Content Warning: This chapter contains intense romantic themes, power imbalance, and emotionally charged scenes that some readers may find overwhelming.
Azael released Elana's hands, withdrawing from between her legs before settling beside her, propped on one arm.
His other hand remained over her, resting where her knees were still raised.
Still dominated by his frame, even though her body wasn't entirely beneath him.
The hesitation on her face deepened as her hands slowly lifted to his chest.
Warm palms slid across him, tracing the breadth of his chest, brushing lightly over his nipples.
Azael shut his eyes, indulging in the sensation—her unsure fingers moving slowly, drifting lower until they reached the clasp of his robe, fumbling slightly as she undid it.
He opened his eyes to her face—flushed beneath the soft glow of moonlight, tension and curiosity mingling in her expression as she eased the robe from his body.
Azael leaned back, allowing her, until it slipped from him completely.
He lowered himself partially over her, his lips brushing the side of her neck as her hands began to drift slowly along the firm lines of his stomach.
He inhaled her scent, watching as she tilted her head, her breathing quickening as her back arched—subtle, but unmistakable.
His hand slid from her thigh, gliding upward along the other side until it reached her lower abdomen.
Her breath hitched.
Her hands flew back to his chest.
"Master…" she whispered, unsteady, her body beginning to tremble beneath him.
"I like to touch too," he murmured, his lips tracing the edge of her face as his fingers drifted lower.
She bit her lip, trying to move her hands again—trying to regain control over the slow, overwhelming sensations building inside her.
Azael's fingers pulsed with anticipation, craving the slick warmth waiting between her thighs.
But he lingered just above her core, wanting her to open for him—willingly.
He was lost.
Lost in sensation.
In the way her soft body shifted beneath him, searching for control she was already losing.
His lips pressed along her chin—firmer now, almost rough—just as he felt her hand move against his length. She whimpered, her lower lip still caught between her teeth.
His breath cooled against her neck, drawing a tremor through her, making the quickened pulse beneath her skin even more apparent.
He felt her thighs tighten beneath his hand as her fingers worked at the clasp of his trousers.
Then slowly—carefully—her hand slipped inside, finding him.
Their breaths faltered together.
Elana turned her face into his chest, forcing him to lean back slightly as his gaze dropped
He watched.
Watched as her thighs slowly parted.
Watched as her body betrayed her, nudging his fingers forward as her hand deepened its hold, growing bolder now.
He should have stopped—he knew her fate was far more endangered than his, and it was because of him.
Yet the desire he felt for her was something he could not control…the dark satisfaction of being seen again.
Why mind a war? It's not every century you come across an appetizing prey —the demon's voice coiled through his mind.
Elana shifted, pressing closer as her hand worked at him, still trying to pull him free.
His gaze flickered briefly to the marks on her neck.
She knows what you are…and still offers herself.
He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as her grip tightened beneath his trousers.
Her lips touched his chest.
Soft, curious, and slow, her hand got bolder.
Each kiss slower than the last.
The indulgence of his demon triggered restraint but only in his mind as his fingers slid between her thighs.
He opened his eyes again the moment her body reacted.
Her breath hitched sharply as her kisses paused and her body stilled.
"It's a little unfair," Azael said quietly, a trace of amusement in his voice, "to want me still while you move so freely."
"Then why…" Elana breathed, pressing her face deeper into his chest, "…doesn't it feel like too much for you too?"
As if answering her—
the tension beneath her grip kicked and he moved his fingers slightly between her thighs.
Her head snapped up.
Her lips parted, breath breaking into soft uncontrolled sounds as her grip around him weakened.
His finger moved again.
Slow.
Measured.
Circling.
Do not confirm the illusions of the ones who believe she controls you.
Her body arched beneath him.
Her free hand gripped his arm tightly.
"It feels…" she whispered, trembling even where she held him. "…it feels too much…"
Azael's voice dropped lower.
Darker.
"It's too much beneath your fingers too, little one."
And still—
he did not stop, savoring her rising confusion as his touch overrode hers.
**
Elana's toes curled into the sheets as his finger circled the most sensitive part between her thighs.
She hated the rush of sensation all at once.
She hadn't even had the time to process him— his size, his presence—before he began to touch her.
Even as her grip had loosened, it made little difference.
