Elana followed after the minion, her echoing footsteps alerting her that it wasn't Azael's room this time.
It was the hall where they'd first met. Her mind offered no arguments.
The minion stopped. "Lord Azael."
Her heart skipped a beat. She clutched the scarf around her shoulders, desperate to know—to ask what he truly wanted from her. If he felt the same way she did
"Leave," Azael commanded the minion. Elana inhaled sharply. His power was a reminder of everything she wasn't.
"I'm listening, Elana," he said, tight and cold.
"I came to talk about last night," she said, nervously. She longed to see his face, to know how close he was.
"What about last night?" he asked.
Her fingers brushed the scarf. Last night had been real—and so had the other kiss, one she couldn't unremember.
"You kissed me…" she replied, grounding herself. "…why?"
"Do you get swooned that easily by anyone who kisses you?" he said, frigid.
Her breath caught. How dare he? Only one person had ever kissed her—and he was right in front of her.
"Why would you say that?" she whispered
"I'm not delusional, Elana,"
Her fists clenched.
Everything—the way he held her, the kiss—had left her questioning herself.
"Why would you kiss someone you don't like?" she asked.
"Because I can," he said smoothly. "Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression."
Her head swam. A sharp stab to her chest, but she forced herself still. She prayed her face betrayed nothing.
"I'll leave with the soldiers when they're ready to go." she managed.
"No," he said.
"I will," she insisted firmly.
"And what gives you the illusion of choice?"
"Because I'm free," she answered, voice trembling with suppressed frustration. " My life now belongs to me."
"A life you cannot protect," he said, before the scent of wisteria brushed her skin. "Whoever protects you…owns your life, Elana."
"I don't need your protection," she snapped, anger overwhelming her pain.
A chuckle like ice cracking grazed her
skin. "More like pity," he murmured.
Tears pricked her eyes, unwanted.
"It would make me uneasy to allow a girl like you to wander the forest," he added. "I do it for my conscience—nothing more."
She frowned. "And kissing me whenever you feel like it…is that also for your conscience, Azael?"
Her fingers reached for the scarf and found it had slipped.
She pressed her palm over her chest, every nerve alive with a heat that startled her mind.
"Audacious," he murmured, his fingers tracing from her neck to her shoulder. "I never gave you permission to call me by name, little one."
Shivers ran over her, but she would not yield this time. She raised both hands and touched his chest. He was closer than she thought.
Elana pushed back against him, "No. Stay away. I'm not little."
His arms instantly wrapped around her waist, drawing her impossibly close. She gasped, her breasts pressing into him, every curve and nerve alive.
If he didn't like her, then why—
"A man's needs do not always confess his heart," he murmured, as if reading her.
His lips brushed her ear. Elana trembled, trying to maintain composure.
"I need…my s-scarf," she whispered, attempting to slip from his hold, but his grip tightened. "Please…release me."
"Or what?" his cold breath traced her shoulder, dangerously close to her exposed skin.
"I'll scream," she whimpered.
"Not when your body is reacting like that," he said. His hand slid lower, cupping the swell of her rear and pulling her into the hard throbbing length of him.
The shock of contact stole her breath, making her knees weaken.
Elana struggled lightly, but her body had already begun to betray her.
Shame and longing tangled painfully in her chest—how could she still react this way after all he said?
"I don't want your pity," she breathed, despite the haze of pleasure clouding her reasoning.
"That's right. You need it." His breath cooled the space between her breasts.
She couldn't push again, painfully aware of the hard points of her chest pressing against him. Hating how her body still reached for his, torn between desire and disappointment.
A broken sound escaped her when she felt his mouth touch the swell above her nipple.
His lips pulled softly, teasing, making her feel every inch of his desire.
"Please," she whispered, not even sure what she wanted.
Her fingers dug lightly into his chest, resisting the urge to cling to him.
Her sounds seemed to fuel his actions. His tongue brushed her nipples, soft and deliberate, each stroke setting fire through her.
Her breath hitched.
The sensations were overwhelming.
Her heart pounded, her cheeks warmed, and the sounds she made became harder to hold back.
Then he stopped.
Elana swallowed hard, as he let go gently. She unconsciously dragged the fabric back up, covering herself.
"I don't like you the way you imagine," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "A man like me is no good for a girl like you. You're here for your own safety."
Elana nodded, understanding her place. She was, after all, an incomplete human—not worthy to be beside a lord like him.
She felt the thin material of the scarf cover her shoulder, immediately clutching the ends together across her chest. Her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.
Then she felt the hand of the minion hold hers, leading her away. The message was clear.
**
Cara observed Elana moving into the open field where Trisha had led them for some fresh air, escorted by one of the creatures that served Azael.
An open space with a water fountain in the middle. The water was clear.
Despite the gloomy weather it was a beautiful castle.
Dandelions bloomed everywhere and a rock bench sat in the field.
Ceasar was trying to reason with Zane on the other side of the fountain, reminding him of the importance of patience.
She had rebuked Zane earlier for being insensitive about their situation, almost getting into an altercation before Ceasar stepped in.
Cara joined Elana on the bench, immediately noticing her mood and the way she clutched the scarf around her shoulders.
"Hi flower." Cara said. Elana startled, then managed a smile. It didn't reach her sightless eyes.
"What's wrong? You look a little…" Cara began.
