lips and neck caught the faint glow of the moonlight, drawing his gaze without effort.
He had tried—and was failing—to keep himself at bay.
Pushed by her defiance, reactive to her touch.
Fear and curiosity in her eyes.
"Anything to make yourself a victim of your own desire," he murmured.
Warm hands slipped beneath his robe to his shoulders, pushing the fabric back.
He should have stopped her—but his arms only loosened.
The robe slid from his shoulders, and in the next moment, she pressed her bare, warm breasts against his chest.
His eyes lowered, heavy, taking in the tightening of her nipples and the slow exploration of her hands along his back as she pushed the robe further down until the sleeves caught at his elbows.
"But you like it too, master…" Elana breathed, shifting against his chest and erection. "Or am I wrong?"
Vulnerable, unaware. Perfect —the demon's whisper slithered into his mind.
Azael swallowed hard, trying to at least struggle.
Carefully—he lowered her onto the bed.
His hands settled at her hips, sensing the shift in her body at once, the disappointment that crossed her expression.
"I'm no good for you, not tonight," he said quietly, tempted to kiss her, his face barely an inch from hers.
She frowned.
Then her hand moved.
A gasp slipped from her as her palm found the unmistakable hardness beneath his trousers.
Azael's eyes shut. His lips parted—control slipping in a quiet exhale.
She didn't pull away, her palm lingered, then moved, tracing his length.
His fingers pressed into her hips.
"Elana…" he whispered, his voice thinner than before.
Her breath warmed his face as his eyes opened, meeting the heavy lust in her gaze.
Her other hand slid immediately to the clasp of his trousers—but he quickly seized both her wrists in one hand.
"What have you been thinking about?" he asked, inhaling sharply as he leaned back.
**
Elana turned her head slightly, heat rising to her face, shy at how far she had gone.
She didn't fight his hold.
"I just wanted to understand..." she admitted softly, hesitating, now a little wary of his size.
Knowing he was actually on cue to ask because she had been thinking about her actions until now.
"You can stay here as you wish for the night," he said, his usual calm returning—but not fully as his hand still held her wrists.
He was going to leave again.
"Perhaps…" she began, her voice quieter now, more fragile. "I'm meant to want to understand someone else."
Now, she felt genuinely undesirable to him.
Cara had been right the first time.
She had been living in assumptions…and the truth felt different.
Cold fingers tilted her chin, turning her face toward him.
"Would you rather understand another man?" he said, faint amusement threading through the question.
She frowned, lips parting—
But nothing came.
Because the truth was simple.
It was him.
Only him.
Her core tightened as his lips met hers again—this time softer, allowing her to respond.
He released her wrists.
The kiss deepened as he eased her back into the bed, his body settling between her thighs as she parted them further around him.
He trapped her hands above her head.
The heat of him, the pressure, the control.
It overwhelmed her.
It wasn't fair—she couldn't touch him.
A soft sound escaped her as he pressed lightly into the sensitive space between her legs, just enough to make her shiver.
He released her lips, but kept her pinned.
Still keeping control.
Cold, unsteady breath washed over her face as his chest brushed her taut nipples.
His scent alone stirred her further.
"Master…" she whispered, her legs wrapping around him, drawing him closer.
This time he let his body yield.
Her head tilted, breath catching as he drew against her again.
Her body tensed instantly, searching for more—despite the barrier between them.
She struggled faintly, wanting her hands free—but he held them, unmoving, as he shifted against her again and she let out a soft whine.
"I don't want it like this," she murmured, knowing her efforts to pull free were useless.
"Want what, Elana?" he asked, voice low.
She hesitated but still spoke. "I want…I want to touch you."
She heard him swallow.
**
Eira materialized within the room where Zane lay asleep.
Moonlight stretched across his body, revealing the bandages wrapped tightly around him, the IV line fixed into his wrists.
He looked fragile.
She stepped closer, watching for any sign of movement, he didn't stir.
She wondered if he had tried to put up a fight against a wolf—but there was no way he wouldn't have been bitten.
Eira sat gently on the edge of the bed beside him.
His eyes opened—weak, but alert the moment he saw her.
"Eira," he whispered, swallowing as he tried to adjust his body slightly.
She scoffed, mockery lacing her tone.
"It'll take a while for your injuries to heal," she said. "But then again…remaining human has always been worth the suffering to you."
"Why…why are you here?" he asked, his gaze slipping away, jaw tightening.
A faint smile curved her lips, knowing the jab had landed.
"Now," she continued, calm, deliberate. "Azael holds the entire kingdom at his mercy. A man whose weakness you already know."
"Was Caesar answering to you?" Zane asked.
Her gaze sharpened instantly.
"Accusing me won't repair your pride," she replied coldly, turning away.
You're here because of Elana," he said. "If he wanted her dead…you wouldn't care."
"How rich," she laughed, masking her frustration. "You actually think Azael would overlook a woman like me for a slave."
"I only want her safe," Zane said. "Elana deserves to be free—free from the likes of your world. Free from him."
Eira turned to him with a smirk.
"You can only hide affection behind concern for so long," she said. "And we both know that is the path a coward—or should I say, a human—would take especially when competing with a being like Azael."
His jaw tightened further. Then she stood.
"Where is Caesar?" he pressed.
"Azael killed him," she said without hesitation. "And soon you will follow. Then Elana."
Then she turned back to him. "It depends on you—whether you remain a defenseless prey for Azael to pick on at any time."
Eira nearly scoffed at the pain in Zane's eyes. How could he still feel sad for Caesar?
Hadn't Caesar tried to kill him and the others?
"Caesar was being used," Zane said. "He shouldn't be dead."
"There's a bar in Limy," Eira continued, ignoring him. "One of the main streets of Lumere. Come there and ask for me."
She turned and moved toward the window, stepping into the moonlight.
Her obsession had changed.
It was no longer desire.
It was survival.
Her life now depended on strategy, as she could no longer risk exposure.
"There is no honor where power exists," she said quietly. "Even Lumere abandoned it…willing to sacrifice lives over a war built on lies."
Eira hoped her words reached him.
Because before Azael could uncover her role in any of this…
She would kill Elana herself.
Then she vanished.
Leaving Zane to make his choice.