The minion took Elana's hand again as she alighted from the carriage, the sounds of night opening around her with the soft cold air settling against her skin.
Where she stood felt like earth, grasses brushing her feet as she walked, the minion guided her forward.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Why was Azael out in the open instead of in the castle?
They stopped—where the ground beneath her feet hardened—rock.
The air carried the intense, sweet scent of Wisteria. A tiny graze brushed her cheek and vanished. An insect?
"Leave," Azael's voice said—unusually soft yet commanding.
When the minion released her hand, Elana folded her arms tightly across her chest.
Her anger at him still simmered beneath her skin.
She had promised herself not to let him affect her this time. He could have plenty of that with Eira.
"I need to be by myself," she said. "In my room."
Silence.
Was he still there?
She frowned.
"Ma…master Azael?" She called, contemplating whether to lower her hands and search for him when she heard the slosh of water. A river?
Fear crept in slowly, she reached out, feeling the space before her.
Then his cold hand took hers, firm but gentle, pulling her forward. She stumbled, steadied only by the hard, wet rock beneath her feet—and by him.
A gasp escaped her as her palm pressed against his wet, bare chest. She quickly shielded her breasts, breath hitching.
Cold breath brushed her face, steady and controlled.
"Please, no," she whimpered. "I want to go back to the room…I want to be by myself."
His breath grazed her ear.
"Don't punish your body with resistance, little one."
Tears burned behind her eyes. "But you don't like me like that," she said. "You're the one punishing my body."
His breath traced slowly down her neck, deliberate, unhurried. Tiny shivers rippled through her as his hands explored the back of her dress.
She kept her arms locked around her chest—her last shield.
Then the sound of the zipper.
Azael was undressing her.
Her hands flew up instinctively, but all it did was expose her further, her palms now pressed helplessly against his cold chest.
His arms held her still even as she squirmed, her body long already betraying her with shallow breaths and heat she couldn't stop.
"I don't want to…." She breathed.
Her knees weakened further as his fingers trailed the length of her spine, slow and intentional, slipping the sleeves from her shoulders.
Cold air exposed her skin. Goosebumps followed. Her resistance dissolved into unsteady sighs.
"You will," he murmured against her shoulders. "You will soak with me tonight, in the warm spring water."
Elana's reasoning fought to resurface despite her dress now bunched between them, leaving half her breasts exposed.
His fingers explored her arms and lower back, making the memory of what he had done to her body the last time rise stronger.
"Yes, master." She said, surrendering between shallow breaths.
He stepped back briefly, letting her dress fall completely from her body making her breath hitch and her body shiver.
Then she felt him lift her into his arms, moving further from where they stood.
She clung to his wet, cold, bare form, blushing where the sides of her softness met the hard V lines of his lower chest.
The gentle sound of water came from beneath them as she felt his light descent into the comforting warmth of the spring. Then he let her go.
She swam away shyly, retreating to the edge of the pool.
Her back met rock..
She propped her knees slightly, shielding her aching nipples as her body tried to steady itself.
"Calm yourself, Elana," Azael said softly. "I simply want your company."
"You stripped me," she said, voice shaking—but defiant.
"You can't enter a spring clothed," he replied. "They'll get wet."
Elana was furious, he was such a manipulative man. "Asking would have been nice." She snapped.
A low scoff answered her. She pressed on. "Apologizing with words too is fine."
**
Azael watched her under the moonlight—golden skin glowing, wet hair falling to both sides of her fleshy mounds where her arms barely hid her arousal.
A human goddess with ginger hair deepened to red and lips that match.
One he should not want.
"Tell me, Elana," he said, enjoying the edge of her frustration.
"What do I apologize for?"
She hesitated, biting her lower lip, the gesture sent a tremor through him.
"It's a very warm spring," she said, deflecting the question.
He allowed it. She wouldn't be able to voice it anyway—not with words.
"Yes it is," he said, watching her relax slightly, still protecting her chest. "In all these times that I have saved you, do you know what I am, Elana?"
Curiosity, tangled with something familiar that took him by surprise—desire—flickered across her expression.
"V-vampire," she whispered.
"And what have you heard of us?" he continued, slowly noticing one of her arms drop from her chest.
"They say they're monsters," Her body gently leaned forward in the water, her expression almost sympathetic towards him. "Monsters, capable of draining blood from the body of a human."
His irritation sparked—not from the words, but at the pity he sensed beneath them.
"How dare you pity me?"
She gasped, leaning back instinctively, her arms slipping—her nipples breaking the surface of the water.
"If you weren't trying so hard to make it seem that way, you'd understand…" she said quietly. "….i was trying to say you're not a monster."
He laughed quietly.
Then he was behind her.
She screamed softly as he pulled her back, straddling her between his legs, catching her wrists behind her with one hand.
Her body arched instinctively, pressed back against the hard, unmistakable heat of him beneath the water.
"Quiet," he murmured, his breath at her ear.
Her neck arched, exposing the healed punctures there.
"What you keep trying to convince yourself that I'm not," he said softly, "because of what your body craves…"
His free hand traced the soft swell of her thigh down to the bend behind her knee. She trembled.
"Even now," he continued, voice cold against her ear. "your body responds. I am worse than a monster, Elana. I could kill you or everyone you love."
"Master," she breathed. "I may not control how you affect me—but I was once a slave. And slaves only ever know cruelty and monsters, don't they?"
