Tendrils of shadow dance across my body, teasing every inch of exposed skin in a blissful sensory overload.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please what, darling?” He kisses me once, then pulls away. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need you. All of you. I want you to take me and make me yours—forever.” I gasp as the warmth of his tip presses against my entrance.
But still, he holds back—not satisfied with my response. “Say the right words, angel. I can’t help you.” His voice is husky and strained.
He must be bound by some kind of magic. I think back to everything he’s said to me over the last few days. If it has to be the right words—and everything I know about Azrael feels ancient and old. He said I’m his mate.
I cup his face in my hands, staring deep into his eyes—halfway between their normal icy blue and the black they often become. “I want you to make me your mate. I accept you, Azrael.”
The moment his name leaves my lips, his control slips. He thrusts inside, taking me completely. There’s nothing gentle about it—only savage, raw desire. He pulls back gently, giving me time to catch my breath, before slamming back in. Each declaration is a rhythmic thrust. “You’re mine. Now and forever. Until the end of time. In this world and the next. You belong to me.”
“Yours,” I whisper, breath ragged.
“Mine,” he answers.
I moan as he covers my mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. I feel him everywhere—his thick, hard cock stretching me to accommodate him. I arch into him grinding, as power surges and trickles over my skin in warm waves. It burns in the most delicious way, and when I look at my hand shadowed tattoosbloom—marigolds twining from the tip of my ring finger and swirling over my hand in inky grace.
Azrael lifts his hand to examine the tattoo now etched on his own. Where mine is a marigold, his is an eight-pointed star. “The light to my dark,” he whispers, kissing my tattoo and sending a magical tingle through my body.
“Does this mean I’m yours now?” I ask, already lost in his eyes.
“Yes. You’re mine—now, always, and forever.” His mouth captures mine, and I’m lost in the intoxicating pleasure as he sets a steady pace.
My orgasm coils tighter and tighter… and then he reaches between my legs to send me over the edge. I rock my hips, meeting each of his thrusts as he drives into me. Pleasure consumes us both. I explode, and he groans, our kiss breaking.
“You feel so fucking good,” Azrael rasps, gazing at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
“I never want this to end,” I confess, which makes him laugh.
Before I can catch my breath, he rolls us over, guiding me on top. I sink onto him, gasping as our hips find a punishing rhythm. I throw my head back, rolling my hips against him as I chase another orgasm lingering just out of reach. Azrael grips my hips, driving into me. When I look at him, I can see he’s unraveling—sweat beads on his skin.
“Kiss me,” he rasps, desperate and undone.
I lean in, brushing my lips over his, teasing. But he surges up to claim them, devouring my mouth like he’s starving.
It’s all too much. My body is twisted tight and he’s thrusting faster, chasing his own release. On his next thrust, I shatter. I cry out in pleasure as wave after wave of orgasm pulses through me. He follows, growling as I feel his seed spill into me—warm and hot.
I collapse onto his chest, panting and spent. He wraps his arms around me, holding tight. “That was… incredible,” I rasp, trembling.
He brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, voice low and raw. “You’re perfect.” His fingers trace lazy, comforting circles down my spine.
Azrael rolls us carefully to the side, sliding out of me. His shadows pull one of the blankets from earlier over us, and he snuggles closer.
“Let me hold you. I’ve been dreaming about falling asleep with you in my arms for longer than I can remember,” he rasps.
I snuggle into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. I’ve become obsessed with it. His skin is soft and warm, and before I know it, I’m fighting to keep my eyes open as he caresses me.
“Go to sleep, Mercy. I promise I’ll still be here when you wake up.” His words are nothing more than a distant whisper.
I surrender to sleep quickly, feeling safe in Azrael’s arms—where no one and nothing can hurt me.
Hours later, I feel him lift me, blanket and all, and carry me from the library. My lashes flutter and I squint in the dark. Azrael’s voice is reassuring in my ear. “Sleep, darling. I’m only carrying you to bed.”
“Okay,” I answer, too tired to protest.
