Chapter Four: The Moment She Should Have Left
923 Words
The air between them was thick with something unspoken.
Azrael’s fingers still lingered beneath her chin, keeping her gaze locked onto his. She should have pulled away.
But she didn’t.
His touch was light, almost teasing. His thumb brushed over the curve of her jaw, trailing lower—slow, deliberate, waiting for her reaction.
Selene’s breath hitched. This was dangerous.
The dagger beneath her sleeve was still within reach.
She could end it now.
And yet… she didn’t move.
Azrael watched her with something unreadable in his crimson eyes. Not suspicion. Not demand.
Just patience.
Like a predator waiting for its prey to make the first move.
And for the first time, Selene felt like she was the one being hunted.
“Are you afraid of me, Selene?” he murmured.
She forced herself to breathe. “No.”
A small smirk curved his lips. “Then why are you trembling?”
She wasn’t. Was she?
Selene gritted her teeth, willing herself to steady. She had survived worse than this. She had faced monsters, fought in wars, lived through years of pain.
So why did his touch, his voice, his presence shake her more than all of that combined?
Azrael tilted his head slightly, studying her. Testing her.
Then, without warning—he stepped closer.
Her back hit the edge of the vanity behind her, the cold wood pressing into her spine. Azrael loomed over her, one hand braced against the table, the other still resting at her chin.
There was nowhere to run.
And worse—she didn’t want to run.
Azrael’s lips curved slightly. “You’re holding your breath.”
Selene exhaled sharply. “You’re standing too close.”
“Am I?” His voice was amused, but beneath it, something darker stirred.
He didn’t move away.
Instead, he leaned in.
Slowly.
Giving her time to stop him.
She should have.
She should have shoved him away, pulled out her dagger, ended this madness before it went any further.
But she didn’t.
And when his lips finally brushed against hers—soft, searching, unhurried—Selene let him.
Her hands fisted at her sides. She should not be letting him do this.
She should not be kissing him back.
Yet she did.
And gods help her—it felt like drowning in something she never knew she craved.
—
Heat and Hesitation
The kiss was slow at first. Too slow.
Azrael wasn’t rushing. He was waiting, testing, seeing how far she would let him go.
Selene’s heart pounded as his fingers brushed over the bare skin of her throat, lingering at her pulse. He must have felt how fast it was racing.
He knew.
And yet, he didn’t stop.
The warmth of his lips moved against hers, coaxing rather than demanding. A slow unraveling. A dangerous temptation.
Selene knew how to fake affection.
But this… this wasn’t fake.
Her hands, which had been gripping the vanity behind her, moved.
One curled into the fabric of his shirt. The other hesitated—then slid up, resting against his chest.
His heart was steady. Too steady.
As if he had expected this.
As if he had already known she would not push him away.
That thought sent a rush of heat through her—anger, confusion, frustration.
And something deeper.
Something she refused to name.
Azrael’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the dip of her waist. His touch was light. Teasing.
Like he was daring her to react.
Selene hated him.
Hated how effortlessly he was unraveling her.
Hated that she wanted more.
Her fingers curled tighter against his chest. And this time, she kissed him first.
It was not gentle.
It was fierce.
A battle of tongues and breath and heat.
Azrael let out a low, satisfied sound, one hand gripping her waist, the other tangling into her hair, pulling her closer.
Selene felt herself sink.
Into him. Into the moment.
Into something she should have never allowed.
His teeth grazed her lower lip, and she shivered.
Azrael pulled back, barely an inch. His breathing was heavier now, his gaze darker.
“You’re full of surprises, wife,” he murmured.
Selene swallowed hard. “So are you.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “I haven’t even begun.”
And then he lifted her.
Easily. Effortlessly.
Selene gasped as he carried her toward the bed, her body pressed firmly against his.
She should have protested.
She didn’t.
He lowered her onto the mattress, his weight caging her beneath him.
His hands, once teasing, became more possessive. One gripping her hip, the other stroking up her side, tracing the delicate curve of her ribs beneath the silk.
Selene’s breath hitched.
She was losing herself.
She knew it.
And yet, when Azrael’s lips found the pulse of her throat, when his teeth scraped ever so lightly against her skin—she arched into him instead of pulling away.
A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You’re still trembling.”
Selene swallowed. “And you’re still talking.”
His gaze flashed with amusement. And something far more dangerous.
“Shall I stop?” he asked.
It was a challenge. A dare.
Selene lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. She was a warrior. She did not back down.
And so she whispered, “Make me forget why I was trembling in the first place.”
Azrael’s smirk vanished. His expression turned lethal.
And then, with a growl that sounded too much like victory—he did exactly that.
—
End of Chapter.
- Writer