He should have been more affected, especially with how hard and painful he felt.
But yet she was the one unraveling, half-writhing and flustered beneath him.
Drowning in his control.
Blind as she was, Elana found herself wishing she could see him, not just feel him.
Not just imagine him.
But truly see what he looked like beyond her world of dark gray.
Her body jerked as a sound escaped her, her palm leaving him to press against his chest.
"No," she whimpered, pushing weakly against him as his finger continued its steady, deliberate rhythm—maintaining pace, yet deepening her unraveling.
Then he stopped.
His breath was closer now.
Elana bit her lip, frustration flickering through her—because she had also not wanted him to stop.
"Afraid of your own curiosity," Azael murmured, his voice heavy beneath his breath, his fingers still resting between her thighs.
"No," she denied, her palm sliding to his shoulder, pushing faintly.
His voice came colder against her neck.
A slow moan escaped her as his finger resumed—this time faster.
"You cannot run now."
Her fingers dug into his arm as her breaths shortened, pulling her dangerously close to the edge of a sensation she both feared and couldn't escape.
"I didn't know you'd have to do it too," she whined softly.
She had expected something else.
Expected him to react as she did.
Perhaps, her hand slid down back into his trousers, she might feel him react to how he made her feel with his fingers.
He was still hard—unrelenting beneath her touch, veins pulsing in her palm as her fingers explored, tracing upward before sliding back down again.
Now she felt it.
The contrast of his reaction…
And his control over her.
Her body sank deeper into him, even from the side, her sounds rising helplessly against his chest.
Then suddenly he moved.
In a blur, he was kneeling between her legs again.
Elana inhaled sharply from the abrupt shift, her body still sensitive where his touch had been.
"Keep touching me, Elana," he ordered, his voice low.
She reached out slowly but he caught both her wrists, guiding her hands forward, pressing her palms against the hard lines of his lower stomach.
She tilted her face slightly toward him.
His lips met hers instantly.
Gentle, slow.
One of her hands slipped free—returning into his trousers.
Her breath caught within the kiss as she felt him again.
Had he gotten bigger?
Even as they kissed, her hand remained there.
The other began to tug at the fabric around his waist.
And for a moment—despite everything she enjoyed it. Enjoyed being the only one touching.
At least for now.
He leaned into the kiss, pressing her down onto the bed.
Both her hands slid up to his shoulders as the kiss deepened—hotter now, more urgent.
His hardness pressed fully between her thighs.
Her fear returned as if confirming her curiosity.
He was meant to fit inside her.
She wriggled, trying to pull away but she couldn't.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her in place—trapping her between the cold of his body and the warmth of the velvet sheets.
The soft curve of her inner knee brushed against the loosened waistband of his trousers.
Then he released her lips.
She gasped, breathless.
"Master…" she whimpered as his breath traced down her chin. "I don't think I can…"
"Yes, you can."
His breath followed the curves of her chest as he lowered himself.
His arms still held her but now his breath fell directly over her breast.
Her toes brushed against his loosened trousers, curling into the fabric.
She whimpered as her body arched slightly—then jolted when his mouth closed over her nipple.
The sensation of his suckling drew a sharper sound from her, her hands pushing weakly against his shoulders.
"A-Azael…" her voice broke as he shifted to the other, inhaling before taking it into his mouth.
Strands of his long hair brushed against her skin.
She turned her face into the sheets, her fingers clutching at the fabric as she tried to hold onto herself—to steady the tightening that kept building between her thighs.
Then he stopped.
Slowly releasing her.
"I do not think you're done understanding," he murmured, adjusting slightly as her toes curled against his trousers.
Elana pushed her feet forward, aware of the fabric slipping further down him.
She bit her lip, shy as her body advanced.
—pushing until he came free, his hardness brushing between her thighs.
She jolted, letting out a small cry, her hands pressing against his shoulders again.
"Go on," he whispered.
She swallowed.
Her feet pushed the fabric lower until it caught at his calves.
He finished removing it himself, shifting upward.
She felt him fully now.
Solid, cold.
Pressing against her warmth.
Her body trembled as his tip pressed between her thighs.
She pushed weakly.
"I must have been mistaken…please, Master..."
A low chuckle rumbled through him.
Elana whimpered—what had she gotten herself into?
