When two dark hearts connect

The wedding night

Chapter four

Seraphine’s pov

He kissed me like a starving animal, swallowing my breath and tasting like pure arrogance.

But I am not a woman who submits to chains or to him.

The second his lips parted mine to demand entrance, I bared my teeth and bit down hard.

A sharp, coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Azriel let out a low, ragged growl against my lips, but instead of pulling away, his grip on my hair only tightened.

pressing me deeper into the kiss as if my defiance only drove him insane.

the muffled sound of our respective assassin guilds shifting uneasily broke the spell.

The sudden noise finally made him break the kiss.

Azriel pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving, a dark droplet of blood staining the corner of his mouth from where my teeth had met his flesh.

————-———————

Azriel’s house sat secluded within the heavily warded outskirts of the Lukomorye.

A formidable, fortified limestone manor. It was imposing, wrapped in high stone walls and guarded by shadows.

its heavy timber and slate architecture exuding an austere, solitary kind of wealth born of blood and contracts.

the interior struck me with its severe elegance.

Heavy oak beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, and soot-stained stone fireplaces stood cold against the walls.

It was a home built by an assassin: defensible, quiet, and entirely devoid of warmth.

Only two souls occupied the cavernous space to maintain it.

Near the flickering torches of the courtyard corridor stood an elderly gardener,

his spine slightly curved with age, silently tending to a row of lethal nightshade blooms lining the flagstones.

Further back, near the hearth of the dim kitchen,

an old woman with a deeply lined face and steady, observant eyes wiped her hands on a coarse linen apron, offering us a brief, knowing nod that acknowledged our arrival.

I didn't bother breaking stride,

my hand instinctively sliding down the heavy silk of my skirt to check the hidden weight of the daggers strapped to my thigh as Azriel locked the heavy oak door behind us.

Before he could invade my space,

my hand flashed to my thigh with the speed of a striking viper.

Cold steel cleared leather in a fraction of a second, and the sharp tip of my dagger buried itself precisely against the hollow of his throat, halting him dead in his tracks.

A single drop of dark blood welled instantly at the point of contact, catching the flickering torchlight.

“Don't come any closer, if you value your life.”I whispered.

Before I could blink, Azriel’s dagger was already there, the razor-sharp tip resting flush against the delicate skin of my own throat.

He hadn't even flinched at the blade drawing blood from his own neck.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against the steel holding us both in check.

“You're terribly eager to be a widow on our wedding night, my little darkling " he murmured,

his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that burned hotter than torches.

Before his laughter could even fade, I shifted my weight, driving the heel of my heavy boot straight up toward his knee in a vicious, lightning-fast snap designed to shatter bone.

He moved just enough to block the impact, but the sheer force of the kick forced him to stagger back a half-step, breaking the deadly stalemate.

"You're terribly eager to bleed for a corpse, husband," I replied with a smirk.

Before my words could even finish echoing against the limestone walls, Azriel lunged.

He didn't bother dodging or parrying my blade;

he simply used the momentum to close the gap entirely.

His hand shot out, his fingers locking firmly around the back of my neck, gripping me with a possessive, unbreakable strength that effortlessly overrode my reach.

With a hard, unyielding pull, he yanked me forward until our bodies collided.

In a heartbeat, we were so close I could feel the hard plane of his chest against mine, our breath tangling in the tense space between us.

His lips brushed agonizingly close to my ear, his dark chuckle vibrating straight through my bones as he answered my challenge.

"A corpse?" he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr that sent a shiver of pure fury down my spine.

"You flatter yourself, Seraphine. I don't intend to die tonight. I intend to break you."

Before his arrogant threat could even sink in, I twisted my hips, using his own weight and momentum against him in a sudden, violent sweep of my leg.

The element of surprise caught him off guard.

With a sharp grunt, Azriel lost his footing, and we both went tumbling backward through the dark foyer.

We crashed heavily onto the massive, iron-framed bed in the adjacent chamber, the ancient wood groaning under the sudden impact.

When the dust settled,

I found myself straddling him, pinning him against the mattress with my knees locked at his sides while my dagger remained pressed hard against his collarbone.

“Then you'd better pray you're stronger than you look, Azriel," I whispered.

Azriel’s eyes flashed with dark amusement at my threat, and with a sudden, violent surge of muscle, he didn't try to push me off—he countered.

His free hand shot up, gripping my wrist with iron force, while his legs hooked and twisted beneath me.

In a heartbeat, the power dynamic violently shifted.

We rolled across the mattress in a blur of thrashing limbs and flashing steel, each of us parrying, blocking, and driving our weight downward with lethal intent.

The ancient bed groaned under the sheer kinetic violence of our struggle.

With a deafening crack, the heavy oak frame finally splintered down the middle, collapsing into a heap of shattered timber and torn linens beneath us.

The sharp, echoing crash reverberated loudly through the silent, cavernous manor.

In their quiet wisdom, the only two souls in the manor.

entirely misunderstanding the chaotic c*****e.

Convinced the violent racket was simply the passionate, unrestrained chaos of a newly married couple celebrating their wedding night.