Elana sniffed. "I feel so ashamed, Cara,"
Cara took her hand gently and sighed. "You don't have to be ashamed with me, Elana."
Elana hesitated. "I should have known. I shouldn't have assumed that he liked me."
Cara blinked. Assume? Was she talking about the same man who had braved supernatural wolves and rescued them because of her?
"I don't quite understand, Elana."
Elana lowered her head, her beautiful grey eyes showing signs she'd been crying. "Lord Azael. He said he doesn't like me, that he only… pities me."
"What?" Cara said genuinely shocked. Because she thought he did like her—everything about him in the dining room suggested so.
She pulled Elana close, rubbing her shoulder. Elana was so light-hearted, so spirited, with an aura anyone in their right mind would be drawn to. It was a shame she wasn't given the gift of sight.
"Well if a man hasn't made a move first," Cara said, "It's usually not wise to assume."
"But he kissed me." Elana said in a low voice. "I thought people only kissed when they had a connection. He said I was wrong."
"He kissed you?" Cara asked, bewildered again.
Elana nodded slowly. Her grip loosened on the fabric over her shoulders as Cara noticed a red mark on the left side of Elana's golden skin—right on top of her breasts. A hickey?
"Did he do that to you?" Cara asked, slightly amused.
"What?" Elana tensed. Poor girl had no idea what mark Azael left on her.
"It's nothing," Cara said, choosing not to tell her.
But Elana reached for the mark herself, touching it lightly. Her voice, heavy. "It's obvious, isn't it? Last night, he kissed me too…and touched me. That's why I thought…"
"There! There!" Cara soothed, rubbing her shoulders. The whole situation didn't seem that way to her and if Azael weren't so powerful and unpredictable, she would've told him to stop toying with Elana.
"No one's ever gonna love a girl like me," Elana sobbed, burying her head in Cara's arms.
"That's not true." Cara said softly. "A lot of men would kill to love a girl like you."
"I like him. I've never liked a man like that," Elana whimpered.
Cara stroked her soft ginger hair, glancing at Ceasar as he spoke to Zane. "If he's yours, flower, not even the universe can take him from you."
"I can't face him anymore. I'm so ashamed."
"Maybe try to resist him a little more."
"I can't. He's like an unmoveable wall."
"Is he forceful?"
"N-Not really." Elana murmured.
Cara laughed lightly, "Avoiding doesn't seem like a bad plan then."
She noticed Zane and Ceasar approaching from the corner of her eye.
**
In Fen's territory…
Eira held her head high as she walked between the werewolves, their eyes gleaming and growling from the shadows.
Some human, most wolf. All dangerous.
Fen's piercing blue eyes never left her as she approached his throne, measuring each step, every subtle shift.
She was, after all, an enemy.
"Fen," Eira said.
"Eira, I believe," he replied, his expression unreadable. He was the opposite of Azael, yet somehow mirrored him.
Then he scoffed. "Betrayal simply because of unrequited affection. I mean it's of benefit to me, but still.."
"Azael trespassed your land," she said, meeting his gaze. "I want to help you conquer him."
"What do you hope to gain from this?" he asked. "I do not split my spoils."
"I'm not asking for any of that—only one thing." She held his gaze unwavering. "I want him in my possession if we succeed."
"You mean if he's alive," a grin twisted his face.
"Not if," she said, maintaining her stand despite the uncomfortable aura she felt from him. "He has to be alive. You can kill the girl."
"Elana?" Fen echoed.
Pain flared in her heart as her memory flashed with when Azael had confessed his boredom with her, last time they were…intimate.
She had thought she was weak, thought he wanted a stronger, more confident version of herself—only for him to openly lust after a blind human girl.
"That is what she's called," she said, voice flat.
"I'll have to think about this request, Eira," Fen said. "If I do get the chance to conquer him, leaving Azael alive is a loose end that I cannot risk."
"You can't kill Azael." Eira said, watching the grin turn to fury, stepping back lightly.
"Do you underestimate me even as you ask for my help?" he growled.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said, using the moment to push her agenda. "Focusing on weakening him should be the aim for now. One step at a time unless we risk total loss."
The storm in Fen's expression calmed. He placed a hand under his chin.
"The only reason I listen to you, or choose to, is that you were close enough to Azael to know things that I never did. That is a weakness I can explore."
Eira regained some confidence, "For now, the most obvious weakness is the blind bitch. Then the blood of your lycans…or yours."
"I never touched Azael enough to make him feed from my skin or bite him," Fen said, grin returned. "But he drank the blood of my wolf to keep the girl human."
Eira fists clenched. She didn't know about that. She knew how much the blood of a wolf abhorred him, although she had never seen him react to it.
Should she have stayed human to earn Azael's love? Had she sacrificed her mortality just to be scorned?
"There's another vampire," she said, abandoning hesitation. "She resides mostly within Azael's castle. She has the gift of foresight. We need her first."
"He's been cheating. Keeping a seer at his side all this time." Fen said, masking envy with irritation.
"Trisha isn't bound to him," Eira countered, satisfaction almost curling her lips as she watched Fen's ego deflate.
His grin widened.
"I have an idea on how to get her. Courtesy of Azael trespassing my lands, that is where your insider role will come into play."
Eira's lips twitched. Fen's arrogance was almost intoxicating. Almost.