She didn't want to feel something so big inside her.
"If I spare you," he murmured, his lips brushing from her chin down to her neck, "what would I do with myself? You touched me too."
"I wasn't so…." she started, her voice faltering as he pushed slightly, hands softening on him.
"An interesting fear," he whispered into her ear, "for something you want."
Then, quieter—
"But I will give you grace."
His voice dropped.
"You may stop me now…with a word."
Elana froze. Freedom flashed before her.
Her hopes of owning her life, unbound.
And yet here she was—already too deep, too caught in him.
Too consumed by the pull of him.
His tip pressed deliberately at her entrance.
And in that moment she knew.
She would never be free of him.
**
Azael's patience thinned; he had clung to the silent hope that she might still stop him.
His body pulsed with need between her thighs—feral, insistent, urging him to push further, to claim.
She shifted slightly beneath him, trying to create space, but his arms tightened around her, pressing her back down and drawing a soft whimper from her lips.
"Use your words," he said, watching unsteady sounds slip past her parted lips. Her eyelids lowered.
Her grip on his shoulders softened as her hardened nipples grazed faintly against his chest.
He savoured her warmth, every small, helpless movement beneath him—unconsciously pressing deeper between her legs.
A soft cry left her as her fingers dug into his shoulders again.
Stop waiting for the resistance that won't come—his demon murmured, heavy with anticipation.
Azael closed his eyes. The slick warmth at her entrance coated his tip, while the unsteady pulse of her body seemed to draw him in, inch by inch.
Her body tensed.
Her head shifted from side to side as she pushed harder at his shoulders.
She had tried to escape you. Into the arms of a warmer man. A pathetic mortal!—the voice pressed.
A broken cry escaped Elana's lips as Azael eased forward, deeper into her warmth.
He stopped, feeling her body tighten, allowing her to adjust to what was already inside her.
Her fists struck weakly against his shoulders.
"Please—let me go!" she cried, even as her body clenched around him, her legs kicking faintly at either side.
Azael opened his eyes, catching the flicker of fear on her face—yet her lust outweighed it.
Her lips tempted him, but more than that, he wanted to savor every uncontrolled sound she made…as he claimed her.
As he made her his.
He sank further.
She stilled—breath catching—before it began again, faster, warmer.
His gaze followed the tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, her pupils trembling, unfocused.
Her neck tilted, exposing the healed marks.
He captured her lips, kissing her slowly, feeling her soften beneath him…and then he pushed deeper, burying himself halfway inside her.
He pulled back from the kiss, watching the tangle of lust, confusion, and shock across her face as her body trembled beneath his.
Arms now totally weak against his chest.
"It's…it's ruining me, master." she managed, as if the words might soften him—unaware of how far beyond restraint he was.
He withdrew slightly, watching the flicker of relief in her eyes—
—and then sank into her again.
"N-No—" she cried, her feet pressing against the backs of his knees, toes curling into his skin.
She is exquisite…still trusting you to hold back, even now.
He moved again, drinking in the way her breathing softened, the sharpness of her cries turning small, fragile.
"Master," she whispered, her hand sliding to his back, gripping softly, her face still turned away.
Her body tightened around him—almost painfully pulling at what little restraint he had left.
Azael moved again, and this time didn't pause.
He began to thrust—slow at first—into the slick, yielding depths of her inexperience.
**
Elana swallowed again and again, struggling to breathe, to think—failing to understand what he was doing to her.
The pain of his intrusion…gradually dissolving into something far worse—
something overwhelming.
Her thighs tightened around him, her toes easing from his skin as his movements settled into a rhythm.
She bit her lip, her eyes falling shut, helpless sounds slipping from her without restraints.
His cold breath brushed her face—calm, controlled—unlike the storm inside her.
"N-no," she moaned faintly, even as the sensations coiled tighter within her.
"Why 'no' Elana?" he whispered, his pace increasing.
She nodded weakly, unable to form words—hoping he would understand what she couldn't say.
His movements slowed.
Then stopped.
Elana gasped, her breath uneven, unable to hide her frustration.
"Master…" she whimpered, the plea dying unspoken on her tongue.
She froze when his breath brushed against the healed marks of her neck.
Fear surged again, sharp and immediate.
"It will cost any other man his life to touch you," he murmured. "From this moment…you are mine, as long as I decide."