He scoffed before his fingers tightened around her breasts, rolling the hardened peaks between them.
She whimpered.
"You're so unfair," she breathed, writhing slightly in his hold. The parts of her knees that stayed afloat parted further.
He released her wrists, intentionally not drawing her closer as she relaxed into him on her own.
**
Elana no longer cared what he was.
His touch unraveled her thoughts.
Something hard and lengthy pressed insistently against her bare backside.
"What's unfair now, little one?" he murmured.
Shame bloomed as she realized she was the one leaning back into him.
She straightened slowly.
"The way you hide yourself behind your authority," she said. "The way you hide yourself behind dominating me."
Didn't he know it was obvious by now—that he was trying to be the monster others thought he was?
Water shifted. His fingers cupped her face gently.
"You seem to trust the limits I can go with you, Elana," he said.
Excitement coiled low in her belly, perhaps it would be promising if she pushed past those limits.
"I'm not sure I understand, master."
She pressed back slightly.
He inhaled sharply, as the pressure against her backside increased.
"Do…do you mean like last time?" she asked softly, not minding the sinful intent laced through her voice.
She anticipated his mouth, his touch. She reached for his face, brushing the skin of his chiseled cheeks, her fingers tracing his lower lip.
He pulled away, his mouth finding her neck instead, where the almost healed wounds rested.
"Since you see only what your blindness allows," he whispered against her scars. "I'll teach your body the rest."
His arms wrapped beneath her breasts, holding her firm.
Then she felt the sharp, needle-like, twin searing pain sink into both injuries again, making her cry out.
Her heart pounded widely, electrifying tingles spreading as blood left her body, the pain blooming along her veins.
Her hands clawed desperately at his thighs.
It was Azael—he was the one doing this to her body.
It had been him the first time too.
Tears burst from her eyes, tickling her cheeks as she cried, "Master, it hurts. Please stop."
The pressure lifted from her neck, leaving the pain fresh and throbbing.
Her body shivered uncontrollably, fear finally taking hold of her.
**
Azael stared at the punctures of his fangs on her neck, her blood dripping slightly.
He hadn't wanted to hurt her—only to prove her wrong about who he was.
Her body trembled in his hold, the undersides of her breasts grazing his arms as she sobbed. "I understand, I'll stay away. Please don't hurt me."
Azael searched for satisfaction in her fear and found none.
But at least she would be mindful now—loathe him, perhaps.
He tested the thought.
But when his fingers traced her skin again…she didn't pull away.
Her body responded.
Her once clawing hands now gripping his thighs softly.
His hand moved lower, beneath where his arm held her, teasing below her belly button.
His gaze dropped to the punctures on her neck.
Yours to protect…or destroy.
"Master…please…" she begged in that sinfully soft tone, rubbing back into him, her knees parting further beneath the water. "Lower…"
And he obeyed.
Pleasure bloomed fiercely as his fingers found the slippery core of her desire.
His tongue lapped the blood at her neck, satisfying his demon's craving.
His fingers stroked her softness, teasing her untouched entrance.
She trembled, surrendering into a moaning mess in his arms.
This was meant to warn her off—not fuel her pleasure.
Yet her reactions only fed his desire. He had thought fear would make it easier to resist.
The fresh sting of his fangs still marked her neck, and she was still here—rubbing against him, gripping his hand where he teased between her legs.
He ached to flip her on the warm rocks and take her until she lost that sinful voice.
"Do it!" his demon screamed. "Or someone will. Remember."
Zane's face flickered in his mind—The memory of him wanting to kiss her on the balcony.
"Azael….ah," She moaned as her body jolted when he slipped a finger into her hot, wet comfort. She still held his hand, accepting his touch like a reward.
His intentions turned against him, desire answering her instead of his restraint.
He called her climax with the gentle curve of his finger inside her.
Elana's hand gripped his shoulders, the other gripping his thigh tighter, urgent.
He slipped deeper, curving faster, her breath hitching over and over.
"I…I don't understand…." She whimpered, her head moving weakly side to side.
Her moistened lips called to him.
He kissed her, tasting warmth—her mouth and the spring alike.
His kiss muffled her moans, reveling in just how deeply his touch affected her.
Azael's need grew—to consume, to destroy.
His finger worked faster, making her claw at his shoulders as he played her body like a delicate instrument.
Her body buckled. He held her firm as pleasure overwhelmed her, refusing to release the kiss, wanting to feel every tremor and swallow every cry that escaped her.
Hot waves flooded his fingers as she screamed into his mouth, a faint drool slipping from her lips.
He lapped it away as he slowly withdrew his finger.
He released her lips. Her body went limp in his arms, heaving, her sightless eyes wavering with fear, questions, and the aftermath of desire.
She was still shaking when she passed out in his arms.
Her body was exhausted from the blood he'd taken and the violence of her climax.
**
Eira watched Azael and Elana from a distance, hating how right she had been about his attraction to that blind slave.
How could Azael stoop so low?
She had followed Elana here, watching from start to finish how Azael touched her so delicately—like she could break.
Hating how it contrasted with her own time with him. She would pay Fen a visit.
Her impatience grew, more than ever willing to end this whole thing and finally have him all to herself.
Fen better have healed.
They needed a better plan—especially now that the twin kings were around for a visit.