He pressed a kiss to her scars and she shivered—uncertain whether he would bite her again.
She gasped as he moved within her once more.
"And when I ask questions…" he continued softly, his rhythm building again, "use your words."
"Y-yes," she cried, the sound breaking as his pace increased again. "I meant yes, master."
Fear and pleasure tangled inside her, inseparable now.
"The audacity…to try to escape me," he said, and goosebumps rippled across her skin.
Was this punishment?
"No," she moaned weakly, trying to regain strength in her hands against him. "Please—I don't like to be bitten—"
"And I don't like to be defied."
His breath cooled her face now, even as his movements slowed again.
She whimpered in frustration—wanting him faster, too ashamed to ask.
"And I'm not done with him," he hissed, sinking deeper into her. "Not after that confession…about how warm he was to you."
Her breath hitched sharply.
Zane.
"It was a lie," she rushed out. "he didn't touch me—you're the only one—"
Her voice broke as his pace surged again, her fingers clutching desperately at his shoulders as she neared the edge.
He slowed down.
"No—please don't stop—" she pleaded.
"But then the proof," he said quietly, "lies in your tongue."
She trembled."I don't..."
"Who protected you?" he asked.
"Y-you," she sobbed, even as his movements resumed—slow, controlled, unbearable.
"In whose arms are you like this?" His voice sharpened
"Yours, master—" she cried, her body arching helplessly toward him.
"Who do you belong to?"
Tears filled her eyes.
She didn't want to belong to him
She wanted something else—something she didn't even understand.
"You have no choice," he murmured, kissing her scars again. "My ears only wish to hear you say it."
Her fingers dug into him as his pace quickened.
"Yes..." she whispered.
He stopped again.
Then rose, kneeling as she shifted beneath him.
She twisted in frustration— only to gasp as his hands seized her hips, pulled her sharply toward him, taking more of her at once.
Her toes curled in the air.
"Master…" she cried weakly, palms pressing against him. "It's so—"
"You're full of want," he said. "Soothe me… and I'll satisfy you properly."
She trembled—still clinging to the last thread of herself.
He began to move again.
Slow, deep, relentless as her thighs spread further around him.
"Still defiant?" he breathed, his fingers tightening on her thighs.
She bit her lip, holding onto the last fragment of her freedom—even as he took it from her.
His thrusts deepened.
Stronger. Fuller.
Her hands flew to the sheets, gripping tightly as he held her in place.
Her moans broke into cries, her mind unraveling completely.
"Yes—please don't stop—" she begged.
"Who do you belong to, Elana?" he asked again, quieter now.
She hesitated, bringing her hands to her mouth, then whispered, ashamed, "Yours."
A sharp cry left her as he seized her wrists, pinning them above her head—driving deeper into her.
"I don't like to repeat myself."
Tears spilled freely now, she hated him so much, but her body and mind were equally powerless.
Shame burned through her as she ached for the relentlessness of his thrusts.
"Yours, master," she breathed.
He released her hands and immediately drove into her again, faster now, his control slipping.
"All yours, master—" she cried, her body tightening as the sensation he stirred built again.
This time, he didn't stop.
"Something—" she gasped, the pressure inside her rising uncontrollably.
He pushed deeper—filling her in a way that stole the air from her lungs.
Cold breath brushed against her lips.
"No—" she moaned, turning her face aside, pressing weakly against him.
She wanted to scream, but not into his mouth like before.
He kissed her neck and whispered. "Yes."
She turned her face up, understanding his warning even as his thrusts began to cloud her thoughts once more.
And still—he had not apologized for calling her a slave.
"You will never be free of me," he whispered before catching her lips once more—gentle, searing, in stark contrast to the unrelenting drive of his body into hers.
Her breath hitched over and over again, fingers sliding over his shoulders, raking across the firm planes of his back as her vision blurred—grey dissolving into white, her body convulsing beneath him.
He remained firm, still moving over her as spasms overtook her, her cries breaking into his kiss while her climax spread between them, soaking him before spilling onto the sheets below.
His movements slowed…then stilled.
Lips softening against hers before he finally pulled away.
He drew her into him, holding her trembling body close.
"My curiosity," he murmured softly, "is far from satisfied."
Elana whimpered.